A Warring Man

He is not amongst the wise though he has grown old and gray
But he has fought in war zones in Countries far away
On the lapel of his coat his war medals he display
When he marches behind the band on war memorial day
his wrinkled neck, face and hands give proof of time's decay
Yet he would love to fight in a war again at least this is what he does say
At the pub on Saturday night when he has a few beers in
But he will not get the call when there is a war to win
Stories of his warring days to his younger mates he does tell
And he did seem to enjoy what to most would be Earthly Hell
And he has aged rather well for one in his ninetieth year of life
A great grandfather many times he has long outlived his wife
He fought in distant Lands when in his life's elan
And though the years have left him old he remains at heart a warring man.

Magpie Larks

From where humans are they are never far away
The black and white magpie larks birds one does see and hear every day
Known to some as mudlark and some by their song which sounds like pee wee
They build a cup shaped nest of mud on fork of low branch of tree

At home in town parks or backyards or paddocks of the countryside
In Australia magpie larks do live Nationwide
To every Australian birds that are known
And they do have ways and a charm of their own

They never live in large flocks though in numbers they abound
And they live mostly on insects they find on the ground
I often see and hear them sing in the park of the town
And as they call out pee wee they raise their wings up and down

Of human kind they never show that much fear
Before they take to flight to them you can come near
Dainty black and white birds with a familiar song
You see and hear them once and you never again get them wrong.

Some Birds

Some birds by their sound they are not hard to know
The call of the pee wee the caw of the crow
And the flute of the magpie one often does hear
The bird who does sing every day of the year
Yet that of Nature i have so much to learn of is not a surprise
Since i hear and see birds sometimes i do not recognize
So little i do know is how it seems to be
Of the Natural World that is all around me
The greenfinch and goldfinch i have known since i was a boy
And hearing and seeing them today i enjoy
And the blackbird and sparrow take me back in time
To the place where i lived in my youth and my prime
But in knowledge of Nature one might say i have some way to go
And time it does seem it has become my foe.

Our Prime Years Go So Quickly

Our prime years go so quickly in hair dyes some do cloak their aging gray
And some use anti aging creams for to cover time's decay
The longest human life is not long of time just a brief span
On average a few more years for a woman than it is for a man
Enjoy your youth whilst you have it for youth is a precious thing
And as has often been said youth will have it's fling
So make the most of your young years for time ticks on and on
We cannot return to yesterday since yesterday has gone
It has been near four decades since i was in my life's prime
But to me it does not seem that long ago on looking back in time
When with my young friends in far off parks i chased after the football
And on looking back the Seasons in time it does not seem that long at all
Our prime years go so quickly and the clock ticks on and on
And we cannot go back to yesterday since yesterday has gone.

On The Morwell Fire

In Morwell a pyromaniac from the police on the run
Of deliberate fire lighting for such kind is a way of having fun
The Hazelwood coal mine is burning releasing toxic smoke
A public health hazard to one mentally unwell person is just a big joke
Due to one ruthless person the population of a Town of their health live in fear
For the people of Morwell this will not be the happiest year
And this due to one person Morwell's number one foe
Who derives great pleasure on causing others woe
In warm Summer weather arsonists the cause of lighting many a big fire
In such people there is nothing in which one can admire
The fire in the mine has left the sky over Morwell smoky and gray
A lot of fearful for their health people in the Gippsland Town today
And all due to one person from the law now on the run
Some people have strange ways of having some fun.

A Day In Late February

The calendar Autumn just four days away
It is such a pleasant late February day
It has not rained for some time the paddocks brown, bare and dry
And not one sign of rain in the blue and sunny sky
The bird who does sing every day of the year
The flute of the magpie melodious and clear
And the long billed corellas do call as they fly
To the tall trees where they rest and roost in a paddock nearby
Though the warmest of Summer it seems to have gone
The dry spell of weather it does linger on
Farmer Joe about his dry and bare paddocks complain
Who can blame him if he is one wishing for rain
Since he has to feed his dairy cows hay
He does earn his living in the hardest way.

