The consternation was tangible,
The drug squad on their feet,
The police infrastructure rumbling,
You could tast the heat.
To Brisbane mail centre they scrambled,
The Bomb Squad was there too,
A questionable package had arrived,
Its contents could nor be true.
The Customs Officials surrounded it,
Tension in their faces,
They were used to queer smelling packages,
From exotic places.
This one originated in the States,
They brought in their hounds,
But these fearless beagles became scared,
And loped away in bounds.
For the contents of this package,
Were odiferously obscene,
Anyone who smelt the package,
Turned a putrid shade of green.
So, they called in the package's recipient,
A fellow named Ymir,
He looked at them with derision,
Thinking them quite queer.
He opened the package with abandon,
Many egos duly squashed,
Inside were two artful Tshirts,
From the clan Unwashed.
So, around the home town of Ymir,
Causing much trouble and strife,
You'll see the Tshirted dynamic duo,
Ymir and his lovely wife.
So, I thank-you now Blue Cross,
I give a hearty cheer,
Come and join the Poetry Bastards,
For a frosty beer                                                    

Ymir