Ireland In May

The place  where i first saw the  light of day
From where i now live far away
And yet the memories with me stay
Of Ireland in the month of May

When the lark above the mountain sing
Such joy such thoughts to me does bring
A fading musical speck in the gray sky
He sing as to the clouds he fly

The old fields lush and green from recent showers
Are  looking resplendent in their Nature's flowers
And  cattle out of wintering sheds of eating silage and hay
On nourishing Spring grass gain weight by the day

Some old  memories with us do remain
The song of the robin i hear again
And the dipper singing in the rill
That babbles downland from the hill

The past in the forever gone
Yet some memories in me do live on
And perhaps till death with me will stay
Of Ireland in the month of May.

There Are Times In My Life

For years i've been battling my black moods of despair
And telling myself life to me is unfair
But others than me have far heavier crosses to bear
The human depth of suffering can be relative of such i am aware
I am lucky in that i've never heard voices in my head
Or at anytime never wished myself dead
Though like many i know of the dark moods of woe
Such moods  to the human mind that come and go
Most of us  have our moments of inner self doubt
When we ask ourselves what is life about
When we feel we were born to under achieve
At times on your worth as a person it can be hard to believe
I am not one of those free of phobias and fears
There are times in my life when i feel close to tears.

For Some Not All

For some not all life it is never easy and every day a new challenge to face
The winners in life do take all of the glory it is never easy for to lose with grace
In the Human World many Stateless and Homeless and over thirty million refugees
The  gap between the haves and have nots is widening and poverty comes in varying degrees
There are poor suburbs in every town and city where homeless people do sleep rough at night
For to see people sleeping on park benches is no longer an unusual sight
In a Human World where the minority do have most of the money inequality between people is rife
Do not tell me  that's how humanity is meant to function or do not tell me this is how it is with life
The Reaper of lives is the true egalatarian the one who treats all people as the same
The one who claims the lives of the  billionaires and paupers is  the  one who does not have a  celebrated name
But The Reaper is one who is quite impartial and between lives does not differentiate
With all of the other life forms on the Planet in death we share a very similar fate
For some not all life it is never easy and thousands dying of hunger every day
And the gap between the  rich and poor growing wider in a fair Human World it would never be this way.

Jack Tarrant

Jack Tarrant was a likeable old fellow in his younger years in an accident he lost an eye
He told good jokes and he liked his  pint of porter the term of good bloke to him did apply
In Liscreagh he and his wife raised their children one liked by many and known far and wide
One who was never lacking in compassion he had the gift of kindness on his side
When i was a  young boy Jack was in his prime my memory takes me to Seasons long gone
People like him are not easily forgotten good memories of the man he was live on
The World was better for him living in it Liscreagh without him a far poorer place
One who never did complain about the hard times i never see him with a sorry face
A larger than life character Jack Tarrant he looked at life in a whimsical way
Contented with his lot he never grumbled he tried to make the most of every day
He always did look at life on the bright side a man who did work hard for his every pay
Jack Tarrant laughed at life and he was happy though the passing years had left him frail and gray
He was indeed a likeable old fellow he lived in Liscreagh by the railway track
His last remains in the bosom of Nature but good memories are living on of Jack.

I Used To Think

I used to think on Spring twilights he sang his song for me
The gold billed blackbird by my first home upon the cypress tree
But i was green to Nature's ways and thought had proved me wrong
It is to proclaim their territory that inspire birds to song
Old memories do live on in us as long as the gift of memory with us stay
Each time i hear a blackbird sing it takes me to far away
To the old grove by the  roadway in the prime of the Spring
The marvellous gift of memory is an amazing thing
When Nature's feathered minstrels sung at their best in May
The beauty of their singing lives in my mind today
But for the purpose of road widening the Council Workers cut down the grove trees
And all i have left of the past are fading memories
Of an old grove by a roadway that once used to be
And time that does not wait for anyone why should it wait for me?

A Story Of Pat Lehane

Some great old story tellers in Duhallow they told great stories to give them their due
The story that i am about to tell you i cannot vouch if it be false or true
The deceased one who told me a great teller of stories some real good yarns he was known to spin
At least he told it to me with a straight face without one sign of a betrayal grin

Years before Billy Coleman became a champion rally driver a neighbor older by a few years in Minor Row
Young Pat Lehane a brave and carefree fellow as a driver of fast cars in confidence did grow
Decided to have a go at rally driving but to get his rally driving ticket he had to pass a test
Young Pat he wrote off for his rallying permit to acquire it he vowed to try his best

The rally tester who came out to test him was one who was in for a big surprise
He did look quite scared when the test was over the fear of the almighty in his eyes
Pat at top speed raced down the narrow roadway and flew the bends without once applying the brake
To acquire his rally ticket he did drive his fastest without once realizing that was a big mistake

The rally tester not happy and smiling at Pat's performance he was not impressed
For one who did not scare too very easily to say the least he did look quite distressed
His fastest drive and he lived to tell the story he had tested one who revelled in a dare
But at least he had one very scary story with other rally testers for to share

The then young Pat Lehane did not become a rally driver today he is living in the U S A
I only told this story as i heard it how true it is not for me for to say
By all accounts he was a daring fellow in his younger years back in the distant past
He did not get his rally driver's ticket because he simply drove the car too fast.

The War Supposed To End All Wars

The war supposed to end all wars it is long over it ended more than ninety years ago
But most of us human beings are known to be aggressive and not unwilling to create a foe
After two World wars and many major battles we hear of wars and rumors of wars every day
And the poor in war are those who mostly suffer this is how it is and it will always be this way
Great World powers invading smaller Countries where everyday soldiers and civilians die
All wars are started by aggressive people and that of their sort there are many not a lie
The power hungry leader to retain power creates an enemy and another war begins of us with they
Power hungry men never learn from war history power can corrupt as some are known to say
And every war gives rise to acts of terror where the innocents with their lives are made to pay
And as a payback for war acts of revenge through terror are prevalent in the World of today
Too many wars have been fought for god and borders and most wars begin due to abuse of power
Of peace in the World it does seem hope is fading the flower of peace it is a faded flower
Wars are started by power hungry aggressive people this is how it is why otherwise pretend
And in a Human World of many aggressive people to conflict there will never be an end.

