A voice of reason from way out West speaks clear unvarnished truth.
That the minerals Mother Nature once laid down in her youth,
are the hope of teeming millions seeking sanctuary and jobs.
Free Enterprise the means by which we’ll fill their starving gobs.
We hear the message Mistress Gina. We hear it loud and clear.
There’s mung bean munching Greenies fomenting doubt and fear.
And a bloated Government in thrall to Maynard Keynes,
Threatens to drag our economy down to something worse than Spain’s
Yet still the bleating bleeding hearts bleat their bleeping bleats,
Their carping and their harping filling the Eastern States broadsheets.
But hope (no not your mother), has come upon the scene
Fairfax board control? Next a better tax regime?
And elitists, may mock your meter and your rhyme
But in the hills of the Kimberley, you have found the time
To tastefully put into words rare wisdom and what’s more,
Bolt them down upon a ruddy great lump of Iron Ore.
The sentiment contained therein makes me go all misty.
I applaud your stand against those who’ll turn us Socialisty.
For I too am a man of enterprise at heart,
A modest mini-mogul with Soft-Serve Ice Cream cart.
I have a plan to travel West and make a fortune through,
Serving Soft-Serve Ice-Cream to the starving millions who,
have travelled to the Pilbara seeking work within your mines.
Can I take up a concession? Can you offer credit lines?
I understand, by the way, that you are without bloke.
A woman needs a feller like a Salmon needs a smoke.
Although I’m slightly married, that’s not something ‘ can’t be fixed,
If you’ll have me Darling Gina I’ll be rapidly unhitched.
Incidentally did I mention that you are quite a beauty.
A West Australian Rose (not her) with a most impressive booty.
If the Ice Cream thing doesn’t work I’ll not throw up my hands,
‘cause I trust you’ll be happy for me to sink a shaft upon your lands.