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COMIC CUTS

Bliss it was, that age of graphic styles
And very heaven Gem or Dynamite.
Those antique comics rolled us in the aisles
Time after time in timeless black & white.

Ah mates, those were the golden days
When Aussie comics truly ruled the roost.
Those images that time cannot erase
Are like the madeleine to Marcel Proust.

And now our own recherché du temps perdu
Evokes the ghosts of limners long since dead,
Of Bancks and co. and Emile Mercier too;
That Frenchie with an Ocker in his head.

For now the heroes of our happy youth
May glide no more across the gilded page,
Sadly we face the unrelenting truth,
Like us they are undone at last by age.

Curly's locks have grown extremely thin,
And Bluey early ran to fat; of course
They're RSL-ders now and, though its dim,
The flame for them retains its primal force.

Ginger Meggs is snowy now, he flees
From Kelly only in his dreams;
And toothless Tiger's daily on his knees,
He's changed his chequered suit for bowlers creams.

The Potts are eking out their pension cheque somehow,
And Pudden's recent stroke has slowed him down.
The Major never will make colonel now
He's changed his earthly, for a heavenly crown.

Come back great Mercier, let your genius flower
It's only you can stem the sad parade.
O Supa-Dupa Man, now is the hour
For which Wocko the Beaut and you alone, were made.

Return to us with healing in your wings.
Retwirl your gay mustachios, old boy.
Let Supplementary power infuse your vibrant springs
And bounce us back to multi-coloured joy.

---

As I said, who here would even understand what this poem is on about
(Or maybe even care)
But it relates to Australian culture back a whiles - maybe gone forever now.

Maybe it is an allegory of what the original eAus community represented Probably gone forever. Who knows?