Green and Gold Malaria by Rupert McCall

What a great time to find this poem.  Hope you enjoy it as much as I did when I dragged it out of a box today.  Love it !

The day would soon arrive when I could not ignore the rash

I was obviously ill and so I called on Doctor Nash.

This standard consultation would adjudicate my fate.

I walked into his surgery and gave it to him straight

‘Doc, I wonder if you might explain this allergy of mine,

I get these pins and needles running up and down my spine

From there across my body, it will suddenly extend

My neck will feel a shiver and the hairs will stand on end

And then there is a symptom that only a man can fear

A choking in the throat and the crying of a tear’

Well, the doctor scratched his melon with a rather worried look

His furrowed brow suggested that the news to come was crook

‘What is it Doc?’ I motioned. ‘Have I got a rare disease?

I’m man enough to cop it sweet, so give it to me please’

‘I’m not too sure’, he answered, ‘but it’s hard for me to say.

When is it that you feel this most peculiar condition?’

I thought for just a moment then I gave him my position

‘I get it when I’m standing in an Anzac Day parade,

And I get it when the anthem of our native land is played,

And I get it when Meninga makes a Kiwi-crunching run.

And when Border grits his teeth to score a really, gutsy ton

I got it back in ’91 when Farr-Jones held the Cup

And I got it when Japan was stormed by Better Loosen Up

I get it when Banjo takes my down the Snowy River

And Matilda sends me waltzing with a billy-boiling shiver.

It hit me hard when Sydney was awarded the Games

And I get it when I see our farmers fighting for their names.

It flattened me when Bertrand raised the boxing kangaroo

And when Perkins smashed the record, well, the rashes were true blue.

So tell me Doc’, I questioned, ‘Am I really gonna die?’

He broke into a smile before he looked me in the eye

And he fumbled with his stethoscope and pushed it out of reach

He wiped away a tear and then he gave me this stirring speech

“From the beaches here in Queensland to the sweeping shores of Broome

On the Harbour banks of Sydney where the waratah’s in bloom

From Uluru at sunset to the Mighty Tasman Sea

In the Adelaide cathedrals, at the roaring MCG

From the Great Australian Blight up to the Gulf of Carpentaria

The medical profession call it, “green and gold malaria”

But forget about the text books, son, the truth I shouldn’t hide

The rash that you’ve contracted here is, “ good old Aussie pride “

I’m afraid that you were born with it and one thing is for sure –

You’ll die with it, young man, because there is no cure.”

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