Damned by alcohol, our convict forebears;
Put a pub on ev'ry corner of old Newtown,
A night in Newtown - nothing compares -
(This suburb by its pubs, still has renown);-
Places for daydreams, and for quick affairs -
They are not formal - you don't need a ballgown;-
I can count at least five, or six, or seven;-
For drinkers, this is a kind of "God sent" heaven*.

This night a young man finds himself adrift,
In a big city - Sydney (to be exact);-
And from his mountain home - there is a rift;-
From what's familiar - he can't re-enact.
His former life - how reality does shift!,
Place and Time, and Time and Place react;-
So as to produce a strange perplexity;-
City life in all of its complexity.

A young man finds himself, at age eighteen,
In Newtown, in the dirty inner city.
A strange place, where things aren't as they seem;
(For a country lad, much more's the pity;-
In some ways knowing - although far too naive);-
So I must continue my poetic ditty,-
(By a ditty - I only mean these stanzas;-
Not the whole of life's extravaganzas).

My Newtown, (jaded Newtown) - an old whore;-
A faded jaded lady, down at heel,**
What you first see, you see, then so much more;
(Tonight reveals the bums, and the genteel);
Where students, derelicts, and junkies score;-
(She cloaks herself in night - so to reveal);-
Innocents find a fantasmagoria;-
If she had a ladies name - it be Gloria.

King Street winds, in serpentine complexity;
Like a river, down into St Peters;
Here you find every type of humanity,
From the wealthy, down to the Metho drinkers;***
Dulls the senses, of the night's black vanity;
A brilliant jewel, is to what this verse refers;
Australians, and other Nationalities,-
Into this melting pot now find finality?

The Beatles, and of Lucy's Sky with Diamonds;-
And how, at times, things seem like plasticine,
Trees, and palm trees, with their dark black fronds;
Lurched up before us like figures of glacine;
And paraded on the streets - the demimonde;
To Erskineville, we walked a dark ravine;
Through night's brocade - in all its strange regalia;-
To the bosom of the Rose of Australia.

Still, things seemed like an oddity we dreamed,
In this hotel Steve^, and I bought schooners,*****
The trip had not worn off (or so it seemed);
Overhead the full moon, white and lunar;
Silvery moonlight down upon us streamed;
I then wished I had finished my beer sooner;
As all about me patron's skeletons;
Were seen bereft of their clothe's curtains.******

It's not surprising, then, we fled the hotel,
And walked along the molten plastic streets;
Through Alexandria^^ - factories, and hovels;
Then, suddenly, the rain fell down in sheets;-
Before subsiding to a gentle drizzle;
Then we found ourselves on Boundary Street;
I said to Steve "I need to take a piss"
Beneath a street light - diamonds from my d*ck!

In this strange way, our trip came to an end;
(I think we walked back, but I can't recall);
"All's well, that ends well" ^^^- I can recommend;
You take a trip, or take one not at all;
Please yourself; although never do pretend;
That you have seen what I have seen - don't enthrall;-
Or guild your memories, with pretense false;-
Be honest now, and honest with your self.



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