When Last I Was In Buninyong

When last I was in Buninyong 'twas cold enough to snow
And down through Warrenheip Street the chilly winds did blow
But the familiar faces looked happy fit and well
As they drunk beer and swapped stories in the Bunny Crown Hotel.

And Nuffa was in the mood for verse a poem he did recite
His rendering of Bango Paterson's 'Bush Christening' was a thing of delight
And at the end for him a huge ovation we begged for an encore
Of poems and songs and stories he knew a thousand maybe more.

Since last I was in Buninyong sixteen years have passed maybe
And few if any there now would recognize or remember me
The old perhaps at their final rest the young have gone away
And doubtless it is a much changed place the Buninyong of today.

When last I was in Buninyong old 'Skinny' he looked old
His life story would make a best seller if in book form it were told
And old Bull Holloway hale and hearty I hear he died under a falling tree
And memories of the old Village live in my memory.

When last I was in Buninyong young Ross the poet was there
He talked of poets and poetry and the life of John Clare
And though that was many years ago and I did not return to there again
Of the old Villlage near Ballarat good memories with me remain.