My Friends Of The Past Over There

My friends of the past over there i have not seen for some while
And between us in distance there is many a mile
And though them i have not seen for decades of years
For what used to be i have shed all of my tears

In my memory i see them as they used to be
But memory and reality are different as most would agree
Like me they are many years past their lives prime
And like me they too would be showing the wear of time

Some of my friends of the past are not living today
Their lot will be my lot since life is this way
Though young in my memory they do remain
In the flesh we are never to meet again

Like me some of my friends of the past did not stay in the old homeplace
The challenge of living life elsewhere they did choose to face
Whilst some in the old Parish have chosen to stay
That no two life journeys the same it does seem fair to say

It has been many years since them i did meet
My friends of the past over there in and around Millstreet
And only the memories with me do remain
Of what used to be and cannot be again.

Old Guiseppe

Old Guiseppe he talks of Rome every day
The City he was born and raised in from here far away
Perhaps he will die in Geelong in Victoria a long way from home
Far south of his beloved City of Rome

A widower of twenty years his wife Claudia of cancer died
He brought her from Rome with him as his young bride
She was quite a loving and devoted wife
His soulmate and the one great love of his life

An eighty three years old great grandfather showing the wear of time
Guiseppe was a handsome man in his life's prime
What hair he has left on his balding head is silver gray
And clearly he has known of a far better day

He and Claudia were a beautiful couple when they were young
And though he speaks good English he retains the accent of the Italian tongue
His best years in life many decades ago
But eventually time becomes everyone's foe

It has been seventeen years since he last was in Rome
The City to him that does remain as home
But in Geelong in Victoria he may live his last night and day
At least anyhow it is looking this way.

A Horrible Thing

Such sad news we hear of and read of every day
Of wars fought in Countries from here far away
People killing each other because of religion and culture and land
Why people never learn from past wars seems hard to understand
Those who claim war leads to peace does believe their own lie
Every year thousands of civilians in war zones do die
In shootings and bombings where human life is taken cheap
Those responsible for such atrocities do sow what they will reap
With little hope of peace in the decades ahead
Patriotism, nationalism and religion are responsible for many war dead
In some Countries for one to be different is seen as a crime
There will not be peace in the World at least not in my lifetime
The praises of dead war heroes the patriots may sing
But war in reality is a horrible thing.

What I Enjoy Doing

I do know that my rhymes are a bit rough
Or that i never will be seen as good enough
To be honoured with the title of a poet
I am not worthy of such literary note
Yet since i was in my life's physical prime
I am one who has penned many a rhyme
An addictive rhymer who will never know of wealth and fame
To me penning stuff is a hungry belly game
My better days in life in the long gone
But i love rhyming and i will rhyme on
If i told you different this would be a lie
As a rhymer i live and as a rhymer i will die
And suppose i will be doing it on my life's last day
What i enjoy doing why should i give away.

It Is True About Time

It is true about time it does take care of all
Life forms including people from the great to the small
If not to the chainsaw the great tree strong and tall
To the wear of old age does eventually fall
People quickly age beyond their lives prime
We all become victims of the one known as time
The baby of the present will be old one day
Time does not wait on anyone as the wise one does say
I am not any different to the ageing sheep
Though unlike me she does not realize for her a final sleep
One thing in common with other life forms we do share
Of which us human beings only seem aware
That there is a last night and day for all
Life forms of the world from the great to the small.

The Fellow Who Does His Own Thing

He believes that life after the death of the body is based on a theological lie
And that God is a manufactured brand name and the soul with the body does die
He is one of the Godless people without a God for to pray to
For to follow the preachings of others is something he never would do
An atheist in his way of thinking yet he lives an honourable life
A man who does love his young children and remains ever true to his wife
He does not have heroes or heroines and the praises of anyone he never sing
And neither does he sing his own praises the fellow who does his own thing
He is never at social gatherings and he is not a member of any club
And he never joins in any local sporting victory celebration in the near to his home local pub
The young father in his late twenties at the height of his physical prime
In his work free hours listening to classical music is his idea of having a good time
A landscape gardener by profession he works hard for his every pay
And though he may be a social outsider he does seem to like it this way.

You May Never Be Wealthy And Famous

You may never be wealthy and famous one daily in the news Worldwide
But that success it can be quite relative is something that cannot be denied
Some of those known to be quite wealthy and famous are not very nice people at all
They never do anyone favours in their ways they can be quite small
If you live as a compassionate person and be the best that you can be
Then you have a gift that is special the great gift known as empathy
You may not have millions in money on material things for to spend
But you are one who is kind and caring and to many you are a good friend
Our gift of life it is not forever in time it is not a long span
Three score and ten years on an average a few years longer for a woman than a man
The praises of the wealthy and famous the impressionable masses may sing
But if by your compassion and kindness happiness to others you do bring
Then you are a very good person and a successful life you do live
Whilst some only know how to receive you are one who does know how to give.

Where Nobody Cares

In Millstreet as a young fellow i was not a bright boy of the school
But nobody cares where i came from in Illowa near Warrnambool
Or what i did in my working existence or if i do have uni degrees
Though in Illowa like all other places money does never grow on the trees

Where i will always be a stranger a man from a place far away
Though the locals are quite friendly to me they always bid me a good day
One who has lived in many places and always yearns for places new
The wanderlust remains strong in me in that i am not one of a few

Though i do live far south of my birthplace so little of the World i have seen
And it has been many Springs since i last saw the bluebells blooming on the ditch of a bohreen
And all i have left are the memories of the beauty of a Duhallow May
But memories can last a whole lifetime as long as the gift of memory with us does stay

The people seen as important in my young years in their local cemeteries lay
For them like the so called under achievers there too was a last night and day
The Reaper of lives makes all equal why otherwise try to pretend
Like all other life forms us humans are mortals and all mortal lives come to an end

Where nobody cares where i came from and i am a stranger to all i do meet
And none care if i was the dunce of the class room in the Boys Primary School of Millstreet
Amongst them i will always be a stranger but this also does suit me fine
I feel happy the weather is pleasant listening to birds singing in the sunshine.

On Boxing Day

I must be a lucky person none luckier than me
The great beauty of Nature everywhere i turn to look i see
The day is nice and sunny of only a slight breeze
That make a gentle rustling sound in the bushes and the trees
On Boxing Day in December in weather temperatures of a near perfect twenty two degrees
The dark winged swallows above the sunlit paddocks chasing flies and bees
The natural sweet aroma of new mown grass for hay
Is wafting in the breezes blowing inland from the bay
As near a place to Earthly Utopia as one could wish to be
The magpie larks in the sunshine are calling out pee wee
The white backed magpies are warbling melodious and clear
The birds who sing on all Seasons and every day of the year
The sunny sky is mostly blue with just a few clouds of gray
On the twenty sixth of December known to most as Boxing Day.

Con Tarrant

He often led the Pipers Band of Millstreet at celebrations many years ago
Till time the one that is known to rust iron eventually it did become his foe
Con Tarrant the man who was known to many has sadly lived his final night and day
The World much better for him living in it of him this does seem a fair thing for to say

A good family man honest in his dealings with others devoted to his children and Christina his late wife
Con Tarrant he was a good friend to many one who did live an honourable life
News of his passing would have caused much sadness since as a historian and writer he was known far and wide
He was one who was quite well known and famous beyond Duhallow's green old countryside

He lived in Clonmeen in Banteer in Duhallow where his passing would have had his family and friends in tears
He was one who was granted many Seasons a lot of living in eighty eight years
One of the last of the old Millstreet Pipe Band in towns and villages in Duhallow and beyond he had led them many a time
I remember him as tall and dark and handsome when i was a schoolboy he was in his prime

Such sad news out of Banteer in Duhallow the likeable Con Tarrant has passed away
In St Fursey's Cemetery at rest forever but his spirit will be where the Millstreet Pipers play
The World was better for him living in it hope his parting from life was a painless release
For all of us there will be a last tomorrow and may the good man Con now rest in peace.

Mushera Christmas Day Climbers

No matter what the weather every Christmas Day
Hardy people from Aubane and surrounds to the cross on Mushera's summit climb their way
At a time of year in Mushera that can be windy, wet and cold
For to take on such a mission one would have to be quite bold

For a charitable cause on Christmas Day they do climb Mushera in frost, rain, wind or snow
They are weather hardened people by the Boggeraghs this much of them i do know
A group of males and females the young and ageing and those in their lives prime
Some of them would have climbed Mushera over the years many a time

Up through the knee high bracken that in Winter is seldom dry
A daunting task for one of my age that i may not be brave enough to try
They climb up on the high ground money for charity for to raise
For this the Mushera Christmas Day climbers are worthy of some praise

Where the cold winds of the Boggeraghs blow with a wintery chill
The mildest Winter day a cold one on Mushera's windswept hill
Mountain climbing in the depths of Winter seems a daunting task to face
But they make them tough by Mushera they are a hardy race

To their worthy charitable causes they do remain ever true
And to undertake such a task on Christmas Day some credit they are due
I cannot say i envy them i feel a lucky man
To lay here in the sunshine improving my suntan.

