The weather cold and frosty and the fields are looking gray
But the young people are back again from places far away
From Countries such as Britain, Canada, Australia and the U S A
For to be with their families on their Christmas holidays.
In pubs around Duhallow they will drink dark stout and beer
And talk about the good times and farewell the old year
And toast the year 2004 and sing For Auld Lang Syne
And to Jack a pint of Guinness and to Joan a glass of wine.
To Millstreet and Newmarket, Kanturk and Boherbue
And Meelin and Rockchapel and Cullen and Knocknagree
They have returned for Christmas to their old stomping ground
When snow is on the mountains and the redwings are around.
To Ballydesmond and Dromtarriffe, Kilcorney and Banteer
They have returned from places far to welcome the new year
And to spend Christmas with their families and old friendships to renew
And the best of friends still old friends so happen to be true.
The fields around the old hometown are looking gray and bare
And the weather cold and frosty and winter in the air
But the young people are back again from places far away
For to be with their families on Christmas and New Year's Day.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Willie Boy
Willie Neenan from Millstreet
What a marvellous athlete
Twenty years in time have gone
Since he won a world silver medal in San Juan.
Munster and All Ireland's by the score
And other medals many more
Willie Boy was always best
Neenan first forget the rest.
Seventy years and still going great
And still a name to celebrate
More than two tousand races won
By Willie Neenan number 1.
What was he like in his prime
And that's going back a long, long time
He was something special then
And he outpaced the fastest men.
He's not one for self conceit
And he doesn't boast he just compete
Never ever heard him brag
Willie Boy is no windbag.
He'll remember eighty three
What a pleasant memory
Ireland's best and Millstreet's pride
With the world's best matched stride for stride.
And with that his greatest success far away
Some say he should have called it a day
But has he reached retirement stage
when he still beats fellows half his age?
Running he will never stop
And he'll keep running till he drop
And he'll retire that's when he die
The one and only Willie Boy.
What a marvellous athlete
Twenty years in time have gone
Since he won a world silver medal in San Juan.
Munster and All Ireland's by the score
And other medals many more
Willie Boy was always best
Neenan first forget the rest.
Seventy years and still going great
And still a name to celebrate
More than two tousand races won
By Willie Neenan number 1.
What was he like in his prime
And that's going back a long, long time
He was something special then
And he outpaced the fastest men.
He's not one for self conceit
And he doesn't boast he just compete
Never ever heard him brag
Willie Boy is no windbag.
He'll remember eighty three
What a pleasant memory
Ireland's best and Millstreet's pride
With the world's best matched stride for stride.
And with that his greatest success far away
Some say he should have called it a day
But has he reached retirement stage
when he still beats fellows half his age?
Running he will never stop
And he'll keep running till he drop
And he'll retire that's when he die
The one and only Willie Boy.
In Centuries From Now
In centuries from now in Spring and Summer song birds will pipe and whistle on the trees
And wild flowers will bloom in valley by the mountains and little girl to her parents will say please
Take me to the park playground on sunday morning where I can play with my young friends for an hour or two
I love this spot above all other places when there's such fun things I can get to do.
In centuries from now the upland streamlet will flow to the river that flows to the sea
And the media will still broadcast headline stories of human heroics and stories of inhumanity
And rumor of war will be on the air waves the men of war will always have their way
And life on Earth will carry on as usual and things won't be that different from today.
In centuries from now people will die of hunger and and most of the world's assets owned by the wealthy few
And in the slums by the poor populated their dreams for many there will not come true
And people will still have their sporting heroes and homage to their monarchs they will pay
And people will come and go but Nature will live on and life will go on it's always been that way.
In centuries from now there will still be four seasons and deciduous trees will shed their leaves in the Fall
And on the moonlit hill in early Winter the vixen searching for a mate will call
And in the Spring and through the days of Summer the birds will whistle on the leafy bough
And life without me will go on as usual on Mother Earth in centuries from now.
And wild flowers will bloom in valley by the mountains and little girl to her parents will say please
Take me to the park playground on sunday morning where I can play with my young friends for an hour or two
I love this spot above all other places when there's such fun things I can get to do.
In centuries from now the upland streamlet will flow to the river that flows to the sea
And the media will still broadcast headline stories of human heroics and stories of inhumanity
And rumor of war will be on the air waves the men of war will always have their way
And life on Earth will carry on as usual and things won't be that different from today.
In centuries from now people will die of hunger and and most of the world's assets owned by the wealthy few
And in the slums by the poor populated their dreams for many there will not come true
And people will still have their sporting heroes and homage to their monarchs they will pay
And people will come and go but Nature will live on and life will go on it's always been that way.
In centuries from now there will still be four seasons and deciduous trees will shed their leaves in the Fall
And on the moonlit hill in early Winter the vixen searching for a mate will call
And in the Spring and through the days of Summer the birds will whistle on the leafy bough
And life without me will go on as usual on Mother Earth in centuries from now.
The Man From Fishguard
The man from Fishguard is happy in Australia he has lived in Gippsland since nineteen eighty three
Far from his hometown the renowned Welsh harbor in the far north by the cold Irish sea
A long distance truck driver he drives through the big country from north to south and east and west and up and down
Each week he travels thousands of kilometres to the big cities through many a bush town.
With an Aussie wife and two Primary going school children a boy of eleven and a girl of eight
He leaves home just after five on monday morning and on friday evening he returns late
Just two days a week with his wife and children and on monday morning on the road again
The long distance truckie's job one might say never easy he drives the highways in sun shine, hail or rain.
The man from Fishguard has just turned forty and he makes his living far from his home shore
And he has driven trucks around Australia for seventeen years now or even more
In eighty seven he returned to Fishguard when the hawthorns wore their white blooms of the May
But he did not enjoy the Welsh coastal weather on his four week holiday it did rain every day.
The man from Fishguard has not lost his accent that bit of Wales is with him till he die
He works hard and has a few drinks at the weekend and his travels through Australia he enjoy
He is in Australia till the reaper claims him and his old home town from here seems far away
But he will always be a Fishguard fellow and very much a Welsh man he will stay.
Far from his hometown the renowned Welsh harbor in the far north by the cold Irish sea
A long distance truck driver he drives through the big country from north to south and east and west and up and down
Each week he travels thousands of kilometres to the big cities through many a bush town.
With an Aussie wife and two Primary going school children a boy of eleven and a girl of eight
He leaves home just after five on monday morning and on friday evening he returns late
Just two days a week with his wife and children and on monday morning on the road again
The long distance truckie's job one might say never easy he drives the highways in sun shine, hail or rain.
The man from Fishguard has just turned forty and he makes his living far from his home shore
And he has driven trucks around Australia for seventeen years now or even more
In eighty seven he returned to Fishguard when the hawthorns wore their white blooms of the May
But he did not enjoy the Welsh coastal weather on his four week holiday it did rain every day.
The man from Fishguard has not lost his accent that bit of Wales is with him till he die
He works hard and has a few drinks at the weekend and his travels through Australia he enjoy
He is in Australia till the reaper claims him and his old home town from here seems far away
But he will always be a Fishguard fellow and very much a Welsh man he will stay.
Written In December 99
For far too long the land of blood and tears
This conflict seems to have gone on for years
Though Yeltzin and Putin don't feel any shame
The Chechen rebels for this war they blame.
The capital of Chechnya Grozny is destroyed
And from the killer bombs few places left to hide
And death exploding from the winter sky
In war the innocents are doomed to die.
Boris Yeltzin's career at an all time low
He should have resigned many years ago
A decade back he had his glorious hour
Now a sick and aged man he abuse his power.
The men of power from past mistakes don't learn
And right from wrong they find hard to discern,
How can you win a war when lives are lost
In human lives how can you count the cost?
In war torn cities after the bombs fall
The poor are those who suffer most of all,
The financially secure can live elsewhere
And the lack of money makes life seem unfair.
The Chechen poor of any hope despair
Yet Putin and Yeltzin don't seem to care
They give the orders destroy Grozny Town
And all night long the bombs keep raining down.
This conflict seems to have gone on for years
Though Yeltzin and Putin don't feel any shame
The Chechen rebels for this war they blame.
The capital of Chechnya Grozny is destroyed
And from the killer bombs few places left to hide
And death exploding from the winter sky
In war the innocents are doomed to die.
Boris Yeltzin's career at an all time low
He should have resigned many years ago
A decade back he had his glorious hour
Now a sick and aged man he abuse his power.
The men of power from past mistakes don't learn
And right from wrong they find hard to discern,
How can you win a war when lives are lost
In human lives how can you count the cost?
In war torn cities after the bombs fall
The poor are those who suffer most of all,
The financially secure can live elsewhere
And the lack of money makes life seem unfair.
The Chechen poor of any hope despair
Yet Putin and Yeltzin don't seem to care
They give the orders destroy Grozny Town
And all night long the bombs keep raining down.
Written In November 99
The world's 400 metres champion and Australia's top athlete
And in Sydney at the Olympic Games she will be hard to beat
The world will be watching when Cathy Freeman runs for gold
And in years from now her great feats will be recalled and retold.
When speaking of Australia's track and field greats she must rate with the best
With John Landy and Herb Elliot and Betty Cuthbert amongst the rest
The pride of all Australia and her Aboriginal race
Of Australia's current athletes she commands the highest place.
One of the world's top female athletes with the very best she rate
And if Cathy Freeman wins the gold the Aussies will celebrate
And in every pub from Darwin to Hobart they will party till late
And they will drink a toast to Cathy a true Australian great.
Good on you Cathy Freeman all of Australia is with you
And in Sydney at the Olympic Games may your great dream come true
Of giving all Australians a great memory to recall
By winning the gold medal in your greatest win of all.
And in Sydney at the Olympic Games she will be hard to beat
The world will be watching when Cathy Freeman runs for gold
And in years from now her great feats will be recalled and retold.
When speaking of Australia's track and field greats she must rate with the best
With John Landy and Herb Elliot and Betty Cuthbert amongst the rest
The pride of all Australia and her Aboriginal race
Of Australia's current athletes she commands the highest place.
One of the world's top female athletes with the very best she rate
And if Cathy Freeman wins the gold the Aussies will celebrate
And in every pub from Darwin to Hobart they will party till late
And they will drink a toast to Cathy a true Australian great.
Good on you Cathy Freeman all of Australia is with you
And in Sydney at the Olympic Games may your great dream come true
Of giving all Australians a great memory to recall
By winning the gold medal in your greatest win of all.
The Ex Surf Boy From Woonona
Billy was a surf boy when younger and carefree
And he rode the high and wild waves of Woonona on the sea
Till a heavy fall off of his motor bike in nineteen ninety four
Put Billy in a wheelchair and he won't surf anymore.
So young to be restricted he's still only twenty five
But Billy he will tell you it feels good to be alive
He still counts himself quite lucky to have survived his crippling fall
And despite all he's been through he feels lucky after all
Far from his home town south of Sydney Woonona by the sea
He lives south east of Melbourne now with his devoted Lee
And their six year old daughter Tess their special gift
to life
He counts himself a lucky man to have such a good wife.
The high surf waves of Woonona are rolling far away
He often rode upon them in summer every day
He loved the challenge of the sea on his good days in the past
But Billy he will tell you that the good days never last.
The ex surf boy from Woonona has always been so brave
He used to love the challenge of riding the big wave
Till he fell from his motor bike in nineteen ninety four
And he's resigned now to the fact that he won't surf anymore.
And he rode the high and wild waves of Woonona on the sea
Till a heavy fall off of his motor bike in nineteen ninety four
Put Billy in a wheelchair and he won't surf anymore.
So young to be restricted he's still only twenty five
But Billy he will tell you it feels good to be alive
He still counts himself quite lucky to have survived his crippling fall
And despite all he's been through he feels lucky after all
Far from his home town south of Sydney Woonona by the sea
He lives south east of Melbourne now with his devoted Lee
And their six year old daughter Tess their special gift
to life
He counts himself a lucky man to have such a good wife.
The high surf waves of Woonona are rolling far away
He often rode upon them in summer every day
He loved the challenge of the sea on his good days in the past
But Billy he will tell you that the good days never last.
The ex surf boy from Woonona has always been so brave
He used to love the challenge of riding the big wave
Till he fell from his motor bike in nineteen ninety four
And he's resigned now to the fact that he won't surf anymore.
Your Relationship With Nature
Your relationship with Nature speaks volumes about you
Do you only see nature as a means to financial gain or are you one of those who
Love nature for her beauty and love her wildlife and her trees
And her rivers, lakes and mountains and her fields and flowers and bees?
Your relationship with nature tells of the sort of person that you are
Do you see nature's protectors as those who have gone too far
In their dispute with the developer in their fight for every tree
If this be so you support the environmental vandals or so 'twould seem to me?
Your relationship with nature about you more can say
Than all of your friends and enemies can or so 'twould seem that way
For your apathy to nature tells of your inner strife
And your attitude to nature is your attitude to life.
Your relationship with nature says far more about you
Than anyone else of you can say as their words may not be true
For if you love Mother Nature and with her live in harmony
Then you are working for the good of all of humanity
Do you only see nature as a means to financial gain or are you one of those who
Love nature for her beauty and love her wildlife and her trees
And her rivers, lakes and mountains and her fields and flowers and bees?
Your relationship with nature tells of the sort of person that you are
Do you see nature's protectors as those who have gone too far
In their dispute with the developer in their fight for every tree
If this be so you support the environmental vandals or so 'twould seem to me?
Your relationship with nature about you more can say
Than all of your friends and enemies can or so 'twould seem that way
For your apathy to nature tells of your inner strife
And your attitude to nature is your attitude to life.
Your relationship with nature says far more about you
Than anyone else of you can say as their words may not be true
For if you love Mother Nature and with her live in harmony
Then you are working for the good of all of humanity
A Multicultural Spot
For a multicultural spot go to Flinders Street Station
You see them there from every land and Nation
The local Aussies amongst those from distant places
And the good and bad of all of the world's races.
At a multicultural spot that lack in human pity
They wait for suburban trains that take them from the city
And suburban trains seldom used at all by the upper classes
They leave the trains and buses to the masses.
Whoever said that everyone is your sister and brother?
When people of one race mostly seen together
And a monocultural world is hardly realistic
And too think that way seems far too optimistic.
To see the world go to Flinders Street Station
You see them there from every land and nation
A multicultural place that lacks in human pity
Waiting for the trains that take them from the city.
You see them there from every land and Nation
The local Aussies amongst those from distant places
And the good and bad of all of the world's races.
At a multicultural spot that lack in human pity
They wait for suburban trains that take them from the city
And suburban trains seldom used at all by the upper classes
They leave the trains and buses to the masses.
Whoever said that everyone is your sister and brother?
When people of one race mostly seen together
And a monocultural world is hardly realistic
And too think that way seems far too optimistic.
To see the world go to Flinders Street Station
You see them there from every land and nation
A multicultural place that lacks in human pity
Waiting for the trains that take them from the city.
Guts Riley
For his age he has a big stomach he has only just turned thirty eight
And he could lose at least twenty kilos for he looks grossly over weight
At the local pub his is a well known face and there he has a few drinking mates
With whom he talks of football and cricket and of horse racing and sporting greats.
Six years back his wife Libby left him and with her took their five year old Jim
And though he and she never did quarrel she is better off without him
She is now married to a more sensible fellow one who doesn't waste his money on gambling and booze
For one to win a small amount on horses or greyhounds another has to heavily lose.
The fellow known as Guts Riley he spends every cent of his week's pay
On dogs and on booze and on horses one might say he throws his money away
Yet a gentle sort of a fellow drunk or sober he is much the same
He never insults anybody or calls anyone out of name.
In the local pub every evening he is one you are bound to see
His brown hair is visibly greying and there is no mistaking he
The one who is known as Guts Riley he could shed twenty kilos or more
But he still will be drinking and gambling if he lives to one hundred and four.
And he could lose at least twenty kilos for he looks grossly over weight
At the local pub his is a well known face and there he has a few drinking mates
With whom he talks of football and cricket and of horse racing and sporting greats.
Six years back his wife Libby left him and with her took their five year old Jim
And though he and she never did quarrel she is better off without him
She is now married to a more sensible fellow one who doesn't waste his money on gambling and booze
For one to win a small amount on horses or greyhounds another has to heavily lose.
The fellow known as Guts Riley he spends every cent of his week's pay
On dogs and on booze and on horses one might say he throws his money away
Yet a gentle sort of a fellow drunk or sober he is much the same
He never insults anybody or calls anyone out of name.
In the local pub every evening he is one you are bound to see
His brown hair is visibly greying and there is no mistaking he
The one who is known as Guts Riley he could shed twenty kilos or more
But he still will be drinking and gambling if he lives to one hundred and four.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Hares
The hare she has her babies in the high grass and each in a different spot she hides away
Perhaps a better chance of some of them of growing to adults though dog or fox or cat on one might prey
This could be the reason she doesn't keep all in the one nest an anti predator device by Nature for the hare
But then for that there may be other reasons since her secrets with us Nature never share.
Speed is the hare's main anti predator weapon for to stay alive they have to dodge and run
But hares have always been such easy targets for the hunter with the deadly high powered gun
I've heard it said that flesh of cooked hare is tasty though very different to cooked rabbit meat
And though I am one of those who has eaten rabbit the flesh of hare I never yet did eat.
