The Nation of Alienation

I had a nervous breakdown in Broken Hill,

I found no mates in Maitland,

I just didn’t belong — in Bylong,

I couldn’t endure in Mildura,

and it was all uphill in Manildra.

I was briefly imprisoned in Brisbane

before escaping to the Southern seas,

to become the only bogan — in Bougainville.

I felt like a lemon in Orange,

moved from Mudgee to Coogee —

and they still didn’t like me.

Tried Willcania when I knew I shouldn’t

when they asked “well can ya?”

I knew — I couldn’t.

And what are you gunna do in Gunnedah?

I felt like a complete galah in Gulargambone,

which I mistakenly tried to call my home,

and how I wound up in Canowindra, don’t ask me!

I might take a flat in Wattle Flat

or end up in a dead–end like Hill End,

but I’ll always be agog in old Dungog,

bogged down in Bogabri,

so lonesome I could cry.

Alone — in this great nation,

the nation of alienation.