Christmas Day In Illowa

Christmas Day in Illowa five kilometres from Koroit Town
Some of the paddocks of late mown for hay are looking a pale brown
The warm air is full of the buzzings of bush flies and nectar gathering bees
And the cattle from the sun's heat shelter in the cool shade of the trees
On the potato fields of Illowa not a human being in sight
The dark earth drills moist from the watering of the huge irrigators overnight
The potato seed have only been sown recently and the first stalks yet to appear
In Illowa of the Moyne Shire a week from the New Year
On Christmas Day old Illowa is a very quiet place
On the padocks i see bird and sheep and cattle but not a human face
The farmers with their families after Christmas dinner relax with a beer
On a work free day from the cares of life to enjoy the festive cheer
Christmas Day in Illowa not a human being in sight
And the bush flies and bees are buzzing in the warmth of the sunlight.

Which Does Seem A Bit Sad

The very worst of people were innocent babies one day
But on their lives journeys they have lost their way
A warped sense of values caused them to turn to crime
And they pay for their unlawful actions on serving prison time
it is true indeed that in many of the criminally inclined
That some good if you search for it that you will find
Some of the worst of people are not all that bad
They just strayed off of the path of honesty which does seem a bit sad
Not all criminals in their younger years as criminals remain
They return to living in the honest way again
Some people do learn from mistakes of the past
And changes in their thinking on life happens fast
Every criminal in the World is not all bad
They have strayed on the life's journey off of the right road which does seem a bit sad.

Religion Cannot Make You A Good Person

Religion cannot make you a good person but it surely can make a good person great
But it is sad to know that in the name of religion some bad things have been happening of late
Such as kidnapping, mass murders and beheadings by criminal fundamentalists religious only in name
They are an insult on the name of holy and on religion they only do bring shame
Those true to their religious beliefs are good people they never harm anyone in any way
Of those of different beliefs and thinking to them respect for what they believe in they do pay
They are always helping those in need of helping and the goodness in all others only see
Truly devout people never harm others they are a credit to humanity
They do not dismiss those different to them as bad people and they love helping those of helping in need
People true to their religion are great people and for their future good Karma they plant the good seed
Those who murder for their god are not religious their god their sort i am sure does disown
In the Human World they are scorned as pariahs for crimes against humanity they are known
Religion does not make you a good person but religion can make a good person great
But it is sad to know that in the name of religion some bad things have been happening of late.

As Rare As Hen's Teeth

On the power of posivite thinking positive thinkers may believe
But perfection in life is near impossible to achieve
And a perfect person i have yet to meet
It is said they are rare even rare as hen's teeth
And within a hen's beak teeth cannot grow
This is something that everybody would or should know
For even the best of human beings to be flawed is of natural law
It is human indeed to be born with some flaw
Though some more flawed than others happens to be so
Those who by fraud and deception for themselves create many a foe
The ways of deception in life they pursue
To their higher selves they can never be true
The perfect human being i have yet to meet
It is said they are rare as rare as hen's teeth.

At Stingray Bay

Low clouds over the Warrnambool Breakwater
The sky is looking overcast and gray
The moored boats sitting still in the calm waters
On this December evening on Stingray Bay

In early Summer the weather is quite humid
Though the sun it has not been out today
In it's full glory it has not been sighted
Behind the pregnant rain clouds hidden away

Though in the Stingray car park it is very peaceful
The weather temperatures of a humid twenty five degrees
In the waters of the bay scarce any movement
For to make waves there is not any breeze

On the sea side pathways people out walking, cycling and jogging
Whilst others with rod and line fish on the Breakwater wall
Such beautiful mental images for to remember
In years from now for the memory to recall

A December evening in Warrnambool south west Victoria's coastal City
By the calm waters of old Stingray Bay
The weather is humid and behind the heavy cloud cover
The lamp of the sun it is hidden away.

You Can Make The World Better To Live In

Though you may not feel so you can make the World better to live in there is not any doubt that you can
By trying to live as a better person a far better woman or man
By showing some compassion for others and helping one of helping in need
Expect for yourself some good Karma if for such you have planted the seed

That you can make the World better to live in is only saying what is obviously true
How you choose for to treat other people is something that is up to you
If you are self centred and uncaring of others and never help anyone in any way
Then the Human World worse for you in it to me of you this is a fair thing to say

You can make the World better to live in by for others showing some empathy
It is a great strength not a weakness to for those doing it tough feel sympathy
Since sympathy does lead to acts of kindness and of kind people the World is in need of many more
With the increasing human population now more so than ever before

You can make the World better to live in by doing your good deed of the day
For the making of a kinder Human World to live in we all have our own part to play
The Human World would be better to live in if everyone to others were kind
But sad to say too many people do not seem to be this way inclined.

That Life Choices Are Not For Everybody

For many survival is a great battle that has to be fought every day
Success is something they only wish for though from them it does seem far away
They know about life on the tough side and they know how it feels to sleep rough at night
They have known of homelessness from a young age and of their worries an end not in sight

That life choices are not for everybody does seem quite a fair thing to say
Not for the children of poverty stricken parents who are born to life every day
Many of them homeless and hungry at a young age without a forwarding address
To survive in their harsh environment to them is a form of success

That life choices are not for everybody does only happen to be true
Though everyone deserves a fair go to all people this should be their due
But most of those born into disadvantage of a fair go in life never know
Whilst the gap between the wealthy and the poor with each new day does seem to grow

There are no such a thing as life choices for the poor souls of poverty street
Where many are homeless and unemployed a millionaire you may not meet
And where many do die at a young age and so few do live to grow old
And from where most of the young are unemployed few stories of success to be told.

It Is Said About True Poets

It is said about true poets that they are only few
But the truth in the matter is this is nothing new
Though many refer to themselves as a poet
Few seen to be worthy of literary note
Since i am one who does not have a literary degree
Of what is good or poor writing ask one other than me
Mine is just one opinion this i will not deny
Judge and you will be judged to me too does apply
It is true that so few ever make writing pay
And on who or who is not a good writer the literary critics have their say
It is said that poets are born and cannot be made
But everyone is needed in the wordsmith trade
And though many refer to themselves as poets true poets are rare
Am i telling you something of which you are of already aware?

Billy Cronin

This teenager Billy Cronin is one i have heard of but may never meet
In sports nowadays he is the talk of Millstreet
He is mentioned as a future Olympic athlete
Against the best in Ireland with success he compete

He has proven himself against his Nation's best
And as of yet has not been found to be wanting when put to the test
One who has brought honour to the red of Cork and to Millstreet's green
And the very best of him is yet to be seen

A nice photo and a nice story to go with it Sean Radley on him had to tell
In sports so good to learn of one from Millstreet doing so well
A Club that has produced great athletes of the past
By all accounts young Billy can run quite fast

The cream to the top rise as some like to say
More honours are likely to come Billy's way
His athletic record thus far of his capabilities does not leave anyone in doubt
And his is a good story for to read about

As a young athlete to all he has made it quite clear
That of more of him in the future we are bound for to hear
He will win further honours in twenty fifteen
For Cork in the red and Millstreet in the green.

From The Pain Of A Woman

From the pain of a woman our life's journey began
A journey that lasts on an average of a seven decade span
That takes us from the youthful to the fading years
Of joy and of laughter and of sorrow and tears
Immortality for human kind is surely a lie
Since we are born as mortals and all mortals do die
The Reaper of lives treats all lives as the same
The one who does not respect money and fame
A decade of years in our physical prime
And eventually we all become victims of time
Like all other life forms from the great to the small
We are born as mortals and death is for all
Eventually we come to the final day
This is how it is since life is this way.

Such Is Human Nature

The people of many friends too do have foes
This is part of living one has to suppose
You win some and lose some since life is this way
And your enemy of the future may be your friend of today
It is an old saying you cannot please everyone
And those who try hard to please often end up on pleasing none
One does have to wonder why this should be
Such is human Nature it does seem to me
Since hope to the future of humanity they do bring
Of the kind and compassionate the praises i sing
By helping the people of helping in need
For good Karma for themselves they plant the good seed
And though those open to learning do learn from the past
It is true that few friendships a lifetime does last.

In Many Decades From Today

In many decades from today there will be wealthy and poor the same as there is now
And royalists to monarchs in reverence will bow
And wars will be fought and battles lost and won
And the war bereaved mother will grieve for her dead son
And due to climate change famines in the World will be widespread
For many of the future generations some tough times ahead
And the praises of wealthy celebrities their admirers will sing
Social changes in many ways the future will not bring
For inequality between people is bound to remain
And somebody's loss will be another's gain
But in the World there will be far more people than there is today
At least anyhow it is looking this way
And due to the destruction of natural habitat and Climate Change fewer songbirds in the World for to sing
They will be quite rare the feathered minstrels of Spring
Though some things of course will remain as the same
There will always be the lust for money and fame.

Who Cares

The years have left me looking weary and gray
And who cares about a migrant from here far away
Or if i was the dunce of the primary school
Thousands of kilometres by sky north of Warrnambool
Addicted to rhyming and my best years long gone
But true to my hobby i keep rhyming on
A rhymer since i was twenty seven and in my life's prime
But this is going back some four decades in time
Well into my sixties old age of me ahead
But i want to live on since i will be forever dead
For me too there will be a last night and day
Since we are born as mortals and life is this way
Though i hope to live on for as long as i can
And die without pain as a very old man.

