This is a poem written by an American Sailor in 1944 when he was serving in Australia with my Cousin, Bill Hunter.
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This is about the Australians from the American sailors:
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Down below the South Pacific
In the sunny Tropic Sea,
There lies a country called Australia,
which once was new to me.
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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.
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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.
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It’s uncle this,uncle that
More planes, more bombs, more guns
and when the nips are whipped
Don’t ever ask who won
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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”
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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
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Cos now i’ve seen Australia,
and when this war is won
This bloke is going right back home
and on the bloody run.
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Recited by William Hunter
(aka Bill “Magic 500″ Hunter)

for more info on this time period
go to Ozatwar
see stories about Frank Morill
http://www.ozatwar.com/usnavy/usnavalbasehospitalno10
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