As I trudge along the bullock track
The sweat is dribbling down me crack
The sun so hot it burns me eyes
Just heat and dust and bloody flies
Me mate Kev pulls up in his ute
His sister’s with him, God she’s cute
She grins at me, you want a ride?
I’ll move my arse, you get inside
So she slides across and in I get
The vinyl’s warm and slippery wet
My sweat’s now spreading out in ripples
Her t-shirt’s clinging to her nipples
Kev drives a bit and then I spies
Glistening wet between her thighs
An ice cold bloody can of beer
That’s yours, she says, unless you’re queer
Oi, says Kev, you greedy swine
That’s the last can, mate, and that can’s mine
There’s another fifteen miles to go
Until we reach the bottle-o
As we bounce along that rutted track
And I sip me beer, Kev’s mood is black
His sister gives a little sigh
As she slides her fingers up me thigh
I tell ya I’m about to blow
When we finally reach that bottle-o
So me and sis race out the back
Of the bottle-o on the bullock track
And we root right there, on a slab of beer
Fosters, if me memory’s clear
Then we eat meat pies off an Akubra hat
You can’t get much more Aussie than that
JG April 2020