australia, Australian bush poetry, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Sydney
I’m off this day to Sydney Town,
Where very few folk wear a frown,
And where, the natives (so I’m told)
Drink sapphire wine from cups of gold.
Where all men live in harmony
And husbands with their wives agree.
Where people from disparate lands
Sing cheerful tunes whilst holding hands,
And crime (hence punishment) is rare.
Where every face is fine and fair,
And never spoken a cruel word;
Just compliments and praises heard.
To this fine burg, I’m going down;
To paradise – old Sydney Town.