A Modern Bush Ballad

Howard’s Olympic Shooting

‘Twas at the Olympic Shooting,

When Little Johnny walked in.

The thousands in the crowd there,

Refused his nervous grin.

Instantly the cry went up,

“Let boos and jeers begin!”

Calls of, “where’s your flak jacket?”

And “You treated us like crims!”

But Johnny, pulling down his hat,

Kept smiling, like some Cheshire cat.

His mates from the media were there,

TV News would be distorted.

“P.M. presents Gold to Diamond”

Is all that would be reported.

But officials, rejected Johnny’s quest

To give the medal to Australia’s best,

Advised him, to avoid a riot,

“Just sit in the corner Johnny and be very, very quiet”

So Little Johnny, on reflection,

Wonders how it might have been,

If he hadn’t ordered their heirlooms crushed,

He’d be up there on the screen.

“We might have still had Queensland,

And Victoria as well!”

But he quickly pushed it from his mind,

As his chest began to swell.

For he’d been told that afternoon,

By Security; no doubt about it!

He didn’t need that flak jacket.

His skin was thick enough, without it!

Copyright © 2000 Peter Whelan

The Shooters Lament

(To the strains of Waltzing Matilda)

By: Paul Carew Dec 2000.

Once a Jolly Shooter ca-mped by his Parliament,

Under the shade of the mo-ney tree;

           He was there to make a pro-test to keep his trusty shooting irons,

All by him self and alone was he.

Along came the Media and the twits from AGC,

“What ya doin here they said to he?

        We don’t want any red necks ca-mped with their shooting irons,

Under the shade of our own money tree;”

 Ist Chorus:

  “Let’s go hunting lets go a shooting, lets feed our selves, 

And defend all our rights;

        But he sat and he watched and waited for some mates to help;

All thru the days and all thru the nights.

       No one came along to support his brave and manly stand;

No Poli-ticians or Club Presi-dents,

Only the twits from AGC and Med-ia,

Standing around with chardonnay in hands,

2nd Chorus: 

Let’s go hunting lets go a shooting, lets feed our selves, 

And defend all our rights;

     But he sat and he watched and waited for some mates to help;

All thru the days and all thru the nights.

Along came the Lawmen Kevlar vest and Glocks in hand;

“You come with us you red- necked man,

No game- no guns- no sport for you in your land for ever-more,

You don’t count coz you’re a dino-saur;”

 No Eureka Stockades left in this once great-est Land

 Only those in power have Guns now at hand;

No more jolly sh-ooters, wild pigs or flying ducks

Just the memories of the free-doms we’ve lost.

3rd Chorus:

   “Oh to be Indiginal, Oh to be Indiginal,

Full hunting rights wherever they may be,

   And all they had to do was ca-mp by their Parliament;

Under the shade of the Taxpayers Tree”

All the Shooters had to do was join our Aboriginals;

They are far more uni-fied than we;

          We only had to rally round hand & join our hands to-gether,

Under the shade of the Taxpayers Tree.

The moral to this Ballad should be clear to all responsible firearms owners. If you want to wind up the Ghost of the Jolly Shooter just don’t camp by or talk to your Governments. Banjo Paterson who wrote the words to Waltzing Matilda was quite prophetic when you think about it. It was the beginning of the end for the swaggies. Banjo was a Lawyer and Gun owners need many more Lawyers on their side.

NOTE:  AGC is the Anti Gun Coalition mob.

NOTE 2: They are winning.

Feel free to pass my poem on.

Copyright © 2000 Paul Carew