I Thought I Was Over Nostalgia

I thought i was over nostalgia but bits of it in me remain
And in fancy the old face of Clara is obscured in the gray fogs of rain
And i can see the Finnow River bank high in flood waters of brown
Babbling on down from the high ground in the flat fields near Millstreet Town.

I thought i was over nostalgia but thought again has proved me wrong
In my mind that's full of old memories the male chaffinch often on song
And in a grove the robin singing on a balmy evening in Spring
It does seem to me that nostalgia can be an incurable thing

In Claraghatlea nowadays to many mine may be an old stranger's face
But i retain fond memories of there as one should of their first home-place
I left there in chilly December when Clara wore his hat of snow
And hungry blackbird scrope in the leaf litter for earth worms by the hedgerow.

I thought i was over nostalgia but in fancy i often do see
The migrant redwings eating the ripe red berries in December on the holly tree
I thought i'd get over nostalgia but now i know that cannot be
And the Claraghatlea of my young years will live till my dying day in me.

Far South Of Duhallow

In green old Duhallow in the prime of July
Above the brown hillside the skylark does fly
The mottled brown beautiful songster of human kind shy
A musical speck in the gray morning sky
When the whortleberries tiny blue fruits of the heather are ripe for to eat
To the taste buds they can be an irrestible treat
The sweet taste of Nature's wild fruit in the memory remain
In fancy i sit on the mountain and eat them again
Such beautiful memories are mine to enjoy
Of where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
Far south of Duhallow in winter in a southern town
The magpie lark sings as the rain drizzles down
And in the park a bird that does sing every day of the year
The song of the magpie is melodious and clear.

In The Thinking Of The Bureaucrats

In the thinking of the bureaucrats profit before people does count
Ten million dollars in annual company profits to them a small amount
They pay their C E O's huge salaries to keep their expenditure down
You will not find any bureaucrat living on the poor side of the town
You will not find many bureaucrats who are blessed with empathy
Who for the have nots of the World feel any sympathy
To have compassion is not an asset to an aspiring to be billionaire
The bureaucrats who have such to say the least are rare
In bureaucratic thinking no love for plants and trees
No love for flowers and birds and animals and no love for refugees
To them 'tis a self inflicted thing the scourge of poverty
Compared to the non bureaucrat the bureaucrat looks at life differently
In the thinking of the bureaucrats profit does come before all
Ten million in annual profit to them is very small.

Buff Banded Rail

In Killarney by the ocean birds i sometimes see
Though shy in their ways familiar to me
In the caravan park there a pair of them reside
The moment they sense danger they run to cover to hide
Dark gray to chestnut brown birds with buff band on breast
The female lays five to eleven yellowish blotched eggs in a grass and reed cup shaped nest
In or near water where reeds and rank scrub abound
They never venture far from trees and bush covered ground
Their secret of survival is to be secretive and shy
From danger they run to cover they seldom do fly
Of any danger to them they are quick to become aware
Birds not often seen but not known to be rare
In Killarney by the ocean them i sometimes see
But one glimpse of me and to cover they quickly do flee.

On Past Negatives

On past negatives i have no wish to dwell
And why should i wish on anyone only well
To bear one a grudge does not appeal to me
The past in the past and we should let it be
I just want to live on as a better man
And help those in need of helping if i can
Give them some help even in a small way
Without expecting reward such as monetary pay
To not bring dishonor to my side of the town
By physically or verbally putting anyone down
For my negatives of the past i wish to be forgiven and to forgive
And to practice the theory of live and let live
To bear one a grudge does not appeal to me
The past in the past so we should let it be.

You Still Keep Hanging In There

Even though you are short of money and you are living rough
And for longer than you can remember you have been doing it tough
You still keep hanging in there though physically your better days long gone
You deserve heaps of credit for to keep on keeping on
You are a noble person that fact of you cannot be denied
You never will surrender to your thoughts of suicide
With years of want through hardship you have learned to cope
And it never can be said of you that you do lack in hope
Sometimes you buy a lotto ticket since you believe that one day
That lady luck will decide for to smile your way
Who knows that in some future day your dream may well come true
Since all things come to those who wait your turn of luck is due
You keep on hanging in there in your poor side of the town
'Tis true what's said of people hard to keep a good one down.

Life's Too Short For Worry

Life's too short for worry so enjoy your day
For the seconds and minutes keep ticking away
And worrying creates more worries and turns hair to gray
Laughter is the best medicine as some like to say
Of life on this Planet we do not have many years
And laughter for your health is much better than tears
Few do wish to know the sad sack of the town
You are on your own when you are feeling down
Wealthy and influential people due to worry are known to have died
They have ended their lives in an act of suicide
Had they looked at life in a different way
They well may be living and happy today
Life's too short for worry i say what is true
If you feel unhappy few wish to know you.