I Live Far South

I live far south of my first home in Duhallow Koroit in Victoria is now my hometown
In miles distant from Claraghatlea in view of Clara Mountain where i used to live when my hair was dark brown
From the fields of rook and jackdaw and badger and the predatory one known as the gray back crow
Where the Finnow from fields by Gneeves mountain to the Blackwater in Drishane does flow
In the countryside west of the town of Millstreet i spent my youth and best years of my prime
There i did learn my first lessons of Nature and discovered my useless gift of rhyme
In the old grove by the stream from the high fields I often heard the pink breasted chaffinch sing
Such lovely memories with me to remember the gift of memory is a marvellous thing
The dark brown white breasted dipper in the stream was singing his scratchy song to his identity a give away
The old fields were resplendent in their wildflowers and the hawthorns wore their white blooms of the May
But the lust of wander it was stirring in me for cities far from Claraghatlea and Claramore
For Lands far south of Millstreet in Duhallow in miles distant from Hibernia's windswept shore
Koroit in South West Victoria now my hometown and only the memories with me do remain
Of where i was raised far north by distant mountains and old fields i  may never walk on again.

Jimmy The Shearer

Jimmy the Shearer a much traveled fellow he first saw light of day in Camperdown
He has shorn in many shearing sheds in the big country and lived and worked in jobs in many a town
In his late twenties a well traveled fellow yet to father children or to take a wife
But in every town he's been in he has had a woman the fairer sex come and go to his life
He has worked on building sites in all of Australia's big cities and shorn in many shearing sheds and with the best shearers held his own
A tall brown haired handsome man quite a likeable fellow in every town he has lived in he's well known
Jimmy the Shearer for him is a nickname though he is not a shearer full time
He has worked in various jobs around the Country a work hardened fellow for one in his prime.

Betty Fitzgerald

She was born as Betty Conway, Fitzgerald was her married name
An attractive looking woman in her young years though she never yearned for wealth or fame
A good mother to her son John and to Jim her husband a good wife
So sad to read the news of the passing of one who led an honorable life
With dark brown hair the young Betty Conway looked beautiful in her life's prime
When she was one of Millstreet's finest going back some four decades in time
A charming and kind hearted person one unaffected by conceit
She will be missed by friends and family in Murphy's Terrace and the Town of Millstreet
That Millstreet was better for her living in it of her seems a fair thing to say
Us human beings born as mortals for all of us there's a last day
Predeceased  by her husband Jim Fitzgerald he died a few years ago
It is true what is said about time that it does become everyone's foe
May she rest in peace Betty Fitzgerald she did lead an honorable life
To her son John she was a good mother and to her husband Jim a devoted wife.

A Mere Shadow Of The Man

He walks stiffly with a cane He has arthritic knees
And he feel his  heart race if he does cough or sneeze
Not a mere shadow of the man that he once used to be
Time takes care of all and it will take care of me

Fifty five years ago on grand final day
He was best on ground witrh a marvellous display
The club's best and fairest in a premiership winning year
The best in the league by far none to him near

A marvellous player at the peak of his prime
Until he became one more victim of time
Two of his grandsons good footballers and quick on their feet
With the best in the league with success they compete

He is now on his own last year his wife passed away
He misses her more than words could ever say
A mere shadow of the man that he was years ago
Eventually time becomes everyone's foe.

I Have Written The Rhymes

I have written the rhymes of the birds and the bees
And the wildflowers of Nature and bushes and trees
And of life forms that fly or swim, walk or crawl
And of creatures quite big and creatures quite small
I have written of love and of people of sorrow and joy
Of love's bliss and heartache and the war orphaned boy
And a rhymer i will be till the day i do die
If i did tell you differently that would be a lie
As a young man i often imagined myself as a poet
One wealthy and worthy of literary note
My over energized imagination on me did run rife
Back then i did seem detached from the realities of life
I have written the rhymes about many a thing
The jingles in my brain they do love to sing.

November In The Hills

A beautiful Spring morning of twenty five degrees
Made even more pleasant by a freshening breeze
The balmy air full of the buzzings of flies and of bees
And the birds chirp and whistle on bushes and trees
Through the blue and sunny sky just a few clouds of gray
So good to be living on such a nice day
In the children's playground children laugh at their play
Youth does have it's fling as some are known to say
November in the high wooded country a beautiful time of year
Utopia to such places has to be near
Of singing Nature's praises one never could tire
Her beauty the writers and artists inspire
Them to practice their gifts of creativity
To sketch and to write of the beauty they do see.

The Familiar Song Of The Blackbird

The familiar song of the blackbird take me to places far away
To woods by the northern mountains in April and in May
When buttercups are in full bloom by the silver tongued rill
That babbles to the river down the high field by the hill
Of the past that has gone to the forever only memories do remain
And often in my flights of fancy i walk in old fields again
Surrounded by Nature's greenery on a balmy day in Spring
Such pleasant memories that come to me when i hear a blackbird sing
On a rock in the river rapids in a field close to the town
The snowy breasted dark brown dipper sings his head bobbing up and down
For as long as we retain the gift of memory such memories with us stay
Until we breathe our last breath of life on some future night or day
The familiar song of the blackbird take me way back in time
Such memories that will long outlive this easy to write rhyme.

I Am Not Of The Poetic Kind

I am not of the poetic kind that is how it seems to be
In notepaper i only write the rhymes that come to me
And often in my rhymes of Nature the praises i do sing
The glory of her creative powers in every living thing
She is the World's greatest teacher to me anyway
From Nature i am learning new lessons every day
I am one who loves the quiet place far from the noisy street
Off of the roadway to the mountains where the creek and river meet
Some tell me in my thinking i have got it all wrong
When i say we are of Nature and to her we do belong
Far from their way of thinking in my way i have grown
But then any two never look at things in the one way and to each their own
Though he lives in the mountain parkland to the big town not anywhere near
The pleasant fluting of the gray shrike thrush in fancy i do hear.

With Love's Betrayed One

At the end of love for one the price in hurt feelings can be high to pay
In love ache that can last for many a day
Though nothing last forever as some do like to say
In love as in life it is always this way
Of sense of loss in the World there is nowhere to hide
Only memories of what was when love it has died
Of a love that once bloomed brightly like a beautiful flower
In the warmth of the sun after a Summer shower
The bitterness of betrayal in the betrayed one can linger for years
Of a love once full of passion that ended in tears
When one to love's loyalty failed to remain true
And a new start with someone else choose to pursue
And with love's betrayed one only the bitter memories remain
Of a love that once bloomed never to bloom again.

