A Narrogin bloke, old Noah Fence, is pretty close to God.
He hears voices we can’t hear. Some folks find that odd.
He was dinkum when he told me this, ‘cause he’s got a direct line.
God rings him up quite often, and says “Noah you’re doin’ fine.
You strive for mediocrity. It’s not your fault you fail.
You’ve had the toughest gig on earth, and preach to no avail.
From Albany to Quairading, they’re causing me concern.
The collection plates are mouldy. A mere pittance do I earn.” 

“From Ravensthorpe to Frankland; Collie to Lake King,
I haven’t heard a choir for months. No one comes to sing.
So get yourself a decent mutt, that heels and kneels and prays,
and round up all the heathens. It’s time they changed their ways.
Go grab Digger Posthole, who drives the Wagin bus,
Phil Emin and Andy Mann. These blokes I can sus.
Fence off moral high ground, we’ll put good Christians there.
We’ll draft and sort the sinners out, who’ve caused me such despair.” 

“I’ll have to drench this mob again, like I did back in BC.
Put razor wire around this fence. There’s no escape from me.
I had to send me young bloke down, two thousand years ago.
This time it’s Saint Peter’s turn, and he’ll say yes or no.
I can’t afford an ark and flood, and the stock has not been sinning.
But I must flush out bad habits, from joints like Popanyinning.
Noah! Get on the gate with Pete. The mutt can push ‘em through.
Town by town from A to Z. Oi, Albany! Start with you.” 

From towns as far as Shakemup, and Wakemup they came.
From Bangemin and Scrubemup, he called ‘em all by name.
Right down through the alphabet, by road and railway line.
This God almighty round up, flushed ‘em out to stop decline.
They were sorted out and purified. Good Lord, there were some shockers.
The ones already squeaky clean, were God’s own Freo Dockers.
Eagle fans would not scrub up. They don’t make stuff that strong.
Saint Pete cried “Hell! God help this lot. Quickly, move along”. 

Mount Barker, Cranbrook, and Tambellup, went to a separate pen.
They took one look at Boyup Brook, and ran ‘em through again.
Lake Grace, Hyden, Corrigin, Kojonup and Kulin,
all got dunked an extra time, to show God wasn’t foolin’.
Nyabing, Pingrup, Ongerup, Gnowangerup, and Jerry,
got Solvol soap and wire brush, and scrubbed till cheeks were cherry.
On Brookton, Broomehill, Beverley, Bridgetown, Boddington, Borden, Bremer,
they scrubbed so hard to clean ‘em up, the earth began to tremor.
Rocky Gully, Kendenup, Dumbleyung and Darkan,
got tossed in with Newdegate, and then they threw a shark ‘n.
Katanning, Denmark, Yealering, Williams, Wicky, Woody;
They checked them all out pretty close, and rarely found a goody.
Kukerin, Walpole, Pingelly, Wandering and Cuballing,
came through in the last mob, (with a stray down from Goomalling).
They hosed the evil off the good, and sorted right from wrong.
The air was thick with bull manure. It gave off quite a pong. 

They drenched with holy water, to put ‘em on the level.
A task made far more complex, by Noah’s new dog, Devil.
The mutt worked like a Demon, and took the hindmost for his own.
He ran them down a separate chute, lined with hot brimstone.
“I’d swear I had a damned lot more,” God scratched his beard in shock.
“That red mutt Devil’s a fiery brute. He’s nicked ‘em from me flock,
and run ‘em off to Christ knows where. The mob is getting littler.
I reckon I’d be better off, to contract Adolf Hitler.” 

As Devil ran the Lawyers down his chute, from whence they came,
“The job’s complete”, the boss told Pete, “without the ark and rain.”
Digger, Phil and Andy Mann, stood there looking smug,
gazing over their handy work, at all the holes they’d dug.
“Now listen up.” God told them all. “I’ve spared your souls this way.
‘Cause this was just a dummy run, for the judgement day.
So take a long hard look, inside your hearts and souls.
Then whip yourselves back into line, or dance on red hot coals.” 

“Help family, school, club and church. Support the local the pub.
Change your selfish greedy ways, or you’re all back in the tub.
What you give is what you get. For God’s sake be objective.
Do your best for all concerned, and keep me in perspective.
The Angels of Porongurup, do Stirling work down there.
Link Twin Creeks with heaven, so Mother Nature won’t despair.
The Aquafest can go ahead. I’ll ensure that they get water.
The Woolorama too can stay, but behave like you oughta.” 

The Lord looked down across the crowd, and made notes in his book,
in case some reach the Pearly Gates, he’d take another look.
“I let you off the hook this time. Only God knows why.
So take pride in your region. Now go forth and multiply.
And, in case you lose the link to me, and wind up in the oven,
my new Angels take inquiries, at ABC Great Southern.”
If you see an old bloke by his fence; red dog with wagging tail,
check the name upon the gate. It might read “Noah Vale.”