Thursday, April 30, 2015

The Best You Can Be

Though losing is a thing anyone does not choose
For one for to win others have to lose
Far more losers than winners in the Human World of today
This is how life is and it will always be this way

Everyone is not wealthy and famous and seen as a success
And only a minority live at a fashionable address
The majority of the wealth of the World is with the wealthy few
And on saying this i am not saying anything that is new

Everyone has their dreams and their goals to pursue
And those who believe in equality amongst human beings to their higher selves true
But equality amongst people they will not live to see
Since of rank and class distinction we will never be free

It is a known fact and fact cannot be denied
That everyone cannot be wealthy and famous and known Worldwide
Since for winners there has to be losers and would you not agree
That you only can be the best that you can be.

The Bellbirds Of Birdsland

Beautiful memories are never hard for to visualize
In the high woods of Birdsland jusy after sunrise
In their tiny bell like notes the bellbirds are on song
Once seen and once heard one can never again get them wrong

Sparrow sized birds as green as the leaves on an evergreen tree
On my visits to Birdsland them i often did hear and see
But this is going back many Seasons in time
Though even then i was well past my physical prime

The bellbirds of Birdsland sing every day of the year
Their sweet tinkling notes are so pleasant to hear
They find the insects they live on amongst the branches of decaying trees
And they even sing in Winter on weather temperatures of zero degrees

Good memories of Birdsland with me does remain
And on my flights of fancy i visit there again
Where with my old dog Jedder i often climbed the high ground
And stood and gazed on the beauty for kilometers around

The place known as Birdsland in the Yarra Ranges that is known by Nature lovers far and wide
Where many species of birds and animals in safety reside
The bones of my old black and white dog Jedder in Wonthaggi lay
And from there in distance i now live far away.

Something I Can Understand

Why so many wish to migrate to Australia is something i can understand
Australia known for it's wide open spaces it is such a beautiful Land
Australians are more tolerant than most are and this is to give them their due
But that in all of us room for improvement does only happen for to be true
That the Australian Government are not kind to refugees of the World media has taken note
Aided and abetted by their main opposition who vie with them for the redneck vote
Australia on asylum seekers rights should be a World leader but politics has got in the way
And because of this the Stateless Down Under not welcome which does seem a sad thing for to say
There are many good people in Australia who with the Government policies on immigration do not agree
Who genuinely believe on a fair go and welcome every refugee
Many Australians are fair minded people and in them there is nothing small
But everybody can do better and room for improvement in us all
And why so many wish to migrate to Australia is something i can understand
A Country of wide open spaces it is such a beautiful Land.

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

An April Morning In Kilcunda

Above the brown scrubland of Kilcunda the skylark not singing today
Where slowly and silently the dark Powlett River towards the Pacific slowly crawls on it's way
On a wattle tree that has lived for many Seasons the black and white magpie with the silver bill
Is warbling in the gray of the morning in a place where time seems to stand still
The countryside by Powlett River was very old even in the Dreamtime
It has inspired generations of artists and writers of it to sketch and pen stories and rhyme
It was old in the age of the dinosaurs and old long before the first human beings to live in it came
For the countryside now known as Kilcunda they did have a different name
The first tribe of coastal South Gippsland were known by the name of the Bunurong
They were expert hunters and gatherers remembered in story and song
They were of an oral tradition their history never written down
For to be their region's first people is ever their claim to renown
On an April morning by Powlett River the sun hidden behind clouds of gray
The brown songster of the sky is silent the lark is not singing today.

Everyone's Life To Them Is Important

Everyone's life to them is important even the poorest person of the town
To her or him their life of no less of value than the life of one of great wealth and renown
The greatest scientists and doctors life to a dead body cannot restore
The longest lived life in time is not a very long span and death it is forever more
Yes the longest lived human life in time is not a very long span
Three score and ten years the average a few years more for a woman than it is for a man
You may be quite a poor person one who cannot even afford a second hand car
But your life to you is most important no matter your social standing or whoever you are
In fact it is the greatest gift that you can claim to own
Since a life post bodily death does remain as unknown
A mere fact of life that remains as ever true
No matter what you achieve in life death is your due
You may be a very poor person without money to your name
But your life to you is as important as their lives are to those of money and fame.

Old Ted

Old Ted he does know all about life for he has been there and done that
He has shorn sheep in North Queensland and laid water pipes in Ararat
He was also in demand as a horse breaker one of the best of the outback
He tamed many a bucking wild brumby and in courage he did not lack

Old Ted in his twilight years single one who never did have a wife
And he never did father children though he did have women in his life
In his younger years he was an itinerant worker one who liked to move from place to place
His kind always rare are nowadays even rarer one might say an endangered race

For one who is in his mid eighties he is one who has aged quite well
Though time that is known to rust iron on him is beginning to tell
The years on him nowadays are showing he is not the man he used to be
The man who with a hand shears once shore in ten hours two hundred big wethers in Queensland in nineteen sixty three

Old Ted's home is a basement apartment one happy to live on his own
He is such a likeable person and to many he is quite well known
His traveling and working days are now over back in the old Hometown for to stay
He will die where he grew into manhood and first looked on the bright lamp of day.

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

In Indonesia

In Indonesia possession of narcotics can be a punishable by death crime
or else imprisonment for a lifetime
For drug trafficking in Indonesia the price can be huge for to pay
That human life can be taken so cheaply does seem sad to say
How cruel and lacking in compassion some Governments can be
To deliberately kill people is murder and a crime against humanity
In Indonesia they carry out executions though the voice of International condemnation is loud
In their autocratic and horrible laws some Government leaders do not have any reason for to feel proud
In some Countries the death penalty may be seen to be lawful but it is murder by another name
In the twenty first century that people are being executed is to humanity's shame
If the Indonesian President's child was convicted for drug trafficking would he condemn her or him for to die
If he told you he would it is obvious that to you he was telling a lie
Some Governments believe the taking of human life for some crimes is lawful the death penalty they have in place
That this should be in the twenty first century is surely a human disgrace.

The Nepal Earthquake

In Nepal in an act of Nature more than five thousand people have died
And thousands are injured and great buildings and many homes destroyed
An earthquake that caused an avalanche of snow on Mt Everest where many climbers their lives lost
Every outburst of anger from Nature to humanity comes at a huge cost
Seven point eight on the Richter scale is a huge earthquake indeed
The poor people of Nepal of International help are in need
The images on t v from Kathmandu make for a sorry sight
Where thousands of people will have to sleep without shelter from the cold of the Himalayan night
When Nature grows angry she leaves death and suffering and heartbreak
And reduces great buildings to rubble with one massive shake
Nepal from the earthquake will not recover for years
And in Nepal tonight there is grieving and suffering and tears
When Nature grows angry she leaves suffering and death and destruction in her wake
And her latest victim is Nepal in a massive earthquake.

An April Day Near Koroit Town

The countryside looks green around Koroit Town
A few weeks ago the paddocks were dry and brown
Though the creeks down to a trickle and bone dry every drain
And Koroit and surrounds could do with a lot more rain
The first of the calendar Winter just five weeks away
And the farmers for weeks have been feeding their cattle hay
The weather of late has been acting strange
But then we are in the age of Climate Change
The long range weather forecast has it cool and dry
For the remainder of April and May, June and July
With grass rather scarce and hay for their cattle for to buy dear
For the farmers it is not a profitable year
The countryside around Koroit looking green but scarce enough grass for to fatten a hare
And financially the farmers are suffering their own share.

Monday, April 27, 2015

On An Article On Michael Desmond

The article by Michael Cashman on Michael Desmond a young man from Claramore on the Millstreet website made for an interesting read
Of a brave one who died fighting in the war supposed to end all wars that to other wars only did lead
In the Spring of nineteen fifteen on a British warship he sailed out of Hibernia's shore
Never more for to return to his family home in view of Clara in Claramore

And the comment by his blood relative Margaret Sheehy does leave us with some food for thought
War medals of deceased soldiers should not be offered for sale for non relatives to be bought
The medals he paid with his life for to his family of origin ought to belong
To the many wrongs of war one can add this as obviously another war wrong

The three young Millstreet men who died in Gallipoli Michael Desmond, James Murphy and Denis Hickey thought they were dying for the freedom of Ireland
That they fought under the flag of Britain in Gallipoli one ought to understand
Since the then Prime Minister of Britain Lloyd George promised freedom from British occupation to the Nations who fought on Britain's side
Because of the promise he made to them and after the war broke thousands of young Irishmen died

Michael Desmond, James Murphy and Denis Hickey gave their lives in the cause of Irish freedom this ought to be known
Amongst the bravest of Duhallow they surely were Millstreet's own
The promise made to the thousands of young Irish soldiers by Lloyd George they did believe
But with his words the one known as the Welsh Wizard the brave young men of Ireland did deceive

The war that was supposed to end all wars was fought a century ago
And nowadays the enemy back then is no longer considered to be the foe
But wars are still being waged in the twenty first century World of Today
And for the lies that are being told young men with their lives are made to pay.

