A little poem about the difficulty of getting dahlias in or out of Australia. Many have tried, but few have managed to bamboozle the Australian custom officers. Who are so skilful at there job, contraband is pounced upon and confiscated, oh they give you the opportunity of paying the going rate, which includes a three week quarantine period.

         You'll never get IT out        so don't you try      By KES 2005
 

 

I was talking to the man about new dahlias.
That I hoped I'd have the chance to go and buy.
He just answered me in wonder.
And said `Never not down under’
Cos you'll never get it out, so don't you try.

Now say we rapped them up in greaseproof paper.
Put a label on the front that told a lie.
Then maybe we'd get them through it.
Long before the Bugga’s knew it.
No the custom men out there are far to fly.

I was thinking to ask Kylie for a favour.
No it wasn't what you thought so don't you pry.
If she put them in her cases.
Then we might come out with aces.
But I couldn't use the girl, or be that sly.

We were searching for the one they call the Colonel.
It's a big `un that's a fact I can't deny.
But its size might be the trouble.
And the thing that bursts the bubble.
So I'm sure they'll tell us that when they reply.

So it don't seem like I'll get my Ausie beauty.
And it's just a case of castles in the sky.
If it means that I can't grow it.
Even get the chance to show it.
If I told you I don't care I'd be a lie.


 

 

 

 Winkie Colonel

 

 
 

I have since managed to get a plant or three of this phenomenal dahlia in red, and hope to prove us Pomes can grow it just as good as the man who made it possible.

 

 

 

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