Out Of Work

Out of work with a wife and three young children to keep and big bills to pay
And in your search  for a job start another unsuccessful day
But hope  springs eternal as some like to say
And you feel that a job start for you in time  not far away

On welfare 'tis so hard  for  to make ends meet
And those out of work in the town for so few jobs compete
But those who try hardest do always succeed
And soon some boss will give you the job start you so need

Since three months ago the managers  of the factory you worked in closed their business down
Competition more fierce for the  few vacant jobs in the town
The local employers with job vacancies can pick and choose
For one to win a  job many applicants  have to lose

Out of work doing it hard with three young chldren and a wife
You are one who has  never known of an easy life
But a  job start you feel in time from you not far away
Hope does spring eternal as some like to say.

The Sun Won't Shine Today

No wind soughing in the bare trees the sky is overcast and gray
It has been raining for  many hours the sun won't shine today
Not untypical of the time of year it would seem fair to say
Reminds me of where i used to live from here long miles away
When the bracken clad Boggeragh Mountains wore their Winter hats of snow
And the cold wind from the northlands across the countryside did blow
And Finnow to the Blackwater in flood waters of brown
Flowed bank high in the bare old  fields just west of Millstreet Town
How come this rainy weather brings back memories of afar
Of places one could not drive to from here by truck, bus or motor car?
It cannot be nostalgia for i've never liked the rain
Though memories of Winters i've lived through it brings back to me again
An overcast and dreary afternoon the the winter sky is gray
It has been raining for many hours the sun won't shine today.

An Addictive Nature Artist

He is one  not into sports or a member of a community club
And he is one who is never seen down at the local pub
Of any sort of social club he has never been a part
The only thing that interests him is creating works of art
As an addictive artist his type of person rare
With most people of his age little in common he does share
Five months ago his ex lover left him she is now another's wife
Which does not seem to bother him he just says such is life
In his mid twenties a young man in his physical prime
On canvas sketching Nature's beauty he devotes his work-free time
He lives in a  rented one bedroom flat an artist on his own
Due to his wildlife paintings locally he is becoming better known
An addictive Nature artist to his work he is true
And wealth and fame at what he likes doing best may well become his due.

Due To Circumstance Of Climate

Her shoulder length curly hair as dark as charcoal her lovely eyes of brown
Her olive skin as smooth as silk the young woman from the northern town
For her the southern winter to windy, wet and cold
She went home to the tropics that's what i have been told
She went home to the tropics to her own kin and race
Her ex lover in the  bar-room has a sad look on his  face
His  offer to her of marriage she did regrettably decline
She could not live in a climate of five months of yearly warm sunshine
A hometown sort of fellow he could not live  elsewhere
And least of all the tropics too warm for him up there
Their climate needs so different with her he had to part
The sad one of the  local pub does have a lovesick heart
His story not uncommon one might say such is life
The one he love due to circumstance of climate did not become his wife.

The Eastern Yellow Robins

Once you see them and hear them singing you never get them wrong
The eastern yellow robins birds with the ticking song
Of unders mostly yellow and back and wings and head and tail blue gray
They are birds i do see often though not every day
To be quiet when hunting for food does seem their natural way
They often perch on low branch scanning the ground for tiny prey
Worms and small ground insects to them a tasty treat
Such life forms that Nature creates for them to eat
In the family of flycatchers yellow robins for them a common name
They are not shy of humans they do seem almost tame
They allow you get quite close to them before they take to flight
And more than two of them together is an uncommon sight
They sleep in sheltery bushes or leafy smaller tree
The eastern yellow robins birds i do often see.

You May Do

You may do your good deed or two every day
And to help others out you go out of your way
But always one or two who of you will say
He or she must be a fool to help one without asking for pay

Some may say what a wonderful person you are
And to meet your very equal one would need to travel far
But always one or two in words for to put you down
There are all types of people in every town

In your neighbourhood to many your's is a well loved face
And the World for you living in it a much better place
But the words of a wise person i do recall
You may well win many but you cannot win them all

That you are a good person there is not a doubt
For your acts of kindness known for miles about
But always one or two who of you will say
Only a fool will help one without asking for pay.

Django

Django is a wild young lad
In ways not unlike his dad
When he was younger years ago
Till the tick of time became his foe

The wildest of them time does tame
With Django it will be the same
For time is like a soothing balm
The wildest of them it does calm

Hard to believe the lad with strangers shy
Does make his young sister Ginger cry
When rough games with her he does play
Boys will be boys as some do say

For young boys to be noisy a natural thing
Youth suppose must have it's fling
At their play they make much noise
As is said boys will be boys

Though in him there is nothing bad
Django is a wild young lad
Restless in his youthful way
He keeps his mum busy all day.

I Can Visualize Puffing Billy

I can visualize Puffing Billy puffing up through Selby Hill
Puffing up great clouds of gray smoke and it's horn sounding shrill
In the grayness of the morning of a cold wintery day
On the high track towards Emerald and Gembrook it goes chugging on it's way
From Belgrave up to Emerald and on to Gembrook Town
For years the famed old steam train has been chugging up and down
The parents and their children their ride to Gembrook enjoy
A ride on Puffing Billy a happy memory for many a young girl and boy
Puffing Billy the old steam train that is known far and wide
For years it has been chugging through the high wooded countryside
Everytime i think of Belgrave i fancy i can hear
The horn of Puffing Billy on a morning calm and clear
Chugging it's way towards Emerald in the morning cold and gray
Clouds of gray smoke puffing upwards on a wintery June day.

I May Lack In Knowledge

I may lack in knowledge i may not be wise
But the longer i live the more i realize
That so little of Nature's ways i seem to know
Perhaps for to learn i am rather slow
Yet we never stop learning it does seem this way
And from Nature we learn something new every day
I have come to know of some birds by their chirp or song
On some things in Nature one cannot go wrong
The one who says he or she knows all about Nature seems arrogant to me
Since this is not possible would you not agree?
Yes of Nature impossible to know of everything
Though the praises of her many wonders feel happy for to sing
Even in the depths of winter great beauty for to see
The pink flowers are blooming on the camellia tree.

The Park Gates Are Locked

The park workers on a go slow for higher pay
The park gates are locked to motorized vehicles today
But with few people in the park there are more birds for to see
And Nature's Winter beauty is all around me
The magpie does flute on a bare deciduous tree
The chirp of the blackbird and crimson rosella the call of the pee wee
In a park of few people Nature's voice is profound
How lovely for to be where peace does abound
Nature's unrivalled beauty for years i have admired
And of singing her praises one never feels tired
Yet my wonder of her only seems to grow
And the more i learn of her the less of her i know i do know
The park gates are locked to motorized vehicles today
Due to the park workers dispute with the State Government about pay.