A Long Way South

A long way south of Claraghatlea and Millstreet my Hometown
I have learned the road of life is a hard old road of many an uphill and down
And all i have left are the memories of what has been and gone
And like everyone else with the living of life i have to carry on

A long way south of the Town in view of Clara Hill where i attended school
In Illowa in south west Victoria near the City of Warrnambool
I always wake to the magpie's warbling song in the dawning gray
It is a different life to the one i knew that i do live today

And all we have are memories of the what used to be
Time does not wait for anyone like it did not wait for me
There are millions of people like me who began their lives journeys elsewhere
A journey that took them to different places in the bigger World out there

In Claraghatlea near Millstreet Town i grew into a man
And in Illowa i live far south of where my journey in life began
But we can only live in the now as the wise one used to say
And i wake to the magpie's warbling song at the dawn of every day.

The Burke Brothers

The Burke brothers Tommy and Brendan they may have known a better day
They played Gaelic Football for Millstreet before time on them had a say
In the green and gold of the Finnowsiders some marvelous games they did play
Good memories last a whole lifetime and only in death fade away

Quick on their feet and quite hardy they were not broad shouldered and tall
But they were loved by the fans of Millstreet since they were great at Gaelic Football
They were amongst the best of Cork County in the great days of the green and gold
But time it is everyone's master and the best do eventually grow old

In the Cork County senior Gaelic football championship With Millstreet the Burkes never left the side down
They were famed beyond Duhallow's borders as the football brothers of Millstreet Town
They were never found to be wanting whenever they were put to the test
In their prime years the Murphy's Terrace brothers at Gaelic football were amongst Millstreet's best

The great years of Millstreet Gaelic football does now seem in the distant past
And sadly as in all things in life the good times do not seem to last
Time on the Burkes now is telling but they left us with great football memories to recall
Against Cork's best with success they competed and for Millstreet they always gave it their all.

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Where The Bass Waters Do Flow

A cool Autumn breeze above the flat paddocks do blow
In the coastal countryside where the Bass waters do flow
In ancient South Gippsland to the Pacific shore
Where it has flowed forever and will forever more
A Land that inspired the makers of story and rhyme
That was very old even in the Dreamtime
Where the first Australians hunted and had their corroborees
Before the arrival of the northern races going back the centuries
Today in South Gippsland you will hear the call of the weerloo
But never the sound of a didgeridoo
To the Pacific shore from it's source far away
The Bass waters babble by night and by day
Through a Land that was old even in the Dreamtime
That has inspired the makers of story and rhyme.

I May Never Be One

I may never be one with important things for to say
And with words i am not one who does have a way
Just an ordinary bloke on the wrong side of time
What i have to say i do say it in rhyme
Years ago i did have ambitions for to become a poet
A person of substantial literary note
But ambition to the ego it ever is tied
And disappointment in ambition is a dent to one's pride
And pride too is a child of the ego as we know all too well
And on this thing known as personal success i too am one who likes to dwell
But i will keep on penning rhyme since i like doing it a lot
And when deceased it will not matter to me if i am forgot
But what i so enjoy doing i hope to be doing till the day i do die
For if i told you otherwise this would be telling you a lie.

In Life

In life friends you lose and in life friends you gain
And your best friend today as your best friend may not remain
Yes it is a known fact your best friend of today
For as long as you live as your best friend may not stay
When best friends become enemies trust and love is lost
Every friendship gone wrong does come at a huge cost
When good friends fall out hatred sets in
And in hatred for anyone never a win
And hatred as is known can last for more than awhile
And when best friends fall out they seldom reconcile
It is said about hatred it is love turned upside down
Once the very best of friends now the worst enemies in the town
In life friends you lose and in life friends you gain
This is how it is and how it will always remain.

Saturday, April 25, 2015

On Anzac Day

At the town's war memorial in the dawning gray
After the war memorial ceremony a lone bugler The Last Post play
For soldiers who died a century ago in a war far away
Memories of the war supposed to end all wars remembered on Anzac Day

But what have we learned from wars of the past little it does seem true to say
When children on their computers are playing war games today
I too played war games with toy guns with my school friends as a boy
And talking of and celebrating war heroes many adults seem to enjoy

Of the praises of war heroes the patriots may sing
But no such a thing as a just war as war is an awful thing
Every day in war zones the numbers of civilians only seem to grow and grow
Some of them live with horrific injuries and others die painful and slow

The war supposed to end all wars was fought one hundred years ago
And the sworn enemy back then nowadays is not the foe
And at the war memorial on Anzac dawn the onlookers in silence stand
In respect as a lone bugler plays The Last Post for men who died in a far off Land.

On My Flights Of Fancy

On my flights of fancy i often do go far away
To Claramore Wood in the prime of the May
Overlooking the green countryside by Millstreet Town
In the gray of the twilight just after sundown
In the calm of the evening in the bloom of the Spring
The wild born nesting birds whistle and sing
Most birds recognizable by appearance or chirp or song
When you hear and see them a few times you never again get them wrong
The mental images of what was today are with me
When i visualize in my mind's eye i see
Clusters of pale blossoms on every hawthorn tree
The past it lives in us in our memory
The good memories of what was to my thoughts ever near
And when i visualize the nesting songbirds i do hear.

An April Day

A cool day in late April the rain from a gray sky drizzling down
But the white backed magpies are singing in the park of the town
The warbling flute like notes familiar and pleasant for to hear
Of the birds that are seldom silent they sing all through the year
The leaves are changing color on the deciduous trees
Being blown off of their branches by the strengthening Autumn breeze
That blows in the coastal town from the saltwater bay
In the coastal south west it is a wet and breezy Autumn day
The farmers feeding hay to their cattle are hoping for more rain
Financially for them not a good year they have reason to complain
The paddocks beginning to green are looking bare and dry
In need of every drop of rain that drizzles from the sky
The forecast for tomorrow is for a dry and a cool day
It could be a dry and mild Winter it is looking this way.

Friday, April 24, 2015

The Irish Navvies

Survivors of the Irish Famine theirs is a tale of woe
They built the British Railways many decades ago
But not one known memorial for to honor them today
They only celebrate war heroes at least it seems this way

Known as The Irish Navvies they slaved for pittance pay
They were the great survivors of them in truth one can say
They knew of hunger and famine and they knew of poverty
Sad but true hard working people never make human history

Known as The Irish Navvies picks and shovels and crowbars for working with they used
By those who had power over them in many ways abused
On the shaping of Great Britain a huge part they did play
But in the graves of the forgotten their bones forever lay

For to be an Irish Navvy was never an honorable thing
The British Government never thanked them and none their praises ever sing
Their sons too worked on the railway tracks laying heavy timber sleepers down
But the life journey of most every Irish Navvy never did lead to renown

The sons of old Hibernia they built many a British railway track
Known as The Irish Navvies strong of arm and of back
Yet never a memorial in any British village, city or town
To honor the men who lay the heavy timber sleepers and the steel iron tracks down

Racism and prejudice against them they experienced regularly
Though this is in the distant past and the past is history
They knew about the hard life many of them did not live to grow old
But they were mighty working men and their stories should be told.

Why Take Yourself Too Seriously

On praise it is true the ego does grow fat
But why take yourself too seriously life is too short for that
There is more to living of life than the me, myself and i
Since like all other life forms we are born as mortals eventually for to die
The one who does not respect big Egos or money or fame
The Reaper of Lives treats all lives as the same
Like the pauper for the monarch and the president a last night and day
There are not any Egos where dead people lay
The celebrated deceased of every village, city and town
Do not hear the words of praise from those who honor their renown
In a World where many their own praises like to sing
Those with some humility are blessed with what is a good thing
So why take yourself too seriously since your life journey does end
We are born as mere mortals why otherwise pretend.

