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C J Dennis - `Accorjins`
Work rating: Low

Where have the old accorjins gone?
   I was askin` the coves at the Show;
Matt from the Mallee an` Dandenong Don,
   An` a score of the fellers I know --
Ole fellers, like me -- an` they`re missin` `em sore;
   For this wireless, it never makes up
For the merry ole music we knowed of yore
   When Brindle was a pup --
               As they puts it --
An` Bravo collared the Cup.

Where are the old accorjins now
   Like me father used to play?
Times when we rested from harrers an` ploughs
   An` we made rare holiday.
Or Accorjin Alf, poor half-wit coot,
   To the bush dance used to come
An` beat the time with his hobnail boot,
   Like the top of an big bass drum --
               "Ladies` Chain!" --
Keep time to the top o` the drum.

Pipe in the sou`-west side of his mouth,
   Hat on the back of his head,
Alf `ud be there, come flood, come drouth,
   For the dance in the shearin` shed.
Leaky bellers an` keys all broke,
   Reeds near wearin` away;
But they put the ginger into a bloke,
   Them toons as he used to play.
               Hum a couple.
Reel toons of an older day.

"Hie to the Weddin`" an` "Belle Mahone,"
   "Wait Till the Clouds Roll by" ...
An` me an` yer ma crep` out alone,
   Out under the starlit sky --
Aw, jazz an` the wireless, things like these
   Is a wonder to men, alright.
But gimme that ole accorjin`s wheeze,
   An` the bush, and a starlit night.
               Kin yeh hear it? --
A mopoke`s call in the night.
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