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Australia has an increasingly multicultural society.

quote by Julie Bishop
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The Beautiful Land Of Australia

All you on emigration bent,
With home and England discontent,
Come, listen to my sad lament,
All about the bush of Australia.
I once possessed a thousand pounds.
Thinks I—how very grand it sounds
For a man to be farming his own grounds
In the beautiful land of Australia.

Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.
Upon the voyage the ship was lost.
In wretched plight I reached the coast,
And was very nigh being made a roast,
By the savages of Australia.

And in the bush I lighted on
A fierce bushranger with his gun,
Who borrowed my garments, every one,
For himself in the bush of Australia.

Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong.
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.

Sydney town I reached at last,
And now, thinks I, all danger's past,
And I shall make my fortune fast
In this promising land of Australia.
I quickly went with cash in hand,
Upon the map I chose my land.
When I got there 'twas barren sand
In the beautiful land of Australia.

Illawarra, Mittagong,
Parramatta, Wollongong
If you wish to become an ourang-outang,
Then go to the bush of Australia.

Of sheep I got a famous lot.
Some died of hunger, some of rot,
For the devil a dropp of rain they got,
In this flourishing land of Australia.
My convict men were always drunk,
They kept me in a constant funk.
Says I to myself, as to bed I slunk,
How I wish I was out of Australia!

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Australia

Opportunities are available in all walks of life in australia
So if youre young and if youre healthy
Why not get a boat and come to australia
Australia, the chance of a lifetime
Australia, you get what you work for
Nobody has to be any better than what they want to be
Australia, no class distinction
Australia, no drug addiction
Nobodys got a chip on their shoulder
Well surf like they do in the u.s.a.
Well fly down to sydney for our holiday
On sunny christmas day
Australia, australia
No one hesitates at life or beats around the bush in australia
So if youre young and if youre healthy
Why not get a boat and come to australia
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Everyone walks around with a perpetual smile across their face
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Australia sha-la-la-la sha-la-la-la
Everyone gets around and nobody can ever get you down
Well surf like they do in the u.s.a.
Well fly down to sydney for our holiday
On sunny christmas day
Australia, australia

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Song for Australia

There is a land where summer skies
Are gleaming with a thousand dyes
Blending in witching harmonies,
in harmonies;
and grassy knoll and forest height,
are flushing in the rosy light,
And all above is azure bright -
Australia, Australia, Australia.

There is a land where honey flows
Where laughing corn luxuriant grows;
Land of the myrtle and the rose,
land of the rose.
On hill and plain the clustering vine
Is gushing out with purple wine,
And cups are quaffed to thee and thine -
Australia, Australia, Australia.

There is a land where treasures shine
Deep in the dark unfathomed mine
For worshippers at Mammon's Shrine;
Where gold lies hid, and rubies glean,
And fable wealth no more doth seem
The idle fancy of a dream
Australia, Australia, Australia.

There is a land where homesteads peep
From sunny plain and woodland steep
And love and joy bright vigils keep;
Where the glad voice of childish glee
Is mingling with the melody
Of nature's hidden minstelsy
Australia, Australia, Australia.

There is a land where floating free,
From mountain top to girdling sea,
A proud flag waves exultingly, exultingly
And freedom's sons the banner bear,
No shackled slave can breathe the air;
Fairest of Britain's daughter fair
Australia, Australia, Australia.

poem by Caroline Carleton
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A Map Of Culture

Culture

Contents

What is Culture?

The Importance of Culture

Culture Varies

Culture is Critical

The Sociobiology Debate

Values, Norms, and Social Control

Signs and Symbols

Language

Terms and Definitions

Approaches to the Study of Culture

Are We Prisoners of Our Culture?

What is Culture?

I prefer the definition used by Ian Robertson: 'all the shared products of society: material and nonmaterial' (Our text defines it in somewhat more ponderous terms- 'The totality of learned, socially transmitted behavior. It includes ideas, values, and customs (as well as the sailboats, comic books, and birth control devices) of groups of people' (p.32) .

Back to Contents

[...] Read more

poem by Nyein Way
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The Heart of Australia

When the wars of the world seemed ended, and silent the distant drum,
Ten years ago in Australia, I wrote of a war to come:
And I pictured Australians fighting as their fathers fought of old
For the old things, pride or country, for God or the Devil or gold.

And they lounged on the rim of Australia in the peace that had come to last,
And they laughed at my "cavalry charges" for such things belonged to the past;
Then our wise men smiled with indulgence – ere the swift years proved me right –
Saying: "What shall Australia fight for? And whom shall Australia fight?"