The Lampooning Poet

One who is frowned on by the town's upper class
They look on his kind as ignorant and crass
Since in his words he tries to drag tall poppies down
The financially struggling poet from the poor side of town

He knows of the hard life on Poverty Street
Where like everyone else he must struggle just for to make ends meet
At the poverty caused  by inequality he feels quite perturbed
He lampoons the wealthy in the written word

By the highbrow literary critics one dismissed as not worthy of literary note
To them just one more anti wealthy lampooning poet
In lampooning the wealthy in his words the price he does pay
You do not go into the cage of the lion as the wise one did say

His poetic future is financially insecure
As one who lampoons the wealthy in his words he can feel sure
That he will never have a wealthy patron though he daydreams of wealth and fame
Though neither of them he may have to his name.

For As Long As I Live

For as long as i live the memory i'll retain
Of old Mushera cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
And on the fog shrouded high Butter Road the cars crawl up and down
Through the hills between Rylane and Millstreet Town

By the Boggeragh Ranges the Winters cold, wild and wet
When the hare moves to the high fields from the bracken and het
One knows that the depths of the Winter are near
Towards the end of November six weeks from the New Year

At a time of the year when grass refuse to grow
And through the mountain countryside the wintery winds blow
And the brown flood bank high in the fast flowing mountain rill
With a loud babble racing to the river down the fields by the hill

On the high fog shrouded Butter Road from here far away
The cars pass up and down at a crawling pace today
At the end of November towards the end of the Fall
A memory of late Autumn by Mushera to recall.

In The Park In The Mountains

In the greenery of the park in the mountains where Nature's beauty does abound
In the heat of the sun after a Spring shower you see the steam rise from the ground
The birds in the woodland are singing enjoying the warmth after the rain
Though Nature in her ways mysterious beautiful insights from her we do gain
In the beautiful park in the mountain the home of many different species of trees
In the warm sun after rain in November a refreshening coolness in the freshening breeze
That blow up the southern valley from the flatlands by the country town
And blow dry the wet leaves on the trees in their every shade of green gown
Were i a poet i'd write of Nature of Spring weather breezy and bright
Of steam rising from the grass in the park in the mountains just after rain in the sunlight
Such beauty to view that gives pleasure i've loved Nature since i was a boy
The one who does create such beauty for many a great source of joy
The steam from the grass it is rising in the sunshine just after the rain
A beautiful image for the memory for a lifetime to cherish and retain.

Humphrey And Paddy Den's Donkey

One of the last if not the last donkey derby to be held in the Town park in Millstreet
In the late fifties when young bare back jockeys for glory on their mounts did compete
When donkey racing was popular in Ireland  at Autumn carnivals in every country town
Back then to ride the winner of a Donkey Derby transcended one to above local renown

Hopes of a Millstreet win depended on a young teenager who at gaelic football would know of greater fame
From the nearby Tanyard tall and sturdy Humphrey Kelleher his was to become a very famous name
Riding Paddy Den's black stallion donkey a powerful beast with a mind of his own
One who often kicked and bucked and threw his rider for such behaviour he had become known

The stallion donkey at the starting line was bucking but Humphrey proved too hard for him to throw
He must have realized that he had met his master donkeys can be quite clever as we know
At the starting gun he was the back marker he did seem slow to get into full stride
The champion gray mare with her young jockey from East Kerry  of the early lead refused to be denied

But the Kerry gray did not have things her own way with Humphrey riding him hard on his back
Paddy Den's stallion his ears flattened was racing in hot pursuit of her ahead of the main pack
Ten metres from the winning post he hit the front the cheering could be heard for miles away
On that sunday evening from the Millstreet Town park in September a great moment from a memorable day

Since that carnival day in the Town park in Millstreet more than fifty years in the way of time has gone
Paddy Den's donkey is now a faded memory but the legend of Humphrey Kelleher does live on
In seventy three at full back for Cork against Galway at Croke Park the hero of All Ireland Final Day
His first taste of fame was at the Millstreet Donkey Derby and far greater glory was to come his way.

Nature To Us Is Such A Good Teacher

Nature to us is  such a  good teacher we learn new things from her every day
In life  we do never stop learning as some have been known for  to say
And Nature i do not know  that well in ways she's a stranger to me
Though some of her birds i know by chirp or song and such beauty in her for to see
Were i a poet i'd write about her a  poem for decades that would live on
A poem that would bring joy to others long after life's breath from me has gone
For Nature is one loved by many her presence around us and near
Her colors do change with her Seasons and the  songs  of her feathered minstrels are pleasant to hear
Some people defoilate Nature's beauty just for their own financial gain
Why they never give and only take from her seems way beyond  me to explain
To make way for another big factory by them more beautiful trees are cut down
The people who cause the most environmental damage are never from the poor side of the town
Nature is truly amazing in her own mysterious way
And to us she is a great teacher we learn from her every day.

The Man From The Northlands

He is from the  place where the bog cotton grow
In the home of the rook and the silver back crow
By northern mountains from here far away
Where first he did look on the bright lamp of day
The place that he left when he was a young man
With a head full of dreams born of youthful elan
Of making it big in the big World out there
The wander bug in him for places elsewhere
Though he did have many women in his life
He never had children or never had a wife
And he was quite  partial to his pot of cheer
He did enjoy stout and he did enjoy beer
But all is quiet and dark where at rest he does lay
The man from the Northlands was buried today.

In The Pirianda Garden

In the sunny sky amidst the blue just a few clouds of gray
In Pirianda Garden on a nice November day
The crimson rosellas chirping as they fly from tree to tree
Nature is at her finest in her full bloom around me
And no beauty to compare with Nature at her finest would you agree
The rhododendrons in full bloom quite beautiful to see
I've been a student of Nature ever since i was a boy
And learning new things about her today i do enjoy
Such a beautiful place Pirianda Garden on a pleasant day in Spring
In the coolness of the evening the golden billed blackbird sing
For to describe such beauty the words not in me to say
Utopia from such a place cannot be far away
In singing Nature's praises i for one could never tire
In the beauty she does create there is so much to admire.

The Dead Do Not Have Cares

He never did complain that life to him was unfair
Though for years he had been battling his black moods of despair
Determined that he would not grow old and gray
Found hanging beyond help from a tree branch today
Perhaps for himself he is better off dead
For many years hearing voices in his head
In his twenty eight year his mum and dad and sister in tears
The great sense of loss they feel will be with them for years
On strong medication for ten years of his life
He did not leave behind him children he did not have a wife
Found hanging this morning from the branch of a tree
By a young woman out walking how sad life can be
At least from his sorrows he found a release
The dead do not have cares they have found their peace.

