Slightly Grubby (Melbourne)

Standing on slightly grubby dignity

By the Yarra bend, weatherly city         

Horses are racing, spring fashion to wear

Flinders Station, under clocks, “See you there.”

Town Hall shimmies gala, play, committee

Outside St Paul’s, koori man, “Want to share?”

The bedless wander, “Any change to spare?”

Big Issue sells stories, not charity

Hawking on slightly grubby dignity

Uncle U.S., Mother England ditty

“Mel Burn is our mate—larrikin gritty”

Users nod off, tramming, ticketed fare

Table dancers “young” “hot” “X”—“rude to stare”

Tearing up bluestones—the past not pretty

Jazz haunts the laneways—dark integrity

Busking on slightly grubby dignity

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