A
'Coaster'
A real west coaster is a friendly man, a smiling man,
One you can rely on,
Who goes to town in his black
singlet,
No need to put a tie on.
A real coaster drinks his shandy
straight,
Leaves the eyes in his whitebait,
Stays
up late to half past eight,
Sticks a pig, shoots a deer,
Gets horribly ill on foreign beer.
Education fills his head,
There's not a playboy he hasn't
read.
A real coaster is an independent man,
The last of the real tough'uns.
He's big enough and ugly enough,
To butter his own muffins.
A man of few words, doesn't say much,
Apart from the time he stuffed up the clutch.
A coaster is a proud man,
He won't go on the dole,
He'll work away for ten long hours,
Bringing
out the coal.
A real coaster is a wise man,
Proud of the land he adores,
Always willing to assist,
Just knock on any door.
But most of all he's a Kiwi,
Who cares about his nation,
And to keep his beloved west coast,
For future
generations.
((C) Copyright 1999
TIC
All Rights Reserved
