With cheerful frequency politicians and other leading men are now predicting the imminence of better times, and references to our having "turned the corner" are published almost daily.
I am sorry, old man, but the game is up
And you've lost your occupation.
Long have you proffered the bitter cup
To a sick and sorrowing nation.
We have listened for long to your tales of woe,
Which have all come true, as well we know;
And we've suffered your smug "I told you so"
With listless resignation.
Sorry, old man, but your punch has gone;
Yet you've had a long, long innings
Since our lucky star, that once had shone
Went out in the slump's beginnings,
Then you turned your lyre to a dreary dirge,
And your dire predictions sought no urge
As you pressed us to despair's dark verge
With a wealth of doleful dinnings.
Sorry, old man, that we grow more glad
Each day, in hope's possession;
But you've lost the old allure you had;
We are shaking your obsession.
And the tales you told no more ring true;
Behind the clouds the star breaks thro',
And the only thing for you to do
Is to watch for the next depression.
First published in The Herald, 9 August 1932
Author reference sites: C.J. Dennis, Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Australian Poetry Library
See also.