To Your Higher Self

To your higher self you can only stay true
And do pay respect to where respect is due
Yet some things in life i find hard to explain
Like when one person's loss becomes another person's gain
In a fair Human World this would never be
At least anyhow this is how it seems to me
Yet true to yourself you can only remain
And though down on your luck a positive attitude retain
Today for you nothing seems to be going your way
But tomorrow for you may be a better day
And hope in your mind it does seem far from dead
And you feel for you better times are ahead
On the great God of Karma you have not lost faith
And everything does come to those who do wait.

For As Long As I Can

My rhyming ambitions have taken a fall
Though rhyming to me is no effort at all
I have been a rhymer since seventy three
Four decades in time seems a good span to me

If i told you i would  quit rhyming this would be a lie
I hope to be doing it till the day i do die
My physical best in the forever gone
But true to my calling i keep rhyming on

I do enjoy rhyming i pen rhymes every day
Old habits die hard as some are known to say
And though the years have left me looking bald, old and gray
I feel no desire to give rhyming away

It is said about poets that their kind are few
One may say to that do tell us what is new
And not many are worthy of literary note
Though many do go by the title of poet

My best years behind me and old age of me ahead
And any literary ambitions i have had are long dead
In my writing habits i am an addictive man
But i will go on rhyming for as long as i can.

Though Some Birds I Do Know

Though some birds i do know by sight and their chirping and song
On bird recognition i am often wrong
Though i have been interested in wild birds since i was a boy
And learning about them today i enjoy
In knowledge of them i have some way to go
And time once my friend it has become my foe
I grew to love Nature in fields far away
In Spring in the groves at the dawn of the day
The nesting male song birds did whistle and sing
The great gift of memory is a wonderful thing
And though little about them i can claim to know
My wonder of birds only does seem to grow
I learn new things about them every day
We do never stop learning as some like to say.

For Working Class Parents On Low Incomes

Some people every day have a new challenge to face
And in their minds for happiness not that much space
With families for to support and bills for to pay
For them life is far from easy it does seem this way
Some working class parents know how tough life can be
Both of them have to work to support their growing family
On low incomes and the cost of living as ever on the rise
That they both have to work is not any surprise
To working class parents on low incomes great credit is due
To the higher principle they remain ever true
For to afford their children every advantage in life
The father does work and so does the mother his wife
For working class parents on low incomes life has a challenge every day
They must work for to support their family and their bills for to pay.

It Does Take All Kinds

Some men do not grow old and wiser it does seem this way
And men with big egos i meet every day
Arrogant males who believe they are a gift to humanity
But they are not as great as they make themselves out to be

The arrogant and conceited have never been few
In this i am not saying anything that is new
The self centered to the needs of others seem totally blind
For conceit there is plenty of room in the egotistical mind

Yet every day when out of doors in the park or on the street
A lot of down to earth males of all ages i meet
People who do not take themselves too seriously
One can say of them they are what they seem to be

But every day without fail i happen to meet
A few egotistical males quite full of self conceit
Yet suppose no two quite the same in every way
And it does take all kinds as some are known to say.

Since The War Supposed To End All Wars

Since the war supposed to end all wars ninety six years have gone
But the spectre of war in the World does live on
And war gives rise to death and destruction and leaves many with horrific injuries
And creates millions of homeless and stateless people who become refugees
Yet some government leaders the lessons of war history willingly ignore
And order their troops to battle on a foreign shore
And stories and poems are written and songs written and sung
Of the soldiers of war who died brave and young
The destruction of property in bombings comes at a huge financial cost
And in war too many people are seriously injured and too many lives lost
Though of the consequences of war from history they do know
Some with great power of the lessons of war to learn seem slow
Since the war supposed to end all wars many wars Worldwide
And millions of people in wars have been seriously injured and millions have died.

You Could Meet A Person From Duhallow

Some of them live in Canada, Britain and the U S A
And in Countries of Europe and even further away
From Duhallow by the Boggeraghs where they first saw light of day
In Africa, New Zealand and Australia where their last remains may lay
Whilst some of them in Duhallow in their own home places stay
The home fields are always greener as some are known to say
A person from Duhallow one could meet anywhere
In any town, village or city in the big World out there
The fields by the Blackwater some of them never more to see
In all of our ways and life choices we are as different as can be
You could meet a person from Duhallow in your travels anywhere
In any town, village or city in the big World out there
Far from the  green old countryside where the Blackwater flow
Into old men and women in distant towns they grow.