Doug Williams

Doug Williams not on his feet but do not count him out
In a short time he well may be up and about
And though physically his best days are in the long gone
The fight it is in him to keep on living on

In his nineties a great grandparent as is Molly his wife
Doug Williams has led an adventurous life
In tough times he worked hard to support his family
The Nation indebted to one such as he

In the mid nineteen forties the young Doug was in his prime
Going back in years more than six decades in time
In tough times he proved himself a man amongst men
A tall, strong and dashing and handsome fellow back then

Though down he is not out on that you can depend
Like the champion boxer he will rise and fight on to the end
The last bell for him is not ready to ring
One cannot say of him he has lived his last Spring.

Far Better Than Me

He is non judgemental as the word can be
And the nice side to others he only does see
Of all of the isms he is totally free
He is a good person far better than me
He does not set himself up to be anyone's judge
And he does not belittle or he does not begrudge
To help others out he goes out of his way
And he performs a good deed or two every day
Though not looked up to as a role model not even on his side of the town
In his words he never puts anyone down
He is not an athlete has no interest in football
And he is one who does not crave the limelight in any way at all
The good side to others he only can see
He is a great person far better than me.

On Hearing A Greenfinch

His wheezy sort of a song that one could never mistake
A slumbering memory in me does awake
The song of a greenfinch bring me back moments of joy
Of Spring in the leafy groves of Lisnaboy

Somewhere camouflaged in the greenery of the cypress tree
I know him by his voice though him i cannot see
With some dark gray on his tail and wings and mostly palish green
Amongst Nature's greenery birds not easily seen

Their nest small and open cup shaped lined with hair four to six palish green eggs they do lay
On a tree branch or hidden in bushes in the Northlands in May
In south east Australia they breed in late October and November in Spring
And to proclaim his borders the male bird does sing

The song of the greenfinch takes me to places far away
When in my dark brown hair there was not any gray
And though in memory i often re-visit old places again
That is all of the past with me that does remain.

The Longest Human Lifetime

The longest human lifetime in time not a long span
Three score and ten the average a few years more for a woman than a man
Those who live for a hundred years or more to say the least quite rare
This is something i am very sure that most of would be aware
Our prime years do go quickly by we lose our youthful elan
So make the most of your every day for a long life do not plan
For there is no such a thing as a guarantee on how long you will live
Try to be happy the only advice to you that i can give
Some people die as children and some die in their prime
On the length of life no guarantee make the most of your time
One worry leads to another as some are known to say
It makes living life far better if you can laugh every day
Immortality for human kind is surely based on a lie
Since as mortals we are born to life to age and fade and die.

Such Beauty In Nature

Such beauty in Nature there is for to see
The beauty that is everywhere around me
Mid November the summer seventeen days away
The birds chirp and whistle on this warm Spring day
My worth as a rhymer i often do doubt
But in Nature never a shortage of things for me to rhyme about
By the beauty around me i do feel inspired
Of singing Nature's praises i could never feel tired
The buzzings of the nectar gathering bees
Around the flower beds and the blossoming trees
On pleasant weather temperatures just above twenty degrees
With a nice sort of a coolness in the freshening breeze
The flute of the shrike thrush so pleasant to hear
Utopia to this place would have to be near.

Most Of Us Can Be Judgemental

Most of us can be judgemental or that way inclined
But if you look for good in others then good you will find
And if you only look for bad then bad you will see
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me
Before passing judgement on you the judgemental  on you have made up their mind
Whether their judgement of you will be quite harsh or kind
In we dislike in others what we dislike in ourselves there is some truth
They are a rare breed those who can judge with ruth
It is easy to be judgemental of that we are aware
And those impartial in their judgements to say the least rare
The non judgemental sort of people are becoming a rare breed
And of more of their kind  the Human World is in need
Most of us can be judgemental that's how it appears to be
And i should know yes i should know since one of them is me.

I Am One Who Stand For Something

I am not what you'd call a sucessful person my best achievements in life  does seem small
I struggle on through life like many others glorious days as such never mine to recall
Unknown to many just your average struggling fellow  my name will never be on a memorial wall
But at least i am one who does stand for something i do believe on a fair  go for all,
I do believe that everyone is equal since everyone of us is  born to die
It is a fact of life  that i do speak of death is for the  billionaire like you and i
For the wealthiest person in the town and  the poorest there will be a final night and day
The wealthiest person is just a mere mortal that's how life is and it  will always be this way
No matter what your gender, creed or color no mater what your nationality or race
Anthropologists claim we are distant cousins of primates our nearest living non human relatives in any case
One should not have the right to be judgemental or neither should anyone  discriminate
If you do judge a person judge him or her on the strength of their compassion since such people  have it in them to be great
I am not looked on as one who is successful compared to most my achievements seem small
But at least i am one who believe we all are equal and i fly the flag of a fair go for all.

Innocence Can Be Bliss

The love  between us innocent and that was long ago
Your shoulder length dark brown wavy hair and eyes blue as ripened sloe
When you were barely nine years old and i was almost ten
So many days, weeks, months and years in  time have passed since then
Resplendent in their flowers of Spring the old fields looked lush and green
And primroses, bluebells and snowdrops bloomed on ditch of the bohreen
In the old grove  by the babbling stream by the roadway to town
We laughed on the see saw swing slung from strong branch as we see sawed up and down
In the innocence of our young love we never shared a kiss
They were the  best years of our lives since innocence can be bliss
We went our separate ways in life  never to meet again
And  only happy memories of you with me remain
In my memory you remain young and beautiful you never aged a day
Though that was many years ago in an old grove far away.

From Here Far Away

In Claraghatlea in Millstreet my life's  journey began
And there i was raised and grew into a man
But far south of there the years have left me gray
By Clara i would be a stranger to many today

To other life forms  little different at all
Since for each one of us there is a final Fall
And for each one of us a final Summer, Winter and Spring
Like the bird who one day has it's last song to sing

Success and failure to me now seem the same
Since i've lost my desire for moneyed wealth and fame
The  rhymes that come to me in notepaper i write down
I wrote my first one by a  far away town

Not one of life's successes that's how it seems to be
Perhaps my years of absence now would make a stranger of me
In the place where i first looked on the lamp of day
By the Boggeragh mountains from here far away.