I wrote of the unlocked rivers in the days when my heart was full,
And I pleaded for irrigation where they sacrifice all for wool.
I pictured Australia fighting when the coast had been lost and won –
With arsenals west of the mountains and every spur its gun.

And what shall Australia fight for? The reason may yet be found,
When strange shells scatter the wickets and burst on the football ground.
And "Who shall invade Australia?" let the wisdom of ages say
"The friend of a further future – or the ally of yesterday!"

Aye! What must Australia fight for? In the strife that never shall cease,
She must fight for her work unfinished: she must fight for her life and peace,
For the sins of the older nations. She must fight for her own reward.
She has taken the sword in her blindness and shall live or die by the sword.

But the statesman, the churchman, the scholar still peer through their glasses dim
And they see no cloud on the future as they roost on Australia's rim:
Where the farmer works with the lumpers and the drover drives a dray,
And the shearer on Garden Island is shifting a hill to-day.

Had we used the wealth we have squandered and the land that we kept from the plough,
A prosperous Federal City would be over the mountains now,
With farms that sweep to horizons and gardens where plains lay bare,
And the bulk of the population and the Heart of Australia there.

Had we used the time we have wasted and the gold we have thrown away,
The pick of the world's mechanics would be over the range to-day –
In the Valley of Coal and Iron where the breeze from the bush comes down,
And where thousands of makers of all things should be happy in Factory Town.

They droned on the rim of Australia, the wise men who never could learn;
Our substance we sent to the nations, and their shoddy we bought in return.
In the end, shall our soldiers fight naked, no help for them under the sun –
And never a cartridge to stick in the breech of a Brummagem gun?

With the Wars of the World coming near us the wise men are waking to-day.
Hurry out ammunition from England! Mount guns on the cliffs while you may!
And God pardon our sins as a people if Invasion's unmerciful hand
Should strike at the heart of Australia drought-cramped on the verge of the land.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Lets Stomp Australia Way

Evrybodys doin it ,stompin australia way
Lets stomp , australia way
Thats what theyll do today
Lets stomp to the surfin wave
Evrybody in this here land
Come on , get yourself some sun
Were gonna stomp till the night is gone
Stomp , stomp , stompin australia way
It all began in sydney town , down avalon way
Then surf city came along
Well , youve got to stomp to stay
The denver man had ,ah-oo, stomp fever
What more can I say ,ooh
Evrybodys doin it , stompin australia way
Well, well, well
Lets stomp , australia way
Thats what theyll do today
Lets stomp to the surfin wave
Evrybody in this here land
Come on , get yourself some sun
Were gonna stomp till the night is gone
Stomp, stomp , stompin australia way
Lets stomp it now (break)
Evrybodys doin it , stompin australia way
Theyre doin it down in melbourne now
Stompin australia way
In brisbane and the gold coast too
They stomp all night and day
In adelaide town its a gettin around
Stomp is here to stay ,yeah
Evrybodys doin it , stompin australia way
Lets stomp australia way
Thats what theyll do today
Lets stomp to the surfin wave
Evrybody in this here land
Come on , get yourself some sun
We gonna stomp till the night is gone
Stomp , stomp , stompin australia way

song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sing Austrailia

I come to Australia as many people do, to see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo.
To hear somebody call me "Mate" and call somebody "Blue,"
to hear an Aborigine play a didgeridoo.
Some of you came as prisoners two centuries ago,
some of you come as kings and queens your blessing to bestow.
Some of you stand all swelled with pride, some with shattered wings,
but all of us come with open hearts to hear Australia sing.
In the desert, in the city, in the mountains and in the sea.
In the stories and in the people I can hear Australia sing.
Waltzing Matilda, the men of Gallipoli, Clancy of the Overflow and Crocodile Dundee.
The myth of all creation, the teaching of Baiame, the legends of the Dreamtime for all eternity.
And in this celebration, a brief two hundred years,
the cost to build a nation in blood and sweat and tears.
And if we stand divided, divided we shall fall. But if we stand together, we shall conquer all.
In the desert, in the city, in the mountains and in the sea.
In the stories and in the people I can hear Australia sing..
Sing Australia, sing Australia, sing Australia, sing Australia.
In the sails on Sydney Harbour I can hear Australia sing.

