The Senseless Superscription

Today the sixth Federal Parliament will be dissolved, and writs will be issued for the elections. As a result all writers upon Federal politics will be required to append their names and addresses.

Oh, fellow scribes, whose diatribes
    Distress the politicians,
Now comes the day when, anyway,
    Our camouflaged positions
Must mercilessly be exposed,
And our identities disclosed.

We've had our day, oh, rhymesters
    gay,
And wicked leader writers,
And others who, like me—and you,
    Were under-cover fighters.
Now must we take the open plain,
And suffer (may be) grief and pain.

Writers of pars that M.H.R.'s
    Once squirmed and wriggled under,
Will once again endure great pain—
    (At least, I shouldn't wonder).
Though there are those who hope we
    will,
I'm trusting there is respite still.

For, after all, though statesmen fall,
    Most laws are quite elastic,
(And hitherto, I'm hoping you
    Have noted I'm sarcastic).
For "Written after conference,"
Hides one behind a handy fence.

Ah, well I know, long years ago,
    When I was young and tender,
The need to sign those things of mine,
    Distressed me, I remember.
To face a wounded member's rage,
    Filled me with fear in that dim age.

And now I own, it seems I've grown
    Callous and apathetic;
I chuckle low when members grow
    Quite lividly prophetic.
I've heard full many a fearful threat,
    But never of one hanging yet.

I'd like to sign this thing of mine,
    With some name like "Veroninker,"
Or "Vesta Smith." However herewith
    You'll find my "dinkum moniker."
'Tis "C. J. Dennis, one, five four,
    In Flinders street." Knock at the
        door.