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  • Writer's pictureSam Wilks

Australian Dependency



In the land down under with its sunburnt plains,

A shadow looms in silent chains.

A welfare tale, not of help, but harm,

Where good intentions lose their charm.


A safety net stretched wide and far,

becomes a web, where dreams are scarred.

Dependent vines, with a grip so tight,

Strangle the will to rise and fight.


The sunlit wattle, the waratah's flame,

now watch as vigour gives way to claim.

The hand that feeds can also stifle,

each doleful drip a crippling trifle.


From bustling cities to the rugged bush,

The spirit of mateship turns to mush.

Where once was a fair go for every bloke,

now lies the suffering that welfare spoke.


A dependency bred in the welfare state,

diminishes the urge to hunt or create.

For when the handouts flow like wine,

the drive to toil will be in decline.


This rugged land with tales of old,

of battlers brave and diggers bold.

Now whispers tales of a different kind,

of shackles forged from well-meant binds.


The southern cross still glimmers bright,

above a nation caught in plight.

The dream of self-reliance, a whispered lore,

In the shadow of Welfare's door.


Barunga 2023 Sam Wilks



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