song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sing Australia

This song appears on four albums, and was first released on the higher ground album, and has also been released on the a portrait, the john denver collection - calypso and the gift you are album
I come to australia as many people do
To see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo
To hear somebody call me mate and call somebody blue
To hear the aboriginee play a didgeridoo
Some of you came as prisoners two centuries ago
Some of you come as kings and queens your blessing to bestow
Some of you stand all swelled with pride, some with shattered wings
But all of us come with open hearts to hear australia sing
In the desert, in the city
In the mountains and in the sea
In the stories and in the people
I can hear australia sing
Waltzing matilda, the men of galipoli
Clancy of the overflow, crocodile dundee
The myth of all creation, the teaching of baiame
The legends of a dreamtime for all eternity
And in this celebration of a brief two hundred years
The cost to build a nation in blood and sweat and tears
And if we stand divided, divided we will fall
But if we stand together we shall conquer all
In the desert, in the city
In the mountains and in the sea
In the stories and in the people
I can hear australia sing
Sing australia, sing australia, sing australia, sing australia
In the sails on sydney harbour
I can hear australia sing
Words and music by john denver

song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Queer Ways Of Australia

Dick Briggs, a wealthy farmer’s son,
To England lately took a run,
To see his friends, and have some fun,
For he’d been ten years in Australia.
Arrived in England, off he went
To his native village down in Kent—
’Twas there his father drew his rent,
And many happy days he’d spent.
No splendid, fine clothes on had he,
But jumper’n boots up to the knee,
With dirty Sydney ‘cabbage-tree’—
The costume of Australia.

Chorus:
Now when a fellow takes a run
To England for a bit of fun,
He’s sure to ’stonish everyone
With the queer ways of Australia.

Now Dick went home in this array;
His sister came out and did say,
‘No, we don’t want anything today,’
To her brother from Australia.
Cried he, ‘Oh, don’t you know poor Dick?’
They recognized him precious quick;
The ‘old man’ hugged him like a brick.
And there was feasting there that night,
For Richard was a welcome sight,
For each one hailed with great delight
The wanderer from Australia.

The blessed cattle on the farm
Regarded Dick with great alarm;
His swearing acted like a charm
When he gave ’em a ‘touch’ of Australia.
He could talk ‘bullock’ and ‘no flies’,
And when he blessed poor Strawberry’s eyes,
She looked at him with great surprise
As out of her he ‘took a rise’.
‘Fie, fie,’ his mother said one day,
‘What naughty, wicked words you say.’
‘Bless you, mother, that’s the way
We wake ’em up in Australia.’
Dick went to London for a spree,
And got drunk there most gloriously;
He gave them a touch of ‘Coo-oo-ee’
The bush cry of Australia.
He took two ladies to the play,
Both so serene, in dresses gay,
He had champagne brought on a tray

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Thatcher
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Low Society

A judge a dentist or physician
In this low society
Trade ambition for position
In this low society
Have you heard its in the stars
Next july we collide with mars
Have you heard it in the bars
In this low society
No more pay and lots of leisure
In this low society
Low society
Im just doing what I can
In this low society
But Im an incidental man
In this low society
I give away what others sell
The secrets yours so never tell
cos if you do youll go to hell
Low society
Side by side and always tired
All for one and no-one hired
All thats left is love inspired
Low society
And when the party is complete
And youre still standing on your feet
The taste of victory is sweet
Low society
And darling dont forget
In this low society
To turn off your t.v. set
In this low society
The most important thing at all
In this low society
Is not to stand too tall
In this low society
In this world that never learns
I can see rome as it burns
All the passion and the power
Turns to ash within an hour
No more play and no more pleasure
In this low society

song performed by Heaven 17
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Stockmen Of Australia

The stockmen of Australia, what rowdy boys are they,
They will curse and swear an hurricane if you come in their way.
They dash along the forest on black, bay, brown, or grey,
And the stockmen of Australia, hard-riding boys are they.

By constant feats of horsemanship, they procure for us our grub,
And supply us with the fattest beef by hard work in the scrub.
To muster up the cattle they cease not night nor day,
And the stockmen of Australia, hard-riding boys are they.

Just mark him as he jogs along, his stockwhip on his knee,
His white mole pants and polished boots and jaunty cabbage- tree.
His horsey-pattern Crimean shirt of colours bright and gay,
And the stockmen of Australia, what dressy boys are they.

If you should chance to lose yourself and dropp upon his camp,
He's there reclining on the ground, be it dry or be it damp.
He'll give you hearty welcome, and a stunning pot of tea,
For the stockmen of Australia, good-natured boys are they.

If down to Sydney you should go, and there a stockman meet,
Remark the sly looks cast on him as he roams through the street.
From the shade of lovely bonnets steal forth those glances gay,
For the stockmen of Australia, the ladies' pets are they.

Whatever fun is going on, the stockman will be there,
Be it theatre or concert, or dance or fancy fair.
To join in the amusements be sure he won't delay,
For the stockmen of Australia, light-hearted boys are they.

