The Song of the Doodle Doos
Henry Lawson, 1907
Oh, this is a song of the present time and a Ballad of Freedom's Foes
A song more fitted for careless rhyme than it is for honest prose;
For this is the song of the Goo-Goo push, and the city-bred yahoos,
Of things that seldom are seen in the bush and a song of the Doodle Doos.
And a song of the Doodle Doos.
Oh, this is the song of the great O Mys! that ever have been since Rome,
Of the Sanctity of the Marriage Tie and the Safeguards of the Home.
Of the Better Protection for Women and Girls the song of the Female Gel
Of the voice that shrieks and the arm that whirls and it's sung by the Great H. L.!
It is sung by the great H. L.
Oh, this is the song of the Women's League, and the Brutal Neglect of Man;
Of his Talk-dulled ears and his great fatigue and a dirge for the Black and Tan.
Of the Wrongs of the Wife, and the Husband's Place and a song of the Selfish White
And the penalties husbands shall have to face who'll be out after ten at night.
There'll be Acts after ten at night.
Oh, this is the song of I Told You So, and a ballad of Who'd Have Thought?
Of the duty on Whatsisname, Don't You Know, and the Battle That Women Fought.
The song of "Just Fancy!" "You Don't Say So!" and "Nevah!" and "Ain't it a Shame!"
And whether Our Chief will get in or no and the voting for Whatsisname.
It's a shame!
She's voting for Whatsisname!
Of the Letter of Introduction, too, and the letters from Eminent Men,
Of the Clack in the Office, till all is blue, and the siege of the Editor's Den.
And the flying fur, and the pleasant purr when the Eminent's hand she pats.
And the smile (for Her Country's Good) of her, unknown to the other Cats.
For the Patriotic Cats.
There are some because they have nought to do, and Democracy is "The Thing,"
The fashion and fad of the fluff-fluff crew, and the craze of the Maundering.
"We really should Study the People now," and so they flutter and friv.
"And Broaden Our Minds," and they wonder how the Wo-o-rking Pe-o-ple live.
Would they give?
Oh, this is the song of the Awful Shock, and the rise of the Silver Spoons,
For this is the song of the Four O'clock, and the Thursday Afternoons.
Oh, this is the song of the Yellow and Pink - till winter comes round again
"This Aw-w-ful Drought," and "Do-on't you Think that the country's in Need of Rain?"
That the country's in need of Rain.
Like hysterical girls, or a loony wife, there are some who were always wronged,
And they made it Hell, as they went through life, for the folk to whom they belonged.
They shriek for justice on all that is, they weep for the world and moan;
And their only complaint in the world is this: that men have left them alone.
None would own
They left them severely alone.
There are some who never have had a child nor a girl about the place,
Who'd rush into print, with a letter wild, for a lane-brat's dirty face.
Neglected Children and Brutal Men and Young Unprotected Girls!
Are the cries of the Awful Neglected Hen - and that is the way it whirls.
Yes, it whirls,
And that is the way it whirls.
They'd burst up homes and the marriage-tied, and they'd sell their country too;
And they always accuse the opposite side of doing the things they do.
They are on the Be, they are on the Make, with seldom a thought of others.
So this is a song for Australia's sake, and her girls and her wives and mothers.
Her husbands and fathers and brothers
Her sons and her daughters and mothers.