When I was a young man I played in the pack, and lived the mad life of a Rover.
From the coast's sandstone basin to the dusty rural towns, I drove my grey Magna all over.
Then in 1999 my country said "Son, It's time for the world cup.It's years since we one.
So they gave me the heads up for more Rugby fun, and they sent me to cheer for Phil Waugh.
and the band played waltzing matilda
as the players prepared to begin.
and amidst all the bleating,
the flag-waving and chest-beating,
our brave heroes began to dig in.
With the Kiwi's knocked out and the French team gone through,
the hopes of Australia were lofty.
And the big guy himself, namely our coach McQueen,
shed some tears of joy: what a big softy.
In the end we were victors, the wallabies won.
Having achieved what they'd set out and done.
It was time now to rest; time to laze in the sun.
As we say here in Oz; "Cest lovely".
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
as the crowd sang along with each word.
As the lyrics were voiced, all Australia rejoiced,
but the plotline is really absurd.
Then came the event that we'd all waited for
and the winner, of course, had been 'Sydernee'.
The very first games of Millenium #2,
packed more punch than a blow to the kidney.
There was our Cathy Freeman, in that special suit;
She lit up the stadium, with her fiery tribute.
And the volley-ball girls at the beach all looked cute.
Some might say, (ahem), 'the best games ever'.
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
as we held our collective head high.
Such an unthinking nation, in blind celebration,
sang a song of a thief who would die.
Then in 2001 with those games now forgotten
we hosted the touring Brits* * (The 2001 British and IRISH Lions)
There were some in their admin whoose PR was rotton;
They seemed to be paranoid ... and skittish.
But they played out some Rugby and won some games well.
Then came the tests, which would test them as well.
To the Wallaby mob these proud Lions soon fell.
They then knew there were worse things than dying.
And the crowd sang Waltzing Matilda
as the balmy, red army sat mute.
In a hemisphere north, there were tears pouring forth,
but back here in Oz we thought it beaut.
Well how I remember that* terrible day; *(2003 Rugby World Cup Final)
how the tears soaked our hankies and jerseys.
And how in that hell that they call extra time,
we were butchered without any mercy.
Jonny Wilko was waiting; he'd primed himself well.
He rained us with dropkicks, and field goals as well.
And in five seconds flat he had kicked us to hell.
Neatly blew-up the hopes of Australia.
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
'coz really what else could they play?
'Advance Aussie Fair' lacks both passion and flair,
as did 'God save the Queen' in it's day.
And God save us all from Matilda
when the old crowd respond to the song.
But as year follows year, more old-crowd disappear.
Someday no-one will sing it at all.
The years have now passed; it's 2005. 2006 fast approaches.
In a bid to keep Commonwealth games hopes alive, we listen to various coaches.
They'll talk up our passion; our national pride. Superlative plugs for the National side;
but if we have our minds, ears, and eyes opened wide, may we sing a swan-song to Matilda.
When the band plays Waltzing Matilda, may the crowd listen, mute to the song.
For as year after year, it becomes plainly clear, to endorse it is both sad and wrong
As a nation we surely want better than this: a song that has words of great pride.
Not a song of a sheep or a sorry swagman, who ends with a sad suicide.
But a song that has lyrics of substance and dreams, words we could sing to our National teams,
Things we believe in, not a tale of extremes. An anthem to sing with real meaning.
And we still should remember Matilda; but not as a song of great pride.
But a song of lament, for a sad sorry gent, as an anthem it's meaning has died.
Mrs Myth's poetry hompage
(c) TJ McGowan, MrsMyth