One Like Conor Hartnett

One like Conor Hartnett makes one feel proud to be from Millstreet
In Rio in Brazil he helps out the poor souls of poverty street
In distance from the Clara road thousands of sky kilometres away
The best of Duhallow of him one can say

All of the money he saves working for the Westpac Bank in Sydney Australia on helping Rio's homeless he does spend
To poor people Conor Hartnett is a true friend
For his selfless ways great credit he is due
Yet seemingly unassuming and to his higher self he is true

One i do know of but never may meet
On radio he seems so humble and free of conceit
His mum must be proud of him as would his late dad Noel were he living today
But the Reaper claimed his life early which does seem sad to say

People like Conor Hartnett are great people indeed
They devote their lives in the helping of people who of helping are in need
If everyone were like him there would not be wars in the World or homelessness or poverty
And so much happier and better off all of humanity would be

Those who are compassionate and caring in life seldom know of renown
But Conor has been doing some great work far south of Millstreet Town
Of the praises of his sort of person we ought to sing loud
And to know he is from Millstreet makes me feel so proud.

He Know How It Feels

He will never be seen to be a success of the town
And he know how it feels to be financially down
And he knows how it feels like to live rough on the street
Though life's every challenge head on he does meet

In his early twenties near the prime of his life
Without any children or partner or wife
But he is one who does know of inner strife
And in his poor existence money worries are rife

Out of work and homeless yet hope from him not gone
With his battles in life he does carry on
In hopes of better times of him ahead he does keep faith
There may be truth in the saying all good things come to those who do wait

Young people like he is to be found everywhere
Many millions more in the big World out there
They need not go to fight in a war far away
They have their own battles of survival every day.

Of Old Claraghatlea

Of old Claraghatlea where i spent my best years
Only good memories remain for it i have shed all of my tears
where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways remains a source of joy
In the fields of the brown hares where the rank rushes grow
A little of Nature's ways i got to know
But going back the Seasons this is long ago
And since time that rusts iron has become my foe
But fond memories of the old fields with me does remain
And in my flights of fancy i visit them again
When in Spring the dark brown water birds of breasts white as snow
The dippers are singing where Finnow waters flow
In old Claraghatlea from here far away
Where i first did look on the bright lamp of day.

John Kelleher

When i last met him he was with Billy Connors of Newmarket at the Young and Jackson Pub twenty seven years ago
In Swanston Street in Melbourne spent an hour with them or so
The tall, young and handsome John Kelleher fresh out of Millstreet Town
He was a long way from Murphy's Terrace by the Yarra deep and brown

His services much in demand in Melbourne then since he was a plasterer by trade
One who worked hard for his living though good money he was paid
He was such a nice person and kind in his own way
And so sad to learn at a young age he has lived his final day

In the Town of Millstreet when he was a young lad
He was one often seen with his siblings and his mum and his dad
People like he was are never lost to memory
But for his nearest and dearest and his many friends how sad his passing must be

In Murphy's Terrace in Millstreet his life's journey began
And there from a boy he grew into a man
For awhile from his home he went to live elsewhere
And to experience life in the big World out there

But the power of nostalgia in him was quite strong
And he returned to live in the Town in view of Clara to where he belong
And though in Millstreet in the flesh never to be seen again
In his family and friends good memories of John their lifetimes will remain.

Do Not Go To Plan

It is true that every good woman deserves a good man
But all things in life never do go to plan
And some women who are loving good and faithful wives
Do have rather horrible men in their lives
They fell in love with the wrong sort life can be this way
And for our every mistake there is some price to pay
And as far as love goes sometimes things do go wrong when the heart rules the head
An old saying from the past though truer words never said
Some women too can be abusive and violent though than violent and abusive men far more few
To this you may say do tell us what is new
Men who are abusive to their partners and children in the World sad to say are not rare
For the victims of domestic violence feelings of sympathy one can spare
Some women do fall in love with the wrong sort of man
Suppose all things in life do not go to plan.

The House Sparrows

The house sparrows Nature's familiar chirpers in backyards small birds one does see every day
The males with brown heads, gray unders and mottled brown wings and the females of a rather drabber gray
In Spring and Summer they build nests lined with feathers of mostly bits of dry grasses and hay
Untidy looking often under house eaves where pale speckled brown eggs the females does lay
House sparrows have been introduced to many Countries near where people are they are happy for to stay
They often can be heard chirping in hedges from human buildings they are seldom far away
Perhaps they are Nature's most famous chirpers one can say of them they have ways of their own
Because they are happy to live near humans one can say of them that they are quite well known
They are not the prettiest to look at and they will never rate as birds of song
But all year round they never do stop chirping to Nature's finest chirpers they belong
I hear them every morning very early in the gray dawn before the sun does rise
They live in family groups or in small flocks but of birds i do know little i realize
House sparrows are Nature's familiar chirpers classified as songbirds though they do not have a song
Quite vocal when other birds are singing the sparrows always with them chirp along.

One Reason I Write

To make meaning out of my life one reason i write
And email my rhymes to an internet site
For others to read though my readers are few
Amongst many writers one can say this is not new

Any gifts we possess with others we ought to share
This is something of which i am all too aware
But it is never for money that i write every day
With rhyming words i just enjoy having a play

Today a weather forecast high of a sunny twenty one degrees
And in the park by the bay just a very slight breeze
Though the hot and humid days of mid Summer are near
December in the coastal south west is usually a nice time of year

From what i began with i have seemed to stray
But sometimes in my rhymes i do lose my way
Good writers in the subject they begin with do stay
Though without bad all would be good does seem fair to say

I used to love reading rhymes as a young boy
And writing them nowadays is something i enjoy
There are addictive rhymers i am one of those
But it does take all kinds one would have to suppose.

Big Egos Are Swelling

In the Human World of more of the humble we are in need
So many of the egotistical far too many indeed
The impressionable masses the praises of the wealthy celebrities may sing
But i only admire those who do their own thing
And live in their own way and never join in the ego swelling crowd
The egos are swollen where voices are loud
In a time when those into self promotion are no longer few
The me, myself and i syndrome is something that is no longer new
Many praise those who already have known far too much praise
Our love affair with material success never ceases to amaze
Big egos are swelling where people do meet
I long for a place far from the noisy street
Where the only sounds one hear are the soughing of the breeze
And the songs of the birds on the bushes and trees.

I Must Be Addictive

I must be addictive it does seem this way
I cannot stop rhyming i pen rhymes every day
Perhaps i will be rhyming on the day i die
For to tell you any differently would be a lie
By literary critics ignored as one not worthy of note
One reason i never refer to myself as a poet
I write rhymes for enjoyment and little else more
This is something you may have heard me say before
And though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
No shortage of things for to write rhymes about
Above the brown paddocks the dark swallows fly
In pursuit of flying insects in the sunny sky
A wonder of Nature this beautiful sight
A rhyme on this i will be writing tonight.

Joe

In his prime years he plowed with clydesdale horses many decades ago
But time is catching up on the old fellow Joe
From farming to milk collection truck driving on the south west coastal countryside
In his working for a living the genial Joe has made friends far and wide
From his home in Illowa where he lives with Jenny his lovely wife
Joe is one who has led quite an interesting life
With many grandchildren he is ageing quite well
Of his life he has many good stories to tell
Of late he did have a bit of a health scare
The root cause undiagnozed which does seem quite rare
At a party without any warning from a fainting spell
He completely lost balance and on the floor he fell
He had only drunk a light beer and the fall his confidence did undermine
To go to parties though physically he is feeling fine.

A Warm Day For December

A warm day for December well over thirty degrees
And white butterflies dancing in the coastal breeze
That rustles in the leaves of the sunlit trees
And the warm air full of the buzzings of flies and of bees
The pleasant aroma of grass mown for hay
Wafting in the breeze in the heat of the day
And though only in the second week of December in early Summer the paddocks by the town
From the dry spell of weather beginning to brown
El Nino the thirsty one of late is around
Sucking the moisture from the coastal ground
The long range weather forecast of a dry and warm Summer for the farmers not good news to hear
For them it does look like financially another tough year
And the afternoon quite warm and humid despite the strong breeze
It is not pleasant in the full sun when it is over thirty degrees.

Your Heroes

Your heroes are famous and wealthy and known Worldwide
And your feelings of admiration for them from anyone you never hide
On who you look up to with me is quite fine
But your sort of heroes will never be heroes of mine
You have your opinions with me this is okay
But we do look at life in a different way
Suppose in our ways we see things differently
Which makes us more interesting would you not agree?
In our interests we have little in common to share
But amongst human beings this is or will never be rare
The wealthy and the famous celebrities you do truly admire
And of singing their praises you never do tire
Who you wish to look up to does suit me quite fine
And this is your business and your business not mine.