Of Nature

Of  Nature there's new things to learn every day
At least that is how 'tis with me anyway
Her secrets are many her wonders not few
And everyday of her we learn something new
My wonder of her only does grow and grow
Yet little of her ways i can claim to know
Her natural beauty is all around me
And every day in my walks a new wonder i see
Of singing her praises could one ever tire
To write of and sketch her the poets and artists she inspire
And though for the gift of life on her we do depend
We do not respect her as our dearest friend
The one true immortal and that's not a lie
Unlike us mere mortals she will never die.

Not All

Not all men are good that goes for women as well
If there is a hereafter many will be in Hell
And even to religious people these words too apply
If you sin against others you sin against your God in the sky
I only say here what i hold to be true
What we do to others does become our due
Though your idea of a successful person are different to mine
You have your opinions and that suits me fine
You believe that success comes with money in the bank
But to me there's more to a successful person than money and social rank
To me one with love of humanity and kindness of heart
From most others is one who does stand apart
A successful person to help one in need of helping goes out of his or her way
And performs at least one good deed every day.

Claraghatlea In Duhallow

Far north of this Country even as the bird does fly
In distance quite far thousands of miles by sky
Is a place where the lamp of day i first did see
Claraghatlea in Duhallow was first home to me

It was there i was raised and grew into a man
And from there my long journey to the south began
And despite long years of absence the memories with me remain
Of the old fields and in fancy i walk on them again

I hear the babble of the clear mountain rill
As it babbles it's way down the fields by the hill
And the white breasted dipper a river bird i used to know
In my memory does sing where the rapids do flow

The past does live with us as a memory
Though the now is what matters as most would agree
To me love of Place transcends love of Country
And a Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be.

A June Morning In Koroit

An overcast sky with pregnant clouds of rain
And the magpie geese back in Tower Hill again
And i hear the distinctive call notes of the pied currawong
Of the dark birds 'tis said they do tell of rain in their song
Cool winds of June blow across Koroit Town
Where traffic on the streets pass up and down
And in the park the familiar call notes of the magpie lark
Every day he sings pee wee from dawn till dark
With the depths of Winter to us ever near
The weather wet even for the time of year
The weather Worldwide is acting strange
Perhaps it has to do with Climate Change
The long billed corellas calling as they fly
And rain clouds are gathering in the morning sky.

Good As Gold

A story from the nineteen twenties from Duhallow one that is often told
About a famed track greyhound his name was Good As Gold
Bred and owned by Denny Dennehy one known far beyond Millstreet Town
To have bred and owned the World's most expensive dog not his only claim to renown

For Denny Dennehy in Ireland famed as a greyhound owner breeder then
One of the originals of the Parish of many famed track and coursing men
Some of his dogs trained by Bob Price of  Minor Row contested big races in Cork and Shelbourne Park
In the early years of greyhound racing in Ireland he was one to leave his mark

Of the World's most valuable dog  the West End flier Good As Gold the word did get around
That he was sold for a World record price of four hundred pound
In newspapers as far away as London and New York
It was written of the World Record price for a greyhound from Millstreet County Cork

Records are made to be broken as some do like to say
And four hundred pounds for a greyhound does not seem much money today
But in the nineteen twenties a Millstreet greyhound named Good As Gold did live up to his name
And left his owner Denny Dennehy with lots of money and fame.

We Never Stop Learning

We never stop learning as some like to say
And from life we do learn something new every day
And from listening and learning our knowledge does grow
And the more that we learn the less we know we know

We learn from experience and from what we hear of and see
This is how it is and it always will be
And a good education plus a uni degree
In life not a hindrance would you not agree?

But having that said it does seem to me
That a good education does not give a guarantee
Of a better person since goodness you will find
Only does exist in the individual mind

We learn as we live as some do like to say
And from life we never stop learning it does seem this way
The truly enlightened of the Human World are few
On saying that i am not saying anything that is new

That we learn as we live does seem only too true
And from life we receive what is only our due
A good education may not enhance your charm
But to your career opportunities it won't do any harm.

For As Long As I Am Able To

If  i said i'd give up rhyming to myself  i'd only lie
For i hope to go on penning until the day i die
With a rhyming addiction i write stuff every day
And what i so enjoy doing why should i wish to give away

Since the early nineteen seventies i've been a rhyming buff
And i am one of those blokes who has penned a heap of stuff
And always things to write about to rhyme not hard at all
A memory to cherish is a memory to recall

The rhymes keep coming to me on paper i jot them down
Just one of many rhymers in a coastal country town
But with me 'tis an addiction with words i like to play
We all have our life's passions as some do like to say

I am getting on in years now four years with the three score
A rhymer of the old school just that and nothing more
My better years behind me in the forever gone
But for as long as i am able to i will keep rhyming on.