In countries in the northern hemisphere men still use hares for coursing for to live the hare two greyhounds must outrun
Hare coursing is of course one of the blood sports some people have strange ways of having fun,
I have seen dogs kill hares at coursing meetings and the memory of such with me still remain
They shrieked aloud as the dogs tore and dragged them and in their dying cries one could sense their pain.
The female hare she gives birth in the springtime and she hides her babies where the grass is high
And them you never see they are well hidden though close to them you even may walk by
To run quite fast their sole means of survival and they must out run those who on them will prey
And since they do not have a burrow for to hide in they must run for survival every day.
Perhaps a better chance of some of them of growing to adults though dog or fox or cat on one might prey
This could be the reason she doesn't keep all in the one nest an anti predator device by Nature for the hare
But then for that there may be other reasons since her secrets with us Nature never share.
Speed is the hare's main anti predator weapon for to stay alive they have to dodge and run
But hares have always been such easy targets for the hunter with the deadly high powered gun
I've heard it said that flesh of cooked hare is tasty though very different to cooked rabbit meat
And though I am one of those who has eaten rabbit the flesh of hare I never yet did eat.
In countries in the northern hemisphere men still use hares for coursing for to live the hare two greyhounds must outrun
Hare coursing is of course one of the blood sports some people have strange ways of having fun,
I have seen dogs kill hares at coursing meetings and the memory of such with me still remain
They shrieked aloud as the dogs tore and dragged them and in their dying cries one could sense their pain.
The female hare she gives birth in the springtime and she hides her babies where the grass is high
And them you never see they are well hidden though close to them you even may walk by
To run quite fast their sole means of survival and they must out run those who on them will prey
And since they do not have a burrow for to hide in they must run for survival every day.
Many People
Many people believe in a life hereafter yet not one as of yet came back to tell
Whether there be a heaven for Earth's good departed or whether the sinners are suffering in hell
Or whether there is such a place as limbo or for us is earthly death end of life's line
How would I know since I'd only be guessing and one can say your guess is as good as mine.
And others believe in reincarnation that as a bird or beast to life we will return
Or in the body of another person that the soul has many more lessons to learn
And others do not have a god to pray to and I can say that I am one of those
And everybody in their thinking different but then again that's people I suppose.
Many people have a religion of some sort and each to their own some have been known to say
And for their gods they wage war on each other and behave in quite an ungod like way,
Thou shalt not kill is Moses fifth commandment that commandment it is broken every day
By those who say god is great and almighty they insult the very one to whom they pray.
Many people believe in a life hereafter though not one ever has come back to say
That there is life beyond this earthly planet though one thing for sure is we all must die one day
But 'tis sad to think that war that cause death and suffering is far too often waged for god and land
By people who see themselves as god fearing that I find very hard to understand.
Whether there be a heaven for Earth's good departed or whether the sinners are suffering in hell
Or whether there is such a place as limbo or for us is earthly death end of life's line
How would I know since I'd only be guessing and one can say your guess is as good as mine.
And others believe in reincarnation that as a bird or beast to life we will return
Or in the body of another person that the soul has many more lessons to learn
And others do not have a god to pray to and I can say that I am one of those
And everybody in their thinking different but then again that's people I suppose.
Many people have a religion of some sort and each to their own some have been known to say
And for their gods they wage war on each other and behave in quite an ungod like way,
Thou shalt not kill is Moses fifth commandment that commandment it is broken every day
By those who say god is great and almighty they insult the very one to whom they pray.
Many people believe in a life hereafter though not one ever has come back to say
That there is life beyond this earthly planet though one thing for sure is we all must die one day
But 'tis sad to think that war that cause death and suffering is far too often waged for god and land
By people who see themselves as god fearing that I find very hard to understand.
Written In March 99
The dogs of war are at it once again
On Yugoslavia inflicting more pain
Whilst Mr Bill Clinton and Tony Blair
Claim that NATO bombing is as always fair.
Slobodan Milosevic as we know is not a saint
And the media of him the worst picture paint
Behind his murderous armed forces he cower
And a fellow like him never should have power.
But NATO as peacemakers are a joke
As the use of violence more violence provoke
And the dispossessed their numbers only grow
As poor people flee their homes in Kosovo.
Only suffering comes from the barrel of a gun
And by bombs and bullets peace is never won
And love and harmony cannot be found
Where hatred is abundant all around.
The dogs of war are at it once again
And the men with power advantage try to gain
And thousands of dispossessed Kosovars every day
To refugee camps in bordering countries make their way
On Yugoslavia inflicting more pain
Whilst Mr Bill Clinton and Tony Blair
Claim that NATO bombing is as always fair.
Slobodan Milosevic as we know is not a saint
And the media of him the worst picture paint
Behind his murderous armed forces he cower
And a fellow like him never should have power.
But NATO as peacemakers are a joke
As the use of violence more violence provoke
And the dispossessed their numbers only grow
As poor people flee their homes in Kosovo.
Only suffering comes from the barrel of a gun
And by bombs and bullets peace is never won
And love and harmony cannot be found
Where hatred is abundant all around.
The dogs of war are at it once again
And the men with power advantage try to gain
And thousands of dispossessed Kosovars every day
To refugee camps in bordering countries make their way
I Must Rid Myself Of Clutter
I feel cluttered by the junk accumulated in my brain
And I feel this great desire to recover my creativity again
And to rid myself of the shackles of my negativity
Change your thinking and change your world and change my thinking and change me.
Years of worrying about little worrying is a waste of time
And feeling envious of my betters and condemning them in rhyme
I am well beyond the fifty and still close to poverty
Negative thoughts only cause clutter and in a rose a weed you see.
If you gobble with the turkeys with the birds you cannot fly
And to tell yourself you are perfect is to tell yourself a lie
And to rid yourself of clutter is to set your thinking free
You will see a different world and look at others differently.
Negativity, greed and envy I must cast all of these away
And be less critical of others and not hurt them in what I say
Change your thinking and change your world still so happens to be true
And never too late to make changes and to start once more anew.
When I look into the mirror I can see my hair is gray
And I keep on telling myself I looked younger yesterday
We can change our way of thinking we are what we want to see
If I see myself as younger I can see a younger me.
I must rid myself of clutter it is never too late to change
Though many of those who know me may see me as someone strange
Do my bit for self awareness and to my life bring harmony
I can only change the world if I start by changing me.
And I feel this great desire to recover my creativity again
And to rid myself of the shackles of my negativity
Change your thinking and change your world and change my thinking and change me.
Years of worrying about little worrying is a waste of time
And feeling envious of my betters and condemning them in rhyme
I am well beyond the fifty and still close to poverty
Negative thoughts only cause clutter and in a rose a weed you see.
If you gobble with the turkeys with the birds you cannot fly
And to tell yourself you are perfect is to tell yourself a lie
And to rid yourself of clutter is to set your thinking free
You will see a different world and look at others differently.
Negativity, greed and envy I must cast all of these away
And be less critical of others and not hurt them in what I say
Change your thinking and change your world still so happens to be true
And never too late to make changes and to start once more anew.
When I look into the mirror I can see my hair is gray
And I keep on telling myself I looked younger yesterday
We can change our way of thinking we are what we want to see
If I see myself as younger I can see a younger me.
I must rid myself of clutter it is never too late to change
Though many of those who know me may see me as someone strange
Do my bit for self awareness and to my life bring harmony
I can only change the world if I start by changing me.
Do Unto Others
When Coleridge penned his great Rime Of The Ancient Mariner a thing of great beauty he did create
Suppose it does depend on the way you look at this literary classic but to karma the Rime to me does relate
The killing of an albatross only brought bad luck we sow the seeds of our karma good or bad every day
Do unto others as you would want them do to you that's how karma works and it's always been that way.
Do unto others as you'd want them do to you on how we treat other creatures or our own kind that apply
The mariner killed the albatross with his crossbow yet his co sailors were the men who had to die
Yet in his case the dead perhaps were lucky for he was made to suffer for his crime
In Coleridge's Rime the truth shines through the fiction it seems to happen in life all of the time.
Do unto others as you'd want them do to you and do not harm Nature's creatures just for fun
Some people talk of their rights to bear arms but only suffering and death comes through the barrel of a gun
Alfred Nobel the one who discovered dynamite for human achievements donated the Nobel Prize
When of the destructive side to his amazing creation late in his life he came to realize.
Do unto others as you would like them do to you and on your climb to riches and renown
Do not seek gain at the expense of others on your way up do not knock others down
Give and receive and always practice compassion and respect to others never fail to show
For every day we sow the seeds of karma and like they say we receive what we sow.
Suppose it does depend on the way you look at this literary classic but to karma the Rime to me does relate
The killing of an albatross only brought bad luck we sow the seeds of our karma good or bad every day
Do unto others as you would want them do to you that's how karma works and it's always been that way.
Do unto others as you'd want them do to you on how we treat other creatures or our own kind that apply
The mariner killed the albatross with his crossbow yet his co sailors were the men who had to die
Yet in his case the dead perhaps were lucky for he was made to suffer for his crime
In Coleridge's Rime the truth shines through the fiction it seems to happen in life all of the time.
Do unto others as you'd want them do to you and do not harm Nature's creatures just for fun
Some people talk of their rights to bear arms but only suffering and death comes through the barrel of a gun
Alfred Nobel the one who discovered dynamite for human achievements donated the Nobel Prize
When of the destructive side to his amazing creation late in his life he came to realize.
Do unto others as you would like them do to you and on your climb to riches and renown
Do not seek gain at the expense of others on your way up do not knock others down
Give and receive and always practice compassion and respect to others never fail to show
For every day we sow the seeds of karma and like they say we receive what we sow.
Millstreet's Most Unforgettable Character
It's a long way from Australia more than twelve thousand miles away
From County Cork and Ireland and the fields of Claraghatlea
But Mick Kelleher made that air trip he returned on holiday
And though the journey proved quite tiring he enjoyed his three months stay.
With him came his charming Aussie wife Rosemary and his lovely family
To live with him in the old place where he once lived happily
In the fields by Clara mountain where he hunted as a boy
Those were happy days for Michael and good memories never die.
I grew up with Michael Kelleher and I could tell a thousand tales
Of how we poached by night for salmon in November in the Cails
In his short career as poacher must have killed a thousand fish
And to spear that really big one was his most obsessive wish.
Lamping for song birds in Mountleader we spent many a winter night
Around the laurels by the vet's house with small boxes and torch light
In search of elusive goldfinch though those pretty birds were rare
The sparrows and chaffinches were by the thousand there.
He dug for badgers and he dazzled for rabbits and he earned himself renown
As the most unforgettable character in Millstreet and Millstreet Town
But still he was a harmless fellow though oft times misunderstood
He was honest and kind hearted and he would help you if he could.
The passing years bring with them changes and things never stay the same
And Mick Kelleher has mellowed he has matured and grown tame
But he stilll has happy memories of a very happy youth
Spent in the bogs and fields of Clara where his manhood first took root.
From County Cork and Ireland and the fields of Claraghatlea
But Mick Kelleher made that air trip he returned on holiday
And though the journey proved quite tiring he enjoyed his three months stay.
With him came his charming Aussie wife Rosemary and his lovely family
To live with him in the old place where he once lived happily
In the fields by Clara mountain where he hunted as a boy
Those were happy days for Michael and good memories never die.
I grew up with Michael Kelleher and I could tell a thousand tales
Of how we poached by night for salmon in November in the Cails
In his short career as poacher must have killed a thousand fish
And to spear that really big one was his most obsessive wish.
Lamping for song birds in Mountleader we spent many a winter night
Around the laurels by the vet's house with small boxes and torch light
In search of elusive goldfinch though those pretty birds were rare
The sparrows and chaffinches were by the thousand there.
He dug for badgers and he dazzled for rabbits and he earned himself renown
As the most unforgettable character in Millstreet and Millstreet Town
But still he was a harmless fellow though oft times misunderstood
He was honest and kind hearted and he would help you if he could.
The passing years bring with them changes and things never stay the same
And Mick Kelleher has mellowed he has matured and grown tame
But he stilll has happy memories of a very happy youth
Spent in the bogs and fields of Clara where his manhood first took root.
An Evening In Late Spring In Wonthaggi
A crescent moon through the starry sky is creeping
And there is scarce the slightest hint of breeze
And the birds of day in their nests are sleeping
On the branches of the bushes and the trees.
The spur winged plovers in the park are calling
As above their breeding territory they fly
They warn their young at the approach of predators
Perhaps a fox or a cat are passing by.
A Spring evenings in the paddocks near Wonthaggi
A boobook owl hoots on the gums nearby
In Nature's garden Nature's nocturnal creatures
Under cloak of darkness hidden from the prying eye.
I love these pleasant evenings in the late Spring
It is one of my favourite times of year
The weather not too warm or too chilly
And with every hour the summer is drawing near.
A Spring evening in the paddocks near Wonthaggi
And the brush tail possum utters his hoarse mating cry
And a tawny frogmouth on a branch is humming
And Nature's nocturnal creatures by their voices never lie.
And there is scarce the slightest hint of breeze
And the birds of day in their nests are sleeping
On the branches of the bushes and the trees.
The spur winged plovers in the park are calling
As above their breeding territory they fly
They warn their young at the approach of predators
Perhaps a fox or a cat are passing by.
A Spring evenings in the paddocks near Wonthaggi
A boobook owl hoots on the gums nearby
In Nature's garden Nature's nocturnal creatures
Under cloak of darkness hidden from the prying eye.
I love these pleasant evenings in the late Spring
It is one of my favourite times of year
The weather not too warm or too chilly
And with every hour the summer is drawing near.
A Spring evening in the paddocks near Wonthaggi
And the brush tail possum utters his hoarse mating cry
And a tawny frogmouth on a branch is humming
And Nature's nocturnal creatures by their voices never lie.
On Re-reading a Child's Garden Of Verses
In the heart of ageing fellow there was still the little boy
In his bed and on the blankets playing with his soldier toy
Stevenson the great poet and author for long years at writing toiled
Yet despite success and glory at heart he was still a child.
Young Robert was in his garden as a child and roaming free
He could hear the small birds chirping in their nest high on the tree
And the child he gazed in wonder at the marvellous things he see
Butterflies flying in the sunshine and the busy worker bee.
Stevenson the poet and author he was getting old and gray
But he was back again in Scotland in his garden far away
Playing with his toys in the sunshine in the shadow of the trees
With the pleasant scents of Nature wafting in the summer breeze.
Playing at hide and seek and fun games, blind man's buff and pass the ball
And from the see saw in the garden he could see above the wall
He could glimpse his neighbours gardens as he see sawed up and down
One of the many happy children in Edinburgh his Hometown.
From 'A Child's Garden Of Verses' one great lesson I recall
That the child within is living and breathing within us all
It's just that as some of us grow older we grow bitter with the years
And our child within is stifling in our phobias and fears.
In his bed and on the blankets playing with his soldier toy
Stevenson the great poet and author for long years at writing toiled
Yet despite success and glory at heart he was still a child.
Young Robert was in his garden as a child and roaming free
He could hear the small birds chirping in their nest high on the tree
And the child he gazed in wonder at the marvellous things he see
Butterflies flying in the sunshine and the busy worker bee.
Stevenson the poet and author he was getting old and gray
But he was back again in Scotland in his garden far away
Playing with his toys in the sunshine in the shadow of the trees
With the pleasant scents of Nature wafting in the summer breeze.
Playing at hide and seek and fun games, blind man's buff and pass the ball
And from the see saw in the garden he could see above the wall
He could glimpse his neighbours gardens as he see sawed up and down
One of the many happy children in Edinburgh his Hometown.
From 'A Child's Garden Of Verses' one great lesson I recall
That the child within is living and breathing within us all
It's just that as some of us grow older we grow bitter with the years
And our child within is stifling in our phobias and fears.
To David Who Loves Sydney And It's People
I know this man he thinks highly of Sydney
And he says the Harbour side City is great
And he says the people there are warm and friendly
And Melbourne where he lives near he doesn't rate.
He thinks so highly of Sydney and it's people
That he even barracks for their footy team
But in 03 again they disappointed
Not good enough at least that's how 'twould seem.
I've only spent a couple of days in Sydney
And many better places I might name
I found the people there not quite so friendly
But all big urban places much the same.
And though Sydney has a bigger population
In many ways with Melbourne it compare
The Melbourne people also not so friendly
But city people similar everywhere.
But at least in Melbourne you can drink tap water
In Sydney there is a huge water scare
The dams and reserviors contaminated
And tap water must be boiled for drinking there.
I cannot share David's great love for Sydney
For big cities and their peoples not for me
But David has a right to his opinions
Each to his own with that I must agree.
And he says the Harbour side City is great
And he says the people there are warm and friendly
And Melbourne where he lives near he doesn't rate.
He thinks so highly of Sydney and it's people
That he even barracks for their footy team
But in 03 again they disappointed
Not good enough at least that's how 'twould seem.
I've only spent a couple of days in Sydney
And many better places I might name
I found the people there not quite so friendly
But all big urban places much the same.
And though Sydney has a bigger population
In many ways with Melbourne it compare
The Melbourne people also not so friendly
But city people similar everywhere.
But at least in Melbourne you can drink tap water
In Sydney there is a huge water scare
The dams and reserviors contaminated
And tap water must be boiled for drinking there.
I cannot share David's great love for Sydney
For big cities and their peoples not for me
But David has a right to his opinions
Each to his own with that I must agree.
If You Feel Like Singing A Song
If you feel like singing a song sing of the war afflicted
The people due to circumstance by poverty restricted
Those people we call refugees and that word dare I mention
Who seek refuge on foreign shores only to end up in detention.
