Reference :- Prime Minister Mr Scott Morrison addressed the nation on ANZAC Day .

Reference :-  It was not the most memorable of speeches , but this is no time to be critical  .


Well that was a pretty unimpressive speech , Mr Morrison , sir .    But it must be hard to whip up something memorable when there is so much going on with contagion and economic catastrophe .  The unkind among us might point to the fact that you cut 171 million out of spending for veterans in the last budget .  But then again you did blow 500 million on a War Museum upgrade , so you had to find some savings somewhere to help pay for that . Especially in view of your longed for budget surplus ((subsequently revealed to be unnecessary ).   

 Anyway , at least lots of big companies ponied up a few quid to help with the upgrade , and keep the eternal flame combusting .    Its the least they can do , since they usually make a packet from even a minor war .

 I hope the tourists like the new facilities .

 With the social isolation , a few beers and a Two-Up game with mates is out of the question .  But  though it is a solemn day  , an upbeat larrikin tradition has always prevailed .

 So the team here at The Sky Reply has reproduced below a poem by A. G . Austin , which  we feel captures this larrikin spirit .

                                                          Chez - Nous

                                                           ( Tobruk )     by A. G. Austin


                                    In my cave lives a solitary rat .
                                   ( A celibate rat ,
                                    I can vouch for that ) ;
                                   He hasn't a mate for miles around ,
                                   And he lives on what he can find on the ground ,
                                   Though the country's such
                                   That that's not much.
                                    I don't like he
                                    And he can't stand me
                                    But we need the roof so here we be

                                    In my cave lives a type of flea ,
                                    (A scurrilous flea
                                     Believe you me )
                                     And though he's such a tiny thing
                                     His bite is worse than a scorpion's sting
                                     He lives on Rat
                                     But worse than that
                                     He lives on me
                                     This scurrilous flea
                                     With all his numerous progeny .

                                      Near my cave lives the octave bird ,
                                      ( The queerest bird
                                        You've ever heard )
                                       He sings eight notes as he climbs the scale
                                       Though the topmost note is known to fail
                                       He's very small
                                       Just like us all
                                       So in we fit ,
                                       Though we're cramped a bit -
                                       Old Rat
                                       And Flea
                                       And Bird
                                       And Me.

                                                                 Lest we forget .