Of Course Talking Rot

Those who say what happens in a far Country does not affect Australia of course talking rot
Look what has happened in Chile when an active volcano got hot
And blew clouds of ash to the southern sky
And forced airline directors in Australia to not allow their planes to fly
In the wind the volcanic ash from Chile around the World does blow
The sky does not have borders as everyone know
What happens in one Country can affect people elsewhere
And cause problems for many in the big World out there
From volcanic eruptions planes grounded from ash blowing in the breeze
And from wars and famines and natural disasters we get asylum seeking refugees
It is a mere fact and fact cannot be denied
What happens  in one Country can affect people Worldwide
Those who say disasters in far Countries do not affect us have got it wrong
Since the sorrows of one to one alone does not belong.

A Long Way From Koroit

A long way from Koroit north to Millstreet Town
And a long way from Clara ever looking down
On the high mountain fields of green old Claramore
A long way far north of this southern shore
In Claraghatlea  in a field by the stream where the rank rushes grow
The wild and shy male pheasant does cuck and crow
And the robin does sing to proclaim territory
On the highest branch of a leafy birch tree
The people of Koroit are so kind to me
Though a migrant amongst them is all i can be
From the Tower Hill lookout low clouds obscure a view of the sea
Whilst in a nearby paddock the familiar call of the pee wee
Ring out as the rains of June are drizzling down
Across the quiet countryside by Koroit Town.

Of My Lack Of Success

Of my lack of success i have no wish to lie
I am too old for loving and too young to die
The years have left me looking older and gray
And the clock on my life keeps on ticking away
Many decades ago when my hair was dark brown
As a younger man near a far away town
I often daydreamed of success but daydreams seldom come true
Suppose we receive from life what is only our due
Yet i hope to live on for as long as i can
And to die without pain as a very old man
And though eventually to the scythe of the Reaper i'll fall
The great gift of life is the greatest gift of all
I may not have much money but i have no wish to be dead
Since much better days for me may be ahead.

Those Endearing Little Chirpers

From where people live you never do see them that far away
On bushes and trees by sheds and dwellings they chirp all through the day
Not the prettiest birds to look at that's not saying anything new
House Sparrows they are plentiful their numbers never few
At home in urban gardens and gardens in the countryside
Introduced to many Countries they are known Worldwide
Familiar birds to many and familiar birds to me
Those endearing little chirpers i often hear and see
Small mottled gray to brown birds plain to look at they seem bereft of song
But they are supreme chirpers they do chirp all day long
Some people do not like them but i'm not one of those
And amongst humans in general they have more friends than foes
From sheds and human dwellings they are never far away
Those endearing little chirpers i see them every day.

Like Every Migrant

Like every migrant i had a first home place
And to many there mine was a familiar face
But the years have left me looking older and gray
And in Claraghatlea i'd be a stranger today

Though life in the old Townland as usual goes on
Many i knew there to the Reaper have gone
Whilst many i knew there when in their life's prime
Are now walking slower and wearied by time

But the old fields i knew there some of them had their own name
Despite the passing of the Seasons i bet would look much the same
And old Clara Mountain when January winds blow
I'm sure would be wearing his Winter hat of snow

Memories of my first homeplace with me do remain
In March the breeding frogs croaked in the water filled drain
In their eggs like a mass of clear jelly their tadpoles did grow
Yet of Nature's ways i still have so much to know

Like every other migrant every woman and man
I grow old far from where my life's journey began
And though the now is what matter as many do say
Memories of the first home place with the migrant does stay.

What Is Life For Millions

What is life for millions but a struggle to cope
And of better times for to live on in hope
The homeless and poor on the poor side of the town
Feeling depressed for known reasons and financially down
Born into life as the children of the lesser gods
From day one they have had to battle the odds
They cling to the hope that their worst days are gone
And for better times in hope they do live on
A strange Human World that we live in indeed
So many are poor for everyone who financially succeed
The have nots nowadays to be found everywhere
So many millions of them in the big World out there
And what is life for millions but a struggle to cope
And for better times they only live on in hope.