If you feel like singing a song don't sing of the headline makers
And of every giver do please sing but never of the takers
Those who take and take but never give the selfish rich self serving
Of song or any sort of praise one might say undeserving.
If you feel like singing a song don't sing of the wealthy greedy
But do sing of the street children and of the poor and needy
The world out there ought to be told of their sad and tragic story
Their circumstance of birth and place their barrier to glory.
If you feel like singing a song sing of the well intentioned
The quiet achievers of this world whose names are seldom mentioned
Always helping those who need help people worthy of admiring
They believe in a fair go for all and they are quite inspiring.
If you feel like singing a song do sing of the forsaken
By circumstance and place of birth their future from them taken
Do sing of them and sing aloud and make the world heed you
These are the people to sing of the people who most need you.
The people due to circumstance by poverty restricted
Those people we call refugees and that word dare I mention
Who seek refuge on foreign shores only to end up in detention.
If you feel like singing a song don't sing of the headline makers
And of every giver do please sing but never of the takers
Those who take and take but never give the selfish rich self serving
Of song or any sort of praise one might say undeserving.
If you feel like singing a song don't sing of the wealthy greedy
But do sing of the street children and of the poor and needy
The world out there ought to be told of their sad and tragic story
Their circumstance of birth and place their barrier to glory.
If you feel like singing a song sing of the well intentioned
The quiet achievers of this world whose names are seldom mentioned
Always helping those who need help people worthy of admiring
They believe in a fair go for all and they are quite inspiring.
If you feel like singing a song do sing of the forsaken
By circumstance and place of birth their future from them taken
Do sing of them and sing aloud and make the world heed you
These are the people to sing of the people who most need you.
Monday, November 28, 2011
On Meeting Margaret Kelleher
I met her in Wantirna South her son Mick threw a party
And she looks younger than her years and she seems hale and hearty
She's been a friend from way way back and than her there's none better
And I feel happy that we've met quite happy to have met her.
She came out with her Grandson her brother Ed and sister Kitty
To visit Mick and family south east of Melbourne City
A long long way from Clara hill she found the journey tiring
But then she say she may return her courage worth admiring.
Her husband Denis died last year he expired in December
He was a friend and a good man as well I might remember
I did not talk of Denis much to her 'twould only fuel her sorrow
The past forever is the past we must look to tomorrow.
And Margaret Kelleher gone back home to Millstreet in Duhallow
Where I spent many happy days till I had dreams to follow
And meeting her so far from home a memory I will cherish
And good memories cheer the cheerless heart and in the mind don't perish.
And she looks younger than her years and she seems hale and hearty
She's been a friend from way way back and than her there's none better
And I feel happy that we've met quite happy to have met her.
She came out with her Grandson her brother Ed and sister Kitty
To visit Mick and family south east of Melbourne City
A long long way from Clara hill she found the journey tiring
But then she say she may return her courage worth admiring.
Her husband Denis died last year he expired in December
He was a friend and a good man as well I might remember
I did not talk of Denis much to her 'twould only fuel her sorrow
The past forever is the past we must look to tomorrow.
And Margaret Kelleher gone back home to Millstreet in Duhallow
Where I spent many happy days till I had dreams to follow
And meeting her so far from home a memory I will cherish
And good memories cheer the cheerless heart and in the mind don't perish.
Every One Is Gifted In Some Way
It's true that every human being is gifted in some way
And everybody is good at something
The artist well may sketch a marvellous landscape
But do not have a singing voice and cannot sing.
The poet writes the most delightful verses
And the novelist and play write works of genius create
And though they may well become well known and very famous
In other fields they do not even rate.
Some are good at sports whilst others not that way inclined
And some are good musicians and many musical instruments can play
And others good at memorizing faces
And every one is gifted in some way.
Some are good at climbing rocks and mountains
Whilst others they are born to run or swim
Whilst weight is some sports is only an advantage
As I've never seen a sumo wrestler who is slim.
There is no such a thing as a non gifted person
For it has been known that even the poorest of the poor
Can have in them the marvellous gift of healing
And illnesses and diseases have been known to cure.
And everybody is good at something
The artist well may sketch a marvellous landscape
But do not have a singing voice and cannot sing.
The poet writes the most delightful verses
And the novelist and play write works of genius create
And though they may well become well known and very famous
In other fields they do not even rate.
Some are good at sports whilst others not that way inclined
And some are good musicians and many musical instruments can play
And others good at memorizing faces
And every one is gifted in some way.
Some are good at climbing rocks and mountains
Whilst others they are born to run or swim
Whilst weight is some sports is only an advantage
As I've never seen a sumo wrestler who is slim.
There is no such a thing as a non gifted person
For it has been known that even the poorest of the poor
Can have in them the marvellous gift of healing
And illnesses and diseases have been known to cure.
On Reading Of Racism In Ireland
I always feel disappointed when of racism I read
And when I read of it in Ireland I feel very sad indeed
For racism in society should never have a place
And people should never be judged on their color or their race.
As the land of saints and scholars Ireland was known world wide
And the Irish people suffered and their rights to them denied
But the Irish in their sense of fair play could take a certain pride
And for their human rights and liberty the sons of Ireland died.
Poor migrants from Romania their possessions weigh light
To live and work in Ireland do they not have the right?
They may come un-invited but their numbers only small
And the Irish too are migrants as history will recall.
I read it's the Irish media that fans racism's flame
If this be so of their bad work they must feel a great shame
They cannot say in years to come the fault was never ours
When they first used the noxious spray that poisoned all the flowers.
I am an Irish migrant far from my native shore
And others treat me with respect than that one could not ask for more
A fair go for all people and for everyone fair play
Those words from centuries ago are relevant today.
And when I read of it in Ireland I feel very sad indeed
For racism in society should never have a place
And people should never be judged on their color or their race.
As the land of saints and scholars Ireland was known world wide
And the Irish people suffered and their rights to them denied
But the Irish in their sense of fair play could take a certain pride
And for their human rights and liberty the sons of Ireland died.
Poor migrants from Romania their possessions weigh light
To live and work in Ireland do they not have the right?
They may come un-invited but their numbers only small
And the Irish too are migrants as history will recall.
I read it's the Irish media that fans racism's flame
If this be so of their bad work they must feel a great shame
They cannot say in years to come the fault was never ours
When they first used the noxious spray that poisoned all the flowers.
I am an Irish migrant far from my native shore
And others treat me with respect than that one could not ask for more
A fair go for all people and for everyone fair play
Those words from centuries ago are relevant today.
Wonthaggi Rose
Wonthaggi Rose and how are you this morning
Your cheery smile it helps to make my day
The gold billed blackbird whistling on the wattle
Though the sun behind the rain clouds hid away.
Wonthaggi Rose has anybody told you
That you are in a class all of your own
With shoulder length brown hair you do look very pretty
And fairer than you I have never known.
Wonthaggi Rose you always seem so happy
And out of sorts you I have never seen
And you've never looked better than you look this morning
So fresh and lovely in your dress of green.
Wonthaggi Rose if some others looked so pretty
They would walk around with their head high in the air
But you remain down to earth and unconceited
And people like you always have been rare.
Wonthaggi Rose how do you do this morning
A happy day is all I can wish for you
With a beaming smile you always say how are you
And there is warmth in your eyes of blue
Your cheery smile it helps to make my day
The gold billed blackbird whistling on the wattle
Though the sun behind the rain clouds hid away.
Wonthaggi Rose has anybody told you
That you are in a class all of your own
With shoulder length brown hair you do look very pretty
And fairer than you I have never known.
Wonthaggi Rose you always seem so happy
And out of sorts you I have never seen
And you've never looked better than you look this morning
So fresh and lovely in your dress of green.
Wonthaggi Rose if some others looked so pretty
They would walk around with their head high in the air
But you remain down to earth and unconceited
And people like you always have been rare.
Wonthaggi Rose how do you do this morning
A happy day is all I can wish for you
With a beaming smile you always say how are you
And there is warmth in your eyes of blue
Written On Receiving A Letter From Mary Helen
Though she has lived for many years in and around New York
She still talks about Ireland and Millstreet County Cork
The Sraid A Mhuilin of her youth her happy youthful day
Killarney Road west of Millstreet and northern Claraghatlea.
The old friends are still dear to me that's what Mary H say
And memories of my happy youth will never fade away
I left for better livelihood and New York's been good to me
But there's more to life than financial gain or so 'twould seem to be.
The crime rate in New York is high and human life is taken cheap
You lock your doors all day and night and in locked bedroom you sleep
You don't venture out after dark too great a chance to take
For success and financial gain some sacrifice to make.
Back home in Millstreet County Cork no need to lock the door
And no fear of walking darkened road from Millstreet towards Rathmore
We left our homeland Ireland we took the swallow's choice
And for higher standard of living we chose to pay the price.
The nostalgia expressed by migrant Irish people by most misunderstood
We leave our homeland Ireland for better livelihood
And Mary Helen's words re-echo the thoughts of migrant race
The yearning to return again and live in old home place.
She still talks about Ireland and Millstreet County Cork
The Sraid A Mhuilin of her youth her happy youthful day
Killarney Road west of Millstreet and northern Claraghatlea.
The old friends are still dear to me that's what Mary H say
And memories of my happy youth will never fade away
I left for better livelihood and New York's been good to me
But there's more to life than financial gain or so 'twould seem to be.
The crime rate in New York is high and human life is taken cheap
You lock your doors all day and night and in locked bedroom you sleep
You don't venture out after dark too great a chance to take
For success and financial gain some sacrifice to make.
Back home in Millstreet County Cork no need to lock the door
And no fear of walking darkened road from Millstreet towards Rathmore
We left our homeland Ireland we took the swallow's choice
And for higher standard of living we chose to pay the price.
The nostalgia expressed by migrant Irish people by most misunderstood
We leave our homeland Ireland for better livelihood
And Mary Helen's words re-echo the thoughts of migrant race
The yearning to return again and live in old home place.
Lines On Meeting Mick And Patricia O Connor
Just spent two hours or there so with them Mick O Connor and the wife
But I quickly grew to know them and it seemed that I'd known them all my life
We had a few quiet drinks together in Adelaide's Flagsaff Hotel
And I did enjoy our meeting as my memory serves me well.
He is far distant from Ireland from Cork and Ballinagree
But he's happy in Australia very happy and carefree
Left his homeplace back in Ireland in nineteen forty three
And went from England to Australia where he raised his family.
He may lack the height in inches but he stand a man apart
And he is a humorous fellow and he's got a great big heart
And he's worked hard for his living and to look at him you'd say
There's one fellow who has worked hard nothing easy came his way.
He has returned to green Ireland he has returned to there before
But he says he'll not be going back to that country never more
Says he's seen enough of Ireland and he'll not be going back
To the valleys beyond Mushera way beyond the beaten track.
And he said to me mate don't return to there never go back there again
For if you do you'll end a cripple with hooped back and walking cane
Stay away from bog and water and the land of het and stone
For back there 'tis always raining and the wind chill to the bone.
But his wife Pat a true Aussie with her man could not agree
She said I too have been to Ireland 'tis a beautiful country
But Mick he just stayed silent merely lowered and shook his head
As if to say lady I know better for 'tis there I've been raised and bred.
I left them in Adelaide as they boarded on a bus
Mick O Connor and his wife Pat he was one time one of us
But now he's a true Aussie and he'll live his final day
Many miles from Mushera mountain and those valleys far away.
But I quickly grew to know them and it seemed that I'd known them all my life
We had a few quiet drinks together in Adelaide's Flagsaff Hotel
And I did enjoy our meeting as my memory serves me well.
He is far distant from Ireland from Cork and Ballinagree
But he's happy in Australia very happy and carefree
Left his homeplace back in Ireland in nineteen forty three
And went from England to Australia where he raised his family.
He may lack the height in inches but he stand a man apart
And he is a humorous fellow and he's got a great big heart
And he's worked hard for his living and to look at him you'd say
There's one fellow who has worked hard nothing easy came his way.
He has returned to green Ireland he has returned to there before
But he says he'll not be going back to that country never more
Says he's seen enough of Ireland and he'll not be going back
To the valleys beyond Mushera way beyond the beaten track.
And he said to me mate don't return to there never go back there again
For if you do you'll end a cripple with hooped back and walking cane
Stay away from bog and water and the land of het and stone
For back there 'tis always raining and the wind chill to the bone.
But his wife Pat a true Aussie with her man could not agree
She said I too have been to Ireland 'tis a beautiful country
But Mick he just stayed silent merely lowered and shook his head
As if to say lady I know better for 'tis there I've been raised and bred.
I left them in Adelaide as they boarded on a bus
Mick O Connor and his wife Pat he was one time one of us
But now he's a true Aussie and he'll live his final day
Many miles from Mushera mountain and those valleys far away.
The Little Black Girl
Her tribe far from here north as the crow flies
The little black girl with the chestnut brown eyes
Her shoulder length hair dark as feather of crow
And there is great warmth in her cheery hello.
Her people were here long before others came
And for this land they had a different name
And they were known to be environmentally aware
And of this great country they did take good care.
Her people invented the boomerang and didgeridoo
And with their dogs through the scrub hunted the roo
And related their stories in song and in rhyme
The stories that their dads told them of the Dreamtime.
The little black girl has a proud history
Her race belong to this land of the southern sea
That they are the first people is never in doubt
And the very first humans to venture far south.
Her people have been here for thousands of years
And their dispossession a reason for tears
And the little black girl with a smile on her face
Belongs to her country's aboriginal race.
The little black girl with the chestnut brown eyes
Her shoulder length hair dark as feather of crow
And there is great warmth in her cheery hello.
Her people were here long before others came
And for this land they had a different name
And they were known to be environmentally aware
And of this great country they did take good care.
Her people invented the boomerang and didgeridoo
And with their dogs through the scrub hunted the roo
And related their stories in song and in rhyme
The stories that their dads told them of the Dreamtime.
The little black girl has a proud history
Her race belong to this land of the southern sea
That they are the first people is never in doubt
And the very first humans to venture far south.
Her people have been here for thousands of years
And their dispossession a reason for tears
And the little black girl with a smile on her face
Belongs to her country's aboriginal race.
Garrett Vanderhope
In cinema-graphic sound he became a world renowned person but from fame and fortune he just walked away
And in Lismore in New South Wales in a different field completely for himself he's making a big name today
Garrett Vanderhope the fellow from Kallista from the high country he has travelled far
A genius and quietly spoken quiet achiever and in his own right quite a super star.
From Kallista home of the mountain ash trees the world's tallest some venture to say
Garrett carved out a big reputation in Hollywood and places from his homeland far away
Yet he is not one who yearns for the limelight not one of those to put himself out there
He'd rather leave his talents do the talking for him and people like him always have been rare.
The one who turned his back on fame and fortune for to pursue a different sort of a career
Stories such as his one don't hear of very often though of stories such as his one always loves to hear
A down to earth man the limelight did not suit him there's more to life far more than wealth and fame
Far beyond the wooded hills where he was raised in so many would have heard of him by name.
His fame has spread far beyond the borders of the Dandenong Ranges but Garrett on Hollywood turned his back
His new life career it now will take him elsewhere to another road that leads off of another track
He is one who leaves his great talents speak for him and to his own self he will remain true
And he is one of those humble quiet achievers and quiet achievers sad to say too few.
And in Lismore in New South Wales in a different field completely for himself he's making a big name today
Garrett Vanderhope the fellow from Kallista from the high country he has travelled far
A genius and quietly spoken quiet achiever and in his own right quite a super star.
From Kallista home of the mountain ash trees the world's tallest some venture to say
Garrett carved out a big reputation in Hollywood and places from his homeland far away
Yet he is not one who yearns for the limelight not one of those to put himself out there
He'd rather leave his talents do the talking for him and people like him always have been rare.
The one who turned his back on fame and fortune for to pursue a different sort of a career
Stories such as his one don't hear of very often though of stories such as his one always loves to hear
A down to earth man the limelight did not suit him there's more to life far more than wealth and fame
Far beyond the wooded hills where he was raised in so many would have heard of him by name.
His fame has spread far beyond the borders of the Dandenong Ranges but Garrett on Hollywood turned his back
His new life career it now will take him elsewhere to another road that leads off of another track
He is one who leaves his great talents speak for him and to his own self he will remain true
And he is one of those humble quiet achievers and quiet achievers sad to say too few.
My Goddess
The one who believed his god was superior said to me can't hold any hope for you
Of ever reaching the beyond earth heaven to any god you are not even true
I'll not be seeing you in the life hereafter since you have chosen an eternity in hell
There is no place for one like you in heaven as you are a non believing infidel.
I told him that the goddess I believe in is all around me and she is one that I see every day
And that she is known to all as mother Nature and to her I don't even have to pray
She changes her colors with the passing seasons and from her we came and to her we will return
The source of life and all of life her children and from her we have so much for to learn.
She is the only god of which I know of and this life hereafter well that's another thing
I would not want to live in a world where I would never hear the wild birds sing
The god you say is great you cannot see him but mother nature all of us can see
Her beauty it is everywhere around us the mountains, plains woods, rivers and the sea.
He said to me you will never see god's kingdom as you are an infidel and nothing more
And you are one who will suffer forever in satan's hell beyond this earthly shore
But he can have his god and I'll have my goddess suppose we all do see things differently
And if we all looked at things in the same way a very boring world it would be.
