– David Campbell

Here’s to Sydney by the summer!

Body-surfing down a comber

where the girls are three a gallon

To a beach of yellow pollen;

Breaking hearts and backing horses

(bookies weeping in their purses,

Licking thumbs and counting tenners);

Dreaming up tomorrow’s winners;

Paris maids when I awaken

Serving Moet with the bacon

Lying round on leopard-skins

With brides and broads and mannequins;

Frowning at vice-regal balls–

Kiss my aunt and Tattersall’s!

Tattersall’s, I am thy farrow,

Keep a place for me tomorrow.

So the gentle presser sang

While the cutout whistle rang;–

And Lady do not question why

He lies dead drunk in Gundagai/