Security In Money

He has made a few friends and he has made a few foes
In that way no different to most others one would have to suppose
To success in big business he is one who aspire
The go ahead type many seem to admire

In his  early twenties close to his life's prime
Planning new business ventures he spends most of his time
His girlfriend the only child of a known Millionaire
That there is security in money he is all too aware

It is each to their own as we have come to realize
With the town's aspirational young people he does socialize
To those of similar interests we do gravitate
To the millionaire the pauper is  never a mate

He has friends in high places but he  is one not without an enemy
With his sort of person this is  how it must be
He will own a  big company on some  future day
The signs are all there that he is heading this way.

On Magpie Larks

Familiar to many of them one might say
These black and white mud nesting birds one does see every day
Known as mudlark or magpie lark or to some as pee wee
They build cup shaped nest of mud on fork of low branch of tree
In the town park picking insects off of the grass or the town nature strips them one does see
And when in the mood for singing they call out pee wee
In towns and country places to many well known
One can say of them they are Australia's own
Good friends of the gardeners since they keep insects at bay
They allow you to get close to them before flying away
Migratory a name to them that does not apply
To far away places they never do fly
Familiar in their appearance and their often repeated song
Once seen and once heard one should not get them wrong.

What To Us Has Been Lost

For our every mistake we have some  price to pay
But the best we can do is to live in the day
Since the past it has gone to the  forever more
And who knows what the future for us has in store
As in most things in life the winners take all
And the losers  few ever do wish to recall
This  is how it is and it always will be
The winners live on in written history
We cannot change what has happened yesterday since yesterday has gone
We can only live in the now and  life does go on
Make the most of your day you'll be forever dead
For who is to know of you what lay ahead
Our mistakes in life come to us at a cost
And we cannot regain what to us has been lost.

They Do Their Own Thing

They feel quite satisfied with the brief sexual fling
The happy go lucky who do their own thing
They drink and make merry without looking for fight
And sing on their way home on a saturday night
They do not have children or partners or husbands or wives
Responsibilities as such they do not need in their lives
On worrying about job promotions and home  mortgage payments they will not spend their prime
They just wish to enjoy life and have a good time
They do not look up to the  celebrity or the  president or the wearer of the crown
And without any aspirations to worldly renown
They work to live not live to work and of cares they are  free
In their outlook on life they are so different to me
On having a good time they spend much of their  week's pay
They do their own thing and live  in their own way.

Pied Oystercatchers

The black and white pied oystercatcher with orange eye rings orange feet and long orange bill
At opening of sea shells for the meat not lacking in skill
She often is seen on the beach with her mate
The father of her young with whom she does copulate
She does not have a nest as such just a scrape on the beach
Of the incoming high tide too far out to reach
Where two to three dark spotted eggs she does lay
From saltwater her kind  are never far away
Birds i do see often though not every day
Though i know little about them in truth i must say
That by their distinctive appearance and pleasant piping song
Once seen and once heard birds one should not get wrong
They live in pairs or small family groups since  this is their way
On the beach they are born and there feel happy to stay.

So Nice To Relax

So nice to relax in the gentle Spring breeze
Out of the heat of the sun in the shade of  the trees
In the blue and sunny sky just a few clouds of gray
In the southern November a beautiful day
The song of the blackbird melodious and clear
And the magpie the bird who does sing every day of the year
His distinctive warbling notes always pleasant to hear
Utopia  to this place would have to be near
There is so much in Nature for one to write about
And though my worth as a rhymer i often do doubt
Whether the sky is sunny or overcast and gray
The rhymes come to me in my walks every day
Of the Natural World everywhere around me
Of Nature's voices i hear and of her beauty i see.

On Rats

It is true that rats are not much use at running
But they are creatures born to survive
In dark holes they spend most of their existence
And on scraps of food in rubbish tips they thrive

Despite trappings by humans poisonings and persecution
They are not rare in fact their numbers  multiply
The female rat is a  prolific breeder
Perhaps indeed this is one reason why

That common rats will never be an endangered species
Like mice and rabbits one female rodent can give birth to forty young a year
Whilst many species are facing extinction
Of mouse and  rat plagues one does often hear

Brown rats are a family of Nature's great survivors
In sewers and rubbish tips  they do abound
They live in holes in sandy banks and ditches
And when danger threatens they quickly go to ground.

Sean Radley's Gift

I cannot say i ever see Sean Radley for  Millstreet playing hurling or gaelic football
His  gift is in making other people happy perhaps the greatest human gift of all
His thousands of images on the Millstreet Web Site viewed by Duhallow people Worldwide
That he is a living North Cork cultural icon is something of him that cannot be denied

To say the least a rare sort of public figure in his words to controversy he never gives rise
He is what is known as a people's person in the ways of people he  is worldly wise
In his images and words  he has  made so many happy i have never heard him put anyone down
He is  indeed a role model to many and is loved by everyone in Millstreet Town

To have the gift of making others happy to say the least is a rare gift indeed
Those who make others happy are successful people and  at such a thing Sean Radley does succeed
Every community needs one who is like him such people create World harmony
Those who have the gift of making people happy are special people would you not agree

He has never been a famous sportsman or politician but he  is a person people wish to know
Sean Radley is a North Cork cultural icon and his popularity seems to grow and grow
He has the  gift of making others happy and for his  kindness he is widely known
A household name in all parts of Duhallow and he will always  be of Millstreet's own.

I Yearn For A Place

I yearn for a place  far away from the town
Far from where people do compete for wealth and renown
Where the babbling creek whose tongue is never still
Winds it's way through the flatlands to the river from the foot of the hill
Where no factory chimney puffs smoke to the sky
And the lark for to sing to the cloud world does fly
And the butcherbird's pipe is melodious and clear
His beautiful music i fancy i hear
Far away from the smoke and  the noise of the street
Where people for success with each other compete
I know of a quiet place where the air is smoke free
Such a place to live in would suit one  like me
Far off of the highway where the traffic buzz up and down
All day and all night between city and town.

In Aubane Hall

In Mushera valley they do not have a wailing wall
And few things in life seems to phase them at all
Even when St John's lose in gaelic football
They laugh and sing as they dance in Aubane Hall

The Irish economy is not going well
Though on such a matter they refuse to dwell
In Aubane Hall they dance their cares away
Worry it can wait till another day

For to enjoy your night out you do not need booze
Many healthier and less expensive forms of enjoyment for one for  to choose
In Aubane Hall the grog free craic it is  great
Music, dance and song laughter and joy create

Another wet Spring, Summer and Fall this  year
And the gray fogs on Mushera tell Winter is near
But in the Aubane Hall there is laughter and cheer
For a good night's enjoyment one does not need beer

In the valley of Mushera above  the Town of Millstreet
In the Hall at Aubane when the friends and families do meet
At the last dance of the night there is a loud encore
In a call to the musicians to play one tune more.

