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Kenneth Slessor - Gulliver
Work rating: Low

I`LL kick your walls to bits, I`ll die scratching a tunnel, 
 If you`ll give me a wall, if you`ll give me a simple stone, 
 If you`ll do me the honour of a dungeon— 
 Anything but this tyranny of sinews. 
 Lashed with a hundred ropes of nerve and bone 
 I lie, poor helpless Gulliver, 
 In a twopenny dock for the want of a penny, 
 Tied up with stuff too cheap, and strings too many. 
 One chain is usually sufficient for a cur. 
 Hair over hair, I pick my cables loose, 
 But still the ridiculous manacles confine me. 
 I snap them, swollen with sobbing. What`s the use? 
 One hair I break, ten thousand hairs entwine me. 
 Love, hunger, drunkenness, neuralgia, debt, 
 Cold weather, hot weather, sleep and age— 
 If I could only unloose their spongy fingers, 
 I`d have a chance yet, slip through the cage. 
 But who ever heard of a cage of hairs? 
 You can`t scrape tunnels in a net. 
 If you`d give me a chain, if you`d give me honest iron, 
 If you`d graciously give me a turnkey, 
 I could break my teeth on a chain, I could bite through metal, 
 But what can you do with hairs? 
 For God`s sake, call the hangman.
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