Of ever reaching the beyond earth heaven to any god you are not even true
I'll not be seeing you in the life hereafter since you have chosen an eternity in hell
There is no place for one like you in heaven as you are a non believing infidel.
I told him that the goddess I believe in is all around me and she is one that I see every day
And that she is known to all as mother Nature and to her I don't even have to pray
She changes her colors with the passing seasons and from her we came and to her we will return
The source of life and all of life her children and from her we have so much for to learn.
She is the only god of which I know of and this life hereafter well that's another thing
I would not want to live in a world where I would never hear the wild birds sing
The god you say is great you cannot see him but mother nature all of us can see
Her beauty it is everywhere around us the mountains, plains woods, rivers and the sea.
He said to me you will never see god's kingdom as you are an infidel and nothing more
And you are one who will suffer forever in satan's hell beyond this earthly shore
But he can have his god and I'll have my goddess suppose we all do see things differently
And if we all looked at things in the same way a very boring world it would be.
Anna's Memory
Her mum wept aloud on her birth bed she still do remember that day
At the birth of June her youngest sister now in her mid forties and turning gray
At that time Anna in her sixth year was too young to understand why
Her mother seemed so very unhappy at what should have been her moment of joy.
At the birth of her new baby sister she watched her poor mother in tears
As she held her crying eight baby she realized with the passing of the years
That her mother did not weep with elation but with the sorrow of one more to clothe and to feed
And with a husband too fond of his liquor one more problem she did not need.
A memory she retains from her childhood and something she will never forget
Her mother wept as she held baby June not tears of joy but of regret
That she had given birth to another baby into hardship and to poverty
And she worried that she could not cope with the needs of her growing family.
Anna was fifty one on her last birthday she is one who was raised in the hard way
And though she still looks rather pretty her brown hair is now flecked with gray
Her most vivid memory from childhood was seeing her mother in tears
Whilst holding June her new baby sister a memory not faded by years.
At the birth of June her youngest sister now in her mid forties and turning gray
At that time Anna in her sixth year was too young to understand why
Her mother seemed so very unhappy at what should have been her moment of joy.
At the birth of her new baby sister she watched her poor mother in tears
As she held her crying eight baby she realized with the passing of the years
That her mother did not weep with elation but with the sorrow of one more to clothe and to feed
And with a husband too fond of his liquor one more problem she did not need.
A memory she retains from her childhood and something she will never forget
Her mother wept as she held baby June not tears of joy but of regret
That she had given birth to another baby into hardship and to poverty
And she worried that she could not cope with the needs of her growing family.
Anna was fifty one on her last birthday she is one who was raised in the hard way
And though she still looks rather pretty her brown hair is now flecked with gray
Her most vivid memory from childhood was seeing her mother in tears
Whilst holding June her new baby sister a memory not faded by years.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
A Ballad Of The Bayswater Hotel
It's Friday evening from life's cares we'll have a brief leave taking
And lets go to the Baysy pub for hour of merry making
In confines of the Settlers bar the voice of mirth is ringing
And Pete Atkinson from Dublin town an Irish song is singing.
The McKelvey men father and son are talking of horse racing
They know the horses inside out from form and race card tracing
Has Vo rogue gone over the hill, can Horlicks race to glory
Can Almaarad come bouncing back and go down in history?
Phil Cronin go back down the years he flick back through life pages
To friends he knew in Millstreet Town he has not seen for ages
Big Jerry Shea and Mister O, James Manley hale and hearty
And Johnny Sing from Millview Lane the life of every party.
Brave Harry the brave English man the one as tough as leather
You'll only see that man in shorts no matter what the weather
A man of elephantine strength yet gentle and kind hearted
And he has taken life's hardest blow since his son this world departed.
Big Mick Kissane the Kerry man he doesn't like Maggie Thatcher
And he feels that for union bashing that few in history could match her
Still he won't go back to Kenmare to weather wet and hazy
He'd much prefer Mt Evelyn it's nearer to the Baysy.
Mick Kelleher and Phil Schofield well into greyhound breeding
They talk of how greyhounds should be schooled and for them proper feeding
Two greyhound trainers and of late their reputations growing
And Millstreet Town keeps racing on when others dogs are slowing.
Vin Schofield a Manchester Man he does love Man United
And every time United win he feel proud and delighted
But United not doing well of late of late they're not impressing
And this too much for him to take he find it all depressing.
Galway's Matt Duggan and Westmeath's Sean Fay the hurling game debating
On the first sunday of September who will be celebrating
Can Westmeath make the big break through or will Galway flags be waving
Or will Tipperary still be champs their reputation saving?
And Marty Kerins from Mayo a good and happy fellow
I've never met him in bad mood I've always found him mellow
He love the Bayswater Hotel he says there is none better
And to be kept from Settlers Bar he'd have to be in fetter.
And Mick O Shea from Dublin his friends are in the many
And he doesn't have one enemy and he doesn't deserve any
He's given homes to homeless souls and he's easily moved to pity
And good a man as ever came to live in this great city.
The amazing J D Ellis his name and fame keep spreading
And he has bounced back from the floor and for the top he's heading
Still he is easily stirred up and Garry Carter does the stirring
And el tigre he begins to growl the cat's no longer purring.
It's Friday evening from life's cares we'll have a brief leave taking
And where better than the Baysy pub for hour of merry making
In Confines of the Settlers bar the voice of mirth is ringing
And Pete Atkinson from Dublin town an Irish song is singing.
And lets go to the Baysy pub for hour of merry making
In confines of the Settlers bar the voice of mirth is ringing
And Pete Atkinson from Dublin town an Irish song is singing.
The McKelvey men father and son are talking of horse racing
They know the horses inside out from form and race card tracing
Has Vo rogue gone over the hill, can Horlicks race to glory
Can Almaarad come bouncing back and go down in history?
Phil Cronin go back down the years he flick back through life pages
To friends he knew in Millstreet Town he has not seen for ages
Big Jerry Shea and Mister O, James Manley hale and hearty
And Johnny Sing from Millview Lane the life of every party.
Brave Harry the brave English man the one as tough as leather
You'll only see that man in shorts no matter what the weather
A man of elephantine strength yet gentle and kind hearted
And he has taken life's hardest blow since his son this world departed.
Big Mick Kissane the Kerry man he doesn't like Maggie Thatcher
And he feels that for union bashing that few in history could match her
Still he won't go back to Kenmare to weather wet and hazy
He'd much prefer Mt Evelyn it's nearer to the Baysy.
Mick Kelleher and Phil Schofield well into greyhound breeding
They talk of how greyhounds should be schooled and for them proper feeding
Two greyhound trainers and of late their reputations growing
And Millstreet Town keeps racing on when others dogs are slowing.
Vin Schofield a Manchester Man he does love Man United
And every time United win he feel proud and delighted
But United not doing well of late of late they're not impressing
And this too much for him to take he find it all depressing.
Galway's Matt Duggan and Westmeath's Sean Fay the hurling game debating
On the first sunday of September who will be celebrating
Can Westmeath make the big break through or will Galway flags be waving
Or will Tipperary still be champs their reputation saving?
And Marty Kerins from Mayo a good and happy fellow
I've never met him in bad mood I've always found him mellow
He love the Bayswater Hotel he says there is none better
And to be kept from Settlers Bar he'd have to be in fetter.
And Mick O Shea from Dublin his friends are in the many
And he doesn't have one enemy and he doesn't deserve any
He's given homes to homeless souls and he's easily moved to pity
And good a man as ever came to live in this great city.
The amazing J D Ellis his name and fame keep spreading
And he has bounced back from the floor and for the top he's heading
Still he is easily stirred up and Garry Carter does the stirring
And el tigre he begins to growl the cat's no longer purring.
It's Friday evening from life's cares we'll have a brief leave taking
And where better than the Baysy pub for hour of merry making
In Confines of the Settlers bar the voice of mirth is ringing
And Pete Atkinson from Dublin town an Irish song is singing.
The Man From Gortavehy
If you're Irish and in Melbourne and live up the Preston way
Give a call on Johnny Tarrant it will help to make his day
And he'll give you a huge welcome as he has a heart of gold
That great man from Gortavehy a few with two score years old.
He's worked hard throughout Australia for fifteen long years or more
And he's still the same John Tarrant as I knew in days of yore
He still speaks with Irish accent and he hasn't changed one bit
And at heart he's still a youngster with a mighty sense of wit.
He loves the songs of Slim Dusty and he knows them off by heart as well
And he sings along when Slim sings of that famous bush hotel
He himself worked in the outback and he can associate with Slim songs
And though hard work is never easy it doesn't hurt you when you're strong.
Look at him you know he's Irish he's got foxy Irish hair
And his boyish face unwrinkled yet to show life's wear and tear
And his massive pair of shoulders and his arms like iron bands
He's a hark back to the great men who made famous old Ireland.
John worked hard for his money and though the money it was high
It is hard for man to work hard under hot Australian sky
Digging tunnels out the outback where the land is wild and rough
Where the faint hearted get dismissal and the toughest find it tough.
He now owns his own house in Preston Melbourne an expensive place to buy
And the fruits of his endeavour he can sit back and enjoy
And more than a house in Preston he's got money in the bank
And for that he has nobody no one but himself to thank.
But he's not mean with money he is what you'd call sound bloke
And he'll help you if you need him he will help you if you're broke
If you're Irish and he know you and you are looking for a lend
He will help you out of trouble if you need him he's a friend.
Talk to him of Ballydaly and Caher's stormy heights
And you bet 'twill make him happy he will chuckle with delight
He was raised back in that country back by Gortavehy lake
Quite a long way from Australia and a hard journey to make.
Talk to him of Tommy Tucker and the Ballydaly boys
And you'll see a glint of laughter in his happy Irish eyes
And the Murphys and the Connors and John Regan and John Brien
And he'll talk about the old days and the conversation will suit him fine.
And the Twomeys and the Guerins those names he can well recall
And the Lynchs and the Sullivans who for Ballydaly played football
And the Buckleys and the Reardons and Mick Horgan rest his soul
And the Rings who for Ballydaly scored many a point and goal.
Ask him about the horse Con Jack bought at Millstreet Town March fair
From Con Sheehan of Cloghoula and you'll laugh at this I swear
John rode that horse home bareback and galloped hard all of the way
And the poor creature felt so weary he could scarcely walk next day.
Ask him abouth his bowl playing with Jim Sullivan and some more
And the fun and sunday caper and the Killarney road bowl score
And the day the bowl rolled in Jerald's front gate and the fuss that brought about
Ask him to tell you that one and you'll laugh at it no doubt.
John worked hard back in Ireland where the work is not matched by pay
Cutting pine trees in State forest and piking bales of hay
He has never had it easy and believe him when he say
That he'd earn more in one day in Australia than in Ireland in five days.
And don't condemn to him Australia as he love that vast country
And he love the open bushland where his spirit did feel free
There he earned all of his money earned it with his honest sweat
And that he did come to Australia never caused him to regret.
But he still loves talk of old times and the characters he knew
And he could tell a thousand stories and everyone of them be true
Of men like D Dinneen and John Joe and Johnny Murphy Claramore man
And tall Dan Healy from Inches that out and out republican.
He's the happiest man in Preston settled into married life
With Eileen Smith from Keady his charming Irish wife
And he does deserve to be happy as his heart's in the right place
He's a good man and a just man and a credit to his race.
John Tarrant will return to Ireland he has plans to settle there
And he will purchase a big farm in County Cork somewhere
And he will visit Ballydaly and the hills west of Millstreet
And re live again the old days when his old pals he will meet.
Give a call on Johnny Tarrant it will help to make his day
And he'll give you a huge welcome as he has a heart of gold
That great man from Gortavehy a few with two score years old.
He's worked hard throughout Australia for fifteen long years or more
And he's still the same John Tarrant as I knew in days of yore
He still speaks with Irish accent and he hasn't changed one bit
And at heart he's still a youngster with a mighty sense of wit.
He loves the songs of Slim Dusty and he knows them off by heart as well
And he sings along when Slim sings of that famous bush hotel
He himself worked in the outback and he can associate with Slim songs
And though hard work is never easy it doesn't hurt you when you're strong.
Look at him you know he's Irish he's got foxy Irish hair
And his boyish face unwrinkled yet to show life's wear and tear
And his massive pair of shoulders and his arms like iron bands
He's a hark back to the great men who made famous old Ireland.
John worked hard for his money and though the money it was high
It is hard for man to work hard under hot Australian sky
Digging tunnels out the outback where the land is wild and rough
Where the faint hearted get dismissal and the toughest find it tough.
He now owns his own house in Preston Melbourne an expensive place to buy
And the fruits of his endeavour he can sit back and enjoy
And more than a house in Preston he's got money in the bank
And for that he has nobody no one but himself to thank.
But he's not mean with money he is what you'd call sound bloke
And he'll help you if you need him he will help you if you're broke
If you're Irish and he know you and you are looking for a lend
He will help you out of trouble if you need him he's a friend.
Talk to him of Ballydaly and Caher's stormy heights
And you bet 'twill make him happy he will chuckle with delight
He was raised back in that country back by Gortavehy lake
Quite a long way from Australia and a hard journey to make.
Talk to him of Tommy Tucker and the Ballydaly boys
And you'll see a glint of laughter in his happy Irish eyes
And the Murphys and the Connors and John Regan and John Brien
And he'll talk about the old days and the conversation will suit him fine.
And the Twomeys and the Guerins those names he can well recall
And the Lynchs and the Sullivans who for Ballydaly played football
And the Buckleys and the Reardons and Mick Horgan rest his soul
And the Rings who for Ballydaly scored many a point and goal.
Ask him about the horse Con Jack bought at Millstreet Town March fair
From Con Sheehan of Cloghoula and you'll laugh at this I swear
John rode that horse home bareback and galloped hard all of the way
And the poor creature felt so weary he could scarcely walk next day.
Ask him abouth his bowl playing with Jim Sullivan and some more
And the fun and sunday caper and the Killarney road bowl score
And the day the bowl rolled in Jerald's front gate and the fuss that brought about
Ask him to tell you that one and you'll laugh at it no doubt.
John worked hard back in Ireland where the work is not matched by pay
Cutting pine trees in State forest and piking bales of hay
He has never had it easy and believe him when he say
That he'd earn more in one day in Australia than in Ireland in five days.
And don't condemn to him Australia as he love that vast country
And he love the open bushland where his spirit did feel free
There he earned all of his money earned it with his honest sweat
And that he did come to Australia never caused him to regret.
But he still loves talk of old times and the characters he knew
And he could tell a thousand stories and everyone of them be true
Of men like D Dinneen and John Joe and Johnny Murphy Claramore man
And tall Dan Healy from Inches that out and out republican.
He's the happiest man in Preston settled into married life
With Eileen Smith from Keady his charming Irish wife
And he does deserve to be happy as his heart's in the right place
He's a good man and a just man and a credit to his race.
John Tarrant will return to Ireland he has plans to settle there
And he will purchase a big farm in County Cork somewhere
And he will visit Ballydaly and the hills west of Millstreet
And re live again the old days when his old pals he will meet.
The Thirsty Old Boy
An empty beer bottle on the timber bench beside him the bloke known as the thirsty old boy
The old man a young man found dead in a bus shelter as a winter dawn broke in the sky
The weather of late had been chilly, the night it was frosty and cold
And the elements proved that bit too much for one three with eighty years old.
As a young man in the early forties he was decorated for his bravery
For his part in the great war in Europe and few young men as brave as he,
Back then he was a revered fellow and he came home to a big parade
But from there 'twas downhill to oblivion and from the limelight he did fade.
He sold his war medals for liquor 'tis said for twenty four cans of beer
The last ten years of his life were tragic yet not one for him shed a tear
It's been said that his world fell to pieces on the day that his wife passed away
Then he turned to alcohol for solace his lot might be our lot one day.
The last post was not played at his grave and no head stone to mark where he lay
He is the forgotten old soldier but that's life some people might say
Still he too had his moments of glory and when put to the test he was brave
Yet none even care to remember the pauper in the pauper's grave.
On warm summer evenings in the parkland he sat and drank beer in the shade
A gentle and inoffensive old fellow aggression he never displayed
Yet he was one who had known insult and sad and alone he did die
And not one shed one tear of sorrow at the passing of the thirsty old boy.
The old man a young man found dead in a bus shelter as a winter dawn broke in the sky
The weather of late had been chilly, the night it was frosty and cold
And the elements proved that bit too much for one three with eighty years old.
As a young man in the early forties he was decorated for his bravery
For his part in the great war in Europe and few young men as brave as he,
Back then he was a revered fellow and he came home to a big parade
But from there 'twas downhill to oblivion and from the limelight he did fade.
He sold his war medals for liquor 'tis said for twenty four cans of beer
The last ten years of his life were tragic yet not one for him shed a tear
It's been said that his world fell to pieces on the day that his wife passed away
Then he turned to alcohol for solace his lot might be our lot one day.
The last post was not played at his grave and no head stone to mark where he lay
He is the forgotten old soldier but that's life some people might say
Still he too had his moments of glory and when put to the test he was brave
Yet none even care to remember the pauper in the pauper's grave.
On warm summer evenings in the parkland he sat and drank beer in the shade
A gentle and inoffensive old fellow aggression he never displayed
Yet he was one who had known insult and sad and alone he did die
And not one shed one tear of sorrow at the passing of the thirsty old boy.
