I'm a red-blooded Aussie. I'm blue-collared too.
I'm a red-headed bloke, so my mates call me 'Blue'.
I stick by my mates, 'cause they're all dinki-di.
Each fella is true-blue, a great Aussie guy.
I'm a council road-worker; I crush the blue-metal.
When I stop for a smoko I put on the kettle.
When my Winfields run out, I then have to choose,
Should I buy reds, or should I get the blues?
I love our great beaches, the sand and blue sky.
I can't help but check out the girls passing by.
I love the blue ocean, that great deep blue sea.
I love most sea-creatures, and hope they love me!
A blue-pointer won't scare me (but maybe a lot'll),
but bugga me, I hate those bloody blue-bottle.
The blue-ringed octopus; hate that one too.
I love a blue flier; the big she red roo.
I love the blue whale, and bottle-nosed dolphin.
I love goin' fishing. I'm dangerous when golfin'.
I love our Blue-fin, both the fish and the movie.
I reckon that chick, Heather Graham, is groovy.
I'm not keen on goldfish, prefer axolotyls.
I love a blue slab of the gold amber bottles.
When it comes to home projects I'm almost a wizard.
Our backyard is home to a great blue-tongued lizard.
I knocked up a blue-print and built her a shelter,
considerably boosting the hand life had dealt her.
I built my own shed, and the Bar-be-cue too.
But building the house was a bit of a blue;
That was the one where my fingers got burnt.
Damn blue asbestos! A tough lesson learnt.
I used a few swear words. I turned the air blue.
But once it had happened, what else could I do?
Straight back on the horse; built my own pool as well,
which should add some value when time comes to sell.
My dog's a blue-heeler, who answers to 'Blacky'.
I'll watch a blue movie with my sheila, Jacky.
The trees in the backyard are mostly blue-gum.
And once in a blue moon I might become glum:
I hate if I happen to hear of bad news;
If my footy team loses I might get the blues.
Great Britain vs our proud Kangaroos.
Carlton beat Collingwood - Good on ya Blues.
Queensland Reds vs The New South Wales Blues.
Then of course Warnie's mob. Sad, but it's true;
The Indian tour - An ill wind that blew.
(Blowing chunks both ends - that damn vindaloo!
A cricketing catering curse that we'll rue.)
Time for refreshment, I'll have a quick brew.
Pop in to my local, "The Wooloomooloo".
Inside now, I notice how two 'boys in blue'
have just sorted out two blokes having a blew.
I side-step a messy patch; blood stains and spew,
and the shattered remains of some broken glass, too.
Something quite nice and quite wet and quite cold.
Perhaps a Hahn Ice, or perhaps Tooheys Gold?
Perhaps Tooheys Red, or perhaps Tooheys Blue?
What about Tooheys Old, or Tooheys New?
Maybe a VB or else Carlton Cold?
By now I think any drink is good as gold;
Blue Lagoons, Barringtons; which will I choose?
I must summon help from my old drinking muse.
Slam down a softie, or sip on some booze?
Here comes the barman, I'll ask for his views.
"G'day mate. I need a drink. I do not care who's.
An antidote, please, for my great Aussie blues."
The barman then smiled, his words automatic.
"Here's one that I call the 'Harpic-flushmatic'."
He served up a drink that had perse, aqua hues.
I drank it. I shook. I went straight for the loo's.
My day had been long, but this drink would now spoil it;
It flushed out my guts, as I flushed out the toilet.
I suddenly realised, (and nothing is meaner)
the barman had slipped me some blue toilet cleaner.
I lunged at the taps, and I gulped down some water.
The one thing I knew was perhaps someone ought'a
teach that damn barman a colouful lesson,
'cause, damn it, it's not just with me he was messin'.
He'd broken a trust, and did he really think
that it was alright to upset a man's drink?
T'was more than the joke, and that damn Harpic flavour;
The time had now come to repay him the favour.
I angrily headed back, out of the loo's,
and silently reached for the ...
