A poem by Barrie
I'd had too much of Sydney
with its brash and flashy ways,
with its endless push to proper
and those steamy summer days.
Where the agent always prospers
and the cynic holds the floor.
Where appearances are everything
and reality's...a bore.
So I looked away to Melbourne
where the people have a style
that reminds me of my younger days,
when I could sit and think a while.