ANZAC Exchange

Sarge I think I'm buggered,
I'm bitten on me back,
a bloody snakes bin crawlin' thru the grass.
So call the Medic quick,
to give me arm a prick,
and take away the pain until I pass.

Yer mate the Bombardier,
can have me 'ish' of beer,
I won't be drinkin' Fosters when I go.

I've wrote me mum a note,
and I've put it in me pack,
she's livin' down near Kunga-munga-mo.

So tell me Aussie mates,
you'ze Kiwi bloody skates,
have caused the death of one of Anzac's finest.

And when I pass away,
don't put me in the clay,
the bloody dingo's here are rife as goats.

What's that you bloody say,
the choppers on its way,
it won't be here in time to save this Digger.

The Doc he said it's what?
Now how did that get there?
A tear tab from a beer can caused this wound?

Well, the pain will pass away,
and I'll fight another day,
but PLEEZE you'ze Kiwis keep this to yourselves!

©Mike Subritzky
161 Battery at Enoggora