I’ll run with scissors and pull faces in the wind.
And jump off a bridge,  because Bill O’Brian did.
I’ll make you come in here and give me what for
I’ll Jump on the bed and slam up the door.

I’ll do what you do and not as you say
I’m staying inside on a beautiful day.
I’m having dessert without finishing dinner
I think I can cheat and still be a winner.

In front of TV, I sit close as I please
I slurp up my soup and catapult peas.
I’ll wear ***** underwear despite threat of harm
And yes, I was born inside of a barn.

There’s plenty to do, but I’ll remain bored
I have the chest, now where’s my award?
I’m won’t really mean it when I apologise
I’ll read in low light without ruining my eyes.

I’ve listened to every bit of advice
You know I’ll jump in without thinking twice.
I’ll cry over spilt milk and not hang up the phone
And I just can’t wait till my father gets home.

I wish that there weren’t always
toys upon my floor
or washing evermore
or someone at the door

I wish that when I turned my
head I didn’t smell
the faintest little tell
of spew on my lapel

I wish that every time I
Sat myself to eat
I had myself a seat
Without the extra feet.

I sometimes wish to flee
Just close my eyes and be
Too far away to see
where there is only me

Then while my daydreams plan
I see her smiling and
I only wish that I could be
exactly where I am.

A smoke-filled room, a loud gaffaw, the barmaid pours a beer,
the pub is full of country blokes and Aussie atmosphere.
Some 'Chisel' thru the speakers, the racetrack on the telly,
pool table sending iv'ry ***** to its underbelly.
Walls adorned with history, and heads of native birds,
the Nation'l Anthem in a frame, 'cause no-one knows the words.

An ag'ed man sits in the corner, sipping at his ale,
his teeth are stained, his liver's shot, his ragged skin is pale.
Young buck swaggers in and, as the room lets up a shout,
he tips his head in mock salute and takes his earnings out.
Good mates standing at the bar as jugs are passed around,
the yarns are flowing freely to impress the growing crowd.
The old man in the corner holds his voice above the din,
"You boys want a story, eh? Well, buck up and listen in.

Jus' the other day this feller was sat here at the bar,
he held his glass with steel hook, his cheek, it had a scar.
That scar, it ran from ear to chin, ****** it was shockin',
angry, red and all inflamed, he'd taken quite a coppin'.
With legs the size of tree trunks an' a barrel for a chest,
he looked as though, with just one blow, he'd put a man to rest.
I ventured on the happenings, and nodded to his claws,
he turned to me, quite wearily, and spoke, after a pause."

As if to emulate the mood, the old man waits a bit,
he squints his eyes upon the crowd and makes a show of it.
"This bloke is felling up a tree, 'bout fifty foot or so,
a lightning bolt, he gets a jolt, the chainsaw he lets go.
It backs up from the branch and lops off both his paws,
then, before he thinks to catch 'em, they hit the forest floors.
He’s with them soon enough, as the rest of him descended.
I shakes me head, 'Christ!' I says, tryin' to comprehend it."

The crowd is leaning forward and the air is getting tense,
the old man lights a cigarette, just to build suspense.
He slowly sips at his beer, then lifts his head to speak,
"Me eyes then trail from steel claws to mark upon 'is cheek,
'That how you did your face in, the chainsaw misbehavin'?'
He took a pause, held up his claws, and shrugged, "Cut it shavin'.""