I'm a good ole MOAB sojer,
An' that is whut I am
And fer yer pink salvation,
I do not give a damn
I've written things on MOAB
It feels like twenny years
But I flung me lots of fine BS
While hanging on 'round hyere.

I do not care fer fly-by-nights
Or hollow power grabs.
I like a joke whut is a joke,
Like ya find here on MOAB
AN' not them pearly wonders
The collared kind let fall,
Which they assert all serious-like,
Thuh biggest joke of all.

With all respect I do not care
Fer threats of bein' damned.
The divil lays a hand on me
Will find out who I am,
And as fer yer ascensions,
I don't care to pass yore test.
So I think I'll stay on the MOAB
Where life still has some zest.

I can't take to the streets no more,
Like we did in '68.
But I ain't about to be yer sheep,
No, sheep will have to wait.
And I will not pray to anyone
To forgive for what I am.
And I don't want yer salvation, sir,
And I do not give a damn.


Rasty Rusty Raritan, the Rambling Rip-roarer
"Songs Full of Rs"
Wallaby Dammed Publishing
Incontinence, New South Wales, 1939