Discussing the rapid growth of neurosis in modern city life, Dr. John Bostock, at the Adelaide Medical Congress, said that city life was producing a type of mind that was unhappy away from its confines.
It takes all sorts to make a world (Said old George Jones) An' many a hard word I have hurled, As readily I owns, At crazy coots that comes up here An' shouts an' yells an' sings, Because they're filled with nameless fear That city-dwellin' brings -- Fear of the silence that comes down To press on people out of town. Hullabaloo has got 'em all. Hullabaloo they crave. The peace o' the bush to that load push Is the silence of the grave. I likes the quiet of brooding trees, The singing birds and the singing breeze An' a bit of elbow room. Them for the crowded city's joys, For jazz and jangle, nerves and noise An' the traffic's ceaseless boom. Peace for me and' pace for you, Hullabaloo-balloo! I sees it in 'em now an' then; It's in their eyes, their hands, The restlessness of city men Who never undertands The way I hates the roar an' rush Where traffic signals wink, An' how, here in my native hush, I likes to sit an' think Or speak my thoughts in quiet tones That ain't a yell (said old George Jones). Hullabaloo, it's in their blood, It's drummin' on their brain. 'Twould turn a bush bloke's mind to mud An' send him half insane. But every cove to his own choice. If in that racket you rejoice, Well, keep it for your town; And don't come here disturbin' me With raucous calls of loud "Coo-ee!" Yellin' our gum-trees down, Breakin' my peace the way you do. Hullabaloo to you!
|Copyright © Perry Middlemiss 2011|