- Eric Bogle
When the steaks are burning fiercely
When the smoke gets in your eyes
When the snags all taste like fried toothpaste (snags - sausages)
And your mouth is full of flies
It's a national institution
It's Australian through and through
So come on mate and grab your plate
Let's have a barbecue
When the summer sun is shining on Australia's happy
land
Round countless fires in strange attires you'll see many solemn
bands
Of glum Australians watching their lunch go up in flames
By the smoke and the smell you can plainly tell that it's barby
time again
The Scots eat lots of haggis, the French eat snails
and frogs
The Greeks go crackers over their moussakas and the Chinese love
hot dogs
Welshmen love to have a leek, the Irish like their stew
But you just can't beat that half-cooked meat at an Aussie
barbecue
There's flies stuck to the margarine, the bread has
gone rock-hard
The kids are fighting and the mossies* are biting, who forgot the
Aerogard**
There's bull ants in the Esky and the beer is running out (Esky -
portable ice-box)
And what you saw in Mum's coleslaw you just don't think about
And when the barby's over and your homeward way you
wend
With a queasy tummy on the family dunny many lonely hours you
spend (dunny - toilet)
You might find yourself reflecting, like many often do
Come rain or shine that's the bloody last time that you'll have a
barbecue