To the tune of "Talk Dirty To Me" by Poison

Youse no I never
I never woulda sussed you were a looker
Youse carry on like a pork chop
But I think its fucking tops
And I know you think its fucking tops too
Your fucking grouse
I gotta have you
Get on your back now

I’ll be rooted
I’m never out with me china plate
You know that I am busting at the chops
Just to gander
And I know ya fanging forit
Better looking then a burnt thong
I gotta porkya

Chorus:
Cause sheila we'll be
At the flicks
In the old man's Ute
behind the scrub
till the baby batter has left a crust
On the battleaxe’s workbench
lock the friggin door
And bitch
Talk Aussie to me

You know I fucking rang
I called you on the dog and bone
I'm only hoping that you're home
So I can get the drum
When you make a big kafuffle
I feel like a pork chop in a Jewish Synagogue
I gotta askya owyagoin

Chorus

C.C. pick up the didge and talk to me

Solo, Chorus out

It doesn't rhyme too fucking well, but fuck it, this is what it would say if written by an Australian.  --Neekoy