The Lust Of The Wander
The lust of the wander is powerful it grows and it grows every day
It draws people to distant places from their old hometown far away,
It draws them to the bigger cities to London, New York, Paris and Rome
To Tokyo, Moscow and Sydney and Melbourne far distant from home.
Those bitten by the bug of wander must wander the world till they die
They never feel tied to the one place and settled in their ways like I,
They feel the great yearn for new places each time they see a plane in the sky
And they feel so happy whilst travelling the wandering life style they enjoy.
They leave the old townland forever and say goodbye to the old hill
And to the river and the wood and the meadow and to the dipper who sings in the rill,
The love of the homeland one might say to them hardly ever apply
And nostalgia doesn't seem to affect them and few of them go home to die.
Those bitten by the bug of wander become part of the nomadic race
And they don't have a sense of belonging to any land or any place
They travel the highways and byways from the north to the southern shore
And few of them ever re-visit the place they were raised in ever more.
The lust of the wander is powerful 'tis an irresistible thing
the bards they have written about it and the balladeers of it do sing
It takes people far from their homelands to distant parts far beyond the seas
And only the sight of new places the bug of the wander appease.
It draws people to distant places from their old hometown far away,
It draws them to the bigger cities to London, New York, Paris and Rome
To Tokyo, Moscow and Sydney and Melbourne far distant from home.
Those bitten by the bug of wander must wander the world till they die
They never feel tied to the one place and settled in their ways like I,
They feel the great yearn for new places each time they see a plane in the sky
And they feel so happy whilst travelling the wandering life style they enjoy.
They leave the old townland forever and say goodbye to the old hill
And to the river and the wood and the meadow and to the dipper who sings in the rill,
The love of the homeland one might say to them hardly ever apply
And nostalgia doesn't seem to affect them and few of them go home to die.
Those bitten by the bug of wander become part of the nomadic race
And they don't have a sense of belonging to any land or any place
They travel the highways and byways from the north to the southern shore
And few of them ever re-visit the place they were raised in ever more.
The lust of the wander is powerful 'tis an irresistible thing
the bards they have written about it and the balladeers of it do sing
It takes people far from their homelands to distant parts far beyond the seas
And only the sight of new places the bug of the wander appease.
They Take Self Love Too Far
'Tis sad to think that those into self promotion in success seem to get far
For I am tired of listening to them telling me of how great they are
Always blowing their own bugles they love the me, myself and I
'Tis with a great sense of relief when to them I get to say goodbye.
People into self promotion yearn for the public gaze
But such people one tire of listening to singing their own praise
yet self promotion seems to work for them as they climb the success tree
Is boasting nowadays seen as acceptable in the twenty first century.
Their idea if you don't sing your own praises your praises will remain unsung
They feel that is the only reason that they were born with a tongue
They take self love that bit too far and you never hear them once say
That he or she is a good person respect to others they never pay.
The down to earth leave the talking to others they never say I am the best
They don't boast about their achievements and don't place themselves above the rest
I like them these humble quiet achievers and others say of them how great
And they are the truly successful and the people we should celebrate.
For I am tired of listening to them telling me of how great they are
Always blowing their own bugles they love the me, myself and I
'Tis with a great sense of relief when to them I get to say goodbye.
People into self promotion yearn for the public gaze
But such people one tire of listening to singing their own praise
yet self promotion seems to work for them as they climb the success tree
Is boasting nowadays seen as acceptable in the twenty first century.
Their idea if you don't sing your own praises your praises will remain unsung
They feel that is the only reason that they were born with a tongue
They take self love that bit too far and you never hear them once say
That he or she is a good person respect to others they never pay.
The down to earth leave the talking to others they never say I am the best
They don't boast about their achievements and don't place themselves above the rest
I like them these humble quiet achievers and others say of them how great
And they are the truly successful and the people we should celebrate.
Felicia Di Stefano
Mentally a human colossus though physically she doesn't stand tall
For she and the young Melanie Mumford believe in a fair go for all
Staunch supporters of the movement Rural Australia For Refugees
For all of those who stand for human rights and justice put your hands together please
Felicia Di Stefano what a woman she is truly an enlightened soul
She is one voice for the Stateless and good at playing the role model role
For the refugees in unlawful detention she's prepared to have her say
People like her are invaluable in the world we live in today
Jane Sealholme, Tully Fletcher, Beth Montgomery and Jessica Harrison are others who spring to mind
And then of course there's Janice Trenair people like them hard to find
They with others fly the banner for the incarcerated dispossessed
For the Stateless and forgotten and the disadvantaged oppressed.
At South West Gippsland gatherings on behalf of refugees Felicia Di Stefano always there
And her husband John there to support her but sad to say their kind too rare
Rural Australians for refugees should feel proud of the work they do
To a higher set of principles they remain steadfast and true.
The big hearted Felicia Di Stefano is one we ought to celebrate
On behalf of incarcerated Stateless people she has achieved something great
A spokesperson for refugees in detention centers unlawfully serving time
To flee torture in search of a better future should never be seen as a crime.
For she and the young Melanie Mumford believe in a fair go for all
Staunch supporters of the movement Rural Australia For Refugees
For all of those who stand for human rights and justice put your hands together please
Felicia Di Stefano what a woman she is truly an enlightened soul
She is one voice for the Stateless and good at playing the role model role
For the refugees in unlawful detention she's prepared to have her say
People like her are invaluable in the world we live in today
Jane Sealholme, Tully Fletcher, Beth Montgomery and Jessica Harrison are others who spring to mind
And then of course there's Janice Trenair people like them hard to find
They with others fly the banner for the incarcerated dispossessed
For the Stateless and forgotten and the disadvantaged oppressed.
At South West Gippsland gatherings on behalf of refugees Felicia Di Stefano always there
And her husband John there to support her but sad to say their kind too rare
Rural Australians for refugees should feel proud of the work they do
To a higher set of principles they remain steadfast and true.
The big hearted Felicia Di Stefano is one we ought to celebrate
On behalf of incarcerated Stateless people she has achieved something great
A spokesperson for refugees in detention centers unlawfully serving time
To flee torture in search of a better future should never be seen as a crime.
The Voice Within
Did you ever feel so lonely that you wished your life would end
And you didn't have much money and you didn't have a friend
And you felt a bit suicidal and you felt all hope had gone
Till a tiny voice within you said you ought to carry on.
And that tiny voice within you suddenly grew to a roar
Shouted pull yourself together pull yourself up off the floor
If you end it all this evening and you give up on all hope
Some will say oh what a loser with life he just couldn't cope.
If you end it all this evening you won't get much sympathy
Some people will say what a loser he gave in so easily
Though a few feel sympathetic the majority will say
It took a weak and a cowardly fellow for to end his life in this way.
You can take the easy way out by ending your life tonight
But you are a better person if against the odds you fight
And when you overcome adversity you are one they will admire
And the story of your triumph others like you will inspire.
It's that tiny voice within you that increases to a roar
That inspires in you the courage just to battle on some more
And through your dark tunnel of depression you resolve to carry on
Though you feel alone and friendless and you feel all hope has gone.
And you didn't have much money and you didn't have a friend
And you felt a bit suicidal and you felt all hope had gone
Till a tiny voice within you said you ought to carry on.
And that tiny voice within you suddenly grew to a roar
Shouted pull yourself together pull yourself up off the floor
If you end it all this evening and you give up on all hope
Some will say oh what a loser with life he just couldn't cope.
If you end it all this evening you won't get much sympathy
Some people will say what a loser he gave in so easily
Though a few feel sympathetic the majority will say
It took a weak and a cowardly fellow for to end his life in this way.
You can take the easy way out by ending your life tonight
But you are a better person if against the odds you fight
And when you overcome adversity you are one they will admire
And the story of your triumph others like you will inspire.
It's that tiny voice within you that increases to a roar
That inspires in you the courage just to battle on some more
And through your dark tunnel of depression you resolve to carry on
Though you feel alone and friendless and you feel all hope has gone.
A Dream Of Gortavehy
A bright and sunny summer's day the lark pipes in the sky
And the fragrant scent of flowering gorse and the hill sheep bleating nigh
I lay here on a bracken patch by sunlit mountain lake
In dreamy mood the mood we know when we lay half awake.
To get a break from cares of life the need to be alone
And where better than a place like this by bracken hill of stone
And Gortavehy beautiful on sunny summer's day
But every day not warm in June and June has a brief stay.
The sunshine it feels wonderful I lay on bracken ground
And I the only person here there's no one else around
And peace so welcome to the soul it gently comes to me
And sheep are bleating on the hill and larks pipe merrily.
The currawongs are calling in the wood across the way
And white backed magpie piping on high branch of mountain gray
And rain is gently falling on Sherbrooke winter day
And I'd been to Gortavehy a half a world away.
And the fragrant scent of flowering gorse and the hill sheep bleating nigh
I lay here on a bracken patch by sunlit mountain lake
In dreamy mood the mood we know when we lay half awake.
To get a break from cares of life the need to be alone
And where better than a place like this by bracken hill of stone
And Gortavehy beautiful on sunny summer's day
But every day not warm in June and June has a brief stay.
The sunshine it feels wonderful I lay on bracken ground
And I the only person here there's no one else around
And peace so welcome to the soul it gently comes to me
And sheep are bleating on the hill and larks pipe merrily.
The currawongs are calling in the wood across the way
And white backed magpie piping on high branch of mountain gray
And rain is gently falling on Sherbrooke winter day
And I'd been to Gortavehy a half a world away.
Randolph Turpin
July the tenth in nineteen fifty one that was Randolph Turpin's day
He became the world middleweight boxing champion by outpointing the great Sugar Ray
He was then the toast of Britain their professional world boxing king
Artists lined up to paint his portrait and singer songwriters his praises did sing.
Two months later in the Polo Grounds Sugar Ray Robinson regained his title through K O
But for ten hard rounds Leamington Spa's Randolph slugged it out with him toe to toe
In what is still seen as a boxing classic Randolph Turpin lost his crown
To the greatest all time boxer he so gallantly went down.
Randolph's brothers Dick and Jackie were also champion boxers the Turpin's were raised the hard way
Yet they made a name for themselves in the boxing ring fighting for pay
On that July night in Earl's Court Randolph Turpin rose to fame
And in the annals of the fight game his is a legendary name.
Randolph Turpin the black boxer to a nation brought great pride
Yet he died in his late thirties as a victim of suicide
All of those who knew the famous boxer told of one who was good and kind
And that a better person than him would be surely hard to find.
He was such a noble champion and world wide acclaim he won
And he will always be remembered as the Pride of Leamington
And the mighty Randolph Turpin only fought the very best
And he was not found to be wanting when he was put to the test.
He became the world middleweight boxing champion by outpointing the great Sugar Ray
He was then the toast of Britain their professional world boxing king
Artists lined up to paint his portrait and singer songwriters his praises did sing.
Two months later in the Polo Grounds Sugar Ray Robinson regained his title through K O
But for ten hard rounds Leamington Spa's Randolph slugged it out with him toe to toe
In what is still seen as a boxing classic Randolph Turpin lost his crown
To the greatest all time boxer he so gallantly went down.
Randolph's brothers Dick and Jackie were also champion boxers the Turpin's were raised the hard way
Yet they made a name for themselves in the boxing ring fighting for pay
On that July night in Earl's Court Randolph Turpin rose to fame
And in the annals of the fight game his is a legendary name.
Randolph Turpin the black boxer to a nation brought great pride
Yet he died in his late thirties as a victim of suicide
All of those who knew the famous boxer told of one who was good and kind
And that a better person than him would be surely hard to find.
He was such a noble champion and world wide acclaim he won
And he will always be remembered as the Pride of Leamington
And the mighty Randolph Turpin only fought the very best
And he was not found to be wanting when he was put to the test.
Tubrid Near Millstreet
Sweet holy Tubrid heavenly serene
A place where god walk and his angels do dream
Where clear spring water bubbles up through the ground
For to form a beautiful well all around.
There is something about Tubrid words cannot express
The unruffled beauty and the peacefulness
In the halls of my mind I hear heaven's bell ring
And see God's angels bathing in Tubrid's bright spring.
O'er the Claraghatlea rushes a skylark sing sweet
By the famed well of Tubrid where peace and beauty greet
Whilst god fearing people to Christ mother pray
On this sunshiny sunday afternoon in May.
On Finnow river bank golden buttercups bloom
And robin on leafy bough pipe merry tune
where Tubrid's bright water with Finnow water meet
Half a mile from the County Cork Town of Millstreet.
A place where god walk and his angels do dream
Where clear spring water bubbles up through the ground
For to form a beautiful well all around.
There is something about Tubrid words cannot express
The unruffled beauty and the peacefulness
In the halls of my mind I hear heaven's bell ring
And see God's angels bathing in Tubrid's bright spring.
O'er the Claraghatlea rushes a skylark sing sweet
By the famed well of Tubrid where peace and beauty greet
Whilst god fearing people to Christ mother pray
On this sunshiny sunday afternoon in May.
On Finnow river bank golden buttercups bloom
And robin on leafy bough pipe merry tune
where Tubrid's bright water with Finnow water meet
Half a mile from the County Cork Town of Millstreet.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Christmas Day In Belgrave
A hot and a humid afternoon and the temperatures still soar
It was 31 an hour ago and now it's 34
Even for Belgrave in Victoria a warm Christmas Day
And the dogs are panting in the shade too hot for them to play.
The chops and snags ready for frying and at twenty five to two
Lyn pour oil on the frying pan and switch on the barbecue
And Vic and Phil and Andy in the cypress shade drink beer
A happy Christmas to you all and lots of merry cheer.
They talk of cricket and Aussie Rules and of who might win the flag
And Lyn calls to them grub ready boys with your bread a chop or snag
You fellows don't have much to talk about your world is very small
There's more to life than cricket, beer and Aussie Rules football.
In defence of men Andy speaks up you women all the same
The team that won the flag last year I bet you couldn't name
She said you mean that silly game that at the M C G was played
Of course I know the answer mate the Crows from Adelaide.
Christmas Day in Belgrave and it's 34 degrees
And the afternoon so humid there is scarce a puff of breeze
And the men talk sport and drink beer and the Grand final replayed
And the dogs lethargic from the heat are panting in the shade.
It was 31 an hour ago and now it's 34
Even for Belgrave in Victoria a warm Christmas Day
And the dogs are panting in the shade too hot for them to play.
The chops and snags ready for frying and at twenty five to two
Lyn pour oil on the frying pan and switch on the barbecue
And Vic and Phil and Andy in the cypress shade drink beer
A happy Christmas to you all and lots of merry cheer.
They talk of cricket and Aussie Rules and of who might win the flag
And Lyn calls to them grub ready boys with your bread a chop or snag
You fellows don't have much to talk about your world is very small
There's more to life than cricket, beer and Aussie Rules football.
In defence of men Andy speaks up you women all the same
The team that won the flag last year I bet you couldn't name
She said you mean that silly game that at the M C G was played
Of course I know the answer mate the Crows from Adelaide.
Christmas Day in Belgrave and it's 34 degrees
And the afternoon so humid there is scarce a puff of breeze
And the men talk sport and drink beer and the Grand final replayed
And the dogs lethargic from the heat are panting in the shade.
Oh I Love Cloghoula Countryside
Oh I love Cloghoula countryside when wild flowers are in bloom
Just outside the Town of Millstreet on the way out towards Macroom
When the birds are singing gaily and new leaves are on the trees
And the brown bog larks are piping o'er the bogland of Gneeves.
Oh I love you sweet Kilmeedy at the back of Clara hill
I have always been in love with you and doubtless I always will
You are beautiful and peaceful and your fields are evergreen
And you wake to greet each dawning day like a rare beauty queen.
Oh to walk through flower decked meadows where the Finnow waters flow
Listening to the song birds piping their tunes sweet and mellow
'Tis like walking through a fairyland where peace and beauty meet
In the green fields of Cloghoula in the Parish of Millstreet.
'Tis a home like place Cloghoula where a man can win esteem
Just by playing with their own football club the Slanan Rovers team
He who plays for Slanan Rovers who so ever he may be
Is accepted in Cloghoula as one of the family.
Oh I love Cloghoula country side each meadow, vale and glen
Home of kindly hearted people and of hardy mountain men,
Oh I love Cloghoula country side especially in Spring
When the wild flowers are a blooming and the merry song birds sing.
Just outside the Town of Millstreet on the way out towards Macroom
When the birds are singing gaily and new leaves are on the trees
And the brown bog larks are piping o'er the bogland of Gneeves.
Oh I love you sweet Kilmeedy at the back of Clara hill
I have always been in love with you and doubtless I always will
You are beautiful and peaceful and your fields are evergreen
And you wake to greet each dawning day like a rare beauty queen.
Oh to walk through flower decked meadows where the Finnow waters flow
Listening to the song birds piping their tunes sweet and mellow
'Tis like walking through a fairyland where peace and beauty meet
In the green fields of Cloghoula in the Parish of Millstreet.
'Tis a home like place Cloghoula where a man can win esteem
Just by playing with their own football club the Slanan Rovers team
He who plays for Slanan Rovers who so ever he may be
Is accepted in Cloghoula as one of the family.
Oh I love Cloghoula country side each meadow, vale and glen
Home of kindly hearted people and of hardy mountain men,
Oh I love Cloghoula country side especially in Spring
When the wild flowers are a blooming and the merry song birds sing.
A Good Woman
A good woman can be an inspiration and inspire her man to greater things in life
And I envy him he is a lucky fellow the man with a good and a devoted wife
For a woman can make or even break you and a good woman is not that hard to find
The men may be more physically powerful but the mental strength belong to woman kind.
