The Beagle Editor, I penned the following bush poetry item this afternoon – hoping some of your readers (and some of our leaders) may find it topical in our current climate. From Eurobodalla, we set out, one day……
Only fools yield to a path, unplanned, of no return.
Of authority vested, be it elected, or, via lineage, sequestered.
Our current ship of fools, rides a bow wave uncharted.
They fight a current of unyielding power, as it is, to a shore of no return.
May their little ship of ego, rudderless, with leadership in absentia,
Powered by disingenuous pomposity go to a ragged, rocky shore,
Upon which they shall flounder alone, by the public, deplored.
Their only vestige remaining, being ignominious scorn.
Avast, I hear you say, the same sad group of sheep,
Thus, switches tack, south, at the Toll Gates, to yet another point of call,
Montague they cry, it’s here we’ll stake our claim,
Whence finding the lighthouse extinguished, what? - Bloody Brownies been here again!
Bon voyage!
(Now - sound effects, pan away to lilting cry of seagulls and seals laughing derisively. Mark Witenden