A Claraghatlea Fellow

I went to see life in the big World out there
But my memories came with me they followed me to where
The dark Merri waters flow to Warrnambool
Far south of Millstreet Town where i went to school

North of Illowa where i now live in sky kilometers far away
In Claraghatlea in Millstreet i first saw light of day
In the old fields i grew to love Nature as a very young boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy

An ageing migrant from the fields of the silver back crow
Who of life and of Nature has so much to learn and know
But from the book of living i learn every day
We never stop learning as the wise one does say

In this countryside home of the grey kangaroo
And long billed corella and the yellow tailed black cockatoo
Of Nature every day i do learn something new
Her wonders are many and her secrets not few

My link to the past is in my memory
And in my flights of fancy the brown face of Clara i see
It was lust of the wander made a migrant of me
But a Claraghatlea fellow i always will be.

The Wizard Of Millstreet

Millstreet Town born and raised And one of Millstreet's own
And it is thanks to him that Millstreet is now widely known
As a place of entertainment in the big World out there
And for his fame and his fortune he never migrated to elsewhere

That there is power in positive thinking cannot be denied
His Green Glens entertainment arena is known Worldwide
As a venue of International show jumping,World Championship Boxing and The Eurovision Song Contest and other major events too numerous to name
Noel C Duggan's big dream has brought him Worldwide fame

In his Green Glens Arena he achieved something great
His successes in life we ought to celebrate
Into his eight decade his physical prime in the long gone
But decades after he dies his legend will live on

To the legends of Duhallow Noel C Duggan belong
He named the Green Glens Arena from 'The Green Glens Of Antrim' of his a favourite song
Many newspaper articles on him written and many stories of him told
It does seem everything that he touches does turn to gold

The Green Glens Arena quite amazing to see
Of the Wizard Of Millstreet the one and only Noel C
The fame and the glory are only the due
Of the man who dreamed big and saw his dream come true.

On Australian Magpies

The flute like notes always so pleasant to hear
Of the birds who do sing every day of the year
In Summer and Autumn and Winter and Spring
The mood every day is in them for to sing
To the piping shrike family they do belong
And are amongst Australia's finest birds of song
They live in towns and town parks and in the countryside
The black and white Australian magpies are known far and wide
In their breeding Season from mid Winter they often sing at night
Their musical warbling a thing of delight
Familiar black and white crow sized birds to many well known
One can say of them they have ways of their own
In family groups territorial and aggressive of them one can say
The birds known to many do sing night and day.

Elizabeth Moore

The last remains is in St Mary's in Millstreet of Elizabeth Moore
But without her Liscreagh as a place far more poor
Where she lived as a child and spent her fading years
By family and friends one farewelled in tears

The lovely Elizabeth has lived her last Fall
But having this said death does come to us all
She will not be around to see in the New Year
The bell that farewells us we never do hear

To her daughters Kathryn and Rita a good mother and to the late John Moore a good wife
Liscreagh's oldest person did live a long life
A beautiful young mother when i was a boy
Fond memories of her i retain as a joy

In Millstreet in the flesh never to be seen again
But good memories of her in all who knew her are bound to remain
In Liscreagh she was born in and in Liscreagh she grew old
In her prime years she was a dark haired beauty to behold

Above Cashman's Hill are low rain clouds of gray
And it is cold in St Mary's on this December day
Where Elizabeth Moore is forever at peace
One can only hope that her parting from life was a painless release.

It Has Always Been

It has always been and will always remain
What is one person's loss is another one's gain
Though many with such thinking may not agree
At least anyhow this is how it seems to me
For every millionaire there are many in dire poverty
In the Human World this is how it is and it always will be
Success stories rare in the poor side of town
Where many know of how it feels like to be financially down
Whilst millions of poor people to hopes of a better tomorrow do cling
Of the praises of wealthy celebrities the impressionable masses do sing
Though the Reaper of lives does not respect money and fame
And the rich and the poor does treat as the same
But amongst the living one person's loss is another one's gain
This is how it is and it will always remain.

A December Day Near Warrnambool

The weather gusty and cool behind clouds of gray
The sun has been hiding for most of the day
But for December it is pleasantly cool
In the coastal countryside of the Moyne Shire close to Warrnambool
The twittering songs of the goldfinches pleasant to hear
Their nesting time in late Spring till mid Summer every year
And in voices familiar and melodious and clear
The songs of the blackbirds always pleasant to hear
The pleasant aroma of grass mown for hay
Is wafting in the breeze of a December day
And the flute like notes of the magpies one could never get wrong
The black and white raven sized minstrels of song
And the magpie larks sing their familiar pee wee
Where the beauty of Nature is all around me.

Batchelor Joe

His name may never be seen on a memorial wall
But of gifts he possesses the greatest of all
And this is compassion his sort are so rare
Of the needs and feelings of others he is always aware
In his mid seventies the likeable, kind and caring Batchelor Joe
Is showing his age time has become his foe
Anne the woman he loved forty five years ago in a motoring accident died
By a cruel stroke of fate of his soulmate he was denied
The only love in his life she was loving, caring and kind
One soulmate in his lifetime any man is lucky to find
At a young age the Reaper of lives from him took the love of his life
The beautiful woman who was to become his wife
And Joe in his seventies performs kind acts every day
By helping those in need of helping just for love not for pay.

Some Cows Too Born To Be Lucky

To say physically no less a mortal than a monarch would not be a lie
Though she does not realize that she was born to die
She lay out of the warm sun chewing her cud in the shade of a cypress tree
She looks far more contented than miserable me
On young grass far more nutritious than silage or hay
Quite happy in her life gaining weight by the day
The lone old red hereford cow in a fenced two acres with a few cypress trees
To shelter by from the sun and the rain and the often gusty breeze
That blow from the ocean through the flat coastal countryside
That some cows like some humans are born to be lucky cannot be denied
Too old for to breed calves a seven year old girl's pet
Who happens to be the only child of the local vet
In the shade of a cypress chewing her cud she does lay
Some cows too born to be lucky it does seem this way.

At The Warrnambool Breakwater

At the Warrnambool Breakwater at Stingray Bay
Though windy quite sunny a pleasant enough day
For early December and early Summer often a nice time of year
Though January the warmest and most humid of the Season with each day draws near
On the bitumen and boarded pathways by the Breakwater walkers, joggers and cyclists exercising at a leisurely pace
For recreational enjoyment in Warrnambool this a favorite place
Whilst some boats are moored in the quiet waters of Stingray Bay
Some launch their boats from the Warrnambool ramp to fish in deep waters every day
Whilst some like to walk the length of the Breakwater Wall
In this part of Warrnambool enjoyment for all
Ages of people the old and the young
In song and in story the praises of the Breakwater sung
At the Warrnambool Breakwater at Stingray Bay
Though the weather quite windy it is a nice day.

I Am A Flawed Person

Praise is a thing that does not suit me well
Since i can be egotistical and such egos are not hard to swell
And as for criticism i do not like it at all
I am a flawed person and in some of my ways quite small
Yes i do have my flaws but my flaws are my own
Though the perfect person i have never known
I know many good people though any of them not without some flaw
To be flawed it would seem is part of Natural Law
We are what we are this is all we can be
And we all have our good and not so good traits would you not agree?
I am better off not successful since success can bring with it conceit
And the conceited are many and every day them i do meet
Praise and criticism does not suit me at all
Since i am a flawed person and in some of my ways quite small.

The Beauty Of Illowa

Out there so much of Nature's beauty for to see
The beauty of Illowa all around me
The quiet countryside beyond where the roadways do meet
Though not a long drive from the nearest town street

Though Illowa could do with many more trees
For birds and animals for shelter from the sun, rain and often gusty breeze
That blow through the coastal countryside from the Pacific shore
Like all of rural Australia of trees Illowa needs more

In the countryside between Warrnambool and Koroit Town
On the Southern Cross road cars and trucks buzz up and down
But apart from this where Nature is wearing a green and brown face
The countryside of Illowa is quite a beautiful place

Of singing the praises of the beauty of Illowa how could one ever tire
A Nature's gem in the crown of the coastal Moyne Shire
On this December day the larks o'er the paddocks like musical specks in the sky
Are singing quite beautifully as upwards they do fly.

My Life Is A Shambles

My life is a shambles why otherwise pretend
But i will battle on till my journey will end
On some day or night when or where that will be
The Reaper of Lives has a date set for me
Anything i does touch does not turn to gold
In sixty eight years of living i have not grown financially well off i have only grown old
This rhyming for me a hungry belly game
It has not added cash or esteem to my name
For my lack of success only myself to blame
And my candle of hope now a flickering flame
I have come to realize though quite important money is not everything
And the joybells in my mind sometimes even ring
I now wish to be healthy and contented and live for as long as i can
And die in my sleep without pain as a very old man.

Have You Ever Felt That

Have you ever felt that life is not on your side
Since by lady luck you have been often denied
Though you wish to be wealthy and know of great fame
And in the big World your's known to many as a legendary name
And life for you has not been any good of late
Your ex partner she has dumped you and another she does date
And since you feel that you have nothing to feel positive about
Your worth as a person you so often do doubt
In a Human World where for a minority for to win the majority must lose
Not everyone can have from life what they do choose
For winners there have to be losers life works in this way
This is how it has always been and is how it will always stay
But hope springs eternal as the wise one does say
And tomorrow for you might be a better day.

