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Payten Family Poems
Dream of corona
There’s no movement at the station
For the word is going round
That the virus from Wuhan has got away.
It has come from nasty critters and no cure has been found—
Who’ll get it next we really cannot say!
There’s Morrison who stopped the boats and fondled lumps of coal—
An adman with a hotline to the Lord—
“Stay home!” he said, “Shut down! Keep clear!
I really do not care if you are bored!”
And Frydenberg, a younger man,
came up to write some cheques.
“You’ve lost your job, I’ll fill the gap with more than you expects!”
Another bloke, so-called Dee Stancing, chipped in
“No parties, beach or sport! Just jigsaws, Facebook, zoom at home,
If you break out you’ll be caught!”
And so it’s working!
Now out by Koorawatha where the breezes gently blow
We talk of crops and stock and drought
And how we beat that deadly virus
Back in the year two-0-two-0
Dream of corona
There’s no movement at the station
For the word is going round
That the virus from Wuhan has got away.
It has come from nasty critters and no cure has been found—
Who’ll get it next we really cannot say!
There’s Morrison who stopped the boats and fondled lumps of coal—
An adman with a hotline to the Lord—
“Stay home!” he said, “Shut down! Keep clear!
I really do not care if you are bored!”
And Frydenberg, a younger man,
came up to write some cheques.
“You’ve lost your job, I’ll fill the gap with more than you expects!”
Another bloke, so-called Dee Stancing, chipped in
“No parties, beach or sport! Just jigsaws, Facebook, zoom at home,
If you break out you’ll be caught!”
And so it’s working!
Now out by Koorawatha where the breezes gently blow
We talk of crops and stock and drought
And how we beat that deadly virus
Back in the year two-0-two-0