For To Kill Other People

For to kill other people some commit suicide
And by far too many in war zones have died
And war always breaks out when men disagree
This is how it is and it always will be
In bombing missions gone wrong and in suicide bombings or in some other way
More people are dying in war zones every day
From wars some men never learn it does seem this way
The mistakes of the past are repeated today
Even victory in war always comes at a cost
In every war fought many lives are lost
Yes even for victory in war the price is huge to pay
War men do not grow wiser they just grow old and gray
That we are born as mortals is surely not a lie
Yet for God and for Country men kill others and die.

What Is Wrong With Politicians

What is wrong with politicians most of them lack in ruth
And most of them have a problem with telling of the truth
When asked a simple question they give an ambiguous reply
Why they behave in such a manner why bother to wonder why
That few politicians are trustworthy and truthful does seem fair to say
With most of them one lie leads to another it does seem that way
As liars they live and as liars they will die
To them it comes so very easy to lie
When i say that truthful politicians as was always are few
You may say to that tell us something that is new
The love of political power can be an addictive thing
And though the praises of politicians i for one never sing
Some of them have honor and should be held in high esteem
But having said that not too many of them 'twould seem.

The Lark Sings Again

The song of the skylark i fancy i hear
Above the brown bogland melodious and clear
Up there in the cloud world a speck in the sky
He carols so sweetly as upwards he does fly
Above where the shlaun man does shlaun out the soggy dark peat
For the sun for to dry out it does give out good heat
On winter nights when the frost winds do blow from the hill
It keeps the family home warm and keeps out the cold chill
It is not very hard at all to visualize
In my flights of fancy i see the sun rise
Above the brown hill to light a summer's day
Good memories of what was never fade away
And though the past may be gone the good memories of it remain
And in my flights of fancy the lark sings again.

Though I Used To Think That

The male birds never sings for the joys of the Spring
With them  song is a territorial thing
They sing to warn males of their kind from their patch to stay clear
And they only use song as a weapon of fear
And yet i recall when i was a schoolboy
I thought that birds sang only for love and joy
Till one far more knowledgeable on Nature than me
Informed me that birds only sing to defend territory
At nesting time any male of his own kind he does not treat as a friend
His song born of aggression with nesting borders to defend
We never stop learning as some like to say
And of Nature we learn something new every day
At nesting time birds never sing just for love and for joy
Though i used to think that when i was a young boy.

The Now Is All That Matters

The now is all that matters the past it has gone
Yesterday is a memory and life does go on
Feel happy you are living for to greet a new day
Since the seconds of our lives ever ticking away
So many i've known will not hear the birds sing
Or see the fruit trees in their blooms of the Spring
The morning is chilly the Winter sky gray
'Tis good to be living despite what some say
You may feel depressed in the poor side of the town
Without any success and financially down
Out of work out of money and with life struggling to cope
But like it is said where there's life there is hope
The future is waiting and the past it has gone
And the clock on our lives ever keeps ticking on.

By Wise People

By wise people 'tis said when we give we receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
Though some with such thinking may well not agree
You give to receive it does make sense to me
Those who believe in take never know how to give
And they only know how to take for as long as they live
They know how to save money but not how to spend
The miser is one who does not have a friend
So lucky are they who are generous and kind
To selfishness such people seem uninclined
To help others out they go out of their way
They will enjoy the rewards of their good Karma one day
Those who readily give can expect to receive
On such a philosophy i do believe.

I'm Just An Ageing Rhymer

Some tell me i'm one who has wasted so much precious time
On writing on Nature and people and places in old fashioned rhyme
Though to their advice though well intended i pay little heed
For to keep on penning in me there's the need

For many years now i've been a rhyming buff
And true i have written a whole heap of stuff
But what i enjoy doing why should i give away
I hope to keep penning till my life's last day

My worth as a rhymer i always do doubt
But there's always so much for one to write about
I no longer aspire to for to be a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note

My best days in life to the forever gone
But i do love rhyming so i'll keep rhyming on
I'm just an ageing rhymer that and nothing more
And that is something you may have heard me say before.

For The Time Of The Year

The Finnow river bank high in flood waters of brown
Is flowing in the flat fields west of Millstreet Town
To join with the Cails and into a bigger river grow
And on to Drishane to the Blackwater flow
Brown storm water gurgling in the roadside drain
Though the sun out and shining after heavy thunder rain
In mid June to the prime of the Summer quite near
The weather is quite wet for the time of the year
In this the twenty first century in a time of Climate Change
The weather Worldwide it is acting quite strange
The big rivers in flood flowing to the Atlantic Shore
In Ireland a Land of heavy rainfall more rain than ever before
Where the shy male pheasant amongst the rank rushes does crow
Above old Duhallow the winds of rain blow.