The Government Spokespeople

The Government spokespeople say they are concerned when asylum seekers at sea do die
Though of asylum seekers they do not care and yet of this they do lie
The main opposition party agrees with them on this and about asylum seekers lives pretend to care
But in their words they are not sincere one has to be aware
When people in search of a better life in jail for this are locked away
At the order of Government Politicians of this what can one say
Of the politicians responsible for imprisoning them who say they do not wish them to die at sea
Of their hypocrisy and untruthfulness this gives one a good idea
Since the majority of the voting public do sadly lack in empathy
No votes for power hungry politicians in for the Stateless showing any sympathy
Few politicians are known to be compassionate since in compassion for them there is no gain
The majority of them are self centered and in their ways ruthless and vain
Government ministers pretend to care about the lives of asylum seekers yet they treat them as if it were a crime
For them to want a better and a safer life so they imprison them for a long time.

For As Long As I Can

Years ago i used to think i might become a poet
A fellow well worthy of literary note
But now i realize that thought proved me wrong
To the distinguished literary club i could not hope to belong
Nowadays i write for enjoyment and little else more
This is something i have put in writing before
I am just a rhymer who loves to pen rhyme
One well over three decades past my life's prime
In the mid twentieth century out of penning rhyme i would have done okay
But time does bring change as the wise one does say
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And i have penned quite a lot of rhyming stuff
If living in ten years from now i will be an old man
But i will go on rhyming for as long as i can.

I Hear A Fox Barking

Out there in the paddock in the faint moonlight
I hear a fox barking in the calm of the night
Perhaps he is calling in search of a mate
Under the cover of darkness his kind copulate
Foxes distinct from all other canines in their wild cry
Usually hunt for their prey under the night sky
Though sometimes they are seen out during the day
Quite elusive and cunning and wily in their way
Foxes do not seem to have a human friend
And to survive on their survival skills they do depend
Poisoned and trapped and shot at yet as a species they do survive
Though humans to make them extinct their hardest do strive
Out there in the paddock in the faint moonlight
A fox he is barking in the calm of the night.

What Has Been Happening Recently

What has been happening recently in Syria, Egypt and The Ukraine can happen anywhere
There is so much unrest in the big World out there
The main cause of trouble does stem from the social divide
With the gap between the wealthy and poor growing ever wide
Government for the wealthy only is not a good idea
That it does lead to trouble is how it seems to be
Bad and unfair Governments with their political ideologies lead to people unrest
The reason the underclass do take to the streets to protest
Mass protest never instigated by the wealthy minority
The people who gain out of others poverty
On far too many people because of bad Governments life is too tough
And of only growing poorer they have had enough
And when thousands of people on the streets do protest
The Government are to blame for the unrest.

A February Evening

In the cool of a late February evening in the park of the town
The magpies are singing just after sundown
And the starlings to their roosting trees quickly do fly
As the shades of night do darken the evening sky
The Summer is ending as Autumn draws near
On what can be quite a pleasant time of year
Soon the leaves on the deciduous trees will be turning brown
Autumn a lovely time of year in the park of the town
I hope to be living to welcome the Spring
To hear in September the male blackbird sing
When the weather is pleasant around twenty degrees
And the nesting birds sing on the bushes and trees
As the fading twilight to darkness gives way
At the end of what has been a nice Summer's day.

In The local Pub Last Night

After the football club's win their fans in the local pub last night
With excitement were giving each other high fives in scenes of delight
The feeling of winning it always is great
And the winners and their fans sing and celebrate
The local publican on his face a big happy grin
He is always happy when the local footballers win
When the football fans are happy they are in the mood for cheer
And they do spend more of their money on beer
Life is not any different to a game of football
Between winning and losing the difference is not small
I have yet to meet a person who feels happy to lose
It is something that anyone never does choose
And the winning fans were singing in the local pub last night
And giving each other high fives in scenes of delight.

Worrying Begets More Worries

For you problem wise it has been quite a bad day
But worrying about it will not make your problem go away
Worrying only begets more worries the wise one does say
And burdens the mind and does turn hair to gray
You may as well laugh and you may as well sing
For worrying about it does not change a thing
At midnight today will be in the forever gone
And worrying will not change what has happened only help your worry to live on
Suppose it is hard to be happy all of the time
And to be sad and downcast is never a crime
In life every day some new challenge to face
And too many old worries in your mind for happiness leaves little space
Worrying begets more worries happens to be true
And if you are feeling unhappy few wish to know of you.