Where Years Ago

Where years ago mine was a familiar face
To many i would be a stranger now in my first homeplace
And those i knew getting older time does not stand still
In old Claraghatlea in view  of Clara Hill
But the old fields i knew some by their  given name
I'm sure despite my years of absence would look much the  same
As the fields that i loved when i was a young man
When i was imbued with life's youthful elan
But youth and prime years pass quickly and few things in life do last
And the memories are all we have left to retain of the past
Back in my first homeplace today life goes on
And i can only physically live in the now since the past it has gone
But the memories of what used to be with me remain
And often in fancy i walk in the  old fields again.

On J J Callanan's Gougane Barra

In writing Gougane Barra J J Callanan attained perfection in rhyme
A poem that will live through the centuries of time
He wrote it before leaving Hibernia's shore
To his beloved Cork he returned never more

One  who did not enjoy a long and a happy life span
In Portugal he died as a very young man
Far from the Ireland he loved and never more for to see
The place of the birth of the Allua better known as the River Lee

Gougane  Barra his great poem i first read as a boy
And reading his marvellous verses today i enjoy
A joy for to read, memorize and recite
Such marvellous poetry the great poet did  write

With words J J Callanan did have a way
His poems are read and enjoyed by many today
The Recluse of  Inchydoney, Gougane Barra, The Outlaw of Lough Lene and The Convict of Clonmel
By lovers of poetry his poems are loved well

Though far from Cork in Portugal his last remains lay
His poems read and  enjoyed by many today
In his memorable lines  on Gougane  Barra perfection he did attain
And his poetry i visit again and again.

In The Park By The Bay

How can one complain on a day like today
The birds chirp and sing in the park by the bay
The sunshine with some warmth in it just before sundown
On a nice November evening in the sea side town
One can hear the surf waves break on the ocean shore
A five minute walk from the park little more
Though in jingling rhymes i am one who does like to play
The words to describe such beauty not in me for to say
Such natural beauty destined to live on
Milleniums of centuries after the breath of life from me  has gone
Eventually time it does become our foe
But Nature lives on and her Seasons to her come and go
On a near perfect ending to a  near perfect day
The birds chirp and sing in the  park by the bay.

Woodford

So much beauty in Nature  there is to be seen
The hills around Woodford are looking quite green
On a pleasant November evening of  around twenty degrees
The song of the blackbird is carrying in the  breeze

That blow through the village up the higher ground
In peaceful old Woodford Nature's beauty abound
The sun it is hidden behind clouds of gray
And going by the sky rain is not far away

But Nature looks great in the sunshine after Spring showers
In her green cloak resplendent in her wildering flowers
And so much in Nature to love and admire
Of singing her praises one  never could tire

Today Woodford a gem in the  crown of Victoria's south west
In her greenery of Spring at her beautiful best
The song of the blackbird so pleasant to hear
Utopia to this place would have to be near.

It Is A Fact Of Life

It is a fact of life and fact never lie
Like all other life forms us humans are born to die
Like the  bird of song who has his last song to sing
For each one of us there will be a last Spring
For each one of us there is a  last New Year
But of death it is  only the  fear we do fear
One reason to life the dying desperately do cling
Though death as part of life is a natural thing
The longest lived human life in time is not a long span
On average a few years more for a woman than it is for a man
Age creeps on us and we  lose our youthful elan
So do enjoy life for as long as you can
Since none have come back post death to tell us  of what lay ahead
Make the  most of the now you'll be forever dead.

You Have known A Better Day

You walk stiff your joints are aching you feel wonky at the knees
And you have heart palpitations every time you cough or sneeze
You no longer feel sexual urges cannot satisfy the wife
She has found herself a younger lover who brings pleasure to her life
You wear a brown wig to hide your  bald patch and in brown hair dye cloak your  gray
But the years on you are telling you have known a better day
Close to the three score and ten years not the man you used to be
Time  on you it is telling like it is telling on me
Quite a dashing and handsome fellow when you were in your life's prime
But the very best and finest too become victims of time
Your oldest son balding and ageing your oldest grandchild a woman of twenty three
On looking back the years went by so quickly that is how it seems to me
You wear a brown wig to hide your baldness and in brown hair dye cloak your gray
But your ageing  joints are aching you have known a better day.

The Power Of Positive Thought

From radiation treatment his head it is bare
One can say of him he has suffered his share
Given six months to live at this time last year
Yet he does not look like one that death to is near

In three months from now he will turn nineteen
For one so young such tough times  in life he already has seen
But he is  one who is a long way from dead
He is looking forward to a  long life of him ahead

According to the doctors by now he would be decaying in his grave
In his case it is true fortune favours the brave
To the so called expert opinions he has given the lie
He is not one prepared for to lie down and die

The power of positive thought it is  powerful indeed
It has served him quite well in his time of greatest need
Against all of the odds cancer he did survive
And he is one who is very much alive.

I Have Been A Rhymer

I have been a rhymer for quite a long time
Since in my mid  to late twenties in my life's prime
And i hope  to be rhyming till the day i do die
If i did tell you different that would be a lie
Of rhymers i'm not one who is to the fore
It is something i enjoy doing that and nothing more
Anyone can write rhyme you can have that from me
It is not a hard task most with that would agree
When i say that successful writers of any genre as ever in the few
I am not telling you anything that is new
The ambition of becoming a successful writer is a hard one to realize
That some quit due to lack of success does not come as a surprise
As for me i hope to be  rhyming till the day i do die
If i told you any different i would be telling you a lie.

A Great Person

She cannot bring herself for to hate anyone
Even the  one who to her a great wrong had done
The man who did rape her she choose to forgive
The woman who believes on live and let live
A woman who refuses to harbour a grudge
Who never sets herself up to be anyone's judge
To help those in need of helping she goes out of  her way
One who always performs her good deeds of the day
One who does lead by good example in her life
A good mother to her children and to her husband a good wife
Abused as a child she has  been through hell
But on what has been she would rather not dwell
One  beautiful and kind and without conceit
And as nice a person as one could wish to meet.