You Can Have The Fame

I do not wish to die without a penny to my name
For i could not live without money and i can do without fame
I would like to grow old as a wealthy old man
And in financial comfort live out my time span

You would have heard of the story of the octogenarian billionaire
His lover a young beauty in her twenties with wavy golden hair
She feigns the affection for him she does show
But that she does not love him he is not to know

Without money he'd just be another old man
With very few friends near the end of his life's span
Not one with a beautiful young lover who has just turned twenty three
For to kiss and to cuddle and to sit on his knee

You can have the fame that's of no use to me
I just wish for enough of money for to live comfortably
Though every day 'tis looking me in the face
Poverty is a thing i could never embrace.

Some Way To Go

The Land of the black and of the white cockatoo
And of wombat, koala and emu and roo
And of the World's oldest Indigenous Race
Australia as a Country ought to take pride of place

But due to Australia's Government and Opposition's for political gain treatment of refugees
Poor Stateless people from war torn Lands overseas
With Countries with good human rights laws Australia does not rate
On such matters Aussies cannot celebrate

'Tis true that in human rights Australia as a Country is better than most
But that in itself is hardly worth a boast
For many Countries have appalling human rights records and it is sad to say
That discrimination is rife in the Human World of today

Though with what i say here many may not agree
A loss of human rights to one is to all that's how it seems to me
Australia as a wealthy Country in human rights should be leading the way
But respect to human rights laws the Government never fully pay

By incarcerating asylum seekers the Government and Opposition them politicize
People seeking asylum a good Government would not demonize
That compared to most Australia has good human rights laws well may be so
But as a World Leader on such matters it has some way to go.

We Reap What We Sow

For our sins against others some price we must pay
If not to the law then to Karma one day
What goes around comes around remains ever true
We warrant in life the Karma we are due
On how we live our lives we do have some say
Some to help out others go out of their way
Always quite willing for to help one of help in need
For future good Karma they plant the good seed
Whilst those who at the expense of others do gain
Will reap what they deserve a future of pain
For Karma to everybody does apply
That i believe in it's existence why should i deny
Yes in life we reap what we sow that's how it seems to me
Though with my thinking on this many may not agree.

'Tis True Enough

'Tis true enough i'm an old fashioned rhymer and i've written heaps of stuff though not that well
Nowadays my type of writing out of fashion but i too have my own stories to tell
My rhymes inspired by the lives of people and Nature's beauty that i do see around me every day
I only write for the pleasure writing brings me and not for financial gain in any way
A winter day but the sun is out and shining and the sparrows chirping on the garden trees
For the southern June the weather rather typical the slight chill of Winter in the southern breeze
A magpie lark sings in the nearby parkland his pee wee song familiar for to hear
He is one of those songsters of all Seasons since he does sing every day of the year
The nectar eating red wattlebird by his voice cannot be mistaken his hoarse cackles to his identity don't leave doubt
Though from Nature every day we learn new things on her ways there is much much to learn and write about
The harsh like calls of the white long billed corella the magpie's flute melodious and clear
Birds that sing in all Seasons and all weather and at night in nesting time when Spring is near
Yes 'tis true enough i'm an old fashioned rhymer and i only write for enjoyment that is all
The sparrows chirping in the Winter sunshine on the wattle trees beside the garden wall.

Some Ageing People

In hair dyes and in face lifts due to self conceit and pride
Some ageing people behind their big egos do hide
But they cannot lengthen their lives by a day
As time on them ever keeps ticking away
To the scythe of the Reaper of lives we eventually do fall
There is a last night and last day for us all
I quote you a fact and fact never lie
As mortals we are born to life for to die
Of the existence of a life after bodily death for the soul your ideas different to mine
But you have your opinions and that suits me fine
You may have plastic surgery and with hair dye cover your gray
But the Reaper on your life will have the final say
And though to make yourself look younger huge amounts of money you pay
You will not lengthen your life by a day.

Denny Radley

Denny Radley a son of Tom and Abina he left Millstreet Town as a young man
He passed from life in Dungarvan in his sixties as one who made the most of his time span
Like his two brothers and sister a successful fellow and he was a good person overall
The Radley kindness was inherent in him and his finer qualities many to recall

Like many more he left the Town by Clara his destiny in life to live elsewhere
One who became well liked far from Duhallow in his travels in the bigger World out there
He had about him a certain charisma that he carried with him to his new homeplace
In Millstreet he will never be forgotten where his will live as a remembered face

He too must have known his sadder moments he was pre-deceased by his beloved wife
And though he knew of success in Dungarvan, Denny too knew of the ups and downs of life
He will never more be seen around Duhallow where happy memories of him will remain
It can be truly said of Denny Radley that Millstreet's  loss became Dungarvan's gain

'Tis sad to think life from him has departed that his kindly heart by death is rendered still
His last remains laid to rest in Dungarvan far from his old Hometown by Clara Hill
But his spirit it will live on in his children and though his gift of life forever from him gone
In the minds of the many he befriended good memories of him surely will live on.

