Oh, it’s dreadful to think in a country like this
With its chances for work – and enjoyment
That a man like McGuinness was certain to miss
Whenever he tried for employment.
He wrote to employers from Bondi to Bourke,
From Woolloomooloo to Glen Innes,
But he found – though his wife could get plenty of work –
There was never a job for McGuinness.
But perhaps – later on – when the Chow and the Jap
Begin to drift down from the tropics,
When a big yellow stain spreading over the map
Provides some disquieting topics,
Oh, it’s then when they’re wanting a man that will stand
In the trench where his own kith and kin is,
With a frown on his face and a gun in his hand –
Then there might be a job for McGuinness!