When I Hear A Blackbird Singing

When i hear a blackbird singing it takes me far away
To the green groves of Duhallow in the prime of Spring in May
When the snowdrops, primroses and bluebells are on the ditch of the bohreen
And Nature's flowers in abundance in the old fields to be seen
And the cattle out of farmyard sheds from months of eating silage and hay
On the nutritious young grass are gaining weight by the day
And the hawthorns cloaked in fragile blooms of palish white to gray
The past may be gone forever but the memories of it till death does stay
And as long as the gift of memory is your's for to retain
The mental images of the past till death with you will remain
Though time brings with it changes and few things seem to last
Our marvellous gift of memory our only link to the past
When i hear a blackbird singing in the gloam after sundown
In my thoughts the birds are singing in a grove by Millstreet Town.

The Man Who Bought Bill Pad's Mountain

The man who bought Bill Pad's Mountain has physically known a better day
But that his life achievements will outlive him of him only fair to say
From a mostly bracken clad wilderness he created Millstreet Country Park
One can say of Jerry Sheehan in life he has made his mark

The man who bought Bill Pad's Mountain is showing his years in gray
One who has proved that where there is the will there always is a way
He is one in his own lifetime who has seen his dream come true
For this he deserves great credit since credit is his due

The man who bought Bill Pad's Mountain is one i may never meet
He has created wonders in the hills above Millstreet
He is one i only know of but that i may never get to know
In Millstreet Country Park he has created his own legend and his legend grow and grow

Many wealthy people take from Nature but to Nature he does give
The man who bought Bill Pad's Mountain his life achievements him will outlive
His mother and his father in him did raise a great son
The respect and admiration of many he deservedly has won.

Such A Good Man

His mum and dad in him did raise a good son
An honorable fellow he never harmed anyone
Perhaps the most selfless young man of the town
Though that in itself not a claim to renown
Since selfless people in a mostly self centered Human World many do not impress
And to be compassionate and caring is not a recipe for success
Yet better than he was would be quite hard to find
To his aged and frail neighbor widow he was caring and kind
In the twilight of her existence she is ninety four years
And whenever she talks of him she is always close to tears
He died in a workplace accident he was only twenty three
Their only child for his mum and dad how sad this has to be
He did not father children or he did not have a wife
And so sad to think such a good man was only granted a short life.

I Have Been Penning Stuff

I have been penning stuff since my physical prime
And this is going back more than four decades in time
It is not hard to rhyme as easy as can be
And every day new rhymes keep coming to me
When i was years younger and my hair was dark brown
I penned my first rhymes west of Millstreet Town
In the Fall of the year in nineteen seventy three
One reason perhaps i know of poverty
Addicted to the penning of rhyming stuff
For longer than most have i have been a rhyming buff
The rhymes keep on coming to me every day
Even if i tried to rhyming i could not give away
In Claraghatlea just west of old Millstreet Town
I penned my first rhymes when my hair was dark brown.

Bruce And Sam

A former President of the Koroit Lions one known for his kindness of heart
Bruce Lowenthal one in a million for good causes he plays his part
One always willing to help poor people for his acts of kindness he is known
Amongst the good people of the Moyne Shire he is in a class of his own
In his truck his mate Sam is always with him a white dog of the west highland breed
To his master he is quite faithful in him Bruce has a true friend indeed
Wherever you see Bruce you know that Sam from him is not far away
Your dog will remain as your true friend till his or her's last night and day
The kindest man in old Port Fairy is Bruce Lowenthal's sole claim to fame
For his compassion and acts of kindness he has made for himself a name
Of late he did have a health scare but now he is feeling okay
The man known for helping people who performs good deeds every day
Wherever Bruce is Sam is with him his loyal and ever trusting friend
How sad indeed it will be for Bruce when Sam's life will come to an end.

I Went To See Life

I went to see life in the big World out there
To join in the swollen ranks of the those from elsewhere
But since the biological clock it has become my foe
And i am no better off now than i was years ago

For my lack of success i only have myself to blame
Though it feels heartening to me that i will not die in shame
And though the thought of death is a thing i do fear
Of any wrongdoing to others my conscience is clear

Of the home of the badger and brown river trout
My journey in life has taken me far south
To the place of the black wallaby, emu, koala and grey kangaroo
And the white long billed corella and the yellow tailed black cockatoo

Yet i envy the stay at home people and their strong sense of place
In familiar surroundings every challenge in life they do face
Quite happy to live where they are well known
The individuals referred to as one of our own

My journey in life has me far away
From where i first looked on the bright lamp of day
Where old Clara Mountain does ever look down
On the green countryside just west of Millstreet Town.

The Happy Go Lucky

The strangers to you who smile at you and bid you a good day
For a happier World to live in their own part does play
Wherever such people are joy does abound
They carry it with them and spread it around
The happy go lucky are free of conceit
And such people are always a joy for to meet
New friends every day they always seem to win
They do make the World better to live in
The one you say hello to and to you does not reply
May be conceited or may be shy
Of such a person it would be fair to say
That he or she never brings joy to your day
A smile and a friendly hello does not cost you a thing
And joy to someone's day it is likely to bring.

Our Own Reality

Some tell us in life we create our own reality
That this does have some truth in it one must agree
Though circumstance of birth in one's future has some part to play
For the one born of poor parents life's a struggle every day
Few success stories in life from the poor side of the town
Where most know how it feels to be financially down
Where many are homeless and few own a car
From Poverty Street success does seem quite far
Only to the children of well to do parents life choices apply
That they have the chance to create their own reality none ought to deny
In life we create our own reality make of this what you may
In a World where survival for many is a struggle every day.

Those Who Criticize Me

Those who criticize me though i may not like of what me they do say
As people are far more helpful to me in a way
Than those who are willing my praises to sing
Since from them about myself i never do learn anything
It is nice to be praised as most would agree
As most of us like to be liked is how it seems to be
But as the wise one does say and truer words never said
Praise to the praised one has been known to go to the head
The one who points out my flaws to me i may not value as a friend
For truthful words at times are known for to offend
But if to the words of your critic you do pay heed
You will improve as a person since of constructive criticism we are all in need
The one who criticizes me my feelings may offend
Though than to the one who sings my praises he or she may be a better friend.

Since I Left Claraghatlea

Since i left Claraghatlea west of Millstreet Town
Old Finnow has often been in flood waters of brown
For this is going back twenty eight years in time
And the babies then are now in their lives prime

And since from there i have been many seasons away
To many i would be a stranger in Millstreet today
Who is that old stranger some of them might say
He does look so time worn and fragile and gray

When the cold winds of December from the Boggeraghs did blow
And old Clara was wearing his white hat of snow
And Finnow flowed bank high in flood waters of brown
I left the countryside west of Millstreet Town

In Koroit in south west Victoria near the City of Warrnambool
Far south of the Town of where i went to school
It is warm today in the coastal Moyne Shire
In a land that in Summer is subject to fire

With a temperature high of a warm and humid thirty degrees
There is little relief from the heat even in the freshening coastal breeze
That blows in Koroit from the Pacific shore
On a car journey from the nearest beach of ten minutes no more

Far north in Duhallow from here far away
It is windy and cold by the Boggeraghs today
Where in the farmyard sheds in the dawning gray
The cattle are bellowing for silage or hay

For Many Years

For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And i am one who has penned heaps of rhyming stuff
But i must be addictive to pen rhymes every day
Since for doing it i never receive money as pay
But i am one who loves rhyming and as a rhymer i will stay
Though some tell me that i ought to give it away
If i said i would quit rhyming this would be a lie
And i hope to be doing it till the day i die
I am just one of many who enjoys penning rhyme
And doing it to me is never a waste of time
As a fellow of rhyme to some i have become known
But then suppose we all do have ways of our own
I do enjoy rhyming and as a rhymer i will stay
And i hope to be doing it till my last night and day.

By The Northern Mountains

From the overnight frost the old fields looking gray
It is cold by the mountains from here far away
In the farm sheds the cattle are bellowing for silage or hay
In the silent dawn of a December day

The migratory redwing thrushes are chirping on the bare hedgerow
And the harsh though familiar caws of the silver back crow
Floats across the quiet fields in the cold morning breeze
In weather temperatures quite close to the zero degrees

At a time of year when grass does not grow
The old hill is wearing it's white hat of snow
And the worst of the Winter with each dawn draws near
December in the north is a cold and wet time of year

Quite close to four months from the early Spring
When the wildborn nesting birds whistle and sing
Brown storm water flowing in the roadside drain
And the river bank high from recent heavy rain

The first of December dawns with a cold chill
And a wintery breeze blows across the hill
From the overnight frost the old fields looking gray
By the northern mountains from here far away.

Victoria State Election Night 2014

The Liberal-National Government of Victoria led by Premier Denis Napthine the State Election has lost
Suppose all good things in life for all who receive them eventually come at some cost
Daniel Andrews and the Labor Party and their supporters are celebrating tonight
In politics as in all things in life for the losers dejection and for the winners delight
The winners are celebrating and dancing on the street
And there is joy tonight where the Labor Party faithful meet
In pubs and clubs across Victoria on Labor's great victory
On a night that will live on for them in memory
Four years ago on Victoria State Election night the Liberal- National supporters were cheering loud
They had won bragging rights and felt happy and proud
The elation of victory is such a joyful thing
The winners do laugh and the winners do sing
For the Victorian Labor Party quite a memorable night
And their loyal supporters are cheering in delight.