Memories Of Mushera

I logged trees by Mushera when the hills wore hats of snow
And  the cold winds of February up the high ground did blow
Then in my late thirties time becoming my foe
But that is going back twenty five  years ago
Before the passing of time has left me balder and gray
The babies back then are in their prime today
And time from old Mushera  has me far away
And the past just a memory as some  like to say
In February in Mushera a cold chill in the breeze
And the weather is often at zero degrees
But when April is in Mushera the nesting birds sing
And the swallows return home to breed with the  Spring
And the skylark a musical speck in the sky
Is singing above the mountain as he fly.

A Warm November Evening

The warm air full of  the buzzings of flies and of bees
On this November evening of twenty five degrees
In the heat of the sunshine few birds chirp and sing
It is  feeling like Summer in the latter Spring
From the recent rain the park looking green
And Nature's own flowers in plenty to be seen
People relaxed in the  sunshine  in the park by the bay
Are making the most of the warm Spring day
Mums and dads with their children who laugh at their play
Youth does have it's fling as some are known to say
On this beautiful evening in the town of the south
Bees gathering nectar are buzzing about
The blossoming trees and the wildering flowers
Amidst greeness created by the recent Spring showers.

The World's Greatest Beauty

So nice for to hear the birds whistle and  sing
The park lush and green wears it's flowers of the  Spring
In the sunny blue sky just a few clouds of gray
How good  to be living on such a nice day
A poet of the beauty around me would write
A poem for others to enjoy and read and recite
The World's greatest beauty you do not pay to see
It is all around you and it is all around me
I have loved Mother Nature since  i was a boy
And learning about her i still do enjoy
And my wonder of her only does seem to grow
And so little about her i can claim to know
Her wonders are many her secrets not few
And every day from her we do learn something new.

On Rumors On Ian Thorpe

That Ian Thorpe is gay the rumors are flying
The rumors that he does keep on denying
And Ian Thorpe tells the truth he is not one to deceive
He is a man of integrity and him i do believe

Ian Thorpe the World renowned swimmer is famous and widely known
He is not public property and his business is his own
Untruths spread about him muck raking can come with fame
For spreading of innuendos and lies the media have quite a name

Spreading untruths about anybody is a thing anyone ought not to condone
There is so much truth in the saying that well enough is best left alone
Ian Thorpe is quite a decent fellow and like all others he has feelings too
Remember to do unto others what you'd like them to do unto you

Ian Thorpe the five times Olympic gold medallist his honor should not have to defend
The lies spread in the  media about him are meant to hurt and offend
The media moguls make their millions from sensational stories but them and their journalists can be lacking in ruth
But principle should come  before money and they ought to stick to the truth.

The Young Bonzer Bloke

He smokes and he drinks and he goes to the pub
And  he  does support his local football club
And he  can laugh at himself and he can tell a good joke
The one who is known as the young bonzer bloke

A happy go lucky fellow  of nineteen
The wander bug in him for lands he has not seen
And big towns and cities many miles away
Here in the hometown he will not grow old and gray

He will not be burdened by the cares of life
Of fathering and raising children and supporting a wife
He does  not have a steady girlfriend enjoys  the brief sexual fling
He lives in his own way and does his own thing

Generous with his money if he has  it to spare
The young bonzer bloke he does not have a  care
One who is liked by many he does not have a foe
And he will make new  friends in wherever to he does go.

James Manley

James Manley was a likeable fellow as the many who knew him recall
In his prime years in the green and gold of Millstreet a great player of  Gaelic Football
In Kanturk where he lived with his wife and children a drapery business he did own
His fame it spread far beyond Duhallow he was one who was widely known

In gaelic games and coursing circles James Manley was known far and wide
Good memories of him live  in those who knew him though the breath of life in him has died
The day the dog he trained Peadar's Prize won the North Cork Cup in Millstreet the applause was deafeningly loud
As the  first trainer of a Duhallow dog to win this  prestigious coursing trophy James Manley felt happy and proud

Time passes and people grow older and eventually old memories do fade to decay
Though James Manley he is still remembered by those who knew him and knew of him today
One who lived a long and happy life and  he died without any regret
He had a  charisma about him that made him quite hard to forget

A memorable Duhallow character in Seasons that now seem long gone
James Manley he  always seemed happy good memories of him does  live on
He was known far beyond Duhallow by coursing people and fans of gaelic football
People like  him one tend to remember as he left good  memories of him to recall.

Barack Or Mitt

Will it be Barack Obama or Mitt Romney as President for the next four years of the U S of A
To me who wins  hardly does matter since from there i live so far away
Whoever wins will be quite happy since for the  winner the  prize will be great
The winner and his loyal supporters will have good reason to celebrate
But to the  many have nots of the U S who are doing it tough financially
Who wins to them hardly will matter since they will remain in poverty
In a  Nation where Governments on war weaponry spends trillions the numbers of the have nots multiply
Where circumstance of birth can be your ally or of a fair go in life you deny
Where many do have  to grow poorer for every new millionaire
Those doing it tough at the result of the Election will not lose any sleep to care
Yes to them it surely will not matter and why should they worry one bit
Who will spend the next four years in the White House the present incumbent Barack or Mitt.

Your Worth As A Writer

Your worth as a writer you often do doubt
But always so much for you to write about
You find inspiration in people  you meet
In the pub or the park or  walking on the street
Inspiration from you is never far away
There is always something to write of every day
If to the task of writing yourself you do apply
Your inspiration well it will never run dry
For many writing it can be a  hungry belly game
Since  few from writing ever know of wealth and  fame
Like  all things in life many must lose for one for  to win
For to try and to fail it is never a  sin
Amateur writers are many and the  successful are few
On saying this i am not telling you something new.

To Those I Do Not Like

To those i do not like little i have to say
But for to hate anybody it is not my way
In return i pay others the respect they do show to me
To each their  own that is how it should be
If you have nothing good to say of someone say nothing at all
A pearl of wisdom worthy of recall
With my words to some people with power i've not been very kind
Though flaws in myself are quite easy to find
What we put into life in return we receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
It is easy in your words for  to put others down
Though that will not make you the best loved one in the town
Before we did walk on the floor we did crawl
And to the scythe of the reaper we eventually will fall.

The Ordinary People

Moneyed people and celebrities the masses do celebrate
But it is those dubbed as the ordinary people who make a Country great
The ordinary people you see every day
Who earn their  living in the honest way
They work to support their families and their taxes they pay
But they never grow wealthy and famous only old and gray
They are never inducted into the hall of fame
Though they too feel proud of their family name
Their ancestors like them were strangers to renown
But they were the people who built the big town
Who cared for the sick and built road and railway track
And kept the government's annual budget in the  black
Yet at their  funerals the last post for them by bugler never played
And their memory to posterity was left to fade.