Behind every good man 'tis said there's a good woman and with such a quote how can one disagree
The mother is the wife and the home maker and she is the linchpin of the family
She is the glue that binds the family together and to her children a loyal and a true friend
And though the son may be a law transgressor his mother him will fearlessly defend.
The good women are the mothers of the good people the kind and loving people of today
And their good work 'twould seem is far from finished though the passing years have left them looking gray
Mentors and role models of their grandchildren and their good work is destined to live on
In the humanity of their descendants though from this world and life they are long gone.
A good woman she is an inspiration and she is more than worth her weight in gold
And she is one who doesn't decrease in value though the years have left her looking gray and old
The old bloke who lives across the way is in his seventies and he often recalls his better years
And when he talks about his long dead mother one gets the feeling he is close to tears.
And I envy him he is a lucky fellow the man with a good and a devoted wife
For a woman can make or even break you and a good woman is not that hard to find
The men may be more physically powerful but the mental strength belong to woman kind.
Behind every good man 'tis said there's a good woman and with such a quote how can one disagree
The mother is the wife and the home maker and she is the linchpin of the family
She is the glue that binds the family together and to her children a loyal and a true friend
And though the son may be a law transgressor his mother him will fearlessly defend.
The good women are the mothers of the good people the kind and loving people of today
And their good work 'twould seem is far from finished though the passing years have left them looking gray
Mentors and role models of their grandchildren and their good work is destined to live on
In the humanity of their descendants though from this world and life they are long gone.
A good woman she is an inspiration and she is more than worth her weight in gold
And she is one who doesn't decrease in value though the years have left her looking gray and old
The old bloke who lives across the way is in his seventies and he often recalls his better years
And when he talks about his long dead mother one gets the feeling he is close to tears.
The Best Day Of The Year
This morning very early I heard the magpie sing
And suddenly it dawned on me it's the first day of Spring
The dawning of September and on the stringybark
The white backed magpie whistled sweet music in the dark.
The first day of September the best day of the year
That is if you are living in the southern hemisphere
For Spring the Season of beauty and of greenery and youth
A time of bloom and grass growth when seedlings take to root.
The Spring came in at midnight from places far away
She crept in through the darkness for her annual three months stay
And magpie he woke early on the stringybark tree
And for the welcome visitor piped his sweetest melody.
This morning very early before the dawn of day
The magpie welcomed the visitor from places far away
And the first day of September the best day of the year
That is if you are living in the Southern Hemisphere.
And suddenly it dawned on me it's the first day of Spring
The dawning of September and on the stringybark
The white backed magpie whistled sweet music in the dark.
The first day of September the best day of the year
That is if you are living in the southern hemisphere
For Spring the Season of beauty and of greenery and youth
A time of bloom and grass growth when seedlings take to root.
The Spring came in at midnight from places far away
She crept in through the darkness for her annual three months stay
And magpie he woke early on the stringybark tree
And for the welcome visitor piped his sweetest melody.
This morning very early before the dawn of day
The magpie welcomed the visitor from places far away
And the first day of September the best day of the year
That is if you are living in the Southern Hemisphere.
Old Wacko
Old Wacko tell the children in a past life that he see
The son of God called Jesus walk the waves of Galilee
And that he was there to witness what seemed an unequal fight
When the much smaller chap named David slew the towering giant Goliath.
Old Wacko saw Michelangelo painting pictures in the sky
And around the clouds of heaven he could see winged angels fly
And he was there when Adam handed the apple to Eve
And the wide eyed children listen and his stories they believe.
The parents tell their children from old Wacko keep away
That fellow comes from cuckoo land such silly things he say
And whilst some pay heed to mum and dad and their wishes obey
The others beg old Wacko for more stories every day.
He tells of how Delilah took Samson's strength by cutting off his hair
And when Moses the commandments wrote old Wacko he was there
And he witnessed the death of Joan of Arc back when he was twenty four
And the wide eyed children listen and they beg of him for more.
When the parents tell their children from old Wacko keep away
Some of them with reluctance their mum and dad obey
Whilst the others risk parental discipline by talking to Wacko
And beg of him more stories from the distant long ago.
The son of God called Jesus walk the waves of Galilee
And that he was there to witness what seemed an unequal fight
When the much smaller chap named David slew the towering giant Goliath.
Old Wacko saw Michelangelo painting pictures in the sky
And around the clouds of heaven he could see winged angels fly
And he was there when Adam handed the apple to Eve
And the wide eyed children listen and his stories they believe.
The parents tell their children from old Wacko keep away
That fellow comes from cuckoo land such silly things he say
And whilst some pay heed to mum and dad and their wishes obey
The others beg old Wacko for more stories every day.
He tells of how Delilah took Samson's strength by cutting off his hair
And when Moses the commandments wrote old Wacko he was there
And he witnessed the death of Joan of Arc back when he was twenty four
And the wide eyed children listen and they beg of him for more.
When the parents tell their children from old Wacko keep away
Some of them with reluctance their mum and dad obey
Whilst the others risk parental discipline by talking to Wacko
And beg of him more stories from the distant long ago.
In Maling Road By Canterbury Station
In Maling Road by Canterbury station
The trains from Belgrave and Lilydale pass up and down
To Flinders Street and back to outer suburbs
And suburbia now seems one big sprawling town.
In Maling Road an old style shopping center
With tables and chairs outside the cafes by the street
It is a place where people come together
At Maling Road on the weekends they meet.
I spoke to this old fellow he was Turkish
His English as expected not so good
To speak in his own tongue might seem less effort
Still he could make himself be understood.
He said me come here saturday at two o
To meet my Turkish mates at the cafe
For a few hours we eat cake and drink coffee
And talk about the homeland far away.
He's one of many you will meet at Maling
For Maling road's a multicultural place
No matter what part of the globe you come from
At Maling Road you'll meet one of your race.
At Maling Road by Canterbury Station
The trains pass up and down all through the day
And migrants meet in the old fashioned cafes
To talk about the Homelands far away.
The trains from Belgrave and Lilydale pass up and down
To Flinders Street and back to outer suburbs
And suburbia now seems one big sprawling town.
In Maling Road an old style shopping center
With tables and chairs outside the cafes by the street
It is a place where people come together
At Maling Road on the weekends they meet.
I spoke to this old fellow he was Turkish
His English as expected not so good
To speak in his own tongue might seem less effort
Still he could make himself be understood.
He said me come here saturday at two o
To meet my Turkish mates at the cafe
For a few hours we eat cake and drink coffee
And talk about the homeland far away.
He's one of many you will meet at Maling
For Maling road's a multicultural place
No matter what part of the globe you come from
At Maling Road you'll meet one of your race.
At Maling Road by Canterbury Station
The trains pass up and down all through the day
And migrants meet in the old fashioned cafes
To talk about the Homelands far away.
The World Is Ruled By Ehe Egotistical
The world is ruled by the egotistical or so 'twould seem that way
And some aging men don't grow wiser they just grow old and gray
And some don't leave their arrogance behind them in their prime
Just like the old poetaster they don't improve with time.
The world is ruled by the egotistical and money gives to them power
And the amount the blue collar worker gets paid in a month they can make in an hour
And thousands dying of malnutrition for every millionaire
And their egos getting bigger doesn't life seem so unfair.
The world is ruled by the egotistical one might say the greedy few
And of how the hungry poor must live they would not have a clue
They live in earthly paradise and the good life they enjoy
Whilst millions all around the world of hunger slowly die.
The world is ruled by the egotistical and they grow older but not wise
And that they only socialize with their own kind comes as no great surprise
And money speaks all languages it would be true to say
Yet thousands dying of hunger in the world every day.
And some aging men don't grow wiser they just grow old and gray
And some don't leave their arrogance behind them in their prime
Just like the old poetaster they don't improve with time.
The world is ruled by the egotistical and money gives to them power
And the amount the blue collar worker gets paid in a month they can make in an hour
And thousands dying of malnutrition for every millionaire
And their egos getting bigger doesn't life seem so unfair.
The world is ruled by the egotistical one might say the greedy few
And of how the hungry poor must live they would not have a clue
They live in earthly paradise and the good life they enjoy
Whilst millions all around the world of hunger slowly die.
The world is ruled by the egotistical and they grow older but not wise
And that they only socialize with their own kind comes as no great surprise
And money speaks all languages it would be true to say
Yet thousands dying of hunger in the world every day.
In The J C
Those three long weeks were worse than hell
In the J C with Rob Waddell
It varied little from day to day
The games job seekers ought to play.
He told them some things they already knew
That jobs seekers many and jobs too few
And things to say and things to do
When they went for that interview.
For that interview you must dress well
Look spruced and clean no natural smell
No shabby coat or wrinkled dress
Your might be boss you must impress.
You must say things like I'm the best
I do not come to work to rest
I'll be your slave employ me please
And almost beg upon your knees.
With other job seekers you compete
And their high standard you must beat
And at interview you must show well
'A rattling speech from Rob Waddell'.
Initiative you have to show
And to win that job you must stoop low
And you must put your principles aside
And bury all your foolish pride.
The receptionist Sharon seemed okay
So helpful in her own good way
And so dedicated to her job
But then one can say the same for Rob.
And Bob they did not get to know
He seemed a decent person though
He took the packet and did not come back
Suppose that's better than the sack.
Lorraine they had her for a day
And she had far too much to say
Six hours with her a lengthy spell
They would even prefer Rob Waddell.
Trevor, Greg and Phil from time to time filled in
Hard to pass judgement on these men
Cold canvassing was Greg's idea
Though that doesn't show much originality.
The J C members each other got to know
Though relationships to build seem slow
You've got to feel your way around
And tread warily on unknown ground.
Young Aaron seemed bored from first day
And he quickly gave the club away
And it's been said his payments stopped by the D S S
So cruel to add to his distress.
And Steve doing a course in security skill
There is a way if there's a will
He pecked his way out of his shell
And kicked a goal for Rob Waddell.
They did not get to know Kathleen
In the J C she was seldom seen
Perhaps she found the going too tough
And said to herself enough is enough.
Olivia got stuck in hard
She sent out letters by the yard
Without effort you cannot win
And she has put huge effort in.
Young Darryn of his future clear
He wants to build to a career
He'd love a job with B H P
A future with them he can see.
And Pearl is a rock of sense
Those years make all the difference
She does seem helpful, kind and wise
With happy smile and soulful eyes.
Old Frank bad mouthed his ex boss
He still has his last bridge to cross
And 'twould seem his chances now are dim
Of he getting wages owed to him.
There's more to Elvi than one see
She has seen much of the big country
And five million copies might be sold
If her own life story she told.
Young Rachel she would never lie
In ways she may seem quiet and shy
But she is not scared to speak out
And she knows what she is on about.
So much to like about Michelle
And in life she hopes to do quite well
At least she has time on her side
And youth will never be denied.
Blond Stacey young and slim and tall
In years from now one may recall
The girl with charm and personality
Who liked watching soapies on t v
The wise one Jeff from Ferny Creek
You listen to him when he speak
But there was none so glad as he
To see the last of the J C.
Young Amber she has a kind heart
And in all discussions she took part
She's going to live in Dandenong
The desire to succeed in her is strong.
Such stories I love to hear and tell
And one can only wish them well
And they don't owe to society
That's how it would appear to me.
May god be with the unemployed
At least they need him on their side
They are the target of John Howard
The man the voters have empowered.
Yeah Mr Howard is in control
He will cut back on pensions and the dole
And he'll help make this great Nation secure
Helping the rich by taking from the poor.
Some have worked for years been there and done that
And some bosses on them have grown fat
And they ask for work but they won't say please
Or crawl to bosses on their knees.
Before we walked we learnt to crawl
Goodbye to Sharon, Rob and all
Three weeks with them was not all bad
Though overbearing just a tad.
To your might be employer yourself you must sell
An opening line from Rob Waddell
And three weeks with him in the J C
Seemed far more like an eternity.
In the J C with Rob Waddell
It varied little from day to day
The games job seekers ought to play.
He told them some things they already knew
That jobs seekers many and jobs too few
And things to say and things to do
When they went for that interview.
For that interview you must dress well
Look spruced and clean no natural smell
No shabby coat or wrinkled dress
Your might be boss you must impress.
You must say things like I'm the best
I do not come to work to rest
I'll be your slave employ me please
And almost beg upon your knees.
With other job seekers you compete
And their high standard you must beat
And at interview you must show well
'A rattling speech from Rob Waddell'.
Initiative you have to show
And to win that job you must stoop low
And you must put your principles aside
And bury all your foolish pride.
The receptionist Sharon seemed okay
So helpful in her own good way
And so dedicated to her job
But then one can say the same for Rob.
And Bob they did not get to know
He seemed a decent person though
He took the packet and did not come back
Suppose that's better than the sack.
Lorraine they had her for a day
And she had far too much to say
Six hours with her a lengthy spell
They would even prefer Rob Waddell.
Trevor, Greg and Phil from time to time filled in
Hard to pass judgement on these men
Cold canvassing was Greg's idea
Though that doesn't show much originality.
The J C members each other got to know
Though relationships to build seem slow
You've got to feel your way around
And tread warily on unknown ground.
Young Aaron seemed bored from first day
And he quickly gave the club away
And it's been said his payments stopped by the D S S
So cruel to add to his distress.
And Steve doing a course in security skill
There is a way if there's a will
He pecked his way out of his shell
And kicked a goal for Rob Waddell.
They did not get to know Kathleen
In the J C she was seldom seen
Perhaps she found the going too tough
And said to herself enough is enough.
Olivia got stuck in hard
She sent out letters by the yard
Without effort you cannot win
And she has put huge effort in.
Young Darryn of his future clear
He wants to build to a career
He'd love a job with B H P
A future with them he can see.
And Pearl is a rock of sense
Those years make all the difference
She does seem helpful, kind and wise
With happy smile and soulful eyes.
Old Frank bad mouthed his ex boss
He still has his last bridge to cross
And 'twould seem his chances now are dim
Of he getting wages owed to him.
There's more to Elvi than one see
She has seen much of the big country
And five million copies might be sold
If her own life story she told.
Young Rachel she would never lie
In ways she may seem quiet and shy
But she is not scared to speak out
And she knows what she is on about.
So much to like about Michelle
And in life she hopes to do quite well
At least she has time on her side
And youth will never be denied.
Blond Stacey young and slim and tall
In years from now one may recall
The girl with charm and personality
Who liked watching soapies on t v
The wise one Jeff from Ferny Creek
You listen to him when he speak
But there was none so glad as he
To see the last of the J C.
Young Amber she has a kind heart
And in all discussions she took part
She's going to live in Dandenong
The desire to succeed in her is strong.
Such stories I love to hear and tell
And one can only wish them well
And they don't owe to society
That's how it would appear to me.
May god be with the unemployed
At least they need him on their side
They are the target of John Howard
The man the voters have empowered.
Yeah Mr Howard is in control
He will cut back on pensions and the dole
And he'll help make this great Nation secure
Helping the rich by taking from the poor.
Some have worked for years been there and done that
And some bosses on them have grown fat
And they ask for work but they won't say please
Or crawl to bosses on their knees.
Before we walked we learnt to crawl
Goodbye to Sharon, Rob and all
Three weeks with them was not all bad
Though overbearing just a tad.
To your might be employer yourself you must sell
An opening line from Rob Waddell
And three weeks with him in the J C
Seemed far more like an eternity.
The Beauty Of Nature
Where is she now the last rose of the Summer?
Her petals by the tree that bore her lay
She withered in the first frost of the Autumn
And her great beauty perished in a day.
The crimson rosella fairest in the woodland
Has fallen victim to a bird of prey
Her crimson blood stained feathers and her crushed bones
On ground by mountain ash left to decay.
The welcome swallow has made his last journey
The ageing bird flew home this year to die
His family have migrated without him
Towards warmer climates in the north they fly.
Next year roses will bloom upon the rose tree
And rosellas in the wood will chirp and sing
And Nature will give breath of life to beauty
And welcome swallows will return in Spring.
Her petals by the tree that bore her lay
She withered in the first frost of the Autumn
And her great beauty perished in a day.
The crimson rosella fairest in the woodland
Has fallen victim to a bird of prey
Her crimson blood stained feathers and her crushed bones
On ground by mountain ash left to decay.
The welcome swallow has made his last journey
The ageing bird flew home this year to die
His family have migrated without him
Towards warmer climates in the north they fly.
Next year roses will bloom upon the rose tree
And rosellas in the wood will chirp and sing
And Nature will give breath of life to beauty
And welcome swallows will return in Spring.
The Mountain Roads Are So Steep In New Zealand
The mountain roads are so steep in New Zealand
For miles and miles they just wind up and down
You crawl down hill and labor up the steep slope
A sixty miles slow drive to nearest town.
And all around you there's an untamed beauty
On either side steep gorges down below
On such roads would not like to drive in winter
On bad conditions when there's frost and snow.
I've traveled on the Snowy mountain highway
But some New Zealand mountain roads steeper by far
Before you venture out on such a journey
Make sure you have the brakes checked on your car.
The high road south of Dannevirke I'll remember
For 6 K's it was down hill all of the way
The stream flowed rapid along the steep gorge bottom
Down over rocks it foamed a frothy spray.
The mountain roads are so steep in New Zealand
That you have to change from high gear down to low
And I'd hate like hell to have to drive upon them
On winter days when there is frost and snow.