Mallow Bill

He fished in the Blackwater River when his hair was chestnut brown
Back in the early fifties Bill from Mallow Town
In nineteen fifty five he arrived by ship in the Port of Melbourne when he was twenty three
Far south of his old Hometown a new land for to see
In Carlton in Melbourne he met the love of his life
But love can have it's heartaches she was not to be his wife
For she died in a motoring accident on what was his life's saddest day
That life has many an up and down is only true to say
For years Bill lived in Geelong in Victoria where time became his foe
In the pub he often talked of his younger years in Mallow years ago
Last year he died in his early eighties his bones in Geelong lay
And those who knew him say of him a gentleman in every way
To everyone who knew him he was known as Mallow Bill
And a heart that beat with kindness is now forever still.

Thursday, April 23, 2015

A Homeless Woman

She does not ask much out of life not very much at all
Her dreams compared to many to say the least are small
A little home beside the ocean from the mean streets far away
From the poor and neglected suburb where she lives homeless today

A gray haired woman in her early seventies a hard life she has known
That of late she has become homeless is through no fault of her own
Her landlord substantially on her raised the rent which she could not afford to pay
Greed is one of the main causes of homelessness in the World of today

One who does not have children nor was to any man a wife
Burdened with a mental illness in and out of mental homes most of her life
She knows about the hard life her happy moments few
On saying that life is only about winners is not saying anything that is new

To not feel sorry for her one would have to be devoid of empathy
Yet she never begs for money or looks for any sympathy
Tonight she will sleep on a park bench or a disused factory doorway
Yet she is just one of the many homeless people in the Human World of today

Her dream is not a big dream a small home in a coastal town
Where above the bay at evening she can watch the sun go down
And in the gray of twilight on the coastal trees
The songs and whistling of the birds are carry in the breeze.

Port Albert

Port Albert by the ocean a gem in the crown of South Gippsland
Why it is such a popular tourist destination is not hard to understand
A unique coastal small Town with a charm of it's own
For it's beautiful docking and fishing port it is widely known

The people of Port Albert are quite a friendly race
For to be welcoming to strangers can come from pride of place
Every local i did meet there greeted me with a smiling face
The idea of a Welcoming Town they are happy to embrace

A quiet and beautiful and relaxing place for to spend one's holiday
From Port Albert by the Pacific Earthly Utopia cannot be far away
It has it's share of visitors at all times of the year
And from anyone who has visited there one negative word of it from them you will not hear

Of Port Albert in South Gippsland good memories with me do remain
And though i have not been there for awhile i would love for to visit there again
It has a certain beauty that one does not see everywhere
And if ever your are in coastal Gippsland it would pay you to visit there.

The National Poet Of Ireland

The National Poet of Ireland was not Heaney or Yeats
But one whose name is seldom mentioned as one of Ireland's literary greats
He was a poor man of Dublin who wrote Ireland's National poem Dark Rosaleen
A poem that may live in Irish literature as long as Ireland's fields are green

In eighteen forty nine on his forty sixth year he died as a poor and a lonely man
One who only knew of poverty and unhappiness in his far too brief life span
By those who think they know better one who is not considered to be a major Irish Poet
If this be so then one has to ask who is worthy of literary note

The man who wrote A Vision Of Connacht, The Woman Of Three Cows and O Husseys Ode To The Maguire
Poems of exquisite beauty i for one never tire
Of reading Mangan's poetry he was a poetic great
A marvelous wordsmith such beauty in words he did create

The National Poet of Ireland James Clarence Mangan one who did not live for to grow old
In 1849 in post famine Dublin he died of comsumption as we have been told
A genius of words one who led a tragic life
And he died without children or without a wife.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

The Judgmental

We spend too much time in worrying of our public profile it does seem true to say
Since of how we appear to others should it matter anyway
By pandering to the judgements of the judgmental those who do not believe on live and let live
We make them feel important when power to their opinions we do give
They judge us by our postal address the size of our home and our car
When we value their opinions just goes to prove how vain we are
How i appear to others does surely suit me fine
Since their opinions on me is their business and their business cannot be mine
They may define what to them is success and failure but why otherwise pretend
That the one who is judgmental is the one without a friend
All around the big World out there in every village, city and town
There are people who find pleasure on verbally putting others down
They call them the judgmental but call them what you may
And you must be a vain person to worry of what you they do say.


Perhaps i will walk in the home fields again
And hear the birds sing in the wind and the rain
When the cattle out of sheds from months of living on silage and hay
On nutritious young grass are gaining weight by the day
And the swallows back home from Lands far away
For to breed and raise young for a seven months stay
On pursuit of flying insects they chirp as they fly
Above the old fields in the gray of the sky
And hear the familiar babble of the silver tongued rill
On it's way to the river from the field by the hill
For what used to be i have shed my last tears
And i have not seen the home fields for decades of years
But perhaps i will visit them again one day
If not in April then surely in May.

The Bells Of Old St Davids

The bells of old St Davids how nice to hear them ring
Above the flowering potato fields on an evening in the Spring
Carried by the coastal breeze above the ocean shore
Just a memory of what used to be that for me will be never more

The nesting birds are singing in the prime of the May
In the coastal groves of Southern Wales from here far away
When the Tatie Hokers come to St Davids it is that time of year
Their laughter in the potato fields i fancy i do hear

Where above the coastal meadows the barn swallows fly
The bells of old St Davids i hear them in the sky
In coastal Southern Wales where beauty does abound
The bells of the Cathedral can be heard for miles around

The bells of old St Davids in my dreams them i do hear
In the stillness of the evening they sound so very near
Above the flowering potato fields carrying in the freshening breeze
When the nesting birds are singing on the bushes and the trees.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015


The sky above Yangery overcast and gray
And it looks like there will not be much sunshine today
A weather forecast high for the day of seventeen degrees
And a certain coolness in the freshening breeze
That blow from the ocean through the coastal countryside
Sparse in trees and undulating that stretch far and wide
Between the Town of Koroit and the City of Warrnambool
Where the Autumns and Winters are often breezy and cool
Yangery it does have an indigenous name
Though i cannot say the source from which it came
Or what Yangery means i cannot claim to know
By some of my admissions my ignorance at the source of some of the places names of my surroundings does show
The sky above Yangery is looking quite gray
It looks like there may not be much sunshine today.

The Power Of Thought

A poor working class fellow in his mind anyway
Yet he owns four houses and it is true to say
That in reality he is one of the wealthiest men in the town
But he has convinced himself he is financially down
You are what you think you are happens to be so
Words of a wise person deceased decades ago
Many times a millionaire in money and assets but he has convinced himself he is financially down
In his mind he is one of the poor of the town
The power of thought is an amazing thing
It can make a poor man believe that he is a king
It can make a millionaire feel he is in poverty
Your thoughts for you create your reality
The power of thought is amazing indeed
It can leave the wealthy person of financial help feeling in need.

For Many Years

For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And i am one who has penned a whole heap of stuff
To pen rhymes is easy as easy as can be
Anyone can you can have this from me
I have been penning rhyme since my life's physical prime
And this is going back some four decades in time
Just an addiction that is not a crime
I am addicted to the penning of rhyme
Though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
No shortage of things for to write rhymes about
This habit of rhyming perhaps is with me to stay
For as long as i will live till my last night and day
My physical best years in life in the forever gone
But true to my rhyming addiction i keep on rhyming on.

Monday, April 20, 2015

The Moyne

By Griffith Island dark deep and slow
The waters of the Moyne to the Pacific flow
By old Port Fairy with claims to renown
As a holiday and music festival Town
The age of the Moyne anyone does not know
It was very old long before the birth of the first pale eyed crow
An old River of South West Victoria that has inspired song, story and rhyme
Was centuries old before the Dreaming Time
Though no visible memories left for to honor their fame
South West Victoria's first people for the Moyne would have had another name
And though nobody knows where their last remains lay
Legends and myths are living of them today
But long after the last human being from South West Victoria has gone
The Moyne to the Pacific will be rippling on.

Neily Lehane

Whenever the Slanan Rovers Gaelic Football Club lined out to play
Their founder member Neily Lehane from them never far away
Always on the sideline cheering them on
Back there in Duhallow in Seasons long gone

One of Duhallow's great characters of him one can say
I often do wonder where he might be today?
Neily Lehane one who was well liked and well known
He was one of those blessed with a charm of his own

The Gaelic Football Club he helped to establish five decades ago
Were the Pride of Cloghoula till time the old foe
Of everyone and everything had the final say
On Slanan Rovers and no Gaelic Football Club in Cloghoula today

Eventually for us all from life's cares there's a final release
Well known Slanan Rovers identities Frank Riordan, Danny Healy and Dave Sheehan now resting at peace
And even the youngest of the Slanan Rovers players now long past their physical prime
Eventually we all become victims of time

For the what used to be i have shed my last tears
And as for Neily Lehane i have not heard of or seen him for years
But i hope he is happy and healthy and feeling okay
For good memories of him remain with me today.