This Penning Of Rhyme

This penning of rhyme can be a hungry belly game
It is true what is said that one  cannot live on fame
As a young man i often daydreamed that i would be a poet
Quite wealthy and famous and of literary note

Fom penning of rhyme few have become a millionaire
And those who can make a living from such to say the least rare
For longer than i care to remember i've been a rhyming buff
And i am one who has written a  whole heap of stuff

The rhymes that come to me into notebook i do write
Such simple stuff easy to read and recite
My hobby i enjoy though not a profitable thing
And in life as i see it in rhyme i do sing

It is true about poets they are born not made
Though every writer is needed in the wordsmith trade
I write rhymes for enjoyment and little else more
This is something you may have heard me say before.

Only The Most Arrogant

Only the most arrogant can claim post death of us what lay ahead
We live for a short while and are forever dead
The sheep or the  dog or the cow may not know they will die
But are they any less mortal in any way than i?

Many believe in a life after Earthly death of a heaven and a hell
Yet any deceased person has not come back to tell
Of places for born again souls somewhere beyond the sky
Why this has never happened one must wonder why

Yet not many more cynical people than me
I only believe in some things  i hear and in all i do see
To any god i never do kneel to for to pray
But then suppose any two not the same in every way

But only the most arrogant sort of a person with certainty could say
That there are places for born again souls far away
A heaven and a hell way beyond the stars
Way beyond the planets of jupiter, venus and mars.

The Moods Of The Mind

The moods of the mind to us do come and go
And the gulf it can be great between bliss and woe
Have you ever known the feeling of despair
When your circumstances in life to you seemed quite unfair?

The majority live for their own selves in the town
Where few wish to know of you when you are fimancially down
When your life circumstancs have become your foe
Few feel empathy with the sad face of woe

Financial hardships on happiness takes toll
Our destiny in life seems beyond our control
When the  gloom of sadness the mind does infiltrate
One has little in his or her life to celebrate

The moods to us come and go with most it is this way
In your words you cannot describe how you do feel today
And few wish to know of you when you are feeling down
When you walk with a sad face on the streets of the town.

Your Dream

Your dream of the big lotto win for you may come true
Since your turn of good  luck in your life you are due
All good  things come to those who do wait as some like to say
Tonight lady luck may be smiling your way
With a ticket in tonight's ten million lotto jackpot your  luck may be in
For who knows it may well be your turn to win
How much joy would such a huge monetary windfall to your life bring?
The winner can laugh and the winner can sing
With a wife and three young children to support on poor take home pay
For you in life there's never an easy day
A ten million lotto win in tonight's  draw for someone will be great
And  who knows you may be the one to celebrate
Big winners in lotto to say the  least very rare
But tonight you may be ten times a millionaire.

When A Claraghatlea Fellow

We are all of the leaves of the one family tree
But with this way of thinking many may disagree
Does an Aussie on paper make an Aussie of me
When a Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be?

A Claraghatlea fellow just west of Millstreet Town
Where i used to live when my hair was dark brown
A long way from here even as the migratory bird does fly
In distance perhaps twelve thousand miles of sky

The wanderlust in me there i did not stay
And  there to many i might be a stranger today
In the old  fields i loved in my years as a boy
Learning of Nature's ways to me a source of joy

Where i often did daydream of fortune and fame
That mine would  become a great literary name
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And from life we receive what from life is our due

Time has brought change with it to the Town by Clara Hill
But time does not change the sound of the babble of  the rill
That flows down the gravel from the heights of Claramore
Through Claraghatlea to the rivers to the Atlantic shore

The place where i lived when i was in my prime
My ageing bones now feeling the wear of time
Does an Aussie on paper make an Aussie of me
When a Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be?

Wherever I Go To

Wherever i go to my past goes with me
It is living and breathing in my mind's memory
In the chilly gray dawn to warm herself in a field by Millstreet Town
The hare she is racing in her coat of light brown

When i visualize such great beauty i do see
The male chaffinch is singing on a leafy birch tree
The bluebells are blooming on ditch of bohreen
And the wildflowers are blooming in fields lush and  green

The lust of the wander in me  it was strong
But my love of the old fields with me came along
In the gray of the Spring dawn just before sunrise
The song of the dipper in the river i often visualize

The hawthorns resplendent in their white blooms of the May
And the swallows back home to breed from their wintering grounds far away
Are chasing flying insects above the old fields all day
The memories  of what was in the migant mind stay

The long gray twilights long after sunset
Such things one remembers and never forget
The mental pictures of what was in the memory remain
And in fancy i walk in the old  fields again.

On Such A Nice Day

Sunshine in the blue sky with a few clouds of gray
So nice to be living on such a nice day
The murmur of the surf waves in the distance i do hear
Utopia to this place does seem to be near
How could one find fault with a day like today
The magpie does pipe in the park by the bay
The familiar music melodious  and clear
Of the bird who does sing every day of the year
The  weather forecast in it does not have any rain
Tomorrow  the sun will be shining again
The wildflowers in bloom and the birds chirp and sing
On the penultimate day of October of the southern Spring
Utopia from this place cannot be far away
So good  to be living on such a nice day.

That Life Is A Tough Journey

That life is  a tough journey most surely not a lie
We were born as helpless and helpless we will die
Our youth and prime passes quickly we soon do grow old
And time it does weary the brave and the bold
Time eventually does become everyone's foe
The fastest man in the World five decades ago
His fastest pace now  does seem rather slow
The passing of the Seasons on him does show
A mere shadow of the man that he used to be
Though in his prime years none  ran as fast as he
A World record holder and  winner of Olympic Gold
But the prime years pass quickly and great men grow old
In his mid seventies and stiff on his feet
Who would believe he was an all conquering Olympic Athlete.

Like All Other Life Forms

Like all other life forms the great and the small
All things that walk, swim and fly and crawl
And like the great tree of the woodland that eveentually does fall
For us humans a last night and day for us all
The human masses in their worshipping of ordinary people get carried away
And  those we admire of us  more does say
Than any words can do that's how  it seems to be
At least anyway that's how it seems to me
We admire the one who owns the big expensive car
Our ordinary heroes show how ordinary we are
In his lifetime Vincent Van Gogh the great artist few seemed to admire
And nowadays many young artists he does inspire
Vincent an extraordinary human being who died as a pauper created many a millionaire
That's life as some do say but life can be unfair.