Then here's a health to every lass, and let the toast go round,
To as jolly a set of fellows as ever yet were found.
And all good luck be with them, for ever and to-day,
Here's to the stockmen of Australia—hip, hip, hooray!

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Men Who Made Australia

There'll be royal times in Sydney for the Cuff and Collar Push,
There’ll be lots of dreary drivel and clap-trap
From the men who own Australia, but who never knew the Bush,
And who could not point their runs out on the map.
Oh, the daily Press will grovel as it never did before,
There’ll be many flags of welcome in the air,
And the Civil Service poet, he shall write odes by the score—
But the men who made the land will not be there.
You shall meet the awful Lady of the latest Birthday Knight—
(She is trying to be English, don’t-cher-know?)
You shall hear the empty mouthing of the champion blatherskite,
You shall hear the boss of local drapers blow.
There’ll be ‘majahs’ from the counter, tailors’ dummies from the fleet,
And to represent Australia here to-day,
There’s the today with his card-case and his cab in Downing-street;
But the men who made Australia—where are they?

Call across the blazing sand wastes of the Never-Never Land!
There are some who will not answer yet awhile,
Some whose bones rot in the mulga or lie bleaching on the sand,
Died of thirst to win the land another mile.
Thrown from horses, ripped by cattle, lost on deserts; and the weak,
Mad through loneliness or drink (no matter which),
Drowned in floods or dead of fever by the sluggish slimy creek—
These are men who died to make the Wool-Kings rich.

Call across the scrubby ridges where they clear the barren soil,
And the gaunt Bush-women share the work of men—
Toil and loneliness for ever—hardship, loneliness and toil—
Where the brave drought-ruined farmer starts again!
Call across the boundless sheep-runs of a country cursed for sheep—
Call across the awful scrublands west of Bourke!
But they have no time to listen—they have scarcely time to sleep—
For the men who conquer deserts have to work.

Dragged behind the crawling sheep-flock on the hot and dusty plain,
They must make a cheque to feed the wife and kids—
Riding night-watch round the cattle in the pelting, freezing rain,
While world-weariness is pressing down the lids.
And away on far out-stations, seldom touched by Heaven’s breath,
In a loneliness that smothers love and hate—
Where they never take white women—there they live the living death
With a half-caste or a black-gin for a mate.

They must toil to save the gaunt stock in the blazing months of drought,
When the stinging, blinding blight is in men’s eyes—
On the wretched, burnt selections, on the big runs further out
Where the sand-storm rises lurid to the skies.
Not to profit when the grass is waving waist-high after rain,
And the mighty clip of wool comes rolling in—

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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South Australia

In South Australia I was born
Heave away, Haul away
In South Australia 'round Cape Horn
We're bound for South Australia
Haul away your rolling king
Heave away, Haul away
Haul away oh hear me sing
We're bound for South Australia
As I walked out one morning fair
Heave away, Haul away
'Twas there I met Miss Nancy Blair
We're bound for South Australia
There's just one thing that's on my mind
Heave away, Haul away
That's leaving Nancy Blair behind
We're bound for South Australia
And as we wallop round Cape Horn
Heave away, Haul away
You'll wish to God you've never been born
We're bound for South Australia

song performed by Pogues
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Vinod

Multicultural love,
Tell me why you are now crying?
Multicultural colours,
Tell me why you now worried?
Multicultural languages,
Tell me why you cannot break through? !
For, i am like an open door to you all;
So, come and enter in! !
And, let others know that, i do care for you all.
Read it out,
Words of love and works of peace;
For i am Vinod in the land of joy!
And, i do have my romantic words to satisfy you all.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Federal City

OH! the folly, the waste, and the pity! Oh, the time that is flung behind!
They are seeking a site for a city, whose eyes shall be always blind,
Whose love for their ease grows greater, and whose care for their country less—
They are seeking a site for a city—a City of Selfishness.

In ignorance, deafness, blindness, in the cities by the sea,
With waste of time and of money, and with local jealousy;
With Anti-Federal envy, and personal paltriness,
They are seeking a site for a city—while Australia moans in distress.

By the coast with the people crowding, where Australia’s danger lies,
By the hills and the clear, cool rivers, and under the softer skies,
Where the fat shall not melt, and the ranter grow cool in the fresh’ning breeze,
And the dwellers drivel in comfort and the boodlers swindle at ease.

They are seeking a site for a city in the beauty spots of the land,
While I see so plainly, my children, where the Federal towers should stand!
Where the heart of Australia beats strongest and highest in desert air.
Make a site for a Federal City, and build you your capital there!

