By John Ansell
If I was a little bird
I’d fly and fly and fly;
I’d fly right up to Heaven
Like old aunties when they die.
I’d say gidday to Auntie Ray
And Auntie Mildred too;
I’d ask them what they do all day
And how they like the view.
Do they lie around in bed
Just like they did down here?
Or do they go to parties
And eat Cheezels and drink beer?
Does Heaven have its countries
Like Fiji and Indonesia?
Do they have a Sunday Times –
And are the crosswords any easier?
I’d go and see the pearly gates
And Peter’s pearly cloisters
(No wonder poor old Foveaux Strait’s
Nearly out of oysters).
Then, finally, I’d visit God;
I’d offer him a deal;
I’d say: “You give me all your toys
And I’ll believe you’re real.”
I’d raid his stocks of Lego blocks
And minty chocs and Fanta;
(They say he’ll give you anything –
Even more than Santa.)
I’d order up a great big hut
To keep my big dog Charlie in;
Yes, God will give you anything –
As long as you’re not Somalian.
Written at a time of famine in the Horn of Africa, 1992.