The Ralph Illidge Sanctuary

Between Warrnambool and Cobden in the Moyne Shire countryside
Is Ralph Illidge a sanctuary for wildlife that is known far and wide
Willed to the Trust for Nature by the late Ralph Illidge many years ago
This is going back in time perhaps three decades or so
In his gift to Trust For Nature Ralph Illidge has sown the seed
For future generations a thing of great natural beauty indeed
The sanctuary for wildlife a monument to his generosity today
As a patron of Nature one who did lead the way
Some people only take from Nature but to Nature Ralph Illidge did give
Due to his love of our Earth Mother his name for centuries will live
People visit the beautiful place of trees from places near and far
From Warrnambool, Geelong, Colac and Melbourne they travel by car
To a place of tall trees in South West Victoria's Moyne Shire
That artists and writers who love Nature to write of and sketch does inspire.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

John Corcoran

A young man who was not destined to grow old
The story of John Corcoran of Coolikerane in Duhallow one i often heard told
By people far older than i was then decades ago
Long before this thing known as time had become my foe

John in his late teens went off to the U S of A
Where by the U S Army he was sent to fight in Korea in a war far away
Where he was badly wounded and from his injuries died in a hospital in Japan
He died as he lived a heroic young man

He died without children or without a wife
And to save the life of another he sacrificed his own life
Posthumously decorated by the U S Army for his acts of bravery
Yet his tragic passing a sad time in Coolikerane for his friends and family

Stories of war never make for a happy read
And one war to another only does seem to lead
The article published by Michael Cashman on the Millstreet Web Site another sad story of war
Of a brave young man who died in battle from his home Parish afar

And the comment by Denis O Sullivan a pupil then at Cullen School of how John's dad
Broke the news of his son's death to Roger Kiely the Principal was so very sad
Time is the great healer as the wise one does say
But sad like happy memories for decades in the memory tend to stay

In Coolikerane in Millstreet Parish his life's journey began
And he migrated to the U S A as a young man
He never had the chance for to father children and live on for to grow old and gray
For he died as a young hero in a war far away.

Though You Have Never Been Homeless

Though you have never been homeless or never slept rough
You do feel that life on you is rather tough
With a good job two healthy children and a devoted wife
Yet you are one who does feel hard done by life
Your home a present from your multi millionaire dad a mortgage you do not have to pay
But you are one of those who never seems for to have a good day
It seems that in your mind for happiness there is no space
As i have yet to see you with a smile on your face
Since poverty of mind is a form of poverty
For you and your kind how sad life must be
A negative voice within you convinces you that you are financially down
You have come to believe you are one of the poor of the town
Poverty of mind is a form of poverty would you not agree?
And we are what we think we are it does seem to me.

We Are All

We are all sons and daughters of the World
Of every race and color black, white and brown
And many of us do share things in common
All of us have a Country and most of us have a Hometown

And though royalists look up to the privileged people born into royalty
The Reaper of Lives does prove them wrong indeed
By making them equal to the pauper one day
Their blood like all others is red when they bleed

From the womb of a woman our life's journey began
A journey for all of us that has to end one day
The longest lived human life in time is not a long span
That like all other life forms we are born as mortals only true for to say

We are all sons and daughters of the Earth we live on
The Earth that does feed us till the day we do die
The greats of human history to the ways of time have gone
And the same for the celebrity as for you and i.

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Davy From Yarram

In Yarram he first looked on the lamp of day
But in the old Town of South Gippsland he did not stay
In his mid twenties happy in his life
Davy lives in Brisbane with two young daughters and a wife

A tall and handsome fellow with short hair of brown
Davy from Yarram lives far north of his Hometown
In sunny Brisbane for the long stay
He is quite happy in his life today

Just one of many for to move to elsewhere
To try out his luck in the big World out there
With a beautiful wife and lovely three year old twin daughters and a job with good pay
In Brisbane for himself he is doing okay

Davy from Yarram is on the right side of time
Twenty five years old in his physical prime
Happy in his life where he lives today
From his old Hometown in South Gippsland in miles far away.

Since We All

Since we all have our personal battles to fight
To pass judgement on anyone does not seem right
Especially on someone who has never done anyone wrong
Amongst the honorable the judgmental do not belong
Since few of us one can say are free of taint
He or she a rare species the living saint
I have been in many a town and walked on many a street
But a flawless person i have yet to meet
Do unto others as you would like them to do unto you
A truism that surely does remain ever true
The people who verbally put others down
Do never become the best loved of the town
Everyone surely deserves a fair go
Even the one you consider your foe.

Australian Magpies

The birds who do sing on all Seasons of the year
The warbling flute like notes of the Australian magpies every day i do hear
To be vocal to their kind a natural thing
One can say of them they are born to sing
Territorial and aggressive with a strong pointy bill
These black and white crow sized birds smaller birds are known to kill
In courage and boldness they surely do not lack
In their nesting Season humans they even attack
Often seen and heard feathered Australians with ways of their own
To be aggressive to neighbors of their own kind they are even known
For territorial borders with other magpies they often do fight
Magpies at war with their neighbors is a common sight
On their breeding Season they often do sing in the night
And so pleasant to hear them singing in the moonlight.

Friday, April 17, 2015

An April Day

The flutes of the magpies so pleasant to hear
On this bright and sunny day for April of the year
The leaves on the deciduous trees turning yellow and brown
In the sunlit park of the old coastal town
With warmth in the sunshine and the coastal breeze
On a weather temperature high for the day of twenty five degrees
The dark welcome swallows do chirp as they fly
In pursuit of flying insects in the sunny sky
Such beautiful weather in the southern Fall
In the sunlit town park boys are playing football
And the black and white magpie larks birds familiar to many and familiar to me
Quite distinctive in their song are singing pee wee
The weather forecast for tomorrow warm and sunny again
With such pleasant weather how can one complain.

July By The Mountains

In fancy it comes wafting to me in the breeze the sweet scent of hay
In the fields by the mountains from here far away
When the little brown lark is singing as he fly
A musical speck in the gray of the sky

The sun it is hidden behind clouds of gray
Though the warmth of Summer it is in the day
Good haymaking weather quite breezy and dry
And pleasant enough conditions for early July

In a leafy grove to my thoughts ever near
A migratory nest parasite of the Summer of the year
The voice of the cuckoo i fancy i hear
A bird named for it's song which seems obviously clear

The marvels of Nature an amazing thing
The dark barn swallows chasing flying insects on the wing
Birds the artists and writers in their sketching and words celebrate
On mid to late Fall to warmer Lands they do migrate

When Nature at her very finest is seen
And everywhere is looking so lush and so green
And wafting in the breeze the sweet aroma of hay
In July by the mountains from here far away.

Only For Michael Cashman

Only for the Millstreet Web Site and more so Michael Cashman it would be true to say
I would be a stranger in Millstreet today
A long absent migrant forgotten in time
Remembered only by a few as one who used to pen rhyme

The stuff i pen simple and easy to write
Some of which Michael does publish on the Millstreet Web Site
Helps for to keep memories of me in Millstreet living on
Though from there for many Seasons i have been physically gone

Years ago i left Claraghatlea for adventure elsewhere
For to travel a bit in the big World out there
Far south of Duhallow life's challenges i do meet
As a migrant of the Boggeraghs born and raised in Millstreet

In fancy i often visit the old home fields in Spring
When in the leafy groves the birds whistle and sing
And meet my good friends of the past again
As they were in my memory they do remain

But youth is not forever and young we did not stay
And the Seasons go quickly and time ticks away
And only for Michael Cashman in truth i can say
I would be forgotten in Millstreet today.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

It Is A Fact Of Life

It is a fact of life and fact never lie
That the longer you live the sooner you will die
And the longest lived human life in time is not a long span
The woman by a few years on average does outlive the man
It does not seem that long ago when i was in my life's prime
And now i am one of those on the wrong side of time
Enjoy your prime years for time does tick on fast
And come tomorrow today it will be in the past
Time will not wait for you like it did not wait for me
And only a few live for a century
We only have memories of Seasons long gone
And our biological clocks ever keep ticking on
Eventually time becomes everyone's foe
When i was in my prime it does not seem long ago.