'Tis True For To Live

'Tis true for to live we need money to say otherwise would be a lie
But what is success might i ask you since eventually we all do die
You may be a super rich person the billionaire everyone wants to know
But the Reaper of lives will not ignore you the scythe of death will lay you low
The breath of life born into us eventually from us will go
Our youthful and prime years do pass quickly time does become everyone's foe
Even names that we know as immortal will fade like the passing of rhyme
Only Nature will live on forever she outlives her Seasons of time
Yes Nature the visible Goddess her presence on Earth will remain
Her wildflowers will bloom in Spring and Summer in life giving sunshine and rain
And we will always have many species of birds and animals and amphibians, reptiles, insects, fishes and bees
And in the Spring white or pink blossoms will bloom on her fruit bearing trees
Yes death it is never for Nature the one true immortal lives on
And death is for all of us mortals and the past to the forever has gone.

He Is A Poor Bloke

He is a poor bloke on the poor side of the town
Down on his luck and financially down
Struggling to support a wife and three young children on low take home pay
Life is not meant to be easy it does seem this way

When he asked his boss for a raise in pay the answer was no
If you do not like the wages i pay you surely you know where to go
Unemployed workers in town are many and jobs they are few
On saying that i'm not telling you anything that is new

Working hard for low wages without any reason for cheer
At the weekend he cannot even afford the price of a beer
One who works hard to support his wife and children it would seem fair to say
That the good Karma he does sow he will reap one day

He struggles to pay his bills and to make ends meet
The hard working bloke on the very poor street
One who loves his children and who loves his wife
He battles on bravely in the battle of life.

I Tell Them From Millstreet

When people ask me where i'm from i tell them from Millstreet
Near where Cails from Kippagh and the Finnow does meet
And together to Drishane to the Blackwater flow
In the place of the rook and the silver back crow
In this far Southern Land of wattle and gum tree
A Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be
Where old Clara Hill overlooks Claramore
A long way far north of this southern shore
Where i first saw light of day and into a man i had grown
The Millstreet of my younger years i could never disown
Where mine years ago was a well known face
I might be a stranger now in my homeplace
When people ask me where i come from i say from Millstreet
Near where Cails from Kippagh and the Finnow does meet.

You Have Reason To Believe

You have reason to believe that life is unfair
As you are engulfed by the gloom of despair
Trying to support your wife and your children on bare survival welfare
Yet people like you nowadays are no longer rare
So many unemployed in your side of the town
Since the factory you worked in for business closed down
With your wife and your children you are thinking of moving to elsewhere
For to try out your luck in the big World out there
On saying that economic migrants are no longer few
I am not telling you anything that is new
Mental depression due to your financial poverty has hit you severe
For you and your wife and your children you see no future here
You love your hometown and it grieves you to contemplate
That due to economic reasons you may have to relocate.

If You Can Spot A Bush On Clara

'Tis Seasonal wintery weather the sun showers are drizzling down
Yet business is booming as usual in busy old Warrnambool Town
Far north in Duhallow in Millstreet rain clouds gather in the Summer sky
Elizabeth Murphy can see a bush on Clara she will not hang her washing out to dry.

Jim Murphy's Wife Elizabeth remembers the late Sue Dennehy's advice
If you can pick a bush off of Clara to hang out your washing a poor choice
If you can see a bush on Clara you bet your sweet life it will rain
An insight from Sue on the weather that to this day she does retain

Jim and Elizabeth no longer at West End though Drishane road from there not far
Perhaps fifteen minutes at a brisk walk or a couple of minutes by car
But she still recalls her days in the West End when her old Neighbour Sue was alive
She may be long amongst the deceased but good memories of her do survive

The Summer sky gray above Millstreet the sun behind clouds hid away
Elizabeth Murphy will not hang out her washing she can spot a bush on Clara today
Her old friend Sue Dennehy's insight on the weather her lifetime with her will remain
If you can spot a bush on Clara you bet your sweet life it will rain.

