Botany Suburban Bay
Botany Suburban Bay.
On each Monday morning quite early
the sonorous snorts from the beds
are a hymn to the Lord for the Sunday
when they slept off their Saturday heads.
Now Time takes a shape in the sitting room
as the face in a squat little head
-as luminous hands on a dashboard
-as a six o'clock lung by the bed.
Then pack off the old man to Wellington
and pack off the children to school
and deck out the women in finery
for the Meet at Community Hall.
The traveller falls down the rockery
with a little red rent in his leg
and he jumps the tin fence saying 'Buggery!'
at the notice "Beware of the Dog".
The end of the street is a corner
the end of the street is a turn
the end of the street is another street
but that street is not your concern.
The old man in the shack with the watertank
that fills in the winter with rain
will stand at the gate in the summertime
till the rain comes and fills it again.