John Masefield The Man Who Wrote Stories In Rhyme

He led a life of adventure when he was in his prime
John Masefield the man who wrote stories in rhyme
At writing of long narrative poetry in a class of his own
The proof of his greatness his legend in death has grown

England's former Poet Laureate died as an old man
He lived for four score and eight in years quite a long human span
His name lives as one of great literary note
One worthy of the title of a major poet

He wrote long poems and short poems and many a rhyming play
The best of British of him one might say
The poet from Ledbury with words had a way
His marvellous rhyming verse is still popular today

Some of his short poems i learned as a primary going schoolboy
And reading his poetry i still do enjoy
In his lifetime he received many an accolade
It is true about poets they are born not made.

I Wonder Why This Should Be

For my age in material things i have little to show
And so little of life and of Nature i know
But we never stop learning as some like to say
And we learn something new about life every day
In the Human World few more important things one could name
Than money which brings with it for most some fame
Lack of it in many can be the cause of low self esteem
At least anyway that is how it does seem
Yet you may be financially well off and living at a fashionable address
But your money does not guarantee you greater happiness
Than the one who is struggling for to make ends meet
One on a low income  in a known to be poor street
I am reasonably happy but people financially poorer than me
Are far happier than i am i wonder why this should be?

Castlemaine In The Winter

On the galvanize roofs the pattering of the rain
And the breeding frogs sing in the pond and the drain
Some memories do linger with me they remain
Of a typical Winter's night in Castlemaine
In mid Victoria a cold time of year
Even cold when the days are sunny and clear
And at night when the cold wind is soughing in the trees
The weather temperature as low as zero degrees
Where life at most times can be lived at a leisurely pace
Castlemaine Town in Winter is not a busy place
In Spring, Summer and most of the Fall the cafes, pubs and shops do a good trade
In eight good trading months of the year their annual profit by them is made
Where decades ago prospecting men mined for gold
Castlemaine in the Winter  Can be wet and cold.

A Good Sort Of A Bloke

he was in primary school five decades ago
And in his early sixties time is becoming his foe
Four times a grandfather divorced by his wife
He feels happy enough in his marriage free life

It has been awhile now since his hair was dark brown
But he still works for a building company just out of town
He wakes before dawn every working day
Though single he has living expenses and bills for to pay

With his part time lover he goes on holidays for three weeks every year
To a beach town from where he lives in distance quite near
With no strings attached just a casual fling
But most of the time he just does his own thing

Interested in football every football Season saturday
Rain, hail or sunshine he watches his local team play
One never seen drunk or looking for fight
He enjoys a few beers on a saturday night

One who can spin a good yarn or laugh at a joke
And one can say of him he's a good sort of a bloke
The hair on his balding head now silver gray
He is one i see often though not every day.

The War Mother Grieves

The war mother grieves for her dead soldier son
Because of brave young men like him the battle was won
He was a true hero where war history was made
But he did not march in the victory parade

The war mother weeps at her soldier son's grave
She does feel no pride in knowing he did die brave
She did not raise him for to die in this way
She did not go to watch the the war victory parade yesterday

Though his name on the war memorial wall will be seen
She did not raise her son for to die at nineteen
Since his enlistment in the army she did not condone
For him to die on a bomb riddled street in a far off war zone

His father left her when their son was a baby boy
But all she has left now are memories to enjoy
Of the only child she gave life to taken from her so young
And not much consolation to her now that his praises are sung.

For the flag of his Nation his young life he gave
And the patriots  do hail him as one who died brave
The war it is over the victory is won
But the mother is left for to grieve for her son..

Nature's Own Beauty

Even in the depths of Winter great beauty to see
When pink flowers adorn the rhododendron tree
On all Seasons Nature has beauty to share
A beauty one might say that is beyond compare
Even in Winter in the cold wind and sleet and showers
The camellias resplendent covered in their red flowers
Such beauty that is everywhere around me
That for anyone to view is monetary free
Of such marvellous natural beauty the poets do write
Their poems for others to enjoy and read and recite
The beauty i grew to love as a young boy
Is today all around me for me to enjoy
The dark clouds of rain in the gray evening sky
But Nature's own beauty to me is nearby.

In Olinda Today

The rain falling in drizzle the sky gloomy gray
Above high wooded Olinda on a cold Winter's day
A cold breeze is soughing in the eucalypt trees
A forecast high for the day of a cold five degrees
One of the coldest parts in Winter in Australia it does seem this way
The sun will not shine in Olinda today
One of the birds one does hear every day of the year
The voice of the magpie always pleasant to hear
And a bird quite familiar in his distinctive song
The pee wee of the magpie lark one could never get wrong
In the rank grass that fringes the water filled drain
The tiny frogs sing in the drizzling rain
And feathers drenched from the rain on a branch of a tree
The kookaburra calls to proclaim territory.

I Am Not Short Of Anything

I'm not short of anything i have plenty to eat
Enough of fruit and vegetables and of bread and meat
It will not be of hunger and thirst i will die
There are millions of people far worse off than i
Though not financially well off i am healthy do not suffer of any ache or pain
I am lucky in life since good health is my gain
Who would like to live as homeless or as a refugee
Life is tough for those who are in dire poverty
The gap between the haves and the have nots grow wider by the day
In a fair Human World it would not be this way
In a fair Human World everyone would have a home to go to at night
That people are hungry and homeless is not at all right
Where very wealthy people dine i am one you won't see
But there are millions out there who are worse off than me.

I Do Love Those Old Songs And Ballads

The sound of pop and rock songs on my hearing heavy i find them to say the least shrill
I do love those very old ballads as timeless as the mountain rill
That babbles on down to the river with silver tongue that's never still
Along by the ditches and hedgerows from it's birthplace the lake by the hill
Old ballads that may live on forever they do not seem to have a use by date
That are sung in pubs and clubs Worldwide and wherever revellers congregate
To celebrate joyous occasions the old songs with joy they do sing
The sweet sound of something old loved and familiar to it has a beautiful ring
I do love those old songs and ballads on them they do not have a use by date
They are sung by people when happy when in the mood to celebrate
They have lived on through many Seasons since they were born many years gone
They have outlived the longest lived of people they just seem to keep living on
I do love those old songs and ballads i have loved them since i was a boy
They bring to life in me fond memories and hearing them a thing of joy.

A Monogamous Man

One who has never yearned for distant travel in his ways settled down
He has lived for many years in Colac he was born and raised in Camperdown
In this age of faster travel one can say a nearby Town
It has been many Seasons since his hair was dark brown

For four decades married to his childhood sweetheart with grandchildren in their life
In her he has a soulmate to him a devoted wife
Now on a retirement pension together they grow old
A kind and generous fellow his life story ought be told

For monogamous males as has been said as now as always rare
So many are polygamous their sexual favours they like to share
Amongst others as monogamous many males do not stay
Polygamy to some males does seem their natural way

In South Western Victoria he has llived all of his life
His one and only partner till death them part is his wife
Quite a likeable person he has a sense of place
Around the Town of Colac his is a known and loved face.