Margaret Reen

A century of years and two World Wars her life thus far has spanned
She has to be one of the oldest people in Ireland
Margaret the widow of the late Millstreet Chemist Frank Reen
Four hundred Seasons of living she has seen

At Noel C Duggan's Green Glens arena her family and friends did congregate
Her one hundreth birthday party for to celebrate
Millstreet's oldest person was in the limelight
For Margaret and her family a memorable night

A century of memories she has to recall
Not many she went to school with now living if any at all
Yes perhaps all of her childhood friends to the Reaper have gone
And she at one hundred does keep on keeping on

A good mother to her children and to Frank Reen a good wife
A woman who has lived an honorable and a long life
One can say of her she's a true evergreen
A toast to the health of the young at heart Margaret Reen

In the Green Glens Arena her friends and family did sing
Happy birthday to one who will see in next Spring
On Margaret Reen's as on all lives the clock ticks away
But her one hundred will not be her final birthday.

The Good Mum

Her love and support the good mum of them never deny
Her daughter or her son she always stands by
Though they may be found guilty of serious crime
And are in a jailhouse serving prison time

Of her criminal children the good mum does say
I will always love them till my dying day
Though they may have tainted the family's good name
She will not disown them for their acts of shame

Her love for and bond to her children is unbreakable strong
She stands by them faithfully though they have done wrong
My children are good people you will hear her say
Though behind prison gates they are locked away

 They have left themselves and their family down
And did not bring honour to their side of the town
And despite being in prison their good mum them does stand by
Of her love and support them she does not deny.

The Cold Winds Of June

The cold winds of June are blowing up from the bay
Reminds me of Winter in Ireland today
Though in the best winter day in Ireland the weather more severe
Than the very worst winter day that you have here

In the wind and the rain the magpie does sing
To his kind song comes as a natural thing
In every Season and every day of the year
Their flute like notes one is quite likely to hear

A low of two and a high of ten degrees
There is a cold chill in the wintery breeze
North in the Queensland tropics the weather is fine
Today in Mackay a high of twenty nine

After years of drought months of flooding rain
This extreme sort of weather seems hard to explain
It has to be Climate Change would you not agree?
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me.

If There's A True God

If there's a true god that god is for everybody and to any one religious grouping does not belong
And those who say that their god is the one true god are people who have clearly got it wrong
If there's a god that god is for all people their god in his ways must be very small
If he does not believe that all people are equal a true god would believe in equality for all
If there's a god that god is kind and caring that god would believe in love and not making war
He would not believe on a so called holy person blessing the troops to fight in lands afar
A true god would not tolerate human inequality or condone class distinction in any way
And a true god would not want racist or divisive people in his house of worship kneeling to him to pray
For the true god lives in the minds of all good people amongst people he does not differentiate
A true god does not live in the mind of someone who believes in the politics of hate
If there's a true god that god lives in the mind of a good atheist he would not condemn a good atheist to an afterlife of hell
A true god would love all good living people and he would wish on everybody well
If there's a true god he is good and kind and caring and he is one that you will only find
In those who love peace and in any way are not racist god lives in every decent person's mind.

Where Old Merri Flow

The cool winds of June through the coastal lands  blow
Across the flat paddocks where old Merri flow
Bereft of a babble it crawls on it's way
In and out of Lake Pertobe and to the Pacific at Lady Bay
How old is the Merri would anyone know?
'Twas old centuries before the birth of the first pale eyed crow
The river that has inspired writers to story and rhyme
Was old in the age of the Dinosaurs and the Dreamtime
In Summer on the banks of the Merri in the shade of the trees
Australia's first people danced their Corroborees
Since then many Seasons have come and have gone
But towards the Pacific old Merri crawls on
Near where pale eyed crow caws on a black wattle tree
Into Lake Pertobe en route to the sea.

The Young Man From Koroit

In search of adventure fortune and renown
Far from his homeplace in old Koroit Town
From South West Victoria in miles far away
In the Queensland tropics of sunny Mackay

In the prime of his life he's just turned twenty three
Single without ties and of worries free
Working his way around the big Country
With more traveling to do and more places to see

Often drunk with his mates in the Commercial and Mickey Bourke's Pub
When he used to barrack for Koroit's Footy Club
But youth must have it's fling as some do like to say
And in his Hometown he did not choose to stay

For him in Koroit a young woman in tears
She has not seen or not heard from him for over two years
Resigned to the fact she will not be his wife
She has to pick up the pieces of her life

From the tropical sun looking fit, healthy and brown
He finds a new girl friend in every town
The young man from Koroit near the peak of his prime
Far north of South West Victoria having a good time.

I Know I Have Lived

I know i have lived the most of my life span
It has been near four decades since i knew of youthful elan
But i want to live for as long as i can
And hopefully die without pain as a very old man
I have lived to see many Seasons come and go
But like everyone else time has become my foe
And though from living life wisdom and experience we do gain
Only the memories of what was with us does remain
Though the praises of a noble death many may sing
The great gift of life is a marvelous thing
'Tis a fact of life and facts never lie
That us humans as mortals are born to die
But i want to live for as long as i can
And die without pain as a very old man.