Jimmy

On a flagpole above the town's war memorial in the freshening winds it does fly
A symbol of pride to so many it's colors do flap in the sky
The National flag of the Country brave young men for it have fought and died
To so many it is something sacred and is loved by people Nationwide
Jimmy the brave old war veteran goes to the war memorial every day
To salute the flag of his Country that he fought for in a Land far away
A great grandfather his wife of sixty years Cindy since last year in the local cemetery lay
She used to go to the war memorial with him for to salute the flag every day
He thinks of his comrades in battle their names on the war memorial wall
Those who did not live for to father children under enemy gunfire did fall
The flag in the wind that is flapping it does give him a sense of pride
And he thinks of the woman that he loved and the brave men who fought by his side
He risked his life for love of the flag as a young man when his hair it was dark brown
And every day he comes to salute it to the war memorial in the park of the town.

By The Australian Government

By the Australian Government people seeking asylum from persecution condemned to detention for years
On places such as Christmas Island and overseas on Nauru and Manus Island yet for them few have tears
They have become political footballs of them one might say
For politicians there are votes on being cruel it does seem this way
In a Human World where many for the suffering of others lack in empathy
For the victims of human rights abuses there is not much sympathy
For people who from the cruel laws of oppressive regimes do flee
Such is the awful fate of many a refugee
To want a better life is their only crime
And for this they are incarcerated for long periods of time
In a World where the compassionate are rare why otherwise pretend
The life stories of many of the millions of refugees do not have a good end
And this does seem quite sad would you not agree
Whoever would wish for to be a refugee?

You Pass Your Judgement

You pass your judgement on other people and so too do i
The fact is most of us can be judgmental and fact never lie
On saying this i am not saying anything that is new
That the non judgmental sad to say are far too few
For judging people legal judges receive huge sums of money in pay
And people at their orders sent to prison every day
But unpaid judges for to be found everywhere
And there are millions of them in the big World out there
Though wrongdoings by any person one ought not to condone
Leave it to the one without sin for to cast the first stone
It is easy to pass judgement on someone as easy as can be
But the judgmental themselves do not like to be judged it does seem to me
That most of us can be judgmental it does seem this way
And that the non judgmental are few seems a sad thing to say.

The Best You Can Be

In life you can only be the best you can be
This is how it is it does seem to me
And though your best on the day it was not good enough
You did hang in there when the going it got tough
Though second place something one never does choose
For one for to win others do have to lose
But that there is always another time does seem true to say
Oh yes indeed there is always another day
When lady luck she may be smiling your way
But no need to feel down since you have done okay
That for every winner there are many losers happens to be true
And your turn as winner you are overdue
And you only can be the best you can be
And this applies to everyone would you not agree?

On Philomena Lee

For many single mothers and their children living in Catholic Ireland of the nineteen fifties was an Earthly Hell
And stories of abuse and child stealing they did have to tell
Brave Philomena Lee with the loss of her child to wealthy Americans was one who did cope well
Though the so called devout people who had sinned against her and her child on their past wrongs refused to dwell

When to have a child out of wedlock in Ireland was looked on as a crime
The early to the latter part of the twentieth century in that little Country was an unenlightened time
And the government and opposition political parties of the time for this must share some blame
What happened under their watch at the hands of so called religious people remains a historical shame

In Ireland in the twentieth century the so called Land of God
Parents and teachers and religious institutions did not spoil the children by sparing the rod
And for many single mothers like Philomena and her child even worse than physical abuse
For the wrongs of the past there can be no excuse

But by one politician in the Ireland of the twentieth century respect to the single mother and her child in his mother and child bill was shown
Dr Noel Browne for his compassion and courage despite fierce opposition in historical stature as a human being has grown
Long deceased credit to him for his achievements many in Ireland choose to deny
But his mother and child bill he introduced to the Dail the Parliament of Ireland to his greatness testify

The courage and compassion  and forgiveness in Philomena the film on her life does display
Her story though sad and tragic inspiring in truth one can say
The Ireland she lived in as a young person from Earthly Utopia did seem far away
But as a Country it is far more enlightened today.

