A Rose by Any Other Name

A scraping of chairs as blunt pencils came to rest

Smiles of satisfaction from chair borne robots who had met the test

Mid the comfortable, constant hum of cool air, their mission was complete 

Page upon page of political correctness as ordered by Gods elite 

Soon it would be official and nicknames for soldiers strictly taboo  

Canberra believed monikers were offensive and hurtful too

Yet when it comes to soldiering, humour is always part of the game         

No formality in the ranks, and normal to be blessed with a nickname 

Such identity brimmed with wit, often used no matter where  

More so before entering fog of war, for it helped all to dare    

Their new proud titles often included place of birth and personal flaws 

It was part of the camaraderie that existed, be it peace or war

Greeny, Pitty, and Smithy  were among surnames branded with a Y

Pom, Irish, Kiwi and Zulu, all born elsewhere, were never offended by the cry 

Not forgetting the beloved Mad Spaniard and Chook Fowler, always in the fray 

Gypsy, Black Jack, Bruno and Sunburnt eager and ready to lead the way  

Drongo, Sleepy, Bludger, Walkabout, Keg eyes and other calls used so free 

All so proud of the titles dubbed by their happy family  

That was all before โ€œPolical Correctnessโ€ came to bully bands of brothers  

Such madness had never existed to dampen spirit for each other   

Around their campfires they sang the Regimentโ€™s favourite song

Which if sung in public would be very wrong 

Came the time their column marched into the gathering shadows of night 

Until at long last, the old generation faded from sight  

Today, a new column carries the scarred, aging sacred torch with pride

Odds are that most have nicknames, as they march in step, side by side 

Names like William Hunter, Charles Masonโ€“Jones or Ronald Kelly quickly fall  

And become Billy Bunter, Charlie Two Names and Ned Kelly to constant calls 

Their bonds proven in strife with yells such as โ€œTubby, Iโ€™ll cover you mateโ€  

PC will surely fail, for the ANZAC Spirit and bawdy songs will never, ever abate   

So gather your blunt pencils and mindless scribbles scattered on the floor 

As you leave, switch off the lights and close the office doors 

Then go join the real army and learn about soldiering life 

Where there are always smiles and laughter, be it peace or terrible strife 

Camaraderie so powerful and where nicknames are answered with grins 

The Brass may try to stop it, but the troops wry humour will always win 

***PC-The cursed Political Correctness


By Kindness

Life is like a bunch of roses. Some sparkle like raindrops. Some fade when there's no sun. Some just fade away in time. Some dance in many colors. Some drop with hanging wings. Some make you fall in love. The beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Life you can be sure of, you will not get out ALIVE.(sorry about that)