For miles and miles they just wind up and down
You crawl down hill and labor up the steep slope
A sixty miles slow drive to nearest town.
And all around you there's an untamed beauty
On either side steep gorges down below
On such roads would not like to drive in winter
On bad conditions when there's frost and snow.
I've traveled on the Snowy mountain highway
But some New Zealand mountain roads steeper by far
Before you venture out on such a journey
Make sure you have the brakes checked on your car.
The high road south of Dannevirke I'll remember
For 6 K's it was down hill all of the way
The stream flowed rapid along the steep gorge bottom
Down over rocks it foamed a frothy spray.
The mountain roads are so steep in New Zealand
That you have to change from high gear down to low
And I'd hate like hell to have to drive upon them
On winter days when there is frost and snow.
Friday, November 25, 2011
The Sun Shines Brightly On The Hills Of Emerald
The sun shines brightly on the hills of Emerald
And Emerald as it's name suggests looks green
And were I a painter I'd commit to canvas
Some of the beauty of this splendid scene.
A magpie pipes on flowering golden wattle
Near where hidden creek towards Selby winds it's way
And on the paddock fence the willy wagtail
With wagging tail on the look out for prey.
He spies a butterfly and from his perch he dashes
And he takes the unsuspecting as he fly
And for Willy wagtail to survive in Emerald
A thing of such great beauty has to die.
But all wild born predators are free of evil
If they don't eat they can't hope to stay alive
Some things of life are only on this Planet
As source of food for others to survive.
The harsh loud laughter of the kookaburra
Pollutes the beauty of the magpie's tune
Some birds are born with gift of song whilst others
Through their short lives can't hope to lilt or croon.
The hilly paddock in full bloom look lovely
And magpie piping on the wattle tree
And hidden creek go whispering down towards Selby
Through undergrowth that reaches to the knee.
The sun shines brightly on the hills of Emerald
And all around looks beautiful and green
And a painter well might capture on his canvas
Some of the beauty of this splendid scene.
And Emerald as it's name suggests looks green
And were I a painter I'd commit to canvas
Some of the beauty of this splendid scene.
A magpie pipes on flowering golden wattle
Near where hidden creek towards Selby winds it's way
And on the paddock fence the willy wagtail
With wagging tail on the look out for prey.
He spies a butterfly and from his perch he dashes
And he takes the unsuspecting as he fly
And for Willy wagtail to survive in Emerald
A thing of such great beauty has to die.
But all wild born predators are free of evil
If they don't eat they can't hope to stay alive
Some things of life are only on this Planet
As source of food for others to survive.
The harsh loud laughter of the kookaburra
Pollutes the beauty of the magpie's tune
Some birds are born with gift of song whilst others
Through their short lives can't hope to lilt or croon.
The hilly paddock in full bloom look lovely
And magpie piping on the wattle tree
And hidden creek go whispering down towards Selby
Through undergrowth that reaches to the knee.
The sun shines brightly on the hills of Emerald
And all around looks beautiful and green
And a painter well might capture on his canvas
Some of the beauty of this splendid scene.
The Children Of The Slum End
The gap between the rich and poor expanding getting bigger by the day
Though some may say that is no strange news that it has always been this way
And the crime rate on the increase as poverty give rise to crime
And the children of the slum end in the jail house spend their time.
They were born to disadvantage never knew enough to eat
Their fathers in jail before them and their mothers worked the street
Just to put food on the table so their children could survive
In the slum end of the city people live to stay alive.
You say all people are equal that is how it ought to be
But tell that to mothers of the slum end and with you they will not agree
Their children can't get employment and their addresses a put down
And they are judged to be inferior those from the slum end of the town.
So few from the slum end make it save for the exceptional few
For every success fifty failures odds of one hundred to two
If you are born in the slum end of success you've little chance
Your address a heavy burden you are doomed by circumstance.
You say all people are equal and to that add in god's eyes
Tell that to the slum end mother she will tell you her three boys
Are in prison for car stealing and her daughters work the street
Just to support their drug habit a habit they can't defeat.
Born into disadvantage doomed to failure and unemployed
May god be with the slum end children they would need him on their side,
You say all people are equal that is how it ought to be
But tell that to the slum end mothers and with you they will not agree.
Though some may say that is no strange news that it has always been this way
And the crime rate on the increase as poverty give rise to crime
And the children of the slum end in the jail house spend their time.
They were born to disadvantage never knew enough to eat
Their fathers in jail before them and their mothers worked the street
Just to put food on the table so their children could survive
In the slum end of the city people live to stay alive.
You say all people are equal that is how it ought to be
But tell that to mothers of the slum end and with you they will not agree
Their children can't get employment and their addresses a put down
And they are judged to be inferior those from the slum end of the town.
So few from the slum end make it save for the exceptional few
For every success fifty failures odds of one hundred to two
If you are born in the slum end of success you've little chance
Your address a heavy burden you are doomed by circumstance.
You say all people are equal and to that add in god's eyes
Tell that to the slum end mother she will tell you her three boys
Are in prison for car stealing and her daughters work the street
Just to support their drug habit a habit they can't defeat.
Born into disadvantage doomed to failure and unemployed
May god be with the slum end children they would need him on their side,
You say all people are equal that is how it ought to be
But tell that to the slum end mothers and with you they will not agree.
The Mallee Fowl
In the breeding season he work on his mound of earth and leaves
He heap up matter and then scrape some away
And then make hole for female to lay her eggs
The only part in motherhood she play.
Along with scrub fowl and brush turkey the mallee fowl
Are classified as megapodes name for mound building birds
For decades now they have been baffling science
And for them ornithologists search for words.
As thermostat the male bird use his bill
If mound too hot he scrape some stuff away
And if mound too cool he heap up earth and leaves
And thus he work for hours on end each day.
On hatching the chicks struggle free of their incubating mound
And of their parent birds live independently
And how they manage to survive alone
Must forever remain as a mystery.
He has baffled science and ornithology
This game bird like bird of feathers brown to gray
During the breeding season he works hard on his mound
If not adding to it then scraping some away.
He heap up matter and then scrape some away
And then make hole for female to lay her eggs
The only part in motherhood she play.
Along with scrub fowl and brush turkey the mallee fowl
Are classified as megapodes name for mound building birds
For decades now they have been baffling science
And for them ornithologists search for words.
As thermostat the male bird use his bill
If mound too hot he scrape some stuff away
And if mound too cool he heap up earth and leaves
And thus he work for hours on end each day.
On hatching the chicks struggle free of their incubating mound
And of their parent birds live independently
And how they manage to survive alone
Must forever remain as a mystery.
He has baffled science and ornithology
This game bird like bird of feathers brown to gray
During the breeding season he works hard on his mound
If not adding to it then scraping some away.
The Bard Of St Mel's
For twenty years the Parish priest of St Mel's in Narrandera Town
But that was not the reason why Patrick Hartigan won renown
He became famous as the poet nom de plume John O Brien
And the greatness of the reverend bard shone through in every line.
He helped to put Narrandera on the map in his poetic prime
And he still lives in Australian literature in his distinctive rhyme
Said Hanrahan, Tangamalangaloo and The Old Mass Shandyran
Poetic gems that still live on from pen of bardic man.
And The Little Irish Mother she is still alive today
As she kneels on her kitchen floor with her family to pray
Many poems from his best known book Around The Booree Log insures the author's fame
And in Australian literature his is still a household name.
Narrandera in New South Wales a town known far and wide
It was there the great poet John O Brien for near three decades did reside
The childrens play ground by St Mel's in honor of his name
The poet is gone but long live the poet his verses are his fame.
But that was not the reason why Patrick Hartigan won renown
He became famous as the poet nom de plume John O Brien
And the greatness of the reverend bard shone through in every line.
He helped to put Narrandera on the map in his poetic prime
And he still lives in Australian literature in his distinctive rhyme
Said Hanrahan, Tangamalangaloo and The Old Mass Shandyran
Poetic gems that still live on from pen of bardic man.
And The Little Irish Mother she is still alive today
As she kneels on her kitchen floor with her family to pray
Many poems from his best known book Around The Booree Log insures the author's fame
And in Australian literature his is still a household name.
Narrandera in New South Wales a town known far and wide
It was there the great poet John O Brien for near three decades did reside
The childrens play ground by St Mel's in honor of his name
The poet is gone but long live the poet his verses are his fame.
The Villians
Of their names we have heard often and we'll hear of them again
Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein
For terror and this war on terror so many them blame
And they are on the run and they hide in their shame.
And would you say I'm right or would you disagree
That their capture or deaths won't bring about world harmony
We may see them as villians and heap upon them scorn
But there was war and terror before they were born.
And are they any more guilty than Bush, Howard and Blair
The damage they have done they never could repair
For they too have caused death and destruction and sufferings and tears
And their war on terror will go on for years.
And by the voters of their countries these men are empowered
But then one person's hero is another person's coward
And the winners only write the conflict history so tell us something new
Those words remain so relevant and always have rang true.
Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden are villians in our eyes
Though they too have their admirers do that come as a surprise?
But the likes of Bush and Howard and Blair are just as bad as they
For it always takes more than one to start a war and it has always been that way.
Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein
For terror and this war on terror so many them blame
And they are on the run and they hide in their shame.
And would you say I'm right or would you disagree
That their capture or deaths won't bring about world harmony
We may see them as villians and heap upon them scorn
But there was war and terror before they were born.
And are they any more guilty than Bush, Howard and Blair
The damage they have done they never could repair
For they too have caused death and destruction and sufferings and tears
And their war on terror will go on for years.
And by the voters of their countries these men are empowered
But then one person's hero is another person's coward
And the winners only write the conflict history so tell us something new
Those words remain so relevant and always have rang true.
Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden are villians in our eyes
Though they too have their admirers do that come as a surprise?
But the likes of Bush and Howard and Blair are just as bad as they
For it always takes more than one to start a war and it has always been that way.
The Case Of Drug Pusher Bob
Drug pusher Bob is behind bars and safely locked away
But four years for selling heroin doesn't seem huge price to pay
For one who has ruined many lives he's sold the stuff for years
His crimes gave rise to other crimes and he's left his trail of tears.
By the drug squad drug pusher Bob has been caught in the act
And that he had been pushing drugs for years by now a well known fact
And the heroin the drug squad found on him supposed to be destroyed
But rumor has it that's not so and rumor has travelled wide.
By the Police commissioner such nasty rumors are angrily denied
Of course my men are squeaky clean and in their job take pride
And will the people who spread these rumors come and themselves identify
As we want to clear the law's good name and nail this treacherous lie.
By rumor mongers the law upholders have been dealt a smear
And that the Police are not so pure some people like to hear
The Police commissioner his outmost try to clear his men's good name
But nasty rumors once set alight burn to ashes of shame.
Drug pusher Bob is now in jail where he deserve to be
And those who helped to put him there of guilt ought to feel free
But rumor has it they have done wrong and they ought to lose their job
And if this be so then sad to say they too should be with Bob.
But four years for selling heroin doesn't seem huge price to pay
For one who has ruined many lives he's sold the stuff for years
His crimes gave rise to other crimes and he's left his trail of tears.
By the drug squad drug pusher Bob has been caught in the act
And that he had been pushing drugs for years by now a well known fact
And the heroin the drug squad found on him supposed to be destroyed
But rumor has it that's not so and rumor has travelled wide.
By the Police commissioner such nasty rumors are angrily denied
Of course my men are squeaky clean and in their job take pride
And will the people who spread these rumors come and themselves identify
As we want to clear the law's good name and nail this treacherous lie.
By rumor mongers the law upholders have been dealt a smear
And that the Police are not so pure some people like to hear
The Police commissioner his outmost try to clear his men's good name
But nasty rumors once set alight burn to ashes of shame.
Drug pusher Bob is now in jail where he deserve to be
And those who helped to put him there of guilt ought to feel free
But rumor has it they have done wrong and they ought to lose their job
And if this be so then sad to say they too should be with Bob.
I Am Not A Well Known Person
I am not a well known person and I've never known fame
Yet everywhere I go to someone calls me by my name
And everywhere I go to someone will say hello
And say I've never met you before though you I seem to know.
I am not a well known person though I like it that way
Yet everywhere I go to someone to me will say
Your face does look familiar I know you from somewhere
Perhaps down at the local pub I may have seen you there.
I am not a well known person just a face in the crowd
And I don't have achievements of which I can feel proud
Yet people I cannot recall have come and said to me
Your face it looks familiar and I have a memory
Of seeing you not that long ago though where I cannot say
Perhaps in a city bound train on football finals day
Or maybe at the shopping center or at the super store
Your face I do remember as I have seen you before.
I am not a well known person not that well known at all
Though strangers often say to me your face I can recall
Down at the local market or on the street maybe
But then who knows for another they may have mistaken me.
Yet everywhere I go to someone calls me by my name
And everywhere I go to someone will say hello
And say I've never met you before though you I seem to know.
I am not a well known person though I like it that way
Yet everywhere I go to someone to me will say
Your face does look familiar I know you from somewhere
Perhaps down at the local pub I may have seen you there.
I am not a well known person just a face in the crowd
And I don't have achievements of which I can feel proud
Yet people I cannot recall have come and said to me
Your face it looks familiar and I have a memory
Of seeing you not that long ago though where I cannot say
Perhaps in a city bound train on football finals day
Or maybe at the shopping center or at the super store
Your face I do remember as I have seen you before.
I am not a well known person not that well known at all
Though strangers often say to me your face I can recall
Down at the local market or on the street maybe
But then who knows for another they may have mistaken me.
Yvonne Sixtieth Birthday
Yvonne has turned sixty on October seventeen
And like many other women life's good and bad days she has seen
Her son and daughter two good people and she feels proud of their success
And the birth of her grand daughter Matilda has brought her great happiness.
Yvonne is a war baby born in nineteen forty three
At a sad and a tragic period in human history
And she is one not out of place in this world of modern technology
A very clever woman and few as knowledgeable as she.
In the gum woods of Kallista the butcher bird now sing
And the magpie he is fluting in the warm southern spring
And on Yvonne's sixtieth birthday the sun is shining bright
And butterflies are playing in the beautiful sunlight.
For Yvonne's sixtieth birthday such a warm and lovely day
And spring is at her greenest and summer not far away
And in the sunshine at Cooks Corner her praises we will sing
And the strains of happy birthday for the birthday girl will ring.
And like many other women life's good and bad days she has seen
Her son and daughter two good people and she feels proud of their success
And the birth of her grand daughter Matilda has brought her great happiness.
Yvonne is a war baby born in nineteen forty three
At a sad and a tragic period in human history
And she is one not out of place in this world of modern technology
A very clever woman and few as knowledgeable as she.
In the gum woods of Kallista the butcher bird now sing
And the magpie he is fluting in the warm southern spring
And on Yvonne's sixtieth birthday the sun is shining bright
And butterflies are playing in the beautiful sunlight.
For Yvonne's sixtieth birthday such a warm and lovely day
And spring is at her greenest and summer not far away
And in the sunshine at Cooks Corner her praises we will sing
And the strains of happy birthday for the birthday girl will ring.
Jim Cairns
Jim Cairns more than a politician and historians him will recall
As one who was honest and forthright and he put principle first of all
In the seventies the deputy to Prime Minister Gough Whitlam his heart always did rule his head
And unlike others he was not poll driven that of him could never be said.
In the sixties he opposed the Vietnam war back then quite a brave thing to do
And he was one who stuck by the principle that man to thine own self be true
With him 'twas not follow the leader he was one who spoke from the heart
Jim Cairns was a socialist legend and one might say a man apart.
Jim Cairns was a friend of the battlers and the battlers they need every friend
One might say a champion of Labor the working class he did defend
He always said economic rationalism only made poor people more poor
Something designed by conservative politicians to make the wealthy more financially secure.
Jim Cairns died in his eighty ninth year in October two thousand and three
Selling his books at his stall in Kallista Market the great man I often did see
Of the Labor left a true champion and to the higher principles he remained true
He was more than a politician and people like him are so few.
As one who was honest and forthright and he put principle first of all
In the seventies the deputy to Prime Minister Gough Whitlam his heart always did rule his head
And unlike others he was not poll driven that of him could never be said.
In the sixties he opposed the Vietnam war back then quite a brave thing to do
And he was one who stuck by the principle that man to thine own self be true
With him 'twas not follow the leader he was one who spoke from the heart
Jim Cairns was a socialist legend and one might say a man apart.
Jim Cairns was a friend of the battlers and the battlers they need every friend
One might say a champion of Labor the working class he did defend
He always said economic rationalism only made poor people more poor
Something designed by conservative politicians to make the wealthy more financially secure.
Jim Cairns died in his eighty ninth year in October two thousand and three
Selling his books at his stall in Kallista Market the great man I often did see
Of the Labor left a true champion and to the higher principles he remained true
He was more than a politician and people like him are so few.
Eoin From Dublin
He's traveled all around the world Eoin Murphy from Dublin Town
And through the great United States he's traveled up and down
Through Britain and Australia from north to southern shore
He must have traveled down the years a million miles or more.
I met him in Melbourne a few years back as he was passing through
And he told me of his travels and the places he'd been to
He'd just flown in from Queensland it is hot up there he said
In height of summer weather warm you even sweat in bed.
Since he left Dublin years ago to far off lands he's been
And it is good to hear him talk of the marvelous sights he's seen
He has seen the great lands of the world and he likes to talk about
His travels in the hemispheres the north and the far south.