On Magpie Larks

They are birds i do regularly see and do hear
And they sing every day the twelve months of the year
Familiar to many and familiar to me
The dainty black and white magpie larks the birds who sing pee wee
In the park off of the street them i often do see
They build a cup shaped nest of mud on low branch of tree
Familiar in their appearance and familiar in their song
You see and hear them once and you never again get them wrong
Of the human kind they are never that shy
They allow you to get close to them before they do fly
In every town, village, city and countryside they are loved and known
One can say of them they have a charm of their own
Known as magpie lark or mudlark or by many as pee wee
Birds familiar to many and familiar to me.

The Rose Of Koroit

From her Hometown by Tower Hill she lives far away
The Rose of Koroit is in the U S of A
Of any ties in life to travel she is free
Near her physical prime she is twenty three
Of shoulder length wavy dark hair and eyes of light brown
The beautiful Rose of old Koroit Town
Has left a young man in Kirkstall feeling lovesick and sad
It does seem that the love bug it has bit him bad
But love has to work both ways of that why pretend
And she only did look on him as a friend
And though the lovesick feeling with him for some time will remain
His tears for her it does seem have been in vain
From the Town of Koroit she lives far away
Youth will have it's fling as the wise one does say.

Kanturk Johnny

It is true the past in the gone forever with Johnny fading memories only remain
Of the February snows of the Boggeraghs and Duhallow in the rain
And old Allow from rain swollen bank high in waters of brown
Raging on towards the Blackwater in the fields by Kanturk Town

Fifty years out of Duhallow where he left close to his prime
Though he retains his North Cork accent somethings never change in time
He left Kanturk on an April morning when the fields were in their flowers of Spring
And on the leafy trees and hedgerows the nesting birds of song did sing

Kanturk Johnny a grandfather separated from his long term wife
She has found another partner and he goes on with living life
Though he does seem quite contented with the life he has today
Sometimes he talks of Kanturk people and the green fields far away

Gray haired and balding in his early seventies with his life he feels content
He won't be going back to Kanturk where his youthful years he spent
On Saturday evening at the local pub he enjoys the beer, music and song
And in the old time ballad session he joins in the sing along.

Am I Any Better

Am i any better one of millions who eat meat
Than the creatures that others kill for me to eat
Since like them i was born to life for to die
This is a fact of Nature and fact does not lie
When i look at life in this way it occurs to me
That i am not as important as i make myself out to be
Billions believe in life after bodily death but without concrete evidence for to show
They are believing in something on which they do not know
And i am one of the more cynical who believe life ends in bodily death
That we never again live when of air we draw our final breath
Like all other life forms for me a last night and day
And the longest lived human life in time a short stay
And i a mere mortal born to die eventually
No less a mortal than the creatures seen as inferior to me.

In Birdsland Today

The dry hills of South Belgrave from days of warm weather the color of hay
And few birds are singing in Birdsland today
And from the wood on the hill on the old decaying trees
The bell like chirps of the bellbirds is floating in the breeze
The wood above Birdsland for them is home territory
Birds quite vocal in their ways though not easy to see
Sparrow sized green birds who live on the insects of wood decay
Glorified in verse by the great Australian poet Henry Kendall in a long gone day
In Birdsland in Tecoma in view of South Belgrave hill
A black and white Australian magpie of silvery bill
Does sing in the sunshine on a tall mountain ash tree
A marvelous songster of Nature as most would agree
On the sixteenth day of February the calendar Autumn less than two weeks away
And few birds do sing in Birdsland today.

I Grew To Love Nature

I grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
And of Nature i learn new things every day
We do learn as we live it does seem this way

My wonder of Nature it does only grow
Yet of her there is so much to learn and know
Wherever i turn to look i do see
The beauty she creates everywhere around me

The artists and poets Nature's beauty inspire
And of singing her praises some never do tire
The one we do live off of and yet it does seem
That we do not respect her as the creator supreme

Nature lives by her own law that much of her is known
And she is one who does have ways of her own
When she does grow angry she rages in the town
And great buildings that men built in her anger drags down

And though on the food she produces to live we depend
We never do treat her as our greatest friend
And though so little we do know about her in truth we can say
That from her we do learn something new every day.

