Greetings and Salutations Old School Mates.
Let’s open with a song to the new inmates,
of Oppression, bright lights and dark
places of isolation.
A cane on the right hand, forced
away from friends.
I’ll read my own bloody books thank you,
Some Teachers were just sooks!
But the rest weren’t half bad,
Like the rest of us, half sad,
quite glad to be Dads watching
fads, after yet another grueling days work for
fuck all : much like the old days at craigmore high school.
An ogres choice seems fair, totally fucking poor, or poor, or just scraping by,
it’s enough to make aussie girls cry,
enough to make aussie guys lie,
and plenty enough to make the kids want to buy buy buy your boat,
gently down the stream.
So rejoice quite a bit, get down to any bottleshop.
Gladly whilst we make another treadly to ride to the shops,
cause davo’s off to the cops!
There aint no party until the pigs fly buy,
In Elizabeth the boys in blue, come to our houses
With their own effing beer,
For we know the noise is loud but that don’t make us Queer,
So if you are feeling frisky,
Choose ur fucking aussie whiskey,
They sell it at Goolwa by the truckload,
better than mcgregors improper bs number 12.
It’s called Fleurieu Distillery something or other,
I cant danmed spell that F word, it’s got too many vowels.
Craigmore High Sucked, thank fuck I’m not there.
