Royal Thoughts

There's talk again of a republic, Jeeesus. A lad named Turnbull, rich and so recalcitrant now in the forefront of a movement, perhaps doomed. The head of state in Oz is still the British Queen with all her family, like Charles and all her royal baggage. Now I have seen a better head on many schooners of the amber fluid though she could chew the fat I s'ppose with any bludger or a blowie but would she know what is fair dinkum when first she meets a nutducker out west? A cabbage patcher from Victoria, to cotton onto, well, I do believe the queen would likely feel like one of those pick-pockets in a nudist camp, so this I say, out here in this fine place called Woop-Woop, where the rules of Rafferty and other jumbucks of the Never Never count we do not need the cornstalks of the South, nor 'nanabenders nor country bumpkins we have our ruby dazzlers, in Bazzaland, so keep the illiwhackers, even royal ones in merry old where the galahs and ningnongs live all pommies would soon bark or call a Ralph I'll have a cuppa now and think about the turps and whether we might ever be on sticky wicket I think I'll send the queen an issue of Bagman's gazette.