Good Memories Of What Was

I was never much use at Gaelic Football
And at Hurling and Soccer i was of little or no use at all
And at running i always was well off of the pace
In any race i never finished in a place
In a Parish where those good at sport are held in high esteem
Sport is for winners or so it does seem
Yet in the place i was born in and where i grew into a man from a boy
A youthful existence i did enjoy
I learned that winning is not everything
Though your praises the sporting fans never may sing
And i made good friends in my first home place far away
And though i have not seen them for many a day
In my dreams i often do meet them again
And good memories of what was with me do remain.

Three Aged Locals

They meet by the milk bar in the mid morning of Saturday
The old blokes wearing hats that the years have left gray
They talk for an hour or more since they have lots to say
About politics and football and the prices of livestock and hay
Three aged old timers looking the worst for wear
Suppose their crosses in life they were given to bear
For years they have been giving each other the run down
Of the happenings of late in the parish and town
Every Saturday morning they chat for an hour sometimes two
If some women can gossip so can some men too
Grandfathers each of the three married to a local wife
Three locals they are locally born and raised and will be local for life
Of the happenings locally they are in the know
Though the years they have lived clearly on them does show.

Another Football Season

Another Football Season has already begun
Where thirty six young men in their life's prime after one ball do run
And tackle the one with the football and drag him to the ground
Where so many men fight for one ball is there sense to be found
It would make far more sense to me anyway
If the powers that be supplied each player with a ball with to play
Since when you think about it that it does make little or no sense at all
To see thirty six grown men fighting over one ball
When their football club win the fans in the pub celebrate
Such excitement and jubilation a field game does create
Whilst the downcast fans of the losing side
Complain that by bad umpires of victory they were denied
It would be a better idea if each player was given a ball with to play
As there would not be any injuries to players at the end of the day.

My Thoughts Often Go To

My thoughts often go to a far away Spring
To the leafy groves when the nesting birds sing
And the little brown lark from the bracken does fly
For to sing his song in the clouds of the sky
The cattle out of wintering sheds of months living on silage and hay
On nutritious young grass gaining weight by the day
And the golden buttercups bloom on the banks of the rill
That babbles to the river down the field by the hill
The great gift of memory is a wonderful thing
In my flights of fancy the chaffinch does sing
On a nice evening in May on a leafy birch tree
And it does seem the memories of what used to be
Will always be with me and with me will stay
Right up till my life's very last night and day.

Of Miracles At Tubrid

As long as our memory does serve us well
We all have our stories of life for to tell
I cannot vouch for the story i am about to tell you
Though that miracles can happen i know to be true

For anything in life is possible as some like to say
At the Shrine of Mary in Tubrid spring well where the devout go to pray
People who were disabled without their crutches from there walked away
Such stories one does hear of Tubrid in May

Though all things in time do eventually fade
It is out of such stories myths and legends are made
And myths and legends that give birth to story and rhyme
Do live on through centuries and centuries of time

Of miracles at Tubrid as a boy i used to hear
From old timers who had lived for many a year
Amongst the deceased at rest they do lay
But their stories of Tubrid do live on today.

I Learn Every Day

The weather quite warm though the sun not shining today
And from the nearby paddock the sweet scent of hay
Comes wafting to me in the mild evening breeze
Gently rustling it's way through the bushes and trees
The beauty of Nature is all around me
The magpie larks calling their familiar pee wee
The song they do sing every day of the year
Every day of the week them i see and i hear
In life we never stop learning as the wise always say
And from Nature we learn something new every day
For my years of life i have little in the way of knowledge for to show
I have come to realize so little i do know
Of life and of Nature it does seem this way
But to my surprise new things i learn every day.

I Have Penned Rhymes

I have penned rhymes of young men who are known to be brave
And of old war heroes at rest in the grave
Their fighting days over they have found peace at last
Remembered in song and story for their heroic war past

I have penned rhymes of beautiful young women the Roses of many a town
Of different shades of hair color dark, ginger, blond, brunette and brown
And though anti aging creams may keep age wrinkles for awhile at bay
Time does rust iron as some are known to say

I have penned rhymes of Nature of ground insects and flies and bees
Of the wild born birds singing on the bushes and trees
Of fish and amphibians and of animals the domestic and the wild and free
Everyday more rhymes of Nature keep coming to me

I have penned rhymes of people i have known who have died
From the Reaper of lives there is nowhere to hide
And i have penned the rhymes of many a sporting great
Though on them all of my rhymes do have a use by date

A love of rhyming words made a rhymer out of me
And i have been penning rhymes since nineteen seventy three
And suppose i will be penning rhymes till the day i do die
For if i did tell you different this would be a lie.