I Am Not A Bad Person

I am not a bad person though in my ways a bit odd
And i do not have much money and i do not have a god
As many in the World do for to kneel to and pray
Call me an agnostic or an atheist or call me what you may

I am not a bad person though a bit ordinary maybe
There are many far better and far worse than me
But from living i learn something new every day
We do never stop learning as some do like to say

Over time i have made a few friends and i have made a few foes
But life is this way one must have to suppose
Into my late sixties my prime days long gone
And though i find life a battle i keep living on

Though for my years as success goes i have nothing to show
I am not a bad person this much of myself i do know
The one who is in need of helping i do help if i can
Though not one of life's successes i am not a bad man.

A Comfortable Home To Live In

A comfortable home to live in and enough to eat and drink is all anyone need
And having this said the unhappy billionaire is a poor one indeed
The happy go lucky their needs in life small
There is truth in the saying one cannot have it all
The praises of millionaire celebrities the masses may sing
If your money could buy you happiness then that would be everything
But that money cannot buy you happiness remains ever true
The super rich person worry becomes his due
To be a known billionaire his claim to renown
But he is never seen to smile the wealthiest man of the town
Of business worries he surely does harbour quite a share
I do not envy him his money the super rich billionaire
A comfortable home to live in and enough to eat and drink is all anyone does need
And the unhappy billionaire is a poor one indeed.

Dan Gould

I remember Dan Gould as an ageing man
He was then in the twilight of his lifetime span
He lived near Millstreet Town up the Cloghoula way
The passing of time had left him looking gray

He was a great road bowler in his life's prime
One of the best in Cork and Ireland going way back in time
Till the biological clock did become his foe
He lived his last day many Seasons ago

A tall athletically built fellow unconceited by fame
Dan Gould O Sullivan was his real name
His road bowling days never heard him talk about
Though of his greatness ageing bowling fans never left me in doubt

To talk of his road bowling wins was not his thing
He left it to others his praises to sing
Though he had competed against and had often beaten the road bowling best
And was never found to be wanting when put to the test

Tall and athletic in his prime a man amongst road bowling men
At the big bowl scores he was the one to beat then
The Pride of Cloghoula near old Millstreet Town
To be a great road bowler his claim to renown.

We Are Only Mere Mortals

We are only mere mortals why otherwise pretend
Like all other life forms for us there is an end
Whatever we achieve in life we are born to die
The same for the celebrity as for you and i
Yes we are air breathing mortals that and little else more
Only a minority of human beings of years reach and live beyond the four score
Though the lifetime achievements of a minority in their legacy for centuries live on
Being remembered is of little use to those amongst the forever gone
The wealthy just like the poor to the life's reaper's scythe fall
Life's journey does end for the great and the small
It is a fact of life and fact does not lie
That we are born as mortals and mortals do die
And since time has left me looking older and gray
Every dawn brings me nearer to my last night and day.

Of Their Love Of Their Country

Of their love of their Country so many do brag
And with pride they do wave their national flag
But nationalism and patriotism to war often does lead
Stories of war heroes many like to hear of and read
With pride and gusto your country's national anthem you well may sing
But of your true love of your country this does not tell us a thing
Flag waving and public shows of patriotism of you only does say
That you are arrogant and warlike in your egotistical way
Non flag waving and peaceful people love their country too
And may be more so in their own quiet way than one such as you
Who of your professed love of country put on a public show
By your flag waving you like to leave the World Know
Of how patriotic and marvellous a person you happen to be
Though you do have a huge ego it does seem to me.

Of Those Who Do Not Trust Anyone

Of those who do not trust anyone it would be fair to suppose
That in their own thinking they surround themselves with foes
For if on the trustworthiness of anyone you do not believe
Then mistrust in return is all that you can expect to receive
For trust is a thing to it that has more than one side
And you cannot expect trust of one who of your trust you have denied
This is how it works and how it always will be
How can i trust one who only mistrusts me?
Since on your every business transaction your signature must be on a legal document it does seem fair to say
That your word is not considered to be your honour in the World of today
In a human World of trust for legal documents there would not be any need
That your word is no longer considered to be your honour seems so sad indeed
If in the trustworthiness of anyone you do not believe
Then trust in return do not expect to receive.

In The Quiet Old Cemetery

In the quiet old cemetery in view of the hill
The silence profound in the wintery chill
Where the bones of the long deceased ancestors of the locals lay
Though their influences live on in their descendants today

From generation to generation of locals their beliefs passed down
Their influences it would seem did not die with them in the town
It must be in the d n a that old beliefs live on
For since they lived many decades in time have gone

They went off to war when they were fit and young
And the praises of war heroes by them were sung
And as war veterans they wore their war medals at every war parade
Through the generations the gene of patriotism it never does fade

For god and flag and country was their battle cry
And that their influence was great none ought to deny
Their descendants today wave the national flag
And when their national team win an important international game of their superiority they brag

Many years ago from the cares of living death gave them release
And in the cemetery by the hill their bones are at peace
But their influences it does seem with them did not die
To say otherwise would be stating a lie.

The Social Gap Widening

The social gap widening it does seem this way
And for many life is a battle every day
Millions of people are homeless and hungry tonight
Survival for them it is an uphill fight
The stories of winners we only hear of and read about
And of the the opportunity of the betterment of self and of family many are being shut out
The most of the assets and the money in the World is owned by the greedy few
To this you may well say tell us what is new
The numbers of Homeless people every day multiply
And why many from the poor side of town do end up in prison no need to ask why
To appease their addiction for drugs they turn to crime
And many in prison spend their physical prime
The social gap has never been as wide before
And every day it widens a little bit more.

On Millstreet's Munster Semi Final Loss To Brosna

To lose to Kerry's best with honour in any grade of gaelic football is never a disgrace
And though for Millstreet in the Munster junior club final there will not be a place
Their fans and players will remember the year of twenty fourteen
For it was a great year for the gold and the green

A Duhallow and a Cork County Championship in any grade of gaelic football
One can say in gaelic games for any club a good year over-all
And though in the Munster semi final to Brosna by five points they went down
They have brought some sporting honour to old Millstreet Town

And though a sporting success can be good for a town's esteem
Sport can be a diversion from the reality of living it does seem
But suppose in Ireland with many out of work and the economy not doing well of late
People do need something in their lives for to celebrate

And though losing is a thing anyone does not choose
In sports as in life for one for to win someone else has to lose
Though Millstreet did not go down without a fight we are told
Which does bring back memories of the Millstreet of old

A five point win to Brosna over Millstreet in Brosna did not leave any room for doubt
That the far better team on the day did win out
But for the Millstreet Club in gaelic football it was a memorable year
And one does have a feeling that of more of them we will hear.

Koroit

For a visitor it is a welcoming place
In Koroit in Victoria many a friendly face
With strong links to Indigenous and Irish cultures it's great claims to renown
Koroit in south west Victoria is a welcoming town
A coastal rural small town that has visitors every day
To be welcoming to strangers is the Koroit way
In a beautiful part of south west Victoria's coastal countryside
Koroit an old town that is known far and wide
As a town of nice people with a charm of it's own
For all of the right reasons it is quite well known
Tower Hill of the Budj Bim from Koroit just a few kilometers away
With links to the people of the Dreamtime that has visitors every day
On the road to Warrnambool in the Moyne Shire
Of singing the praises of Koroit one never could tire.

Old Jimmy

Old Jimmy the wise fellow once said to me
You only can be the best that you can be
He is even quite wise for one of eighty three
The town's wisest wise elder as most would agree
You may be found wanting when put to the test
But as Jimmy does say at least you tried your best
And though losing is something anyone does not choose
For one for to win someone else has to lose
Last year to cancer Jimmy lost Annie his beloved wife
For fifty four years his soulmate in life
A grandfather ten times of him one can say
That he is one who learns from life every day
And when he says you only can be the best you can be
With him on this i can only agree.

I Used To Believe

I used to believe if i prayed at Tubrid's Holy Well
That it would save me from the hot fires of hell
But i was quite young and quite naive back then
And sometimes innocent boys grow into cynical men
All religious belief i have given away
But am i any better off for this today?
Since the faith i was born into by me has been lost
And everything that we lose in life to us comes at some cost
But good memories of Tubrid with me does remain
And when i go home to Millstreet i will visit there again
Though this time it will not be to kneel at the grotto to pray
Since religion is a thing that is not with me today
But just to drink a few cups of water from Tubrid's clear spring
For anyone's health that would be a good thing.

That Time Is Our Master

The time on our lives ever ticking away
The best footballer in the town ten years ago is not so today
At thirty seven a veteran member of the town's football team
Of late he has been running out of steam
The years on his body beginning to show
Once the club's fastest but compared to the fastest now slow
Yes eventually time becomes everyone's foe
He is not the man he was ten years ago
That age slows the best of them is true indeed
With the passing of the Seasons he has lost some of his speed
Nowadays he does struggle when put to the test
One ten years younger than him is now the club's best
Though the deeds of greatness with the body does not die
That time is our master it is not a lie.