An April Day

The first of the calendar Winter just six weeks away
Yet for the middle of April quite a sultry day
The deciduous trees turning yellow and brown
And losing their leaves in the park of the town
The flutes of the magpies so pleasant to hear
In weather quite warm for the time of year
Weather-wise this year it has been quite a mild and dry Fall
And so little rain in fact not much at all
A weather temperature high for the day of twenty four degrees
And the warm air full of the buzzing of bush flies and bees
In the bare and dry paddocks the farmers feeding their cattle hay
In Climate Change few farmers can make farming pay
White butterflies seemingly dancing in the gentle breeze
And leaves silently fall from the deciduous trees.


Fundamentalism is not rare in the Human World of today
Especially amongst people who to their god do regularly pray
People who believe that any other belief other than theirs is wrong
To the most basic of people their kind does belong
But even atheists can be fundamentalists if the thought they pursue
That those who believe in a god to themselves cannot be true
A fundamentalist sees anyone with a different way of thinking as their natural foe
I only say here what happens to be so
There are many different sorts of fundamentalists in the Human World of today
And some of the more extreme religious types can become dangerous in their own way
On those who believe differently to them they do wish ill
And for their beliefs they are willing to kill
Fundamentalists only believe in their own way
One of the reasons we have so much violence in the Human World of today.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Johnny Keeffe

A man amongst men back in his prime day
In Gaelic Football for Cork and for Millstreet great games he did play
Most of those he grew up with in eternal rest lay
But Johnny Keeffe is a living sporting legend today

In life there are happy times and times of woe
Johnny grieved for his beloved wife Lena a few years ago
She was his true soul mate as well as his wife
Her passing to him a low point in his life

His physical best years in time may be long gone
But Johnny Keeffe and his legend in Millstreet live on
Of years of life thus far he has lived quite a span
And more than a great Gaelic Footballer he is a true gentleman

Good memories a lifetime are ours to enjoy
I saw Johnny Keeffe play Gaelic Football when i was a young boy
He captained Cork in the red and Millstreet in green and gold
The memories live on though great players grow old

He was past his best years when i was quite young
But surely his praises deserve to be sung
Time does slow the best of them as they do say
But Johnny Keeffe is a legend of Millstreet today.

With Your Idea Of Success

With your idea of success i cannot agree
One only can be the best that one can be
But then suppose we all look at things in ways differently
At least anyway this is how it seems to me
That success is a relative thing does happen for to be true
The one that is a success to me is a failure to you
But how boring we would be if in ways we all thought the same
The only successful people would be those of vast amounts of money and fame
A successful person to me is one who is honest and kind
The one to help people in need of helping willing and inclined
Those who for those doing it tough do not feel any sympathy
Are people who are lacking in empathy
The successful one to you is not so to me
We do look at life in some of our ways differently.

A Day Like This

A day like this makes one feel glad to be alive
Just to go for a walk or to go on a drive
Or sit for awhile in the shade of a tree
The best things in life as the saying goes are free

On a forecast high for the day of twenty degrees
With a cool and a pleasant coastal breeze
Blowing uphill through the town park from the bay
On what is quite a lovely April day

In the sunny blue sky just a few clouds of gray
To view Nature's beauty no charges to pay
Some for their gardens are hoping for rain
But with such pleasant weather one should not complain

On a perfect day for mid Autumn of the year
The fluting of the magpies is so pleasant to hear
And birds one does often hear and see
The magpie larks singing pee wee

The deciduous tree leaves are turning to brown
In the sunlit park of the southern town
And do i seem bold when i do say
That Utopia from here is not far away.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Quite A Good Thing

You may be quite excellent at what you are known for to do
But remember there is always one as good if not better than you
And though for what you are good at credit to you is due
I only tell you of what i know to be true
That you ought to leave it to others your praises for to sing
A bit of humility indeed can be quite a good thing
Though many of them not big on life's Worldly views
Their sort every day do make headline news
People into self promotion in quite a big way
On their worth they always have plenty for to say
The one who does not crave wealth and fame is one i admire
Since of those who sing their own praises i quickly do tire
And though many their own praise do like to sing
A little humility can be quite a good thing.

In The Paddocks Of Illowa

In the paddocks of Illowa in the prime of the Fall
The magpies are warbling and the pee wees do call
And in April in Illowa many a blustery day
And less of sunshine and more of windy and rainy weather to follow in May
A windy place Illowa of not many trees
For to break some of the force of the strong coastal breeze
That often howls inland from the Pacific Shore
At speeds of one hundred kilometers or more
Though the paddocks looking greener after recent rain
The farmers of a poor financial Season complain
Feeding their cattle hay and the Winter is near
And the potato crops poor for them it has not been a good year
But hope as is said is an amazing thing
And for the Illowa farmers it may be a good Spring.

For Me This Penning Of Rhyme

For me this penning of rhyme is a hungry belly game
But it is something i enjoy doing just the same
Rhyming never does add money to my name
And in it for me not even much fame
But i add to my growing numbers of rhymes every day
And what i enjoy doing why should i give away
The rhymes keep coming to me in notebook them i do write
And then email them off to an internet literary site
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And over four decades of time i have penned reams of stuff
Many may look on rhyming as a waste of time
But i am always happy when i am writing rhyme
And though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
For me never any shortage of things for to write rhymes about.

Monday, April 13, 2015

In Your Times Of Nostalgia

In your times of nostalgia you have felt close to tears
As your thoughts take you back to your younger years
Of life's cares and worries you then were quite free
But all you have are the memories of the what used to be

The games in the school yard you and your young friends did play
You wonder about them where are they today
They all had different life stories some in the hometown did stay
And some of them aging in cities far away

The wanderlust took you from your first hometown
Where you used to live when your hair was light brown
Four time a dad and seven times a grandfather divorced from your wife
You are one who has known of many an up and down in life

In your mid seventies your best years in life are long gone
But the will it is in you to keep on keeping on
A paid up member and supporter of the local football club
You enjoy a few beers after the weekend game with your friends at the pub

In your nostalgic moments you often think of the past
But the Seasons went by and youth does not last
And though where you had good times you choose not to stay
Of the friends of your young years you wonder where they might be today?

Tower Hill

Home to echidna, black wallaby and gray kangaroo
And koala, emu and yellow tailed black cockatoo
And where long billed corellas in large flocks reside
In a coastal place in South West Victoria that is known far and wide
Tower Hill in the volcanic valley home to the Budj Bim the regions first race
The first people to make this part of the South West their homeplace
In Tower Hill today you will hear the cough of a roo
But never the sound of a didgeridoo
In book form the true story of Tower Hill will never be told
It's oral history is very old
It was an ancient place in the Dreamtime
And has inspired story and song and rhyme
The male koala utters his hoarse mating call as the sun goes down
In Tower Hill Valley close to Koroit Town.

A Claraghatlea Fellow

I am what i am is all that i can be
And wherever i go to my past goes with me
Of where i was born and raised i never would lie
A Claraghatlea fellow till the day i do die

Though old Clara's brown face i have not seen for years
For what used to be i have shed my last tears
But my heritage something i never deny
Why anyone does this i do wonder why?

In my visualizations time seems to stand still
I can hear the voice of the silver tongued rill
Go babbling through Claraghatlea from Claramore
To the big waterways to the Atlantic Shore

And i can hear the male snipe on his courtship flight
Above the moonlit bog on a starry Spring night
For hours he keeps on flying above his breeding ground
As with his wings and tail he makes a goat like sound

In Claraghatlea i learned my first lessons of Nature as a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
Of Nature and life we do learn every day
We never stop learning as the wise one does say

That we all came from someplace one cannot deny
To the president and the monarch this too does apply
And of where i came from i never would lie
I will be a Claraghatlea fellow till the day i do die.

Sunday, April 12, 2015

The Old Creek

The creek from the high country babbles on down
Through the flat and dry paddocks by the old country town
Through the home of echidna, wallaby and roo
And long billed corella and sulphur crested cockatoo
On towards the big river that to the ocean does flow
Through the dry and brown paddocks it ripples on slow
It was old long before the birth of the first pale eyed crow
And of the age of the old creek anyone would not know
On long gone Summer evenings by it's banks in the shade of the trees
Australia's first people danced their corroborees
But time brings with it changes as the wise one does say
And no didgeridoo is heard by the old creek today
With a rippling tongue it flows slow and brown
In the flat and dry paddocks by the country town.

For Years He Has Been Battling

For years he has been battling his dark moods of despair
But you never hear him say that life to him is unfair
And though his physical best years in life may be gone
The will it is in him for to keep on keeping on
On his forty sixth year at least a decade past his physical prime
Like many on medication he has put on weight through the Seasons of time
The woman he loved would not become his wife
She did not wish to be committed to a man with a mental illness for the rest of her life
But time is the great healer and now he does say
It was for the better she left me and all with me now is okay
His mood swings from euphoric to dejection and woe
He was diagnosed with manic depression two decades ago
And though medication keeps his mood swings under control
His mental illness on his health has taken it's toll.