In Fancy I Can Hear

In fancy i can hear the dark pale eyed crow
Cawing on a gum tree near where Wannon waters flow
Through the fl;at brown p[addocks from here far away
It babbles on seawards by night and by day
To be an old waterway not it's only claim to fame
Long before the Wannon was given it's name
Near to the brown banks in the shade of the trees
Australia's first people had their corroborees
The old river that has inspired story and rhyme
Was old very old even in the Dreamtime
It has babbled forever and will forever more
On it's way to saltwater at the Pacific shore
In fancy i can hear the dark pale eyed crow
Cawing on a gum tree near where the brown Wannon flow.

Her Dad

She told me her dad was a very good poet
That he was a wordsmith well worthy of note
She read two of his poems to me he was one who did write well
He surely was not a man of doggerel

She said writing poetry is a 'hungry belly game'
For my dad in it there was no wealth or fame
A talented wordsmith but a stranger to renown
One not even famous in his side of the town

Her father was one who never made a foe
He passed quietly from life a few decades ago
My mum she outlived him by just a few years
As she spoke of her parents she seemed close to tears

She said my dad worked hard for his every pay
And some of his poems are recited today
A good dad to me and a good husband to my mum his wife
In him she did find the great love of her life.

Though Losing Is A Thing

Though losing is a thing anyone would not choose
For one for to win someone else has to lose
Such is life or words to that effect as some like to say
There must be winners and losers since life is this way
The winners of Olympic silver and bronze medals their stories will be told
But they are not as famous as the one who wins gold
The joy on the faces of the winning team does say it all
The same in life as it is in football
There is not much to laugh about for a refugee
The losers in life know of dire poverty
Amongst human beings so much inequality
In a fair Human World this never would be
There are winners and losers in the race for fame
And in all things in the Human World it is the same.

The Australian Magpies

At breeding time they sing at night and every day of the year
The song of the Australian magpies so pleasant to hear
On a calm night in August when Spring it is near
Their beautiful flute like notes sound melodious and clear
They are piping shrikes who look like common magpies so as magpies are known
But their beautiful flute like song has a charm of it's own
Black and white crow sized birds aggressive in their way
And known to everyone since they are heard and seen every day
The young girl she runs to her mother to say
Mum the magpie is piping such sweet notes he does play
The silver billed black and white birds with the beautiful song
Once seen and once heard one cannot get them wrong.

One Has To Feel For

One has to feel for those who are not feeling well
In poor health for decades living in Earthly Hell
Some with terminal illnesses some in poor health for years
Their lives full of sadness and pain and tears
Their best days in life to the forever gone
And only their love of life does will them to live on
In hope of recovering to better health though some never do
For every positive result the negatives are two
I have never known what it feels like to be a millionaire
But healthwise i am lucky never one in need of medical care
And though money speaks every language as some like to say
I would rather be healthy than finacially well off any day
One can only feel for the unhealthy and the terminally ill
The people who fight diseases that are known for to kill.

One Of The Last

His memories of what was beginning to fade
The man who fought in the battle where heroes were made
He may well have walked in his last war parade
Perhaps the last post for him soon will be played

One cannot say of him he has time on his side
As most of those who fought by his side long since have died
Old war heroes die hard as some like to say
They fight to live on and slowly fade away

In his mid nineties a wrinkled old man
As human years go his has been a long span
With tired eyes of brown and silver gray hair
In his nursing home room he sits on his wheelchair

He survived the battle where many did fall
But life's journey's end it does come to us all
Most of those who fought by his side would have gone to an early grave
He is one of the last of the World War 2 brave.

The Past Followed Me

I am from the home of the silver back crow
Where River Finnow to the Blackwater flow
North of this great Southern Land thousands of miles by sky
Even quite far as the migratory bird does fly
The memories of the past do keep following me
In my flights of fancy i hear and i see
The male red breast robin proclaim territory
In Spring on a high branch of silver birch tree
In far fields i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy
And though my wonder of her never ceases to grow
So little about her i can claim to know
The past followed me from old fields far away
In distance far north of where i live today.

Doesn't Bother Me

Doesn't bother me that my physical prime is long gone
But what does make me happy i am living on
I feel  reasonably happy and i am mobile and life with me okay
And i try for to enjoy every waking day
It is only in memory we can go back in time
And fleeting indeed is our physical prime
On going back the decades it only seems like yesterday
When i was a young man in a place from here far away
Physically i am not the fellow i used to be
Time does not wait for anyone it did not wait for me
Though not wealthy i am healthy and life i enjoy
Even happier now than when i was a boy
And apart from my dislike of school i was happy then
Though i never grew into a man amongst men.

What's Life About

What's life about one has to wonder
In the sands of time the largest footprint seems small
The Reaper of lives will not differentiate
Between me and the cricket in the crack in the wall

Who sings at night in rainy weather
And by day hides itself from the sunshine
The Reaper will surely not differentiate
In any way between it's life and mine

For writing this you may look upon me as negative
But to my thoughts i try to stay true
Our achievements in the end come to nothing
Since death only does become our due

Some people are over conceited
They somehow cannot seem to realize
That just like the old sheep in the paddock
For them there too will be a last sunrise

What's life about one has to wonder
Since all of us born for to die
The cricket who sings at night in rainy weather
Is no less a mortal than i.

A Stranger I Would Be

It has been awhile now since my hair was dark brown
Since i worked in the old fields west of Millstreet Town
The blackbird piped his territorial tune
In the early Summer in the prime of June
South of my first homeplace many sky miles away
The years have left me looking older and gray
And only the memories with me now remain
Of faces and places i may not see again
To be famed and materially wealthy has not been my due
But the now is all that matters does remain ever true
The past it has gone and the future ahead
And time is ticking on one is forever dead
The fields of my youth fade in my memory
And to many in Claraghatlea now a stranger i would be.

A Joy For To Meet

So charming and beautiful in her own way
I used to see her often though not very day
Out walking on the park pathway or on the street
She was one of those quite a joy for to meet

Many times a grandmother her husband long dead
She had a good innings of her it could be said
Well into her seventies her physical best gone
But she was one who would have loved to live on

Her life's journey for her ended suddenly
As she crossed the street the sun in her eyes the truck she failed to see
The driver slammed hard on the brakes but he had seen her far too late
Death for her instantaneous but her's was an awful fate

Her shoulder length wavy gray hair her lovely eyes of brown
One who will be missed by everyone in her side of the town
In the local cemetery her last remains lay
And that only memories of her remain does seem sad to say.