Why Tell Me About It

Why tell me about it since i know all too well
That i am not the only one who pens doggerel
There are many like me to be found everywhere
In every village, town and city in the big World out there

Who is a good poet or what is a good poem why do you ask me
Since i am one who does not have a literary degree
Though i am one who has had a liking for rhyme
Since i was a young man going way back in time

And who could not feel inspired to rhyme on this warm Spring day
Wafting in the breeze from the nearby paddocks the sweet scent of freshly mown hay
On a forecast high for the day of twenty three degrees
The pleasant though familiar song of the blackbird is carrying in the breeze

And the flute like songs of the magpies melodious and clear
The birds who do sing every day of the year
Most birds once familiarized with one cannot get wrong
They become recognizable by their chirping or song

The weather is warm and breezy and bright
And white butterflies seemingly dancing in the sunlight
And dark welcome swallows chirping as they fly
On pursuit of flying insects across the blue sky

The first of the calendar Summer is just nine sleeps away
From this beautiful and bright November Spring day
The warm air is full of the buzzings of flies and of bees
With a temperature high of twenty three degrees.

They Do Not know

They do not know what it feels like to be financially down
Like the poverty stricken battlers of the poor side of the town
And they never had to try to sleep hungry at night
On a park bench under a wintery sky in the faint starlight
With their wealthy mates in expensive restaurants they do dine
And they only do drink the most expensive wine
And for the poor of the town one thought they do not even spare
They believe that their money is for them for to keep and not for to share
And they believe that their good fortune in life is only their due
And that in life some must lose for others to win they believe to be true
And that those who are poor for how they live have only themselves to blame
Lack of empathy and unkindness in ways much the same
And since where they live poor people they never do meet
What would they know about life on Poverty Street?

Just A Love Hobby

By the judgmental dismissed as a failure but this in itself is not a crime
And close to the twilight of my existence and near four decades past my life's prime
I own to it that i am a flawed person addicted to the penning of rhyme
But i admit to finding it quite enjoyable doing what most does see as a waste of time
I believe that we all eventually are failures since we all eventually die
The fact is we are all physically born as mortals and fact as we do know never lie
To the hopes of a better tomorrow like many do i too do cling
But meanwhile i will go on with living and carry on doing my own thing
I know i have to be addictive for to keep on rhyming every day
Yet it is something i enjoy doing so why should i give it away
In a Human world where money is most important to be short of it not good at all
And though i will never be wealthy and famous my biggest worry compared to the worries of some does seem small
And i will keep on doing what i enjoy doing adding to my numbers of rhymes every day
Though for me it is just a love hobby far too hard for to give away.

We Are The Migrants Of Duhallow

We are the migrants of Duhallow from our first homes far away
In Britain and Countries of Europe, South America, Canada and the U S of A
Australia, New Zealand and Asia and Countries in Africa as well
Of our journeys that took us from Ireland we have our own stories to tell

We are the migrants of Duhallow from Kilcorney, Nad and Boherbue
Rockchapel, Meelin and Newmarket and Dromtarriffe and Derrinagree
And Lyre, Banteer and Castlemagner, Kilbrin and Freemount of music and song
We may live far from the shores of Hibernia but our bond to Duhallow remains strong

We are the migrants of Duhallow of Tullylease, Kanturk and Millstreet
In every City of the World one of us you are likely to meet
Of Ballydesmond, Kiskeam and Rathcoole and Cullen and high Knocknagree
With wonderful views of Sliabh Luachra into east Kerry beyond Rathmore far as the eyes do see

For us the migrants of Duhallow it should not be hard to understand
That we do love our first homeplaces even more than we love Cork and Ireland
The accent that we were born into on our journeys with us came along
And though we live far from the Boggeraghs our links to the past remains strong.

The City Raised Young Man

In a town where he is not made to feel welcome
And not trusted by anyone and disliked by some
Where even if he does become better known
He will never be referred to as one of our own
His work contract due to end in early May
And in the country town he will not settle and stay
Where he knows that his would remain as a stranger's face
The city raised young man does feel out of place
The nearest surf beach from where he now lives for him seems too far
At least a six hour return journey by car
From his urban home the ocean a short drive away
Where on the city surf beach he did surf every day
Home is where the heart is as some like to say
And his home from here by car five hours away.

On A Comment On The Millstreet Web Site

Though from Millstreet my first homeplace i live far away
I visit there online a few times a day
It was there i was born and raised and went to school
Far north of where i now live Koroit near Warrnambool

And though each to their own is how it seems to be
One comment on the Millstreet Web Site of late does not go well with me
One John O Sullivan the praises of the unnecessary removal of conifer trees from the Millstreet Town Park does sing
Even a verbal attack on Nature is not a good thing

I do stand by fact since fact does not lie
When their trees are removed sedentary wildlife doomed to die
They fear their territorial neighbours and from predators have nowhere to hide
Due to tree removal millions of tree dwelling birds and animals have died Worldwide

I live in a landscape that is quite scarce on trees
And in Summer temperatutes of often close to forty degrees
Even for farm animals without adult trees as shade from the sun
Life can be tough and never much fun

In tropical rainforests unsuitable for farming which is obviously clear
By slash and burn farmers of the Amazon millions of trees removed every year
Land that in it's suitability for agriculture does have a short span
In a time of Climate Change the World's worst enemy is man

Though i have not been in the Millstreet Town Park for many a day
As far as i recall of the games area those conifer trees were not in the way
The wanton destruction of their habitat for wildlife huge problems create
And on the unnecessary removal of adult trees what is to celebrate?

Nature The Immortal

Long after i have lived my very last Spring
The wild birds of Nature will whistle and sing
And skylark a musical speck in the sky
With trembling wings will sing as he fly
Time that rusts iron does weaken the strong
And the longest lived human life in time is not long
And like all of Nature's life forms us humans are born to die
The same for the billionaire celebrity as for you and i
The Seasons of Nature do come and do go
And time as we know becomes everyone's foe
And many of the greats of human history to and from life have come and gone
But Nature the immortal as ever lives on
Time on my life ever ticking away
And for me like all of Nature's life forms a last night and day.

From Those Who Admire You

From those who admire you and your praises do sing
About yourself you never learn anything
But those who criticize you in a constructive way
Can help you to improve as a person if you heed of what you they do say
But for most of us our egos are bigger than ourselves 'twould appear
Since only the nice things of self from others most wish to hear
And they are not scarce and not hard to find
The World is not short of the self absorbed kind
Even the most humble have egos is how it seems to be
But when the ego outgrows the head it is in it does seem to me
That the owner of the ego becomes egotistical and even the mildest of constructive criticism cannot bear
And sad to think that such people are no longer rare
And it is true from those who admire you and your praises do sing
About yourself you never do learn anything.

On A Photograph Of Jedder

An old tattered photograph of her is all that with me does remain
And in real life i never will see her again
I remember at her death i was reduced to tears
Old Jedder my canine friend for eleven years
The black and white border collie x blue heeler cross loved to play fetch stick or ball
She did not demand much out of life at all
Jedder to me was a devoted friend
And she was true to me till her life's journey's end
A man in time may lose the love of his wife
But your dog is your friend for the term of your life
And Jedder to me was a devoted friend
And she was true to me till her life's journey's end
For her friendship of me she did not ask much at all
Just two feeds a day and a short game of fetch stick or ball.

Most Migrants

Most migrants have a place they refer to as home
For the Athenian it is Athens for the Roman it is Rome
Home is where the heart is as the wise one does say
And home to many is not where they live but their first home far away
We live in the present but our memories are of the past
And time on our lives ever ticking on fast
And all of our lives are journeys that do have an end
Physically we cannot live forever of this why even pretend
Most migrants in their lives nostalgia have known
But in time by them such feelings are outgrown
For self betterment or adventure or some other challenge to face
Or for some other reason we left our first homeplace
That most migrants have a place they refer to as home is how it seems to be
And Claraghatlea near Millstreet Town remains home to me.

On Such A Nice Day

A blackbird is singing on a sunlit leafy tree
Him i know by his voice though him i do not see
And the warbling flute like notes ever pleasant to hear
Of the magpies who sing every day of the year
Off of the window sills goldfinches collecting spider silk for their nest
Amongst the late nesters of Spring in Victoria's south west
Mid November the southern calendar Summer just two weeks away
And weatherwise this so far has been a changeable day
With brief spells of sunshine and a cool freshening breeze
And a temperature high of eighteen degrees
Once heard and once seen birds one cannot get wrong
The gray shrike thrushes known for their beautiful whistling song
Not too warm or too cool and pleasant in every way
How good to be living on such a nice day.

Of Any Success In Life

Of any successes in life i do not have for to tell
I am just one of many who pen doggerel
With words i am one who does like to play
And i add to my numbers of rhymes every day

Just something i enjoy doing and little else more
This is something you may have heard me say before
I have been penning stuff since in my life's prime
And this is going back many Seasons in time

And though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
Never shortage of things for me to write about
To write rhymes is easy as easy as can be
At least anyway this is how it seems to me

From the place of the badger and the brown river trout
The rhyming addiction has followed me south
Though of this i am not proud i can assure you
It is something i just feel compelled for to do

The years have left me looking weary and gray
And i have given thought of giving rhyming away
But the voice in my mind to me always does say
Old Francis you have to pen more rhymes today

For doggerel for years i have carried the flag
But this is something not worthy of a brag
And perhaps my addiction will be with me till the day i die
If i did tell you different this would be a lie.

