Homework 22/09...Said Hockey J

[Shelley Hansen]

I agree, David. I know some people think of our classic poems as "sacred", but imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, as they say - and unless there is obvious disrespect for the work or author, I think parodies are just great!

I would take it as the ultimate compliment if someone parodied my work - and I believe most poets would likewise accept and enjoy the "lookalikes" in the spirit of fun as intended.

Cheers, Shelley

[warooa]

That's great David - most importantly it's funny yet unfortunately so sad but so true.

Would make a great topical performance piece.

Cheers, Marty

[David Campbell]

Glad you enjoyed it, Marty. I submitted it to The Age in the hope that some topical poetry might make it into print (as with Dennis in the Herald all those years ago), but didn't even get a "thanks, but no thanks".

Cheers
David

[Neville Briggs]

Dennis didn't have to contend with the Fairfax press

[Bob Pacey]

Go with some of the smaller regional papers David it will score for sure.

I can wack it in to the local Rockhampton Bulletin for you if you like .


Bob

[Heather]

I reckon my local paper would print it too.

[David Campbell]

Thanks Bob and Heather, that's a good idea. Here's a suggestion. Below is the slightly revised version I submitted to The Age. If anyone has a regional paper they think might be interested then either pm me the contact details and I'll send it in or, if you already have personal contacts there, feel free to submit it yourself. Be interesting to see what happens!

On Sunday Brian Nankervis (aka eccentric poet Raymond J. Bartholomeuz) from the TV show RocKwiz is hosting a poetry event at our local library and this is one of the poems I'm going to read.

Cheers
David

Said Hockey J

DAVID CAMPBELL
(with apologies to Hartigan P, aka O’Brien J)

“We'll all be rooned,” said Hockey J,
in accents most forlorn,
“our fiscal outlook is quite grey
unless more sheep are shorn!”
The Coalition sat about
and pondered what to do
to get some more to go without,
and who they yet might screw.

“It's lookin' crook,” said Abbott T,
“our mates are all bereft,
the minin’ magnates say to me
they’ve only billions left!
We’ve axed the tax, so that won’t work
to raise a bit of dough;
from here way out to Back-o'-Bourke,
we’ve gotta fleece ’em, Joe!”

“It's tough, all right,” said Bishop J,
quite clearly in distress,
then rang up Jean Paul Gaultier
to buy another dress.
“If we don’t make the people pay,
we’ve had the gong, no doubt,
we'll all be rooned,” said Hockey J,
“before the year is out!”

“We need to hit the poor,” he said,
“and bleed the peasants dry,
it’s not our job to keep them fed,
we’ve submarines to buy!
We’ll make them work to get the dole,
and Medicare cost more,
then help our friends to dig more coal
and sell it all off-shore.”

“I’ll tell you what,” squeaked Prissy Pyne,
“I’ve got this cunning scheme
to make our students toe the line,
and Uni just a dream.
We’ll cut the funding to the bone,
and force the fees to rise,
so poor kids’ chances will have flown,
and ours can claim the prize!”

“That’s sounding good,” said Hockey J,
"but Palmer holds us up.
We'll all be rooned, I have to say,
if we can’t tame the PUP.”
A heavy silence filled the room,
the Senate on each mind,
and all they saw were signs of gloom,
and months of daily grind.

“We’ll have to compromise, do deals,
give Palmer what he wants,”
said Cormann M. “Perhaps free meals
in fancy restaurants?”
“I think you’re right,” said Abbott T,
“we’ll have to talk to him,
we have no choice, it seems to me…
it’s either sink or swim!”

In God's good time they compromised
on this and then on that,
they argued and they agonised,
and played the diplomat.
They sold their souls, the devil smiled
at how he’d fooled them all,
at how a nation was beguiled
by flim-flam and sheer gall.

And so it went, this sad charade,
this mockery, this fraud,
this democratic masquerade
that no-one could applaud.
But Hockey J found no relief,
despite the deals he got.
“It does not help, it brings me grief,
my reputation’s shot!”

“The budget is a nasty smell
that will not disappear,
and I have been condemned to hell,
with no-one left to cheer.”
“Fear not, good Joe,” said Abbott T,
“for there is lots of time
until election day, and we
can cover up your crime.”

“We have a slogan we can use
that will not fail, I know,
to make it certain we can’t lose
to our most-hated foe.
It’s something that we always say
when forced to save our skin.”
“We’ll all be rooned,” cried Hockey J,
“if Labor gets back in!”

[Bob Pacey]

Sent it in will let you know if it passes muster David.



Bob

[David Campbell]

Thanks, Bob.

Cheers
David