You can't go to OZ for Christmas

You can't go to OZ for christmas mate
'neath a topsey turvey sky
can't BBQ a turkey mate
however hard you try

It's much too hot for taters
and parsnips like it cold
and all them fit young Aussies mate
will make you feel...well, old

There's nothing in Australia mate
just enormous rocks
Spiders big as dinner plates
Maggots big as your little finger

They'll make you eat kangeroo steaks mate
and crocodile kebabs
and them things you thought were wotsits mate
were deep fried witchy grubs

All that sun on christmas day
will make you go insane
you're English through and through mate
what you really want is rain

It'll make you go all funny
and take up watersport
Instead of mindless moaning
like a grumpy old man ought

You should be in your old armchair
watching christmas telly
With brussell sprouts and stuffing balls
boxing in your belly

I 'spose you've made your mind up
and you really have to go
Take a woolly jumper mate, 'cos you never know
Suitcase packed and ready, taxi at the gate
Wait a bloody minute, I'm bloody coming with you mate!