Here is an ode to Canberra that concentrates on an aspect of Canberra life that apparently doesn't happen anywhere else in the world...
The mention of Canberra always warms up my soul
Which is pretty handy cos it’s a cold little hole
Especially the temperatures this week, am I right?
It was minus-fucking-eight the other fucking night.
You wake up and greet endless clear skies of blue
And you think of the options for all you can do
Except it’s a “Canberra day” that looks warm enough
But it’s so cold outside that you freeze your dick off
To say Canberra gets cold during the seven winter months
Would be an understatement and nothing rhymes with months
I really shouldn’t have tried to rhyme something with months
Fucking hell I’ve done it again months months months.
The city is quiet during winter, it’s true
And the reason this happens is Catch twenty-two
The shops shut their doors because there’s no one around
And no one’s around because the shops have closed down.
Everyone complains, “I am fucking frozen!
But it looks like we might be in for some snow soon.”
But don’t get your skis or your snowboards out yet
A snow drop in Canberra is hardly a threat (something about latitude, apparently).
So when the wind's blowing and you’re out in the cold
And you just need some refuge before the frostbite takes hold
There’s a place you can go that's a home to the lost
Mooseheads is there for you, sober or sloshed.
When all other nightlife has succumbed to the air
Mooseheads is open to answer your prayers
Where you could get in a fight or drink a tranquiliser
And all the vodka taste like hand sanitiser.
So it’s cold in the capital; it’s all part of the charm!
A little bit of winter never caused any harm
And it’s always good fun to take note of the weather
To see whether the Berra or Tassie is better.