Canto of the Muscular Treasurer of Australia—Mr Costello

Chin up, wading out of Piss Christ,

wading through mushy-culturalism,

I demanded tougher oaths,

more compact make-overs.

I buoyed the congregation,

I mined the vast emptiness,

I removed the clutter of forests

and deleted any over-particulars,

I annexed and annulled the twilight zone.

Welcoming four corners of earth

into the living room,

I vacuumed.

I strengthened big flashes

and warning signs, coaled

over the differences,

bet on the bloodiest of values.

And I called for the charter:

of what we are, what they can’t be.