Nature

Her four Seasons beautiful though different Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring
Of the beauty of Nature i feel happy to sing
Everywhere i turn to look her natural greenery i do see
Every day of the year it is all around me
To creativity the writers and artists she does inspire
So much natural beauty in Nature for one to admire
Sister to Mother Earth whose life forms including humans she does feed
Mother Earth and Nature for our survival we do need
In truth i can say i have loved her since i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
And of Nature we learn something new every day
We never stop learning it does seem this way
Immortality for humans is surely a lie
But she is immortal and will never die.

In Koroit In November

In the blue sunny sky just a few clouds of gray
And the lately mown paddocks scenting sweetly of hay
And children in the park laughing at their play
In Koroit on this pleasant November day
With the sun on their dark wings chirping as they fly
The welcome swallows devour flying insects in the sky
After recent Spring showers the parks and paddocks lush and green
And beautiful wildflowers in full bloom plentiful to be seen
The warm air is full of the buzzings of flies and of bees
And the nesting birds singing on bushes and trees
White butterflies dancing in the freshening breeze
On a pleasant day of around twenty degrees
And the breeze in the leaves of the trees such a beautiful sound
In Koroit in November Nature's beauty abound.

Oh Pity You

Oh pity you for worries of you do know
For like noxious weeds they only do grow and grow
And to cancer they have been known for to lead
Of such sad stories one so often does read
The town's wealthiest man he recently died
Tragically for his wife and young children of suicide
On his thirty second year in his life's prime
He did not wait for the life's Reaper on his existence for to call time
Worries about his business had been plaguing his mind
A not unusual problem of the millionaire kind
For his great financial successes with his life he did pay
Most thing come at a cost as some are known to say
The town's richest man he is at peace today
Out of his great unhappiness he found a way.

Not For

Not for money or for fame
Or to make for myself a name
That i pen rhymes every day
Though for me once never a hooray
Time has become a foe to me
Since i penned my first rhyme in seventy three
And since then many days to time have gone
But for love of rhyming i rhyme on
Without the reward of monetary pay
Some to me do even say
That it is time i ought to call it a day
And give penning of rhyme away
But since to rhyme in me there is the need
To their advice i pay no heed.

It Will Not Matter To Me

It will not matter to me when i have lived my last night and day
If my last remains in a dark earthy grave lay
Or in a creamtorium to ashes does burn
Either way to the Earth i belong to i am destined to return
Many people worship their god in prayer and in song
But we are creatures of Nature and to her we belong
Though many in my thinking on this i feel sure would disagree
This is how anyway is how it seems to me
My views on this many would say are all wrong
But i do believe like all other life forms to Nature i belong
To Mother Earth who clothes and feeds me i will return to one day
But on such a subject many different views it would be fair to say
Like every other life form i was born to die
This is a fact of life and fact does not lie.

On My Country

When Indigenous Australians talk of My Country they are talking of their homeplace
And not of greater Australia but the countryside of their ancestral race
Indigenous people have a sense of belonging and their bond to place it is strong
Their ancestors did not believe in land ownership since they felt to the land they belong
The land taken from their ancestors that is known as Australia today
But that they remain as the first Australians from them cannot be taken away
Like all tribal people they have a strong bond to Country and to the ways of their tribe they are true
And they will always be the first Australians by birthright this remains their due
When an Indigenous Australian says welcome to My Country he or she means welcome to my home countryside
For they are a people true to place and in their cultural ways they take pride
They are the children of the Dreamtime the first of this southern Land
That they are devoted to place and to family should not be hard to understand
And when they say welcome to Country in truth they mean welcome to our homeplace
And they love their own parts of Australia Down Under's first and oldest Race.

In Millstreet Country Park Today

Across Bill Pad's mountain steal the fog rains of gray
It is cold by old Mushera on this November day
No song of brown mottled birds pipit or lark
At this time of year in Millstreet Country Park

Since it became Millstreet Country Park i have never been there
My journey in life did take me to elsewhere
But i harbour good memories of Mushera in Spring
When high above the bracken the skylark does sing

To fill the silent mountain with song as he fly
A musical speck in the gray of the sky
On a calm and a beautiful evening in May
Good memories live on as the wise one does say

Millstreet Country Park by old Mushera in the high countryside
In Spring to Summer and early Autumn a tourist attraction for people Worldwide
Visitors of every Nationality and every Race
Leave with good memories of what is a beautiful place

Across Bill Pad's mountain steal the gray fogs of rain
And brown storm water flowing in every stream and drain
At least six months from the prime of Spring in May
The entrance gate closed in Millstreet Country Park today.

The God I Believe In

Of any religious beliefs i am one who is free
The god i believe in is living in me
And in you and in every other person who believes in live and let live in the World everywhere
There is no evidence of any god in the great Universe up there
I do know like many others i am not free of sin
But it is hard not to be cynical in a World where many must lose for a few for to win
Many not receiving the financial rewards from life that they are due
But if to your higher self you remain ever true
And be honest in your dealings with others in every way
Then to an unseen god why should you kneel to pray
Since you are one who believes in live and let live
You are one who does not have big sins to forgive
And though you may not be one completely free of sin
You are one who does nurture your god within.

Loneliness

Loneliness does not have a home it does live everywhere
And so many lonely people in the big World out there
The man living on his own in his seventies grieving for his recently deceased wife
He has got to know loneliness since it has entered his life
The homeless and hungry teenagers of the street
At a young age their life's greatest challenges they do meet
Loneliness to them it is nothing new
Without money that gives status your friends in the few
You need not be wise or clever a genius or a sage
To know that loneliness to it does not have an age
The difference between it and contentment and happiness is obviously clear
When loneliness is with you these two to you not anywhere near
Where loneliness is for joy there is no place
And the one who lives with it lives with a sad face.

Something Great

As a young man i was not any good at hurling or gaelic football
And at athletics and soccer i was no use at all
But everybody is good at something as the wise one does say
Perhaps i may find out at what i am good at one day
That everyone is good at something is arguably true
And in life we all have our own dreams to pursue
And some never achieve in life what they wish to achieve
For many what they most desire for they never receive
And success is relative as many would agree
You can only be the best that you can be
You may never become the hero of the town
But if you are willing to help one who is financially down
A better World for to live in you are helping to create
And you are one who has achieved something great.

Polar Bears Are Irish

One brown female bear in Ireland who mated with a white bear is the maternal ancestor of the polar bears of today
And though they now live in the Arctic from their ancestral homeland far away
The famous scientists and genetic experts Mark Thomas and Beth Shapiro from skeletal remains their original ancestor did trace
To Ireland in the north Atlantic as their original homeplace

At the end of the ice age they left Ireland and retreated north with the ice
Forced to leave their ancestral homeland for them not any other choice
Climate Change in it's many forms has been happening for centuries far longer than anyone seem to know
The white bear a creature of cold climates to survive needs the ice and the snow

The white bears do seem in trouble since the polar ice caps are melting fast
In a century from now in an ice free Arctic marine bears will be of the past
The Arctic is their last stronghold from there for them nowhere to go
To for them to insure their survival the warming climate is nowadays their fatal foe

The mighty white bears of the Arctic that have inspired story and rhyme
Retreated at the end of the ice age to follow the ice out of Ireland going back thousands of centuries in time
They may be creatures of the cold north where on the sea ice they range free
But scientists claim polar bears are Irish as Irish as Irish can be.

You May Not Be

You may not be the heir to the queen and the king
And your praises the masses they never may sing
Or you may never own, drive or be driven in an expensive car
But this does not tell us of the person you are
You may never be hailed a hero of the town
For you in life never such widespread renown
Yet you never fail to give credit to where it is due
And to your higher self you remain ever true
And every day you do plant Karma's good seed
By helping anyone of helping in need
Without expecting the reward of financial pay
And look on it as your good deed of the day
These things as a person say more about you
Than all of the honours and titles can do.

Old Johnny

Though as a person in a class of his own
A quiet sort of a fellow to many not known
Not seen to be worthy of any sort of renown
Yet old Johnny by far the wisest one in the town
He does not have a partner or he does not have a wife
Or any offspring as such for him to talk of and worry about in his life
He does not go to the local pub to socialize
But on talking to him one does realize
That he is not what is known as your average man
One who has learned much from life in his eight decades time span
Surely the wise elder of his side of the town
Though a wise person dies as a stranger to renown
Old Johnny does never have that much to say
But he learns from listening to others every day.

Utopia From Koroit

A beautiful evening of sunshine and breeze
With the weather temperatures of a pleasant twenty degrees
And the warm air full of the buzzings of flies and of bees
And the nesting birds singing on bushes and trees
In the southern November a green and lovely time of year
The Spring on it's last weeks and Summer is near
In their playground in the park the children laugh at their play
It is so good to be living on such a nice day
Looking beautiful and green after recent Spring showers
The park quite resplendent in it's Nature's wildflowers
In the blue sunny sky just a few clouds of gray
And wafting in the breeze the pleasant aroma of freshly mown hay
From the paddocks nearby on this November day
Utopia from Koroit cannot be far away.