RUN OUT OF HOP
Posted: Tue Nov 01, 2011 8:07 am
RUN OUT OF HOP
The red kangaroo isn’t flying they say
and it’s airborne mates have been grounded,
a wave of dissension is washing through staff
carrying placards, their feet the streets pounded.
The glistening pavements are rain soaked and dreary,
the poor stranded passengers cranky and weary,
Mothers frustrated and small children teary.
There’s no kangaroos flying today.
No beds of goose feathers for this weary mob
they are stranded in terminals bleak.
Staring at cold coffee and soggy French fries
not your typically average week.
Outside is a city with Lego house rows
When will the roo fly ? Seems that nobody knows
and the other airlines are booked out I suppose.
There’s no kangaroos flying per se.
There are hotel rooms empty, no guests have arrived
for the big day - the race that stops a nation.
The race course is drowning in rose petal confetti
but one senses deep felt frustration.
Now common sense has come to the fore it seems,
they are flying again – but it’s wrecked some folks dreams
and like homecoming pigeons en masse they stream
to the roos who are flying away.
But the damage is done and the cost it is great
the effects felt all over our nation.
There will be no doubt some empty picture frames
where people have missed the celebrations.
And some folks had no choice but to hire a car
or travel by bus or train and travel far.
Perhaps the odd roo was downed by a bull bar,
far too slow with his get away.
For it seems that the roo now is surely dead meat
and has lost its natural attraction.
The people of Oz are talking with their feet
there’s mutterings about future action.
The dingo and porcupine just stood and stared
at the roo on the road – both completely aware
that though coins, crests and postcards all show a roo there,
it’s a red roo who will have to pay.
Maureen Clifford © 11/11
The red kangaroo isn’t flying they say
and it’s airborne mates have been grounded,
a wave of dissension is washing through staff
carrying placards, their feet the streets pounded.
The glistening pavements are rain soaked and dreary,
the poor stranded passengers cranky and weary,
Mothers frustrated and small children teary.
There’s no kangaroos flying today.
No beds of goose feathers for this weary mob
they are stranded in terminals bleak.
Staring at cold coffee and soggy French fries
not your typically average week.
Outside is a city with Lego house rows
When will the roo fly ? Seems that nobody knows
and the other airlines are booked out I suppose.
There’s no kangaroos flying per se.
There are hotel rooms empty, no guests have arrived
for the big day - the race that stops a nation.
The race course is drowning in rose petal confetti
but one senses deep felt frustration.
Now common sense has come to the fore it seems,
they are flying again – but it’s wrecked some folks dreams
and like homecoming pigeons en masse they stream
to the roos who are flying away.
But the damage is done and the cost it is great
the effects felt all over our nation.
There will be no doubt some empty picture frames
where people have missed the celebrations.
And some folks had no choice but to hire a car
or travel by bus or train and travel far.
Perhaps the odd roo was downed by a bull bar,
far too slow with his get away.
For it seems that the roo now is surely dead meat
and has lost its natural attraction.
The people of Oz are talking with their feet
there’s mutterings about future action.
The dingo and porcupine just stood and stared
at the roo on the road – both completely aware
that though coins, crests and postcards all show a roo there,
it’s a red roo who will have to pay.
Maureen Clifford © 11/11
