Bogan

A cigarette within his hand,
A beer upon his lap,
The mullet long lies out the back,
Of a faded VB cap.

The Aussie bogan, ripe and prime.
In natural habitat.
A deck chair on the neighbour's lawn,
Beer belly growing fat.

Endangered now, where once he sat,
Too often he's ejected.
The city folk don't understand,
So bogans feel rejected.

Their culture is misunderstood,
So much more than beer.
There's footy too, and motor sport,
And horses once a year.

So be a bogan once a week,
And sit out on the lawn,
Grab your mates to have some booze,
And find yourselves some porn.

This is my tribute to the local bogans, (including my brothers), as their continuing contribution to the Aussie fashion and culture is undeniable and is something which I feel aught to be celebrated.