Goodonya Adam.

Dear reader, after that compelling despatch from the far inner North, we felt compelled to give our readership a snippet of when things were in their right place. That’s a time, not so long ago, when you could walk all over “Ayers Rock” as it was then affectionately called. The locals allowed you to do it cos they knew their place. That’s the problem with people these days they’ve forgotten their correct place. Adam Giles the former NT Chief Minister knows about the correct place for every little thing. That’s why he found useful employment with Gina Rinehart. She knows that people should stay in their place. That’s the problem nowadays, people just don’t know their place. Take Adam Goodes for instance, he stepped out of his place and Sam Newman demonstrated leadership and incited the general pubic to PUSH BACK. So that Adam would know once again, (some people have to be reminded) of his correct place.

Kiddies , the Adam on the right is the WRONG ADAM!. That nice man on the left is Sam Newman. Sam is looking angry cos Adam has forgotten his place.

WE dedicate todays’ poem to you Adam.

(Not Adam Goodes, but Adam Giles, as he is more deserving. And besides he shares a surname with another famous Explorer who opened up the vast hinterland of this content to the benign hand of civilisation).

For Helping Gina in knowing where people should be, we award you the Bess Price Merit Certificate. Its non refundable, and printed on real fly paper.

Little Aborigine*

Verse 1

Oh How I wish tha I could be, a little Aborigine,

The Boomerang he learns to throw, and that is all he needs to know,

He chases bunnies all day long, and paddles in a billabong,

Verse 2

Black skin wont show the dirty place,

And so he doesn’t wash his face,

I needn’t eat his grubs and snakes,

But live on lollipops and cakes, 

He sees the wild corroboree,

I wish , I wish, that he was me!

Oh, how I wish that I could be a little Aboriginee!! (sung with emphasis)

Even in the olden days little aborigines had to be on the lookout for the police, the welfare officer, the missionary, the cleric, the do- gooder, etc..etc.. Happily, nothing much has changed.

• This is a famous poem, that little kiddies would recite at school. It posses all the hallmarks of great poetry. Imaginative, stirring, and emulative. Don’t we all wish we could be little Aboriginies?. Though we never met real Aborigines, this was in a time when they were akin to faeries and pixies. And like all good little folk… they knew their place.

I remember when we would sit cross legged in primary school and sing this ditty “on the broadcast”. The Broadcast was the big tannoy speaker that was suspended somewhere up in the ceiling (closer to god) and to question its veracity was DEATH!

For those not familiar with a schools Broadcast we urge you to follow this link to a typical schools broadcast.