The poem I wrote this week for Jon’s JVG Radio Method on 3RRR has the wonderful and yet quite tricky theme “SWINGING”.

Click to hear today’s poem… [audio:JVG_Poem20070923.mp3]

Jon and I chatted nonsense about Lee Hazelwood, why the show has so few Creationists as listeners and how I had spent the week running flat out just to stay in the same place. After the show I had to dash to do a gig with my band over in St Kilda at the Pint On Punt.

Thanks to those people who came along to the short notice acoustic set last night.

Ed Bates is responsible for the squeaky chair noises and the slide guitar. Thanks for the lovely intro Ed.


since life crawled out of a pool of slime
and clambered into the trees
humans have swung from pillar to post
the world’s one big trapeze

creationists would argue the point
it’s a premise they strongly reject
according to them, there were only men
and they were born fully erect

it’s fair to say, the whole planet was gay
there was certainly no women’s lib
the whole female race, we’d yet to embrace
they were still part of old adam’s rib

creation or evolution?
an argument contentious and vexed
one things for certain, the world kept swinging
from one empire to the next

the romans, the gauls, the celts and the spanish
the vikings, the incas and athenians
persians, macedonians, normans, babylonians
the british, the dutch and armenians

phoenicians and grecians, venetians and cretans
hoplites, hittites and franks
russians and prussians, mongols and kongols
zulus and hutus and yanks

but it really began to swing in the thirties
thanks to goodman, the dorseys and shaw
a global invasion, combined black and caucasian
all that could stop it was war

though the world was subdued, it was still “in the mood”
till the nazis sent it down the latrine
it went down the hole, both “body and soul”
before they began to “begin the beguine”

then london gave birth to the “swinging” sixties
they swung from the burbs to the palace
going for their lives, swapping husbands and wives
every bob, ted, carol and alice

while back here in melbourne, not swinging but swaying
no one could say we weren’t tryin’
with the climate right wing, the only person to swing
was the last man to hang, ronald ryan

then telegram sam, delivered us glam
the seventies were the strangest of days
bowie and the hooks, who’s androgynous looks
suggested they were swinging both ways

the swing disappeared in the nineties
it’s not hard to work out where it went
all the extra hours working, to cover the mortgage
if you’re lucky, if you’re not, for the rent

what once would have bought you a house with a yard
now barely buys you a flat
there’s not enough room for spanking the monkey
let alone swinging the cat

will we base our selection, for the coming election
on the lies and deceit we condemn
it matters not one iota to your average voter
it comes down to what’s in it for them

will tax reforms spark, support for war in iraq
do convictions or greed pull the string
that decision, wrong or right, won’t be made by left or right
but the cats in the middle who swing

© Copyright 2007 Ian Bland

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