An Ode to Russell Crow By ScaryMonster When I was young I didn’t know, about the man called Russell Crow. Yes he can act and he don’t do blow, he owns the mighty Rabbithos. O Russell Crow, O Russell Crow! Those Pommies don’t like silly poems. Sing to us in mellow tones, of a Kiwi in an Aussie home. And when you’re on the silver screen, you make the South of Sydney scream. Big acting man, a bogan’s dream. A Rugby player’s cash machine. And Eric Watson might be a nob, but don’t you punch him in the gob. Cause telephone in the fourth degree was not a pleasant sight to see. And that Robin Hood might be a flop and your accent should have had the chop. But on radio you shouldn’t cop some Pommie DJ’s smart arsed knocks. And has your career jumped the shark? Is a question in this Ode I ask. Do we smell a hint of Mel? Will you rant and rave and go to hell. But we all stand up and say not Russ! He’s the Kiwi bloke who’s adopted us. And when we saw you on the Oprah show, you made all of our nipples blow! There is no a greater man alive and forever will his legend climb. Yes he’s going to take us on this ride, and be a font of Aussie pride.