The Marching Song

of the East Irian Peoples' Republic

Well, It had us a little bit worried, The day all the Tanbadas went.

But the new chaps are jolly fine fellows, If you don’t mind that Muscovite scent.

It’s ‘Comrade’, remember, not ‘Master’— Although it’s a bit of a bore— But one foolish fellow said ‘Kongkong’, And he ain’t around any more.

So we’ve scrubbed the Australian ensign— The new one’s a regular beaut!

And it’s fun to hoist a red laplap, And raise the right fist in salute.

Self-government’s great for the people— Or that’s what the commissars say— But they’ve cut out the soap and tobacco, And we’re working a 12-hours day.

They allow us a ration of vodka— Boy, wouldn’t those missions perform!— But we get good and full every evening, When production’s exceeding the norm.

They’ve cute little flats at the commune, And not charging the chaps any rent, And they’re building a palace of culture, Of Czechoslovakian cement.

We’re drilling on Ela beach oval— It’s really all rather fun— For next year’s assault on the mainland; And then watch those Taubadas run!

They’ve erected a sort of memorial, (Big Brother’s idea of a lark), To some fellows called Menzies and Hasluck, In the middle of Stalin State Park.

—P.M.G.

Minj, T.N.G.