Thursday, January 18, 2018

Far South Of Where

Far south of where i was born and went to primary school
In this coastal countryside by Warrnambool
My past in my memories of what was with me does remain
In my moments of fancy for to visit again
Of where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
For of Nature every day we learn something new
Her wonders are many and her secrets not few
On my flights of fancy i hear the birds sing
In a distant leafy grove in the prime of the Spring
When the hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
Good memories live on as the wise one does say
A magpie is warbling on a sunlit gum tree
Suppose i am now where i am meant to be.

Jacky Winter

He calls out peter peter in the wood beyond the town
The brown flycatcher nicknamed jacky winter a stranger to bird renown
And for the reason for his nickname in truth i cannot say
His kind distinctive in their behaviour do live in their own way

Of light brown back, wings, head and tail and unders of light gray
Their sort strangers to many and not seen every day
But if you are in a woodland and peter peter you do hear
You know that jacky winter to you is somewehere near

In grass cup nest felted with spiders webs two tiny blotched blue eggs the female lay
Not among Australia's most familiar birds in truth of them one can say
Were they often seen in parks and gardens they might be better known
But some bird lovers like them since they have ways of their own

Not the most familiar of birds since one them does not often see
But in woodland quite distinctive in their pleasant melody
Not among Australia's prettiest in their feathers of gray and brown
They call out peter peter in the wood beyond the town.

Jack

Sometimes Jack talks about his granddad the rebel Irishman
Who in his youth in County Cork fought against the Black and Tan
But Jack claims to know nothing of Ireland since he has never been there
In fact beyond Warrnambool City he has not lived anywhere
He says granddad did hate the English but hatred is not in my life
How can i hate the British when i love my English wife
The mother of our two lovely teenage daughters she means so much to me
And unlike granddad did i do not carry the mental scars of a war history
His grandad died when he was a boy near forty years ago
A warrior to his very end though time had become his foe
Jack in his mid forties his brown hair turning gray
He is one i see often though not every day
He likes telling stories of his Irish grandfather who as a young man
In the County of Cork fought the Black and Tan.

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

You Do Need Some Fear

If you are a non swimmer from deep water stay clear
Since death is an ally of the one without fear
Many who live without fear have been known to die young
Though the dead never hear when their praises are sung
Most who have played with death are not living today
At a young age in eternal rest their remains lay
One is in need of some fear in the World to survive
It is a good feeling just to be alive
Although you are poor and experiencing stress
Your life is the greatest gift you do possess
Much better days of you may be ahead
But there is never a future for the dead
And if you are a non swimmer from deep water stay clear
For to survive in the World you do need some fear.

Live And Let Live

Live and let live as the wise one does say
And never harm anyone in any way
In word or deed never drag anyone down
As some are known to do in their quest for renown
Good in the World you are one who can do
Treat other people as you would like them to treat you
Put into practice the theory of give to receive
On such a life philosophy one has to believe
Every good deed you perform in Karma it's own dividend pay
That kindness begets kindness seems true for to say
If you are kind to the one who of kindness is in need
Then to that person you are a true friend indeed
They always receive those who willingly give
And practice the theory in live and let live.

Bill Boro

Bill Boro a big bloke broad shouldered and tall
beside him most big men physically seem rather small
Dark haired in his mid twenties he lives with his brown haired partner Ann
And their brown haired three years old daughter Emily an easy going fellow Bill is a happy man
A carpenter by trade he works hard for his pay
But he is one who makes the most of every day
Not arrogant or aggressive in any way
Just a gentle giant of him one can say
A paid up member of the town's football club
At the weekend he enjoys a few beers at the pub
He loves his child and partner to him credit is due
Since to his higher self he is one who is true
A gentle giant of a man well over two meters tall
And beside him most big men look physically small.

Chrissie Mullane

As nice a person as one could wish for to meet
Chrissie of Drominahilla near the Town of Millstreet
For many years she lived at the Priests Cross in Millstreet as the late Pat Mullane's wife
It is so sad to learn that she has lost her gift of life

Though she is one who had outlived her physical prime
For her family and many friends this is such a sad time
She was kind and honorable in every way
And Millstreet all the poorer for her passing today

Since us humans are mortals why otherwise pretend
This life journey we are on for us all has to end
Each day for us to our last one day more near
And the farewell bell one the deceased never hear

It is not how long or short your life is but on how well you live
And Chrissie had so much love and kindness in her for to give
And those who willingly give can expect to receive
On such a philosophy for living life one can only believe

Sadly in the flesh never more to be seen at the Priests Cross
And her death to Millstreet must be counted as a loss
Above St Mary's in view of Cashman's Hill the January sky may be gray
But Chrissie is at peace in the earth where she lay.