The One Who Loses With Grace

To lose without grace even seems a bigger sin
Than being arrogant and boastful when you do win
If you cannot lose with grace you cannot win with humility
At least anyway that's how it seems to me
The way we behave is for us for to choose
But it takes one of courage and humility with grace for to lose
The one who does lose with a smile on his face
And shake the hand of the winner and him or her embrace
Is one who by good example does lead the way
And who will win with honor and grace and humility one day
The praises of the winner the majority may sing
Which after all does seem a natural thing
But the arrogant winner with a smirk on his or her face
Is far less of a person than the one who loses with grace.

Australia By Name

Such beauty around me every day i do see
This Land of the south is home from home to me
The song of the magpie so pleasant to hear
The bird who does sing every day of the year
The home of the wallaby, wombat, the emu and roo
The corellas, lories, rosellas, lyrebird and white cockatoo
And a bird seldom seen in a cage or a zoo
The big dark brown parrot known as the weerloo
Koalas, monoterenes and megapodes creatures you will not see elsewhere
In your many travels in the big World out there
In this amazing Southern Land home of wattle, pittosporum and eucalypt tree
In the far south of the World that is now home to me
To be different from all others it's great claim to fame
Australia by Nature and Australia by name.

No Need For You To Tell Him

No need for you to tell him life can be unfair
Since for years he's been fighting his black moods of despair
For many years his moods have been up and down
One of the saddest of people in his side of the town
Often on the brink of suicide when all hope from his life seemed gone
But a tiny voice in him urged him to live on
The woman he loved did not become his wife
With one mentally ill she did not wish to spend her life
Single in his fifty fifth year and old age of him ahead
Sometimes he does feel he'd be better off dead
For years he has struggled with his inner strife
But the tiny voice always persuades him to cling on to life
Compared to one like him your troubles seem small
In fact hardly worth talking of at all.

Yes Money Does Speak Every Language

He covers his baldness in a brown wig the sugar daddy with the big nose
But his fifth wife she is young and pretty one might say she blooms like a rose
A twenty five years old beauty with shoulder length wavy ginger hair
The only reason she is with him is he is a multi millionaire
He is six times a great grandfather one of the wealthiest men of the town
But it has been a while near four decades since his hair was natural brown
It is true money speaks every language he may be a seventy five year old man
But for him she jilted her twenty six year old lover a handsome chap full of youthful elan
He was just a working class fellow though strong and virile in his prime
He is one who does not have much money and he could not buy her a good time
The old bloke lured her with his money he soon will be a thirteen time dad
He has fathered children with all of his ex wives in doing so he has not done bad
Yes money does speak every language the sugar daddy with the big nose
Is married to a ginger haired young beauty  such is life one has to suppose

Environmental Vandalism

To lovers of Nature demeaning and a put down
Grand old cypress trees neeedlessly felled in the park of the town
Environmental vandalism for want of a better name
Whoever authorized this must not have a sense of shame
Of the destruction brought about by Council Bureaucracies the point i do miss
No houses to be built in the park so what reason for this?
Of the people who authorized this good i do not have to say
They have destroyed such beauty in a horrible way
Those cypress a place for small birds to shelter in and rest
And in Spring hidden from predators build a hidden nest
The trees they nested and sheltered in from them taken away
Many homeless small birds in the Parkland today
Nothing but environmental vandalism this does seem to me
The small birds of the park to nest in now do not have a safe tree.

Jack Lane

Far from Aubane near Millstreet In Duhallow his first home countryside
Jack Lane is a fellow who is known far and wide
As a historian, writer, editor and publisher he is one famed and known
In Aubane they are proud to claim Jack as their own

That Jack Lane is a North Cork literary icon there is not any doubt
The lives of the great writers of Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra he has written about
One who knows so much of the history of literary lore
Of his kind the World is in need of far more

With his talents great joy to so many he does bring
Of the praises of Jack i feel obliged to sing
The communities of Sliabh Luachra and Duhallow so much to him owe
For his recording of their history from ages ago

In Aubane Valley in view of Mushera his life's journey began
There he went to primary school and grew into a man
Before the lust for wander took him to elsewhere
For to learn about life in the big World out there

A recorder of the history of a long by gone day
That his kind are a dying breed does seem sad to say
As a historian, publisher and writer his legend has grown
And it's thanks to him Aubane is now widely known.

On Brush Tail Possums

Most wildborn creatures when they see humans disappear from sight
But in the backyard i put out slices of apples for possums every night
They try to climb up my pants as if i were an apple tree
As a source of food they only see me
Quite big brush tail possums as big as a cat
They thrive well on apples they look sleek and fat
They fight amongst each other but me they ignore
Perhaps to them i'm a mobile apple tree that and nothing more
On the galvanize roof i hear the males fighting at night
The strongest male rules the territory as well as the right
To mate with the females his genes to pass on
His d n a lives when the life from him gone
Most wildborn creatures do run or fly off when humans to them come near
But the brush tail possums in the backyard of me hold no fear.

The Knockabout Fellow

Variety and adventure in his life to him are not new
And of nights of sexual passion he has had more than a few
So many young women have come to and gone from his life
But yet to be a father or to have a wife

A tall handsome brown haired bloke in his physical prime
For love and for marriage for him plenty of time
When near drunk in the pub he is happy to sing
The knockabout fellow who does his own thing

He has worked on building sites and he has shorn sheep
And laid sewerage and water pipes where the trenches are deep
As a shirker of hard work he will never be known
He has worked with the best of men and held his own

A bit rough around the edges of him one might say
But he is a nice person in his own charming way
Quite generous with his hard earned money he knows how to spend
He is one who will never be short of a friend

A down to earth fellow who works hard for his every pay
To help one out he would go out of his way
When near drunk in the pub he is happy to sing
The likeable fellow who does his own thing.

They Seem Very Different

The weather doesn't seem to bother him be it wet, windy, cold or fine
He jogs for six miles every day come rain, hail or sunshine
A tall thin man athletic looking his balding hair silver gray
Fitness is his addiction or it does seem this way
A grandfather in his seventies of him 'twould be fair to say
That physically like all of his age he has known a better day
Whilst he is out exercising his wife sits at home watching t v
Our different ways make us more interesting that's how it seems to me
If we all behaved in the same way how boring we would be
His wife though one much overweight looks and seems much more happier than he
Is or at least that is how she does seem anyway
She goes for short walks but never jogs for miles every day
For fifty years together they have lived as man and wife
But they seem very different in their different ways of life.

