The Bogan

I am an Aussie Bogan, and for that I should be happy,
I walk around in Ug-boots wearing nought but daks of tracky.
With flanny pocket bulging with a box of Winnie Reds,
I head off to St Vinnies with my beanie on my head.

An Aussie Bogan's life is as busy as can be,
It's an hour's walk to town to get my bourbon and V.B.
And just so's the Mrs and the kids don't do two trips,
I'll stop and buy us all some lunch - three bucks worth of chips!

I jack another car up on some bricks on my front lawn,
The disc pads are almost new, and the tyres are just half-worn;
There's half a tank of petrol and the battery's not yet f***ed,
I'll flog them off and sell the rest for a couple of hundred bucks!

On payday I'll head down the pub with the Mrs and the kids,
It's happy hour at five O'Clock and schnitzel night at Sid's,
If Centrelink overpay me, like those dickheads often do,
I'll put fifty in the pokies and I'll get a new tattoo!

The kids have gone to school, and the Mrs is in bed,
I'm sitting here, drinking beer and smoking a Winnie Red,
As I reflect upon my life, I wonder what's in store?
Will I ever get my ute fixed, will my Mum go guarantor?

But then I spot a business man, a plumber and a hostie,
Over there's a tradie, and, Oh! Here comes the Postie.
I know what they are thinking, as they glance my way and grunt,
But I'm an Aussie bogan, so go f*** yourself you cunt!