A Sydney business man recently returned from Europe, declares that wool is gold on the Continent, and Australians made a grave mistake in not realising it. Germany cannot do without our wool; her substitutes (such as Woolstra) are undesired even by Germans.
I have ever found Australians Such a timid race and shy –- (Woof! Woof! The wicked wolf!) So disposed to favor aliens With a differential eye –- (Woof! Woof! The wicked wolf!) That although our country buys all That the foreigner would sell, Just a hint of trade reprisal And she shrinks into her shell, Crying, “Please, kind friend, We’re too humble to offend!” (Woe! Woe! Woolstra! Oo the wicked wolf!) In the olden days twas “shoddy” That enwrapped the “Thing” we feared –- (Oo! Woof! The wicked wolf!) And the stricken local body Threw a fit when it appeared –- (Oo! Woof! The wicked wolf!) For he worted wool was “outed,” And he deemed the squatter doomed, So he feared and sighed and doubted As he sat at home and gloomed, Crying, “Woe! Woe is us! For the sheep has missed the bus!" (Woof! Woof! Woolstra! Oo the wicked wolf!) Next an ogre came a-prowling That we knew as “Sniafel” –- (Oo! This IS the wicked wolf!) And our adolescent howling Rose to a prodigious yell –- (Woof! Woof! What a wicked wolf!) Then we rent our garments madly, Pouring dust upon the head, Sighing, sobbing, saying sadly Joy was ended, hope was dead. Crying, “industry is slain! She can ne’er revive again!" (And now comes “Woolstra”! Oo, the wicked wolf!) Pity for the poor Australian And his bogeys quaint and queer –- (Woof! Woof! There’s another wolf!) For his terror of the alien Keeps alive his constant fear –- (Woof! Woof! Oo, the wicked wolf!) But when Sniafel and Shoddy Are but phantoms of the past –- Bogeymen without a body, Substitutes that cannot last, Ever must the Golden Fleece Live to propers and increase; When there isn’t any Woolstra and there isn’t any wolf.
|Copyright © Perry Middlemiss 2003|