Kind And Good People

So many more good people than bad seems true to say
I meet very nice people every day
Whilst walking in the park or on the street
Such friendly people every day i do meet
Bad people compared to the good seem few
On saying this i am not saying anything that is new
So many people go out of their way
For to help those in need of helping every day
So many good people i feel privileged to know
Every day the seeds of good Karma they do sow
By helping those of help who are in need
For their good Karma they do plant the seed
Kind and good people have never been rare
With those doing it tough they are willing for to share.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

At The Breakwater

A memory for the future to recall
White waves leaping the high Breakwater Wall
And the moored boats rocking on the Breakwater Bay
In Warrnambool on a very windy day

Today with Warrnambool Nature is not at peace
Some of her pent up anger she does release
For any damage done by her she is beyond blame
Eventually she does blow herself tame

The windblown silver gulls mewing as they fly
And gray clouds scurrying in the April sky
The weather not too warm or too cool
It is often windy in old Warrnambool

When Nature she is in the mood for to shout
Bits of paper and leaves by her are blown about
And moored boats are rocking on The Breakwater Bay
In Warrnambool it is a blustery day.

You May Be Quite Popular

You may be quite popular but why otherwise pretend
That everyone wishes for to have you as a friend
The words of a wise person i do recall
You may well win many but you cannot win them all
It is true of the most popular person in the town
That there are a few to put her or him verbally down
You may have many friends for to give you your due
But that everyone does not love you happens for to be true
And suppose in itself this is not a bad thing
How egotistical you might become if everyone your praises did sing
You are very popular as most would agree
But not everyone does love you is how it seems to be
You may well be the most popular person in the town
But there are a few in their words trying for to drag you down.

They Do Not Understand

You have never harmed anyone in any way
So why do you worry of what some of you do say
As long as they do not try to defame you in lies
What others think of you is their business you ought to realize
The people who find pleasure in verbally putting others down
Are never amongst the best loved people of the town
Or above the very ordinary never do rise
And few of their sort as they age grow more wise
For your future good Karma you do plant the seed
And you live as a very good person indeed
They do not understand compassion so it is not a surprise
When a compassionate person as you are they like to criticize
And since they feel pleasure in belittling people who are kind
Tomorrow someone new to verbally put down they will find.

Friday, April 10, 2015

I Want To Live On

Just an aging crock of an old country town
Were i born a horse by now i would have been put down
The Reaper of Lives thus far i have denied
The lady of luck has to be on my side

On borrowed time i only seem to survive
The doctor prescribing pills for to keep me alive
People far younger and fitter than i am in Mother Earth lay
But i do hope to live on for many a day

Since the thought of death scares me of this i will not lie
I want to live on i have no wish for to die
I do not believe in this Paradise somewhere beyond the sky
Where good souls post bodily death with wings to do fly

To me Paradise is where i live today
And not an unknown World from here far away
The wild birds are singing on the sunlit trees
On a pleasant evening of near twenty degrees

Though some people for their gardens hoping for rain
With such beautiful weather i cannot complain
The leaves on the deciduous trees are turning brown
On April of the Fall in the southern town

Unlike me most horses not allowed to grow old
When past their useful days to the knackery for dog meat they are sold
But my doctor prescribe pills to keep me living and though my best years long gone
For as long as i can i do hope for to live on.

Mother Nature Is Her Name

She is quite amazing of her one can say
Her magical beauty around us every night and day
A beauty we do not pay money to see
Is all around you and is all around me

The artist on canvas paint her beauty and the writer about her write
Stories and poems for to read and recite
A beauty that is dormant in Winter and blooms forth in Spring
When her flora does bloom and her wild-birds do sing

No human magician as her quite as great
Since she has the power in her life to create
Life that her Reaper eventually does take
That many of us under rate her is our human mistake

For she is not always placid and serene
From her angry moods massive damage to be seen
She can shake the earth and blow great buildings down
And on her wake leave destruction and death in city and town

She was and is and always will be the World's number one super power
The one who can create a beautiful flower
But she also can leave death and destruction and heartbreak
When in angry mood behind her in her wake

On her happier moods her beauty does glow
Yet so little about her us humans can claim of for to know
Her Reaper is not one who respects wealth and fame
The one true immortal Mother Nature is her name.

The Aubane Facebook Page

If you are online and from Millstreet a page well worth a look
Is the one managed by John F Kelleher on Aubane on Facebook
Lots of interesting images to view and stuff to read in there
Especially for people from Millstreet who are living elsewhere

There is more to Aubane by Mushera than great scenery
For entertainment in Millstreet Parish it is a place to be
Aubane's favorite place for socializing is the famed Aubane Hall
Where there is always a welcome for one and all

In Aubane their own fun they know how to create
And the craic in the old Hall it is always great
There is laughter and music and dancing and song
Where Aubane people meet joy with them comes along

In Aubane everyone is made to feel at home
No matter where you are from Timbuctoo or Rome
In Aubane they will treat you as one of their own
Mushera Valley for it's hospitable people is widely known

For Millstreet people online it is well worth a visit the Aubane Facebook Page
Lots of interesting stuff to see and to read there for people of every age
Just one of the many reasons Aubane it is known far and wide
Beyond the borders of Duhallow's green countryside.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

In April Far Away

On my flights of fancy i often does hear
The skylark above Gneeves Bog in the Spring of the year
A musical speck in the gray of the sky
As up to the cloud World he sing as he fly

A voice of the groves in April and Spring
The familiar and beautiful song that the male blackbird does sing
And the tiny brown bird with the big bird song
The voice of the wren one could never get wrong

The cattle out of wintering sheds from eating silage and hay
Gaining weight from nutritious young grass chewing their cuds do lay
In the old fields looking quite resplendent and green
I can only visualize Nature's beauty i have seen

And how pleasant to hear the soft lowing of a cow
In the gathering gloam by the River Finnow
The past may be gone but the memories of it do remain
In visualizations for to visit again

The past may be gone but the memories are with me
Of clusters of pink blossoms on the crab apple tree
And the song of the male chaffinch in the dawning gray
In a leafy grove in April far away.

For The Suffering Of Others

For the suffering of others you feel sympathy
You have a great gift the gift of empathy
If the majority were like you how good this would be
There would be less of wars and less of poverty
Always willing to help one of helping in need
Every day of good Karma you do plant the seed
But sad to say people who help those financially or in other ways down
Do never become the toast of the town
The laws of the Land you observe and obey
And respect to the rights of others you do pay
Compassion it is such a beautiful thing
And of it's praises i am always happy to sing
A generous person and so very kind
You are one who does have a beautiful mind.

My Brother John

In nineteen fifty two my brother John in his late teens left Millstreet
New challenges in life he wished to meet
He was the eldest of our family
Perhaps a dozen years older than me

His travels took him to the U S A
From Claraghatlea in distance far away
Tall and athletic his hair was chestnut brown
He was one never more to see old Millstreet Town

He was one who did not live for to grow very old
For Millstreet in minor Gaelic Football he wore the green and gold
But in Millstreet he would not be one to stay
Far from Duhallow he would show his years in gray

His travels in life took him to places far
In Korea as a pilot with the U S Air Force he experienced war
Though something he did not like to talk about
His war memories he wished to live without

My brother John left two sons and a wife
One of them Thomas in a car crash lost his life
Of such a sorrow Life's Reaper John did spare
His poor wife Nancy had this cross to bear

For years in Chicago John drove a Suburban train
And only memories now do remain
Of a humble man who worked hard for his pay
Quiet waters run deep as the wise one say

Far south of old Hibernia's windswept shore
And Clara Mountain above Claramore
John's bones at peace forever now do lay
In Chicago in the U S of A.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015


Many may look to privileged people as extraordinary
But many looked on as quite ordinary people seem amazing to me
Lisa in her mid thirties as extraordinary a person as i have ever known
Four years ago her husband Arthur died in a workplace accident and she is raising their five young children on her own
The eldest of her children a girl is ten of a family of four girls and a boy
To try to raise five children on her own is something few mothers would enjoy
With the main money earner of the family out of her life gone
With the job of raising her children Lisa on her own carries on
That she is an extraordinary person none ought to deny
She works to support her children and somehow manages to get by
On what is not a good living income yet her children of anything does not go in need
She is quite amazing an extraordinary person indeed
Some people looked on as ordinary seem extraordinary to me
And many of those looked on as extraordinary in fact are quite ordinary.