I Will Not Cast The Stone

His bad behaviour of late one could never condone
But leave it to the one without sin for to cast the stone
His crime not a bad one not that bad at all
He is for the court for his involvement in a pub brawl
One of his friends in the pub was assaulted by two blokes and was knocked to the floor
And he joined in the action for to even the score
The publican rang the police who arrested the brawling men
And locked them up for the night in the barrack's pen
Since his police record is clean and brawling  not a serious crime
He may well escape a prison sentence this time
By sticking up for his friend the law he did break
But most people in life do make some mistake
Bar brawling is a thing one cannot condone
But i am not without sin so i will not cast the stone.

The Traveler

He is from the big and quiet country where the wild dingoes cry
At night when the moon shines in the starry sky
The home of the short billed corella, wallaby. wombat and roo
And emu, budgerigar, cockatiel and sulphur crested cockatoo

His life's journey began in the brown countryside
Of big paddocks for miles around flat and wide
Where the weather temperatures in Summer often soar to forty degrees
In the sparsely sheltered landscape of very few trees

The eldest of two his brother on the farm with mum and dad did stay
Whilst he followed his life's destiny to big Cities far away
To Delhi and Tokyo, London, Paris and Rome
And New York and Rio far distant from home

In his late twenties one without a constant partner or children he's never had a wife
But he has had and will always have many women in his life
He has left a few in tears when from them he moved on
But he has no regrets for what has been and gone

He stopped off at the pub as he was driving by
A tall handsome brown haired fellow for a few beers he was feeling dry
I chatted with him for an hour maybe more
Of his life of adventure and travels on many a foreign shore.

I Am Just One Of Those

I am just one of those who seems tied to the past
But even the best memories of what was in me fading fast
Just like an old tractor parts fading in me
My mind it is not what it used to be

Fond memories i cherished are fading to decay
Of faces and places from here far away
Where many did see me as one of their own
To most there nowadays i would not be known

Fading memories of beauty in long gone Springs seen
When bluebells were blooming on ditch of bohreen
When cattle on lush grass were gaining weight by the day
And the hawthorns were in their white blooms of the May

And healthy looking and green after recent showers
The old fields resplendent in their Nature's flowers
The fast fading memories are all i retain
Of places i loved that i may not see again

Where i used to daydream i would be a poet
One seen to be worthy of literary note
But daydreams for most people never come true
And what we receive from life perhaps our due.

No Different To Us

No different to us humans in many a way
Other life forms are being born and dying every day
Some of them die at our hands some of them natural predators kill
And some of them die young after falling ill

Some of them like us die of disease and some of them live to die old
But unlike us their life stories may never be told
And though we see them as inferior to us we too are born to die
And are they any different to you or to i

We are born into life this Planet with other life forms for to share
But due to our destruction of their habitat many life forms because of us rare
For the extinction of many species our kind is to blame
We cannot feel proud of what is to our shame

When we believe we are superior to them we believe in a lie
To them we are no different since we are born to die
Between our lives and their lives the one who does not differentiate
The Reaper of lives does not discriminate.

Low Self Esteem

In my lifetime of my inhibitions i may never be free
My number one enemy surely is me
My barrier to any success in my life is of my low self esteem
One can be their own number one enemy it does seem
Of myself i never have kind things to say
Perhaps i was born for to be this way
There are many like me who too does leave self down
In every village and city and town
Perhaps i was born to be negative of self this well may be so
And those negative towards self become their own greatest foe
From those into self promotion praise of self we may hear
But despite their big egos it does appear
That many of them are successful and what does this say
That many see them in a positive way.

The Local Poet Laureate

Softly spoken and humble in her own quiet way
The local poet laureate with words likes to play
Her metre is perfect her rhyme in the right place
One might say of her she is one of a rare race
Of wordsmiths since good rhyming poets now seem few
Though to this you might say tell us something that is new
As well as writing of people and life she's a fine Nature poet
A woman well worthy of literary note
Married in her mid forties with an adult son and daughter through her brown hair some gray
The number one poet in the region today
In the past year her fans in numbers have grown
As a very fine poet she is now widely known
She writes just for the love of it not wealth and renown
The number one poet of the cultural town.

I Hear Connie Tarrant Is Off Of The Beer

The fellow who did love the pub atmosphere
I hear Connie Tarrant is off of the beer
Which should make Noreen his devoted wife
Happy to see her man without grog in his life

Since from Millstreet in Duhallow i do live far away
If this be rumor or not is not for me to say
I find it hard to imagine him off of the grog
The fellow who lives on the road to the bog

One that i did know in Seasons long gone
A likeable fellow the character Con
Without grog in his young life he'd have been great at football
But enjoyment to him seemed to come before all

If he is off of the grog he is a healthier man
And he will enjoy a far longer life span
For of alcohol he consumed quite a big share
His evenings in his prime years without grog were rare

That he is off of the beer i am happy to hear
Connie Tarrant one i have not seen for many a year
He drunk and felt merry and never made a foe
When he was a younger man Seasons ago.

That Is All I Can Be

I've penned rhymes of Mt Rouse and old Penshurst Town
And Warrnambool City a place of renown
Dunkeld, Halls Gap and Hamilton, Hawkesdale and Kirkstall
And dances in Crossley and Illowa Hall
I've penned rhymes of Koroit and Killarney and Port Fairy by the sea
And Tower Hill a place with an old history
But in South West Victoria i am not well known
Where none refer to me as one of their own
The accent i was born into is with me to stay
Some say to me you are from a Land far away
But my heritage to them i never deny
My first homeplace from here is far north by sky
I feel happy to live in this marvellous Country
Yet i am what i am that is all i can be.

Men Have Not Learned

Men have not learned from war history war today is waged Worldwide
For God and Flag and Country far too many people have died
Far too many wars already waged in the twenty first century
A Human World that's free of conflict i may never live to see
Civilians are dying in war zones in shootings and bombings every day
That the innocents must suffer seem a sad thing for to say
They do not lead their troops in battle those who do declare the war
From the war zones they created they are living safe and far
To the winners and the losers war does come at a huge cost
How can there be a winner if so many human lives are lost
War gives rise to death and suffering and creates many a refugee
It does never lead to friendship and peace and harmony
Men do never seem to learn from wars in decades gone
The flower of peace will never bloom when old hatreds do live on.

Henry Lawson's World Was Wide

He wrote the stories, poems and ballads of Australia's bush and countryside
And his World was not a small one Henry Lawson's World was wide
With the bigger World out there his rare talents he did share
But Henry Lawson died a pauper doesn't life seem so unfair

Henry Lawson is quite famous though deceased for many years
For he wrote the poems and stories that were born of sweat and tears
His talented mother Louisa too knew of literary fame
Like her partially hearing impaired son Henry her's lives as a great literary name

In the goldfields of Grenfell in New South Wales Henry first saw the light of day
His father left the family when he was young with Louisa he did not stay
But she as a good mother performed at her best
And was not found to be wanting when she was put to the test

Henry Lawson was addictive alcohol was his downfall
But he was a generous fellow and his World was not small
People today read the poems and stories and the songs and ballads sung
Of the man who lived his writings in the days when he was young

Henry Lawson wrote the poems and stories of the outback way of life
Of the shearer and the drover and the and the farmer and his wife
The man who lived his writings greatness of him cannot be denied
And his World was not a small one Henry Lawson's World was wide.

