One piece of "patriotic" poetry that every Aussie schoolkid (of my generation, at least) was forced to learn was Dorothea Mackellar's "I Love a Sunburnt Country".
Here is a spoof of it by Oscar Krahnvohl.
I love a sunburnt country, A land of open drains Mid-urban sprawl expanded for cost-accounting gains; Broad, busy bulldozed acres Once wastes of fern and trees Now rapidly enriching Investors overseas.
A nature-loving country Beneath whose golden wattles The creek is fringed with newspapers And lined with broken bottles. Far in her distant outback Still whose cities chafe Find hidden pools where bathing Is relatively safe.
A music-loving country Where rings throughout the land The jingle sweet enjoining Devotion to the brand. O, hark the glad transistors Whence midnight, dawn and noon Cry forth her U.S. idols A trifle out of tune.
Brave military pylons That march o’er scenic hills; Fair neon lights, extolling Paint, puppy food and pills! I love her massive chimneys, Production’s, profit’s pride, Interminably pouring Pollution high and wide.
A democratic country Where, safe from fear’s attacks, Earth’s children are all equal (Save yellows, browns and blacks). Though Man in Space adventure, Invade the planets nine, What shall he find to equal This sunburnt land of mine?
Oscar Krahnvohl (after Dorothea Mackellar)
"STYLE is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn." — Gore Vidal "STYLE is knowing what sort of play you're in." — Sir John Gielgud
I only know one modified verse, taught to me by my father many years ago
Hark the herald angels sing Beechams pills are just the thing They are strong but they are mild Two for a man And one for a child. If you want to go to Heaven You should take a dose of seven Hark the herald angels sing Beechams pills are just the thing
Nothing really matters - and even if it does, it doesn't really matter.