Ga-Gd
My sister’d incessantly blabber
’Bout cricket, until Dad’d grab ’er
And drag her along
To the place where the throng
Take in Test matches, down at the Gabba.
The Gabba is the main sports stadium in Brisbane, named for its suburb of Woolloongabba. Although primarily associated with cricket, the stadium has hosted many other sports, and is set to serve as the Olympic Stadium in 2032.
Said an emu, “Some cocky you are!
Yer a bird-brain, ya flamin’ galah.
Ya can’t even talk:
Ya just sit there an’ squawk.
Yer the dumbest galah here by far.”
The galah is a small cockatoo found throughout Australia which has pink feathers on its body, grey wings and tail feathers, and a white crest. Flocks of galahs are a common sight in mainland Australia, but less common in Tasmania, where they were introduced in the nineteenth century. Their name is often used in Australia to refer to, or call someone, an idiot.
Galahs are popular pets around the world, but less commonly kept in Australia, whether in homes or in bird parks. Like sulphur-crested cockatoos, they can be taught to talk, but most Aussie galahs (of the non-human kind) won’t have had the opportunity.
In Gallipoli, Anzacs would die
In their thousands; how pointless. And why?
They attacked from the beach,
With the Turks out of reach,
Thanks to Churchill. Thanks, mate. What a guy.
The date of the Allied forces’ amphibious landing on the Gallipoli peninsula in Turkey, 25 April 1915, became a national day of remembrance in Australia and New Zealand, thanks to the high casualties the two young nations suffered alongside the British and the French. After eight months’ fighting in extreme conditions, facing Turkish soldiers who were entrenched at the top of steep hillsides, the Allies abandoned their land campaign and withdrew, a defining moment in Turkish history as well as that of Australia and New Zealand. There was plenty of blame to go around for the campaign’s failure, but Winston Churchill, then the First Lord of the Admiralty, took a significant share of it as the campaign’s main sponsor, and was demoted as a result.
I’m planning a holiday, pal, away
Oot west in the region o’ Galloway,
Where there’s Wigtown, fer books,
A few crannies and nooks,
And a ferry to take me et al. away.
Scotland’s south-westernmost region of Galloway was important in prehistoric times, but these days is a quiet rural setting, known mainly for its ferry town of Stranraer (with sailings to Belfast in Northern Ireland) and the annual Wigtown Book Festival.
From the noise that you make, I deduce
You’re a fan of the Game of the Goose.
I can tell when you’re bored:
When I win, my reward
Is the salvo of HONKs you let loose.
The Game of the Goose is an early board game, first recorded in HONK Italy in the late 1400s. Traditionally, it features 63 squares set out in a spiral, where the aim is to race to the HONK middle: players roll two dice to advance, avoiding traps which can hold you up or send you back to the start, such as the Hotel, the Well, the Maze, the Prison, and HONK Death. The 2019 video game Untitled Goose Game is its spiritual descendent.
The phenomenal show Game of Thrones,
Full of dragons and sex, swords and bones,
Is a binge-watch worth startin’.
Author George R. R. Martin
Keeps us guessing about its unknowns.
I grew up in an island-wide gaol
Called Van Diemen’s Land, where, without fail,
Convicts suffered and bled.
Some escaped and then fled
To the bush, as is told in Clarke’s tale.
Luckily, I grew up over a century after the transportation of convicts from Britain to Van Diemen’s Land had ended and its name was changed to Tasmania. The most famous story of its convict days, For the Term of His Natural Life by Marcus Clarke, was first published in serial form from 1870 to 1872. Clarke painted a grim picture of murder, floggings, escape and even cannibalism, although modern historians say that he exaggerated the penal colony’s horrors.
Greta’s garbo, or garbage collector,
Had the hots for her junk. He’d inspect ’er
Big bins, then her waste,
And then take it in haste:
Once a week, he would please, then neglect, ’er.
They say it’s a really big deal:
A gargantuan duck! Is it real?
Yep, the biggest there is.
It’s a... what? Aw, gee whiz.
So a garganey’s just a big teal?
Yes, the garganey is big as teals go, but small for a duck; it’s been called a teal-duck, among other descriptors. In 2009 it was moved into the genus Spatula after genetic analysis distinguished it from the genus Anas of teals and mallards. It breeds in much of Europe and across the Palearctic, migrating to southern Africa, India, Bangladesh and Australasia during the northern winter.
I’ve garnered some valuable clues
From the Big Top: these two flappy shoes,
Size nineteen; this red nose;
And this wig. I suppose
There’s a chance they’re the killer’s, but whose?
Spending time in the garden’s your nadir?
You’re a known anti-courtyard crusader?
If a cloistered enclosure
So shakes your composure,
No wonder you’re called Garth Evader.
Archaic.
Which bodies of ours are gas giants
According to planetary science?
The H/He pattern
Of readings from Saturn
And Jupiter show their compliance.
Saturn and Jupiter consist mainly of hydrogen and helium, making them the Solar System’s two gas giants.
Uncle Hamish asked, “Whit is wrang, lassie?”
Said Morag, “Mah tummy is gassy.”
Said Hamish, “That rumbling’s
A haggis’s mumblings.”
Wee Morag said, “Dinnae be assy.”
Soon the best chefs of Europe will know
My new cake is the finest gâteau!
It’s a cherry-topped dream
Filled with chocolate and cream,
As they’ll never have seen... before... oh.
The Gatling gun rattled and whirled,
As its multiple barrels unfurled
A profusion of rounds,
To the horrible sounds
Of the imminent end of the world.
If you gape and stare vacantly, awk-
ward encounters ensue. You’re the talk
Of the town now: “That kid
Must be short a few quid.”
People stop in the street for a gawk.
If you gawk at strangers (the first and older sense illustrated here), you’re likely in turn to draw a few looks or glances (the second and newer sense), as people wonder if you’re quite all there—or, figuratively speaking, whether you’re short a few quid.
“Life is ever so happy and gay!”
Was once hard for a gay man to say.
Now he’s shouting out loud,
“I’m queer, and I’m proud:
We’re here, and not going away.”
As for queer, its malevolent use
By the cruel as a term of abuse
Has been turned on its head
By its targets; instead,
It’s a call to resist, not a noose.
When you’re driving along on the straight
And the lorry you pass has a plate
With the letters GB,
Call out, “God save the Queeeeeee...”
’Cos its driver thinks Britain is great.
The spies who love snooping on you
Aren’t James Bond—they’re at GCHQ.
If you’re browsing in Britain,
Encryption—or quittin’—
Will kill off their licence to view.
G’day, new arrivals—allow
Me to show how we greet people. Now,
As you know, Aussies tend
To say “hi” to a friend,
Or “hello” to all others—that’s how.
Yes, mate? Nah, we just say “g’day” to tourists.
GDP rises indicate growth
In a country’s economy—both
Goods’ and services’ value
Combined. So, then, shall you
Work harder, or venerate sloth?