I Have Outgrown Nostalgia

I have outgrown nostalgia for my first homeplace from here far away
For Claraghatlea in view of Clara where i lived for many a day
For Millstreet and Millstreet Town where i was well known
Many there nowadays would not see me as one of their own

It has been almost twenty six years since i've seen Clara Hill
And heard the dipper sing in the babbling rill
That flows from the high fields of green Claramore
To the waterways bound for the Atlantic Shore

A migrant in this Land to most i would be
And absence would have made a stranger of me
To many in that old green countryside by Millstreet Town
Where i had my young daydreams of literary renown

But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And 'tis said we receive from life what is only our due
Perhaps in this great southern Country my last remains will lay
Far south of where i first looked on the bright lamp of day.

The One Who Caused Death And Suffering

Since a wise one said any person is not born to be bad
Oliver Cromwell one of the first war criminals would have had to be mad
To do what he did in Ireland where death and great suffering he did create
Against the poor of that Country his army carried out thousands of unprovoked crimes of hate

If there is a life after death with angels he surely does not dwell
And if there is re-incarnation he has lived many lives of Earthly Hell
Thousands of poor people by his soldiers evicted and many of them died
In Winter on the roadways to Connach in the Irish countryside

In Cities in Australia street signs today in honor of the name
Of Oliver Cromwell who in reality did die in shame
The one who caused death and suffering and so much misery
But the winners write the war history that's how it seems to be

And war history has a habit of repeating otself it does seem this way
And many crimes against humanity since Cromwell's day
The war winners for their crimes against humanity are never made to pay
The winners write the war history as some like to say.

I Am Only

I am only one person with one point of view
Just an average rhymer and my readers are few
Though i do enjoy rhyming and the rhymes i do write
I email them off to an internet site

Anybody can rhyme as some do like to say
And new things for me to rhyme of every day
My rhymes like wild rabbits seem to multiply
And to improve as a rhymer my best i do try

For a rhymer so many things for me to write rhymes about
From the great ocean whales to the shy river trout
My rhymes through the Seasons in numbers have grown
But i remain poor and an almost unknown

I write rhymes on people and conflicts and strife
And i write rhymes on Nature and natural life
The words that come to me on notebook paper i pen down
Though i remain as poor and a stranger to renown

My best days in life to the forever gone
But the rhymes keep coming to me and i keep rhyming on
I must be addictive of that i won't lie
But i hope to be rhyming till the day i do die.

Jill The Dancer

She wears heavy makeup and she dyes her hair brown
But Jill she is still the best dancer in town
She never gave birth or never was any man's wife
And dancing it is the great love of her life
For one in her early seventies so light on her feet
So pretty and charming and nice for to meet
By the nickname of Jill The Dancer she is widely known
At dancing she is in a class of her own
On saturday evening at the R S L Club Rooms for three hours or more
She is jiving and dancing around the dance floor
She outdances young people in their life's prime
The woman who refuses to bow to time
Her physical best to the forever gone
But that does not bother her Jill dances on.

So Little

So little for my years i have for to show
And little in knowledge i can claim to know
But Nature is my teacher and of her i can say
That from her i learn something new every day
For her lessons Nature does not charge a fee
To learn from her it is monetary free
Her wonders are many and her secrets not few
And every day from her i learn something new
And though we never stop learning as most would agree
So many of Nature's ways know far more than me
And though money is seen as most important as most are aware
There is far more to life than being a billionaire
As a teacher of life there is none as great as she
At least anyway that's how it seems to me.

So Why Do You Worry

You have never harmed anyone in any way
So why do you worry of what others of you do say
Suppose the need in us to be admired is a human thing
We like it when others our praises do sing
When nice things of us are said a boost to our self esteem
Our need to be loved in our nature 'twould seem
You may be one of the nicest people in the town
But always a few to verbally put you down
Show some a flowering garden they only see decay
They are born to see life in a negative way
Some people in their ways are so very small
To them there is no such a thing as a fair go for all
By your reaction to their negativity a weakness in you they do find
Best to ignore the comments of the negative kind.

Money Is Quite Important

Money is quite important why otherwise pretend
For if you are short of it you do need a good friend
One who has plenty of it on you for to spend
For a poor one such a person in his or her life is indeed a god send
That money does speak every language only happens to be true
If you are short of it few wish to know of you
None wish to know of the pauper everyone wishes to know of the billionaire
You may say to that everyone of that is aware
Where people sleep rough in the cold and the sleet
There are no lavish parties on Poverty Street
In a Human World where the gap between the haves and the have nots keeps on growing ever wide
The true worth of money cannot be denied
And that more people are becoming homeless and hungrier and poorer by the day
Without money one does seem lost does this seem fair to say.

Mary From Macroom

The wildflowers of Nature are now in full bloom
In the fields of mid Cork by the Town of Macroom
Where old Sullane River with a babble in it's flow
Moves through the lush green fields by ditch and hedgerow

Though from her first homeplace in Macroom Mary lives far away
I do not feel homesick she is known to say
My love for Warrnambool seems to grow every day
And in coastal South West Victoria i will grow old and gray

With twin two year old daughters one who does love life
To a good Aussie fellow she is a good wife
In her early twenties with blue eyes and hair of dark brown
When she lived in Macroom she was Rose of the Town

In Lake Pertobe Park playground every saturday and sunday
She and her husband watch their children at play
Far south of her first homeplace near the Town of Macroom
Where the wildflowers of Nature are now in full bloom.

Anne Duggan

The youngest of the family of Cornelius and Catherine Duggan a woman who was compassionate and kind
Who was known for her generosity of spirit and brilliance of mind
From her Hometown of Millstreet Anne Duggan lives far away
She became a nun in the U S of A

One in her late sixties or early seventies with a great life story to tell
At poetry and stories one who writes rather well
Amongst the literary legends of Duhallow Anne can claim her place
Though to many living there nowadays her's may not be a known face

In the Millstreet of my younger years not a leading light
But i always did know her to be intelligent and bright
Anne Duggan one who has matured like good wine
From above average to genius she has crossed that line

If there is such a thing as re-incarnation which seems possible to me
Edward Walsh re-born she even may be
Duhallow's legendary poet in a now long gone day
I only say of her what does seem fair to say

I knew her to be charming and a pleasure to meet
Amongst Duhallow's literary exports the best of Millstreet
Her best days are coming her best days not gone
Good on you Anne Duggan keep on writing on.