He Is From The Wooded Hills

He is from the wooded hills of wallaby and roo
And laughing kookaburra and yellow tailed black cockatoo
In his mid twenties with a young boy and a beautiful wife
It looks like in suburbia he will grow old in life
A tall dark haired handsome fellow in his physical prime
One can say of him that he is on the right side of time
A paid up member of the Collingwood Football Club
On Saturday evening he enjoys a few beers with his friends in the local pub
He lives near where the deep and dark Yarra slowly and silently crawls it's sea going way
Through the inner Melbourne Suburbs by night and by day
A four hour drive by car from where he grew from a boy to a man
And where the journey in life for him began
A likeable fellow with a charm of his own
Since he moved to live in Suburbia his friends in numbers have grown.

Jim From Terang

On the Melbourne to Warrnambool train for two and a half hours he sang
The happy go lucky old Jim from Terang
He entertained all of us in the carriage and none of him did complain
And we applauded him at the end of every song and asked him to sing again
He had a few beers in and was in the mood for song
And some songs we knew with him we sang along
We could only feel amazed that the words of so many old songs he knew
The Jims of the World to say the least are few
Gray haired and wrinkled he must have been close to if not eighty with gaps in his teeth
Such a character everyday one does not meet
One of advanced years with the mind of a happy boy
His great gift of life he surely does enjoy
Many old time favorite songs he so beautifully sang
And he left the train singing in his Hometown of Terang.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Some Men

Some men like to watch or play sports and talk of it in the pub
And some men past their prime are members of their local bowls club
And most men of all ages interested in sex of varying degrees
Just one of the reasons the human population is increasing in numbers like Summer flies and bees

Some men like drinking alcohol or smoking tobacco or pot
The majority of us males are an addictive lot
The non addictive males are becoming more rare
An addictive personality many of us males does share

Some men they are not lacking in self esteem
Amongst males the egotistical are many is how it does seem
Narcissism amongst males seems to be on the rise
With the increase in the human population this is not a surprise

That there are a multitude of different human personalities none ought to deny
And some males in their ways are known to be shy
Most of us are addictive and some addictions lead to crime
And i am one of those who is addicted to the penning of rhyme.

No Point In Complaining

No point in complaining of your sorry life
Of how you have been forsaken by your children and wife
Since of you they have their own stories to tell
Of how to them you were cruel and never treated them well

On what we put into life in return we receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
And from life we do receive what can be our due
What goes around comes around seems to be true

Your wife and your children with you would stay
And you would be happier in your life today
If you did not abuse them with a few beers in
Love and respect in such a way one should not expect for to win

Your sorrows in life to others you like to make known
But they also do have problems of their own
Your wife gave you a choice her and your children or the pub and the pub you did choose
You did make your choice and you choose for to lose

Hard done by stories like yours one does hear every day
But for our treatment of others there is always some price to pay
What goes around comes around as the wise one does say
That this is how life works it does seem this way.

In Kingsville Today

Though my worth as a rhymer i always do doubt
Never any shortage of subject material for me to write rhymes about
The beauty of the Melbourne suburb of Kingsville quite close to Footscray
Is something for me to write a rhyme on today
The birds once heard and seen one could never get wrong
The dark and brown mynas distinctive in their scratchy song
Non migratory they never travel far and wide
In the streets and parks of Kingsville they are happy for to reside
Kingsville a multicultural suburb of almost every race and creed
One of the places of suburban Melbourne worth a visit indeed
Where many different races live in harmony
And in it's parks and it's gardens much beauty for to see
A nice sunny day in early April in Autumn of only a slight breeze
In Kingsville today it is twenty Degrees.

Monday, April 6, 2015

There Is Only Equality

In a World where many grow poorer for every new millionaire
Even in so called wealthy Nations the homeless are no longer rare
And in big urban and suburban parks it is a common sight
To see people on park benches sleeping at night
This is what happens in a World where for one to win many have to lose
Though losing is a thing anyone does not choose
Even poverty does come at varying degrees
In the refugee camps of the World millions of refugees
From war zones and victims of famines in refugee camps today
At least thirty million quite a lot one might say
There will always be the wealthy and those in poverty
Equality amongst the living it will never be
Amongst the living this is how it is and will be and has always been this way
There is only equality where dead people lay.

John Shaw Neilson Wrote Poems

John Shaw Neilson wrote poems of the country out there
Home to wallaby, roo and brolga and in Summer often where
The voice of the brown creek for months on end is still
In that flat brown and dry countryside of the Mallee near Nhill

John Shaw Neilson he was a remarkable poet
He lives in his beautiful poems as one worthy of literary note
The best of the Mallee of him one can say
With words he was one who surely had a way

Born in Penola he moved to Nhill with his family as a boy
From an early age writing poems was a thing he did enjoy
His poetry has withstood the great test of time
He surely was one who had rhythm and rhyme

John Shaw Neilson a poor man who never had children or never had a wife
He labored hard for a living never knew of an easy life
In Nhill the old cottage he lived in preserved as a monument to his fame
His does live as the Mallee's greatest literary name

As one of Australia's great poets many claim him to be so
John Shaw Neilson he died many decades ago
A poet of the people of him one can say
And one whose name lives on in his poetry today.

Your Own Stories To Tell

The judgmental may look on you as a never do well
But you too have your own life story to tell
Of the hard life you know of in your own living hell
Though such a story as yours in book form never sell
You could tell of how many of your young friends of drug overdoses have died
Their deaths by misadventure either that or suicide
And though you are one without a postal address
That you are living on does make you a success
Though down on your luck you are not counted out
And you have your own story for to write about
You do live in hope that your worst days are gone
And better times for you may be coming on
And though the judgmental may dismiss you as a never do well
You do have your very own stories to tell.

Sunday, April 5, 2015

The Rill From The Valley

From the little lake at the foot of the hill
It ripples downland the clear sparkling rill
Towards the ocean bound river many miles away
It's tongue never silent by night or by day
It has been flowing through the ages of time
And it has inspired music and story and rhyme
Long before the first bird had the gift of song
To the ocean bound river it has rippled along
How old it might be does remain as unknown
The rill from the valley has a voice of it's own
In the quiet countryside in the dead of the night
It's waters look silvery in the moonlight
To the far away river to the ocean shore
It has flowed forever and will forever more.

Hannah O Leary

She had lived by the hills of Caherbarnagh, Gortavehy and Toorbonia for most of her long life
Her name was Hannah Murphy before she became the late Jer O Leary's wife
She has many children, grandchildren and great grandchildren in places far and wide
From the mountains between Millstreet and Rathmore their home countryside

A good mother to her children and to Jer O Leary a good wife
Hannah would have been in her nineties she lived quite a long life
When i was a young boy she was in her physical prime
And this is going back many Seasons in time

Three score and ten years is regarded as the average human lifetime span
On an average a few years more for a woman than it is for a man
Hannah O Leary was seventy quite a long time ago
And eventually time that rusts iron becomes everyone's foe

The years go by quickly and time ticks on fast
And only the memories of what used to be seems to last
And on looking back the years it only seems like yesterday
That she often brought lunch to her husband Jer O Leary in Den Donnelly's bog in May

Life's journey for us all comes to an end one day
Though few do wish for death in truth one can say
The last remains of that good person Hannah O Leary by Cashman's Hill in St Mary's lay
From the mountains by where she used to live not that far away.

Phillis O Shea

In the Seasons of time one has to go back far
Since Phillis drank and danced with her late Husband Billy O Shea in the Bush Bar
Since then many a sunset and many a sundown
And so many changes in old Millstreet Town

She was Phillis Foley before she became Billy O Shea's wife
And in Millstreet where she raised her children she lived for the most of her life
A woman who in Duhallow by many was well liked and well known
As a beautiful person with a charm of her own

The Reaper of lives of her grief did not spare
The Shea Family given some crosses to bear
In life as we know there is laughter and tears
And Phillis she too had her happier years

Predeceased by her husband Billy in time going back a while
Phillis was a beautiful person with a beautiful smile
As human life goes in time she had lived quite a span
I remember her as a middle aged woman when i was a young man

Sad to hear that from life Phillis has passed away
And Millstreet the poorer without her today
A huge loss to her family and to her friends and though the gift of life from her has gone
In all who knew her good memories of the beautiful person she was will live on.