Behind Their False Egos

Behind their false egos they secretly do cower
The perpetrators of abuse who abuse their power
For their crimes against others unpunished some of them do die
That sometimes power comes with taint is surely not a lie
The praises of some in positions of authority you may hear many sing
But power that comes with taint is not an uncommon thing
We read of and hear about it every day
A common occurence it does seem this way
But what goes around comes around as some do say
And if the law does not bring them to book to Karma they will pay
If for their wrong doing they do not serve prison time
To Karma they must pay the price for their crime
Those who do not abuse their positions of power are good people indeed
And of more of their kind the Human World is in need.

Life's Road To Nowhere

Have you ever felt you are on life's road to nowhere
Just one more statistical figure nothing more
And life for you of late has been unpleasant
A future of prosperity and happiness for you does not seem in store

Financially you barely can make ends meet
On your low income you struggle to get by
But that millions of people than you are far worse off
Is something that you never do deny

For every winner in life there's a loser
That is how it is and that is how 'twill always be
The Human World controlled by a few super rich individuals
And millions homeless and living in poverty

So many like you on life's road to nowhere
Living life with little money and without a friend
But life's road to nowhere does not go on forever
At some point like every road it does come to an end.

On Cyber Bullying

I firmly believe cyber bullying should be classified as a crime
'Tis a practice that has been going on for some time
All cyber bullies are cowardly they go beyond rude
And their behaviour does seem far more criminal than crude
Such people lack in respect for self and others and are without a sense of pride
Some victimized by them have committed suicide
Cyber bullying a new form of human abuse
For the perpetrators of such can one find an excuse?
So many forms of bullying or so it does seem
Though all bullies share one thing in common they suffer of low self esteem
Since they do pick their targets 'twould seem fair to say
In so doing they behave in the cowardliest way
But for bullies the price it is huge for to pay
Since the Karma they sow they have to reap one day.

The Seasons To Our Lives

The Seasons to our lives do come and do go
Till the passing of time becomes everyone's foe
Six decades and four years my life thus far span
But in time it does not seem that long since i was a young man

One might say i have seen many Seasons go by
But on looking back the years how time seems to fly
It does indeed seem only like yesterday
When i was a boy in a place far away

The little lark carolling in the sunlit sky
And the sweet scent of hay in the meads of July
Though the past may be gone the good memories with me stay
Of my younger years in a place far away

In the babbling stream just after sunrise
The song of the dipper i can memorize
I feel grateful my memory time's passage defies
As to me 'tis not hard at all to visualize

I too do feel loss of energy the side affects of time's wear
A physical human frailty with all others i do share
But hopefully until i die the gift of memory with me does remain
And that i can re-live the happy memories of times gone by again.

Few Do Go Through Life

Few do go through life without making a foe
And our past does go with us to where-ever we go
You may think that you do leave your past behind
But you carry it with you it lives in your mind
So few very few are those without taint
And rarer than ever the so called living saint
But all you can do is live as good as you can
To live as a better woman or a better man
For as long as you can practice live and let live
And know how to receive as well as to give
And never harm anyone in any way
You cannot expect respect if such you do not pay
Those without a foe to say the least are few
You may say to that tell us something that's new.

In Their Own Small Ways

In their own small ways they can be very small
Some quite wealthy and famous people not good people at all
To the promotion of self they are only inclined
Suppose in every class every sort one does find
Yes in all classes there are all sorts as some like to say
As people they are small in their own small way
Some of the people the majority of the masses out there idolize
That they too have their human frailties comes as no surprise
It was not yesterday that i first became aware
That those with the gift of compassion as always are rare
When the masses out there their idols celebrate
Some big egos they also do help to create
But then suppose we look at life in our ways differently
This is how it is and it always will be.

The Fields Of My Younger Years

The fields of my younger years from me now far away
Though in fancy i do walk in them every day
Where i first grew to love Nature when i was a boy
Such wonderful memories are mine to enjoy
In June the song of the curlew in Con the Master's bog
Where i often hunted with Pudsy the dog
Old Pudsy long dead but memories of her with me remain
And in fancy she chase hares and rabbits again
The biological clock does keep ticking away
And time has left me looking older and gray
Yet in fancy i hear the soft lowing of a cow
In a far away field by the river Finnow
And in a leafy grove just west of Millstreet Town
A song thrush sings in the twilight just after sundown.