A Rhyming Buff

My worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
But never shortage of things for me to rhyme about
I write rhymes of Nature and of people and life
The wandering fellow and the long suffering wife
I am not a poet of that i am aware
But having said that poets now as always were are rare
Such people of true literary talent born that way not made
Still everyone needed in the wordsmith trade
By Nature to rhyme i've been often inspired
And of singing her praises i could never feel tired
I have loved her since i was a very young boy
And writing rhymes to her a thing i enjoy
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
I am one of those blokes who has penned reams of stuff,

My Past Follows On

It remains in the mental pictures in my memory
Wherever i go to my past goes with me
When i visualize familiar faces i see
I picture them now as they used to be

I may live far south of Hibernia's Shore
And even further from the high fields of Claramore
But mental pictures of what was in my mind does stay
And in fancy i see old Clara  every day

And Claraghatlea my birthplace where my first rhymes i wrote
Where i used to daydream that i would be a poet
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And we receive from life what is only our due

My mental pictures of the past have not changed in time
In them my friends of my younger years still in their prime
Though in reality from them i live far away
And even some of them where the deceased are now lay

My best days in life to the forever gone
But wherever i go to my past follows on
It has followed me from the green fields far away
Old memories die hard as some are known to say.

On John Shaw Neilson

John Shaw Neilson was a marvellous poet his poems to many a source of joy and pleasure
Yet he did not have an easy life he was not a man of leisure
For one who worked hard in laborious jobs not college educated
Such beautiful and well written poems by him were created
John Shaw Neilson never had children or a wife till death he remained poor and single
And amongst the literary highbrows of his time he was not known to mingle
In his time he was not seen as great one highly under-rated
Though now seen as a major poet such beautiful poems he created
He lived most of his life in the Towns of Penola and Nhill though in Melbourne his life's journey ended
With most others little in common he did share and by few he was befriended
But by all accounts quite a nice man one gentle, kind and caring
One who believed the gifts we are born with are given to us for sharing
John Shaw Neilson was a major poet his poems today enjoyed by many
In the history of Australian literature he is as good as any.

Bragging Billy

He loves himself a bit too much his ego over-inflated
It seems obvious by self alone he is only celebrated
His mates down at the local pub they praise him with a snigger
At their over patronizing words his ego does grow bigger
A twenty six year old father of two his wife she did re-marry
She is pregnant expecting her third child with her new husband Harry
He does not have a woman in his life most women find him over-bearing
He is too busy thinking and talking of self  for feelings of love and sharing
His three favourite subjects are me, myself and i and little else to him does matter
And whilst thinking and talking of himself his ego does grow fatter
He does take self love much too far right to the point of silly
His nickname seems to suit him well he is known as 'Bragging Billy'
On thinking and talking of self so much effort by him invested
In praise of me, myself and i he only seems interested.

Tom Goggin The Singer

One who has witnessed the birth of many a Spring
Tom Goggin the singer one who surely can sing
His rendering of 'Two Sweethearts' on tape quite delightful to hear
So beautifully rendered melodious and clear
Physically he may have seen a far better day
But that he is a fine singer would seem fair to say
Tom Goggin he does have a rare gift indeed
At singing well without musical backing few could hope to succeed
But to him it does seem to come so naturally
A rare talent for to have would you not agree
Amongst those who love solo singing his talents he does share
The best of Kilcorney his kind nowadays rare
His sweet singing voice has matured like good wine
Go sing it again Tom you do it so fine.

Eventually

Some die as babies and some die in their prime
And some do live on for a good span of time
But eventually everyone does have to die
And everyone of course includes you and i
And everyone includes the multi billionaire
The Reaper of lives his or her life won't spare
The president and the monarch those of wealth, power and fame
Their lives to the Reaper as the lives of the poor are the same
You may be one the masses do celebrate
But like the food that you eat on you a use by date
As the flowers of the fields and the leaves of the Fall
Eventually time does take care of us all
The only difference between the dog, cat and i
Is that they do not realize they will eventually die.

Elizabeth Duggan

As a teenager quite beautiful she had dark brown hair
In Millstreet's West End than Elizabeth there was none quite so fair
But from the Millstreet Town of her young years she died far away
None of her siblings are living in Millstreet today
A credit to her family and the Town of Millstreet
One always quite friendly and pleasant to meet
With those who knew her good memories of her will remain
Elizabeth Duggan's loss to Millstreet became Oxford's gain
In Millstreet Town in Duhallow her life's journey began
And she died in her mid to late sixties her's in time not a long span
She left those who knew her with fond memories of her to recall
But our last night and day is awaiting us all
Hope her parting from life was a painless release
From any care or worry she now is at peace.

On Magpie Geese

On the wetlands covered in water from the recent heavy rain
The magpie geese amongst other water birds back in Tower Hill again
By sky they do travel for many miles from places far and wide
To the wetlands in the coastal countryside
In coastal South West Victoria when the landscape is green
On shallow lakes and wetlands birds that are  sometimes seen
With swans, swamphens, moorhens, coots, grebes and ducks the wetlands they do share
Though in South Western Victoria they are known to be rare
Black and white birds with half webbed feet, pink legs and bill and knob on head
There are huge flocks of them up north in Kakadu it is said
Of human kind magpie geese seem rather shy
The nearest i've got to them is thirty metres before they did fly
Birds of the wetlands and shallow lake
A resonant honking the only sound they do make.

My Wonder Of Nature

My wonder of Nature only seems to grow
The more i learn of her ways so little i know of her i know
Yet of her we learn something new every day
We never stop learning as some like to say
Through familiarity with birds i have come to realize
That even by chirp or song them we can recognize
The magpie who sings every day of the year
You know him by voice when him you do hear
Familiar to many and familiar to me
The voice of the magpie lark known to some as pee wee
And who could mistake the call of the pied currawong
A bird from once heard you could never get wrong
And yet of Nature my wonder only seems to grow
So little about her i can claim to know.

In Mountleader Today

In view of old Clara from here far away
The nesting birds sing in Mountleader today
The hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
To describe such beauty are there words for to say
On grass lush and green from the recent Spring rain
The cattle grow fatter and weight they do gain
Nature's beautiful flowers in abundance to be seen
And bluebells in bloom on the ditch of the bohreen
In pursuit of flying insects across the gray sky
The dark barn swallows do chirp as they fly
The house sparrows familiar in their brown and gray
Carry small feathers to barn rafters to line their nests of hay
And Summer quite near on the last week of May
Where the nesting birds sing in Mountleader today.