Saturday, April 4, 2015

Far Too Many Materialistic People

That money with them only matters does seem fair to say
The many materialistic people in the World of today
And so many of their sort lack in empathy
For those doing it tough they feel no sympathy
Of singing the praises of celebrities and billionaires they never seem to tire
These are the sort of people they only admire
Money and assets they do judge people by
Why so many are becoming more materialistic one does wonder why
The natural environment for material gain they see as okay to destroy
The beauty of Nature they could never enjoy
On our Earth Mother who feeds us we depend on to live
But from her we do take far more than we do give
Far too many materialistic people in the World of today
Obsessed with assets and money it does seem this way.

The Allansford Rose

Her shoulder length hair it is wavy and brown
The beautiful woman of Allansford Town
The pride of the place where the dark Hopkins flow
On towards the Blue Hole it crawls deep and slow
Quite charming in her ways though tending towards shy
With beautiful eyes blue as a cloudless Summer sky
And a beautiful smile on her beautiful face
In Allansford Town she does take pride of place
In her early twenties in the prime of her life
For some lucky man she will make a great wife
Though obviously attractive one free of conceit
Nice people like she is a pleasure to meet
Slim, tall and attractive when dressed in her best clothes
She lives up to her name of the Allansford Rose.

Celine McAuliffe

Celine McAuliffe a good and brave woman whose praises deserve to be sung
Her husband Michael died when their children Richard and Kathleen were young
The Reaper of lives grief her did not spare
She did have a heavy cross in life to bear

A woman well worthy of the parting tears
In Cullen in Knockduff she had lived for years
She was born and raised a Cronin in Dooneen in Millstreet
A short walk through the fields to where the rivers do meet

Life is not always easy for some anyway
Celine was one who lived through many a tough day
She lived to see her great grandchildren till time became her foe
She was in her life's prime six decades ago

In the McAuliffe family gatherings her's will be a missed face
For sadly there is none for to take the place
Of a mother who took the good days with the bad
For her family and her many friends her passing is so sad

For all of us there will be a last night and day
By Cashman's Hill in St Mary's Celine's last remains lay
Hope her parting from life for her was a painless release
She lived as a good person and may she now rest in peace.

Friday, April 3, 2015


You ask Billy how he is he will tell you he feels great
That in his life he has much to celebrate
He says i feel lucky that joy is my gain
With a beautiful wife and a lovely five years old daughter how can i complain
Billy is quite happy he is doing okay
As a self employed plumber he does earn a good pay
For sadness in his mind there is not any space
He always does have a big smile on his face
The happy person everyone wishes to know
You might say of him he has the inner glow
At the weekend he plays football with the town football club
And after the game enjoys a few beers with his mates at the pub
He always seems happy and quite free of care
The Billys of this World for to say the least rare.

We Only Have Ourselves To Blame

We are ruled by men in formal suits and expensive shirts and ties
The so called honorable many of them do believe their own lies
Many of them quite flawed people it does seem sad to say
We elect to high office on election day
To the honor in truth respect some of them never pay
One lie leads to another lie with them anyway
Our politicians are our reflective mirrors is how it seems to be
Some of those we elect to high office do lie readily
Though you may say to this do tell us what is new
It seems sad to think nowadays honest politicians only in the few
Dressed in expensive clothes yet flawed people in disguise
Some of them so used to lying they believe their own lies
Since we gave them the jobs with huge salaries the power and the fame
For those we elect to high office we only have ourselves to blame.

These Highbrows

These highbrows who can boast of literary degrees
The professors of language of the universities
Decide who is worthy of literary note
A rhymer to them is just not a poet

The people they select as the poets of our time
In their words must never have rhythm or rhyme
Their poems to music must never relate
To them every rhymer is years out of date

To them the words of the rhymers too easy to comprehend
On what to them is true poetry they have set the trend
To them true poets are of an exclusive club
And rhymers have their place in the local pub

For bush poets and rhymers contempt they only show
Of such ordinary people of they do not wish to know
To a new form of literary snobbery to they have given rise
This beautiful thing known as poetry they have managed to polarize

Of who is or is not a poet they do decide
Of the rhymers of the World any hope of fame they have denied
To them rhymers are a product of decades long gone
But rhyme will outlive the last literary don.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Scared Of Death

The bell i will not hear will be my farewell bell
Though of dying i do admit i feel scared as hell
Time as is said does take care of all
And the great tree of the forest eventually to old age does fall

And though i am a mere mortal one born to die
That i am scared of death of this i will not lie
I want to live on for as long as i can
And die in my sleep without pain as a very old man

That i do feel scared of death i will not deny
I envy those who believe in a God in the sky
Of what it takes to be devout i have failed the test
I am an atheist maybe or an agnostic at best

So few people do live for a century
And time it is ticking and ticking on me
But i will fight for life right until my last breath
For i am one of those who does feel scared of death

I was never a soldier and i will not die brave
And the Last Post will never be played at my grave
And though my best years of life in the forever gone
It is my fear of death that keeps me living on.


She has known laughter and she has shed tears
Poor gray haired Nana is showing her years
Last September her husband of fifty five years George passed away
She visits his grave site every second day

Nana and George had only one child Joe
He died as a teenager thirty eight years ago
He drowned when swimming in the brown lake
The Reaper of lives did give to them heartbreak

Time is the great healer as they do say
The grief of their loss in them slowly did decay
Few people go through life without some cross to bear
The Reaper of lives of young lives takes a share

Nana and George as a young couple came from Athens in Greece
She is aging with grace and with the World is at peace
A good mother to her long deceased son Joe and to her late husband George a good wife
On her seventy ninth year she has known of many an up and a down in life

A nice person to know one free of conceit
She smiles and says hello every-time we do meet
A part of her home Country that with her does stay
The accent of Greece it is with her today.

Golden Eagles Nesting In Millstreet Town

Golden eagles nesting in Millstreet under the bell of Millstreet Town church spire quite amazing indeed
Methought the one who witnessed this had a bit too much of dizzy weed
But then strange stories we read and hear of every day
And anything is possible in life as they do say

On an article he published on the Millstreet Website
Of a pair of golden eagles nesting under the church spire Michael Cashman did write
An amazing story that has traveled far and wide
Beyond the borders of Duhallow's green old countryside

Sean Radley online posted images of Liam Flynn with binoculars viewing the church spire
But of looking upwards Liam Quickly did tire
Noreen Higgins and Mary O Sullivan were also looking upwards but all they did see
Was a crow on the spire of the church of Millstreet Town enjoying the scenery

But the surprised look on their faces left a lot to be desired
Though from a hoax many an amazing story is inspired
One might say quite a good show of make believe
Though not everyone is easy for to deceive

A story by Michael Cashman that has taken to flame
That does not seem quite right for want of a better name
Of golden eagles nesting in Millstreet Town on April Fools Day
You can fool some but not everyone as the wise one does say.

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

For Your Small Blessings

For your small blessings you ought to feel glad
Since few wish to know of the one who feels sad
You may think that better things in life are your due
But there are many who are doing it far tougher than you
You are one i have not heard laugh for awhile
You do not even seem to be able to smile
You cannot spread joy when you are feeling down
And few wish to know of a sad sack of the town
You have a job though not that highly paid and a home and a car
And a beautiful wife and two lovely young daughters how lucky you are
But you do not seem for to see it in this way
And that you do look unhappy does seem sad to say
That you are what you think you are happens to be true
But there are many who are far worse off than you.

No Guarantee

On the length of one's life there is no guarantee
Everyday Life's Reaper claims the lives of people far younger than me
For me like all others a last night and day
From birth to death time ever does tick away
If you have heaps of money you cannot take it with you to where dead people lay
That the Reaper can call on you at anytime does seem true to say
like all other mortals we are born to die
In that respect they are no different to you or i
You cannot take it with you happens to be true
Though happiness through money billions of people pursue
But it is better to be wealthy and unhappy does seem true enough
Than poor and unhappy and sleeping rough
Your money you cannot take with you as the wise one does say
So spend it and enjoy life whilst you are able to it does seem the best way.

How Good To Be Living

In the mostly sunny blue sky just a few clouds of gray
How good to be living on such a nice day
The dark welcome swallows do chirp as they fly
In pursuit of flying insects they circle in the sky
Though the paddocks bare and brown and in need of rain
With such pleasant weather only few would complain
Though the farmer he is feeding his cattle hay
And the calendar Winter some two months away
On a perfect weather temperature high of twenty two degrees
The balmy air full of the buzzing of flies and of bees
A magpie is warbling on a sunlit tree
And the magpie larks sing their familiar pee wee
Utopia from here cannot be far away
How good to be living on such a nice day.