Classic Poem

They shanghaied me to Coolac
Because of Sydney beer;
They told me for a twelve-month
To keep away from here.
They shanghaied me to Coolac
Down on the Southern line,
Because of my grey hair and pomes
And painted blondes and wine.

They said, “We'll send some money,
And you must use the pen.
Solong!” they said. “Adoo!” they said,
“Don't you come back agen!”
(They said it for my own sake—
But not for that alone—
A poet's shame is public,
His sorrows are his own.)

Two greybeards down at Coolac—
Familiar grins they had—
They took delivery of the goods
And also of the bad.
They'd met me shearin' West O' Bourke
In some forgotten year;
They introduced me to the town
And pints of Wagga beer.