This is a poem written by an American Sailor in 1944 when he was serving in Australia with my Cousin, Bill Hunter.
This is about the Australians from the American sailors:
Down below the South Pacific
In the sunny Tropic Sea,
There lies a country called Australia,
which once was new to me.
Since the time that I have been here,
Which is several months or more.
I’ve met the people, learned their ways
And would like my home once more.
For I’m sick of mates and cobbers,
Trams, pubs and teatime too,
And i’m damned tired of these Aussies
bumming smokes the way they do.
It’s uncle this,uncle that
More planes, more bombs, more guns
and when the nips are whipped
Don’t ever ask who won
Cos you will hear the Aussies holler;
“We Anzacs are the ones
Just give me 2 bob and a cigarette,
I’ll tell you how twas done”
Yes, i’m tired of Australia
and the whole of this Anzac race
If anyone wants to trade
they sure as hell can have my place
Cos now i’ve seen Australia,
and when this war is won
This bloke is going right back home
and on the bloody run.
Recited by William Hunter
(aka Bill “Magic 500” Hunter)
for more info on this time period
go to Ozatwar
see stories about Frank Morill