Reading The Age; there on the page, is a rebel without applause -
State politics game, things wont be the same and you know that's because
Of the man who's black; by Christ he's back - if you're animal, vegetable, mineral,
He'll give you a bath, Ches Baragwanath, State Auditor-General.
His audit is Brando, culture's Rambo, his calculator's full of malice;
If you've a dodgy practise, buddy you're cactus if your books don't f**ing balance.
If you think I'm kiddin' ask Jim Kennan, who retreated into his kennel
When he got in the path of Ches Baragwanath, State Auditor-General.
The Republic's coming
And it needs a pres'.
No Kennett, nor Keating -
All power to Ches.
Beware lest he's after your testes - if you've got a current account deficit.
He'll lock you in a room, hand you a spoon, you'll eat peanuts out of his sh** -
There ain't nothin' colder than a tap on the shoulder and a voice of authority says:
"Name's Baragwanath, I'll cut you in half - my friends, they call me Ches."
The Republic's coming
And it needs a president
No Kennett, nor Keating -
All power to Baragwanath.