Life Can Be Heartbreaking

Life can be heartbreaking would you not agree
He studied and worked hard for his science degree
Graduated with honors a great career of him seemed ahead
But now he lay lifeless in the place of the dead

One of the brightest young people on his side of the town
On a pedestrian crossing he was struck and knocked down
By the driver of a stolen car in a case of hit and run
He died on the street in the mid morning sun

Of how long we live there is no guarantee
On July the eight he would turn twenty three
Grieved by his friends and family and the woman who was to be his wife
Suppose he was not meant for to live a long life

A handsome young man with a brilliant mind
He was a good person known to be caring and kind
At his funeral elegy his praises were sung
In his case it is true the good do die young

A life tragically cut short that does seem sad to say
Suppose it was destined he should die in this way
Since we are after all born to mortality
And the way that we die is part of our life's destiny.

A Rhymer I'll Be

For many years i have been a rhyming buff
The rhymes i do pen are referred to as stuff
My best days in life to the forever gone
But i do love rhyming and i will rhyme on
I never refer to myself as a poet
As such a title belong to those worthy of literary note
To rhyme it is easy as easy can be
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me
In a long gone Spring when dipper sung in the stream
Of literary glory i used to daydream
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And we receive from life what is only our due
A rhymer i'll be till the day i will die
If i did tell you different that would be a lie.

The Men Who Played For K R R

The men who for Killarney Road Rovers did play
From Neily Duggan's Inch Field some of them live far away
Whilst some of them in and near Millstreet did stay
And a few of them deceased which does seem sad to say

But as is often said few things seem to last
The Killarney Road Rovers a Football Club are a Football Club of the past
They will never play in the Inch Field again
And only the memories of them now remain

The men who lined out for K R R now showing their years in gray
One might say they have known a far better day
They enjoyed their prime years and their games of football
And of the past they have happy memories to recall

The men who played for K R R many years past their prime
They too have been slowed by the passing of time
On sundays against Cork and Kerry Clubs their fans watched them compete
In the field known as The Inch near the Town of Millstreet.

I Know That

Why tell me about it when i already know
That a pheasant never will mate with a crow
Some things are not possible though you disagree
At least anyway that's how it seems to me

I'm a negative fellow some of me do say
But we all look at life in a different way
The difference in us is not hard to see
If we all agreed on all things how boring we'd be

I know that lemons do not grow on a mango tree
What is possible to you does not seem so to me
We all look at things in our ways differently
Suppose this is part of our individuality

I know that a camel with a horse cannot mate
Though strange life forms in laboratories scientists do create
But what is not possible to me does seem so to you
We all are so different seems to be true.

Noel C Duggan Did Dream

Noel C Duggan the entrepreneur of Millstreet Town
The fellow who did dream of Worldwide renown
Did dream that the 1993 Eurovision Song Contest at his Green Glens Complex would take place
No challenge for him seems too daunting to face

Noel C Duggan did dream and his dream did come true
The man is a genius to give him his due
He brought The Eurovision Song Contest to the Town of Millstreet
At his Green Glens Arena for glory Europe's best did compete

On t v the scenic and green Duhallow countryside
Received widespread exposure when seen Worldwide
Something that will live on in entertainment history
That was born of a dream of the amazing Noel C

Those who dream of the seemingly impossible do sometimes succeed
Noel C Duggan of this one example indeed
He dreamed the near impossible dream and then said why not
For that he will be remembered when most are forgot

Noel C Duggan is ageing but he still leads the way
In positive thinking in the Millstreet of today
A character who has a charm of his own
Because of him Millstreet is now widely known.

In Nature New Wonders

In Nature new wonders every day for to see
The beauty that is everywhere around me
Her secrets are many her wonders not few
And every day of her we learn something new
My wonderment of her only seems to grow
Yet so little about her i can claim to know
Though some things in Nature one cannot get wrong
Most birds one can recognize by their chirping or song
In my many walks on the pathway through the park
In the home of the magpie, blackbird and magpie lark
Of Nature i learn something new every day
One never stops learning as some like to say
On a wet Autumn day of eighteen degrees
The silver bill magpies pipe on the tall trees.

The Town's Unsung

How come that the nicest people of the town
Does seem for to live as strangers to renown
They sow the seeds of good Karma every day
By helping those in need of helping going out of their way
Without looking for recognition or pay
Words in praise of them i do feel short of to say
In all others only the good they do see
What we look for we do see would you not agree?
On the concept of Karma one ought to believe
In life the fruits of the seed we do sow we receive
They only look for the good in others and good they do find
The unsung of the town compassionate, caring and kind
For those doing it tough the old and the young
They do have a friend in the town's unsung.

In Birdsland Today

In fancy my thoughts carry me far away
To where the magpies are singing in Birdsland today
In a beautiful place  that poets and artists to creativity inspire
The gem in the crown of the Yarra Ranges Shire
By the hills east of Melbourne with a charm of it's own
Old Birdsland for it's natural beauty well known
Home to wallaby, wombat, crimson rosella and sulphur crested cockatoo
And the large dark brown parrot known as the weerloo
Good memories of such a place with one does remain
Those who visit Birdsland visit there again
Of singing the praises could one ever tire
Of this beautiful place in the Yarra Ranges Shire
Where the silver billed magpies are singing today
In beautiful Birdsland from here far away.

The Tough Side Of Life

The tough side of life you say you have known
But others they too do have cares of their own
And so many people with sad stories to share
Those who know of the hard life have never been rare
So much poverty in the big world out there
The poor of the World can be found anywhere
Even in the wealthiest of Cities some of the homeless do dwell
The people who know of life in earthly hell
Poverty you will find in varying degrees
In a Human World of millions of refugees
Poverty is on the increase and it does seem sad to say
That the homeless in numbers increasing by the day
At least one hundred poor people for very millionaire
This does seem all wrong doesn't life for some seem unfair?

People Are People

Take them as you find them as some like to say
People are people it does seem this way
Not all people are good and so few are great
The one who invented the idea of money deception too did create
The people of money many do celebrate
To materialism and all that comes with it they can only relate
To but that's people one would have to suppose
Money can bring you friends and it can bring you foes
Amongst the human family all types you will find
The good and the bad and the callous and kind
We all share one thing in common we are born to die
This is a fact of life and fact never lie
People are people and it does seem to me
That it does take all kinds would you not agree?

You Can Make

You can make the Human World to live in a far better place
If you can accept life's hardest knocks with a smile on your face
And by being willing to help one of helping in need
For your future good Karma you are planting the seed
Things for you in life are not going your way
For you it has been one more miserable day
But you refuse to become a sad sack of the town
You will not let life's hardest knocks get you down
You wish everyone health, wealth and happiness
And never begrudge anybody success
And believe in the truth in the fair go for all
Even for those who in their life's journey have sinned and from grace did fall
Despite your miserable day you say tomorrow a new day does begin
You can make the Human World a better place to live in.