Reading The Age; there on the page, is a rebel without applause -
State politics game, things wont be the same and you know that's because
Of the man who's black; by Christ he's back - if you're animal, vegetable, mineral,
He'll give you a bath, Ches Baragwanath, State Auditor-General.
His audit is Brando, culture's Rambo, his calculator's full of malice;
If you've a dodgy practise, buddy you're cactus if your books don't fucking balance.
If you think I'm kiddin' ask Jim Kennan, who retreated into his kennel
When he got in the path of Ches Baragwanath, State Auditor-General.
The Republic's coming
And it needs a pres'.
No Kennett, nor Keating -
All power to Ches.
Beware lest he's after your testes - if you've got a current account deficit.
He'll lock you in a room, hand you a spoon, you'll eat peanuts out of his shit -
There ain't nothin' colder than a tap on the shoulder and a voice of authority says:
"Name's Baragwanath, I'll cut you in half - my friends, they call me Ches."
The Republic's coming
And it needs a president
No Kennett, nor Keating -
All power to Baragwanath.
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