This poem is about the early Western Australian aviation pioneer, Andrew Barr who went to England hoping to interest investors in his machine, a model of which apparently flew prior to the Wright Bros Kittyhawk flight. read the entire article here
"We said ta-ta," as someone wrote,
"To Andrew Barr, of Doodlekine,"
We also watched him board the boat
That bore him o'er the rolling brine.
He comforted each pallid wreck,
Who moaned and groaned in mal-de-mer;
He showed in chalk along the deck
How he'd propel them through the air;
He laughed to scorn the albatross
Which whirled and swooped for scupper scraps;
Of Boreas bold he'd be the boss,
And scowled when someone said "Perhaps."
But now, alas - a punctured crank
Is back across the tropic line,
And all the world is dark and dank
To Andrew Barr, of Doodlekine.
We sent him 'Ome across the sea,
And told this woolly-whiskered wight
Where he could raise the L.S.D.
(Or rather, where perhaps he might).
We gave him letters short and long
To Cohen-Bull of London Rich;
We also sent a spruiker strong
To show him which at 'Ome was which.
Big Brimage went to pilot him
Among the London fog and smoke,
And Brim. was pledged to sling a jim
Whenever Barr went stoney-broke.
Brim. now has got a bat-winged car,
Which Cohen and his crowd decline,
And W.A. has Andrew Barr,
Poor busted Barr, of Doodlekine.
He sought the crystal air to swim
Amid a maze of whirling wings,
And dreamed of times when he and Brim
Would flip a dook with 'aughty Kings.
The only Kings who saw his face,
Alas, were in the steerage pack,
And Brim's in London on the "ace",
Of Andrew Barr a trifle "jack"
And Doodlekine which hoped to rise
Into a throbbing, thriving town,
Now imprecates poor Andrew's eyes
While cursing Brimage up and down.
And there the scrub-encumbered land,
The poddy calf, the squealing swine,
Are waiting for the 'ornery 'and
Of Andrew Barr of Doodlekine,
Poor busted Barr of Doodlekine.
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