He has seen the world's great cities since he's left his native land
And London and New York he know like the back of his hand
And though he left Ireland years ago and lives in the U S A
A hint of Dublin accent with Eoin from Dublin stay.
And through the great United States he's traveled up and down
Through Britain and Australia from north to southern shore
He must have traveled down the years a million miles or more.
I met him in Melbourne a few years back as he was passing through
And he told me of his travels and the places he'd been to
He'd just flown in from Queensland it is hot up there he said
In height of summer weather warm you even sweat in bed.
Since he left Dublin years ago to far off lands he's been
And it is good to hear him talk of the marvelous sights he's seen
He has seen the great lands of the world and he likes to talk about
His travels in the hemispheres the north and the far south.
He has seen the world's great cities since he's left his native land
And London and New York he know like the back of his hand
And though he left Ireland years ago and lives in the U S A
A hint of Dublin accent with Eoin from Dublin stay.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
To Adelaide Through The Coorong
From Edenhope to McLaren Vale via many a coastal town
The salt pans of the Coorong and the paddocks flat and brown
The salt lakes and the sand dunes and few houses to be seen
A flat and empty country and hardly any green.
Though nearer to McLaren Vale the roadway gets quite steep
Through brown hills above Adelaide your foot near brake you keep
A dry brown land parched from the drought the Coorong needs some rain
It rained for two days three weeks back 'twould need to rain again.
I met old man at Salt Creek his home since childhood day
And about his beloved Coorong he had so much to say
His memory goes back seventy years to when he was young boy
And this land has not changed since then 'twas always brown and dry.
Gray haired and close to eighty years with tanned and wrinkled face
In this vast dry and unsheltered land he did not seem out of place
He said the black tribes hunted here before the white man came
And in many places down the coast they still live on in name.
The salt pans of the Coorong where only saltbush grow
In a land that hasn't changed for years I'm going by one who know
And all the way from Edenhope through Meningie and further down
Two hundred miles of sunburnt coast of paddocks flat and brown.
The salt pans of the Coorong and the paddocks flat and brown
The salt lakes and the sand dunes and few houses to be seen
A flat and empty country and hardly any green.
Though nearer to McLaren Vale the roadway gets quite steep
Through brown hills above Adelaide your foot near brake you keep
A dry brown land parched from the drought the Coorong needs some rain
It rained for two days three weeks back 'twould need to rain again.
I met old man at Salt Creek his home since childhood day
And about his beloved Coorong he had so much to say
His memory goes back seventy years to when he was young boy
And this land has not changed since then 'twas always brown and dry.
Gray haired and close to eighty years with tanned and wrinkled face
In this vast dry and unsheltered land he did not seem out of place
He said the black tribes hunted here before the white man came
And in many places down the coast they still live on in name.
The salt pans of the Coorong where only saltbush grow
In a land that hasn't changed for years I'm going by one who know
And all the way from Edenhope through Meningie and further down
Two hundred miles of sunburnt coast of paddocks flat and brown.
A member of the I W Club
A member of the Club of Enterprising Women her great dream is to climb the social stair
With their support she hopes to be a great success that in big business she will be a major player
Maybe one day be a company director but not all dreams as we know do come true
And though nearly everybody dreams of fame and glory such dreams as we know are realized by very few.
A member of the Club of Enterprising Women though they can't inspire her to become a millionaire
The money making gift one have or don't have and life for some 'twould seem is so unfair
To the club President she has tendered her resignation she will not be a club member next year
On the cost of her club membership she will be saving for one on welfare one hundred bucks far too dear.
The inspirational women they failed to inspire her for she is still in a financial hole
And jobs are hard to find for women over fifty and not much of a future for one on the dole
She will not be attending any more I W gatherings to listen to I W guest speakers tell
Of how they made millions despite their humble beginnings and transcended their lives of earthly hell.
She thought that the inspirational women would inspire her but thought 'twould seem has proved her wrong once more
The penguin only waddles out of water because she does not have the wings to soar
And she is out of work and financially struggling and the odds are stacked against her it would seem
Of she becoming a millionairess in her fifties and of such a miracle she well may dream.
With their support she hopes to be a great success that in big business she will be a major player
Maybe one day be a company director but not all dreams as we know do come true
And though nearly everybody dreams of fame and glory such dreams as we know are realized by very few.
A member of the Club of Enterprising Women though they can't inspire her to become a millionaire
The money making gift one have or don't have and life for some 'twould seem is so unfair
To the club President she has tendered her resignation she will not be a club member next year
On the cost of her club membership she will be saving for one on welfare one hundred bucks far too dear.
The inspirational women they failed to inspire her for she is still in a financial hole
And jobs are hard to find for women over fifty and not much of a future for one on the dole
She will not be attending any more I W gatherings to listen to I W guest speakers tell
Of how they made millions despite their humble beginnings and transcended their lives of earthly hell.
She thought that the inspirational women would inspire her but thought 'twould seem has proved her wrong once more
The penguin only waddles out of water because she does not have the wings to soar
And she is out of work and financially struggling and the odds are stacked against her it would seem
Of she becoming a millionairess in her fifties and of such a miracle she well may dream.
Taxi, Trish And Barry G
At the corner of Bayview road and Stony
Live Trish McCreesh and Barry G her son
And from their house they can hear Puffing Billy
On leaving Belgrave on his uphill run.
Old Puffing Billy is the Belgrave steam train
He puffs aloud and his whistle sounds so shrill
You stand on Bayview road and you can hear him
As he goes whistling up the Selby hill.
At mid morning when Barry G is sleeping
He wakes to the loud whistles of the train
But before the train has reached half way to Emerald
He has quietly nodded off to sleep again.
He has a little cross bred dog called Taxi
A Pomeranian x Australian terrier I've been told
He got him from a friend down in St Kilda
And Barry reckons he's a six year old.
If you don't like Taxi you are no friend of Trish and Barry
For they treat their little dog as family
But that's the way it is with many people
'If you don't like my dog you don't like me'.
Characters the word to describe Trish and Barry
They like their parties and enjoy their fun
They light the barby on the summer evenings
And there's a welcome there for everyone.
In house at corner of Bayview and Stony
Live Taxi, Trish and Barry G her son
And from their house they can hear Puffing Billy
On leaving Belgrave on his uphill run.
Live Trish McCreesh and Barry G her son
And from their house they can hear Puffing Billy
On leaving Belgrave on his uphill run.
Old Puffing Billy is the Belgrave steam train
He puffs aloud and his whistle sounds so shrill
You stand on Bayview road and you can hear him
As he goes whistling up the Selby hill.
At mid morning when Barry G is sleeping
He wakes to the loud whistles of the train
But before the train has reached half way to Emerald
He has quietly nodded off to sleep again.
He has a little cross bred dog called Taxi
A Pomeranian x Australian terrier I've been told
He got him from a friend down in St Kilda
And Barry reckons he's a six year old.
If you don't like Taxi you are no friend of Trish and Barry
For they treat their little dog as family
But that's the way it is with many people
'If you don't like my dog you don't like me'.
Characters the word to describe Trish and Barry
They like their parties and enjoy their fun
They light the barby on the summer evenings
And there's a welcome there for everyone.
In house at corner of Bayview and Stony
Live Taxi, Trish and Barry G her son
And from their house they can hear Puffing Billy
On leaving Belgrave on his uphill run.
On Visiting The Arthur Streeton Exhibition
Arguably Australia's finest natural painter
His works are full of beauty and sunlight
For many years he struggled as an artist
But now his paintings a familiar sight.
Sunlight on wooded hills and shady valleys
He gave a new look to Australian art
The genius in him shone through in his paintings
And Arthur Streeton painted from the heart.
His marvelous paintings of the forest at Olinda
Before the huge messmates were cut away
Visual memories for future generations
Of how Sherbrooke looked in distant by gone day.
He captured the beauty of old Sherbrooke on his canvas
A beauty partly by pioneering man destroyed
But thanks to Arthur Streeton as well as others
That what has been has not yet fully died.
To Australian art he brought a new dimension
His paintings full of color and sunlight
For years and years he struggled for acceptance
But now his works are a familiar sight.
His works are full of beauty and sunlight
For many years he struggled as an artist
But now his paintings a familiar sight.
Sunlight on wooded hills and shady valleys
He gave a new look to Australian art
The genius in him shone through in his paintings
And Arthur Streeton painted from the heart.
His marvelous paintings of the forest at Olinda
Before the huge messmates were cut away
Visual memories for future generations
Of how Sherbrooke looked in distant by gone day.
He captured the beauty of old Sherbrooke on his canvas
A beauty partly by pioneering man destroyed
But thanks to Arthur Streeton as well as others
That what has been has not yet fully died.
To Australian art he brought a new dimension
His paintings full of color and sunlight
For years and years he struggled for acceptance
But now his works are a familiar sight.
The Kallista Forest Billabong
There is a small lake in Kallista forest
And all of those who know it call it Billabong
Surrounded by tree ferns, gums and wattles
A natural thing and to nature it belong.
The pathway that lead to it almost hidden
By fallen trees and rough scrub overgrown
As if Nature now want to reclaim her secret
And hide it in the forest as her own.
I last was up there in latter December
On the mid afternoon of Boxing day
The sky was clear, the sun was brightly shining
And shrike thrush piped on branch of mountain gray.
Fred Williams the famous painter from Upwey
found inspiration up Kallista way
And the forest billabong inspired some of his paintings
I'm only quoting what a local say.
I found the billabong down tangled pathway
It's verges here and there lit by sun ray
And all around crimson rosellas belling
And frog was croaking nearby hid away.
There is a small lake in Kallista forest
And the path to it by rough scrub overgrown
As if Nature now want to reclaim her secret
And hide it in the forest as her own.
And all of those who know it call it Billabong
Surrounded by tree ferns, gums and wattles
A natural thing and to nature it belong.
The pathway that lead to it almost hidden
By fallen trees and rough scrub overgrown
As if Nature now want to reclaim her secret
And hide it in the forest as her own.
I last was up there in latter December
On the mid afternoon of Boxing day
The sky was clear, the sun was brightly shining
And shrike thrush piped on branch of mountain gray.
Fred Williams the famous painter from Upwey
found inspiration up Kallista way
And the forest billabong inspired some of his paintings
I'm only quoting what a local say.
I found the billabong down tangled pathway
It's verges here and there lit by sun ray
And all around crimson rosellas belling
And frog was croaking nearby hid away.
There is a small lake in Kallista forest
And the path to it by rough scrub overgrown
As if Nature now want to reclaim her secret
And hide it in the forest as her own.
Advice Not Taken
She said to me you are still writing doggerel perhaps it's time that you gave it away
About the world around you and it's problems 'twould seem to me you've said all you can say
You've had your go at writing rhymes to Nature yet of nature there's not much you seem to know
Where you came from life there goes on without you and the stream downland to meet the river flow.
Her words of advice I did not pay much heed to and though it may be true that I pen doggerel
In every day we live there is a story and for as long as I live my stories I will tell
To put my pen away would be the last straw and the only one to suffer would be me
And I'll keep penning doggerel till the reaper claims me and that will be up to the powers that be.
She did not even rate me as a minor writer and what she said may very well be true
I know I'm not a poet or never could be and poets 'twould seem have never been so few
But as long as the brown skylark in the spring time will fly upwards to carol in the sky
Then I'll be writing doggerel with a passion and that will be until the day I die.
Her advice to me is advice not taken since I've never written for wealth or fame
If I were money hungry I'd not be penning doggerel for writing verse is a hungry belly game
I write because it's part of my existence and one might say it is my life's destiny
And if her advice to me I had taken the only one to suffer would be me.
About the world around you and it's problems 'twould seem to me you've said all you can say
You've had your go at writing rhymes to Nature yet of nature there's not much you seem to know
Where you came from life there goes on without you and the stream downland to meet the river flow.
Her words of advice I did not pay much heed to and though it may be true that I pen doggerel
In every day we live there is a story and for as long as I live my stories I will tell
To put my pen away would be the last straw and the only one to suffer would be me
And I'll keep penning doggerel till the reaper claims me and that will be up to the powers that be.
She did not even rate me as a minor writer and what she said may very well be true
I know I'm not a poet or never could be and poets 'twould seem have never been so few
But as long as the brown skylark in the spring time will fly upwards to carol in the sky
Then I'll be writing doggerel with a passion and that will be until the day I die.
Her advice to me is advice not taken since I've never written for wealth or fame
If I were money hungry I'd not be penning doggerel for writing verse is a hungry belly game
I write because it's part of my existence and one might say it is my life's destiny
And if her advice to me I had taken the only one to suffer would be me.
The Flowers That Bloometh In The Urban Garden
The flowers that bloometh in the urban garden
Make beautiful the small green garden tree
And city flowers in their full bloom look lovely
As beautiful as you might wish to see.
The urban woman waters her small garden
In late evening just as the sun goes down
To water in the hot sun cause plant damage
They know of Nature too in the big town.
There's as much beauty in a well kept urban garden
As a well kept garden in the countryside
Many urban people too like things of beauty
And in their gardens too take lots of pride.
It's true that there's more pollution in the city
But only because more people living there
And to say that all urban dwellers are pollutants
To say the least might seem a bit unfair.
The flowers that bloometh in the urban garden
Make beautiful the little garden tree
And blooming city garden too look lovely
As beautiful as you might wish to see.
Make beautiful the small green garden tree
And city flowers in their full bloom look lovely
As beautiful as you might wish to see.
The urban woman waters her small garden
In late evening just as the sun goes down
To water in the hot sun cause plant damage
They know of Nature too in the big town.
There's as much beauty in a well kept urban garden
As a well kept garden in the countryside
Many urban people too like things of beauty
And in their gardens too take lots of pride.
It's true that there's more pollution in the city
But only because more people living there
And to say that all urban dwellers are pollutants
To say the least might seem a bit unfair.
The flowers that bloometh in the urban garden
Make beautiful the little garden tree
And blooming city garden too look lovely
As beautiful as you might wish to see.
The Weather Warming Up A Bit
The weather warming up a bit it's getting warm today
And people for the weekend will be heading for the bay
To do a bit of fishing and relax by the sea
To surf or go skin diving or have a sea side tea.
It's nice to leave suburbia it's nice to get away
If only for the weekend for a brief holiday
To walk along the tide line salt water to your knees
Or sit back from the high cliffs and feel the ocean breeze.
A weekend from suburbia to breathe the ocean air
To lay out on the sand dunes on beach reclining chair
A short break from pollution and the humid and noisy street
Down by the country coast line a different sort of heat.
November is upon us and summer days are nigh
And weather getting warmer the weather glass is high
And not one sign of rain cloud in blue and sunny sky
And myna's song sounds sweeter as spring goes laughing by.
The traffic will be heavy on the coastal highway
From 4 p m till after dark on evening of friday
As people leave suburbia mum, dad and family
And drive towards coastal country town for weekend by the sea.
And people for the weekend will be heading for the bay
To do a bit of fishing and relax by the sea
To surf or go skin diving or have a sea side tea.
It's nice to leave suburbia it's nice to get away
If only for the weekend for a brief holiday
To walk along the tide line salt water to your knees
Or sit back from the high cliffs and feel the ocean breeze.
A weekend from suburbia to breathe the ocean air
To lay out on the sand dunes on beach reclining chair
A short break from pollution and the humid and noisy street
Down by the country coast line a different sort of heat.
November is upon us and summer days are nigh
And weather getting warmer the weather glass is high
And not one sign of rain cloud in blue and sunny sky
And myna's song sounds sweeter as spring goes laughing by.
The traffic will be heavy on the coastal highway
From 4 p m till after dark on evening of friday
As people leave suburbia mum, dad and family
And drive towards coastal country town for weekend by the sea.
Old Vinny
Old Vinny is at war with aging with light brown dye he covers his gray
And he is well over the fifty one who has seen a better day
And he has been down a bit lately not much happiness in his life
He feels bored with the world around him and bored with his aging ex wife.
He fell for Sue in her mid twenties but for him she had little time
She told him you are too old for me and you are way beyond your prime
And anyway I love my lover and I would not two time on Ted
But Vinny by her beauty smitten though he never will share her bed.
Old Vinny feels crushed by her rebuff for him it is so hard to take
He finds it so hard to forget her there is so much pain in love-ache
But that's something he must come to terms with though Sue's picture still hangs on his bedroom wall
Still nothing seems to last forever and time the best healer of all.
He and his wife Lyn separated under the one roof the new man in her life is Kim
Though Vinny is not one bit jealous he only says good luck to them
By Sue's refusal he feels shattered though not everything in life goes to plan
And though to him 'tis not a consolation he lost out to the younger man.
And he is well over the fifty one who has seen a better day
And he has been down a bit lately not much happiness in his life
He feels bored with the world around him and bored with his aging ex wife.
He fell for Sue in her mid twenties but for him she had little time
She told him you are too old for me and you are way beyond your prime
And anyway I love my lover and I would not two time on Ted
But Vinny by her beauty smitten though he never will share her bed.
Old Vinny feels crushed by her rebuff for him it is so hard to take
He finds it so hard to forget her there is so much pain in love-ache
But that's something he must come to terms with though Sue's picture still hangs on his bedroom wall
Still nothing seems to last forever and time the best healer of all.
He and his wife Lyn separated under the one roof the new man in her life is Kim
Though Vinny is not one bit jealous he only says good luck to them
By Sue's refusal he feels shattered though not everything in life goes to plan
And though to him 'tis not a consolation he lost out to the younger man.
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