Where the crowd should be drawn from the coast line to the great bush that cradled the race,
Where the bush might be armed and directed should the seaboard be lost for a space;
Where the waste should be watered and gardened, in the drought-land of Never Despair,
There build you your Federal City, and make you a paradise there.

It shall be a world-wide object-lesson; it shall stand while a bushman is true,
And I tell you the bushmen will build it to show what a nation can do;
And there shall Australia sit queenly, and there shall her children be schooled,
For, I say, from the heart of Australia shall the whole of Australia be ruled.

poem by Henry Lawson
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The National Game Of Australia

The National game of Australia is Australian Rules Football
And the Aussies who love their game say 'tis the greatest game of all
Soccer, Rugby Union and Rugby League and Cricket have their roots elsewhere
But no truer Aussie sportsman than an Aussie Rules footy player,
A game born on Australian soil it surely is Australia's own
And the legend of great footy players in their deaths has even grown
In September at the famed M C G in Melbourne on A F L Grand Final Day
Close to one hundred thousand people flock to watch Australia's best teams play
Though many like both codes of rugby and cricket and soccer a game that is played Worldwide
Australia's National game is Aussie Rules to many that's a source of pride
The National Game of Australia and it's great claim to fame
Is that it was born and bred in Australia and is the only true Australian Game
And it surely is a true Aussie as Aussie as can be
And though some others may like introduced games far better with what I say many would agree.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Sanctity Of Dreams

Paint a moustache on the Mona Lisa
Ride a Harley through the heart of danger
Pick up a pen and fight a war for the right to dream
I was seventeen
Give up my house, sleep for nights on concrete
Meditate with all the bums on Vine Street
No more running, no more hiding in the house of the dead
I think I'll grow some dreads
I believe in the sanctity of dreams
No more running from these masqueraders
I believe that society will never dream like me
I dream of loving, of the empty graveyard
I dream of Vegas and the transcendental wildcard
A place where noone waits to die before they go into the light
And just the blind have sight
I follow nothing but the compass of my instinct
No matter where it leads, I know it will take me to the brink
And leave me there by myself and all alone with my dreams
Can you hear my scream?
I believe in the sanctity of dreams
No more running from these masqueraders
I believe that society will never dream like me
Never dream like me
Society will never dream like me
Never dream like me
Ooh ooh ooh
I believe in the sanctity of dreams
No more running from these masqueraders
I believe that society will never dream like me
Oh-oh
I believe in the sanctity of dreams
No more running from these masqueraders
I believe that society will never dream like me
Never dream like me
Society
Society will never dream like me
Society
Society
Society will never dream like me

song performed by Live
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sanctity Of Dreams

Paint a moustache on the Mona Lisa
Ride a Harley through the heart of danger
Pick up a pen and fight a war for the right to dream
I was seventeen
Give up my house, sleep for nights on concrete
Meditate with all the bums on Vine Street
No more running, no more hiding in the house of the dead
I think I'll grow some dreads
I believe in the sanctity of dreams
No more running from these masqueraders
I believe that society will never dream like me
I dream of loving, of the empty graveyard
I dream of Vegas and the transcendental wildcard
A place where noone waits to die before they go into the light
And just the blind have sight
I follow nothing but the compass of my instinct
No matter where it leads, I know it will take me to the brink
And leave me there by myself and all alone with my dreams
Can you hear my scream?
I believe in the sanctity of dreams
No more running from these masqueraders
I believe that society will never dream like me
Never dream like me
Society will never dream like me
Never dream like me
Ooh ooh ooh
I believe in the sanctity of dreams
No more running from these masqueraders
I believe that society will never dream like me
Oh-oh
I believe in the sanctity of dreams
No more running from these masqueraders
I believe that society will never dream like me
Never dream like me
Society
Society will never dream like me
Society
Society
Society will never dream like me

song performed by Live
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

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poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Herald Cry Humane Humanity

it has been said
that the creative talents
of a nation's people

is of critical importance
to a nation's future
the vitality well being

of cities are essential
to every community
every ethnic element

within society must survive;
must prosper flourish develop
least unique diversity be lost;

a national curriculum of arts
can assist all component sections
of a nation to come to terms

with consequence rapid changes
happening within globalization
market driven inequity policies

diminishing government support
impact of such simple diet changes
as ease fast food MacDonaldisation.

I believe a nation can best
be judged by how it treats
its own poor; their potential

development; inherent rights
of all multicultural citizens
of this gem interwoven planet;

entitlement to a basic good
healthy productive life
honour cultural uniqueness;

let humanity be fused
with these mosaic cultures
articulate unity in diversity

abolish discriminatory laws
embrace race relationships
believe nobility 'many as one'

morality beliefs values
enter love melting pots

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poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
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