Money Speaks Every Language

Money speaks every language as most would agree
An old saying that does make a loser of me
For as i grow older i grow poorer financially
Suppose poverty thinking begets poverty
Yes money speaks every language why otherwise pretend
The one with plenty of it never short of a friend
The one short of cash in life never gets far
It is when you are poor you know who your friends are
For telling of how i see it credit i am not due
Since money speaks every language happens to be true
Money cannot buy you happiness as some like to say
But it is better to be unhappy with it than without it anyway
Yes money speaks every language that fact with us does remain
Why this has to be do i need to explain.

On A Cold, Wet And Windy Mid February Day

It is cold and wet today in the home of the silver back crow
And the dark brown water bird dipper with breast as white as snow
Is not singing in the river that bank high does flow
In the flat and damp fields where the rank rushes grow
The weather temperatures as low as zero degrees
And the migratory redwings are chirping on the naked trees
The hill behind the gray fog is hidden away
On a cold, wet and windy mid February day
In one of the cold and wet months of the year
The hungry cattle bellowing for fodder in the farm sheds one does hear
Though only two weeks from the calendar Spring
It will be early April before the nesting birds sing
The rain drizzling down from the sky gloomy gray
And the cattle in the farm shed bellowing for silage or hay.

In South West Victoria

In south west Victoria many singers and musicians and dancers do live
So much enjoyment  to so many in their talents they do give
Songs and music of many genres of Lands Worldwide
Can be heard in pubs in the Towns of the south west countryside
To Earthly Utopia they surely belong
The siblings known as music and dancing and song
With their community the musicians and singers and dancers of south west Victoria their talents do share
And in the coastal towns their kind are not rare
In the south west countryside by the old and the young
Music and song of all Nations in the pubs and clubs played and sung
The pubs and clubs alive with enjoyment on every weekend night
Of people wining and dining and of their worries making light
In Victoria's capital of music and dancing and song
The siblings that to earthly Utopia belong.

Framlingham's Rose

Her hair is as dark as the wing of a crow
The girl from the place where the old Hopkins flow
Brown skin and brown eyes with a beautiful face
To Australia's first people her lineage she can trace
Twenty one years old near the prime of her life
Some lucky man in her will have a beautiful wife
That is if she will marry on a future day
Though at present such thoughts from her mind does seem far away
Framlingham's Rose works as a secretary in nearby Warrnambool
The City where she went to secondary school
But overnight in the coastal City she does not stay
She drives home to Framlingham after work every day
With the fresh and clear beauty of youthful elan
Framlingham's young Rose is the pride of her clan.

Young Ambrose

The praises of celebrities young Ambrose never does sing
And he never will bow to a queen or a king
To his freedom of the influences of others he has vowed for to cling
Since he is a fellow who does his own thing.

He does not play cricket or golf or football
In fact sports does not seem to interest him at all
And neither does he like the pub atmosphere
Since he does not have a strong liking for beer

A dark haired man in his early twenties quite handsome and tall
With a few local young beauties at his beck and call
But none of them can hope to become his wife
Since marriage is not part of his plans in life

And sexual experience to him nothing new
Of the local young beauties he has made love to quite a few
To a heavily populated Human World he hopes not to add to one day
Far too many people in the World he has been known to say

Ambrose is a landscape artist and doing financially well
And his paintings are popular and do readily sell
But as one of a tribe he will never be known
For he is a man with a mind of his own.

Wherever I Go To

Wherever i go to my past goes with me
It will never leave me the what used to be
It has followed me south from old fields far away
And will be with me till my last night and day
Life's good and not so good memories with me remain
And they often return to visit me again
The great gift of memory is an amazing thing
Since mental images of what used to be to us it does bring
Wherever i go to my past with me comes along
Old memories can be awakened in an old favorite song
The old clock of time it has become my foe
But i retain mental pictures of the long ago
And though nothing in life ever does seem to last
Our memory is always our link to the past.

The Port Fairy Sheepdog Trials

For to watch Australia's best sheepdogs in action the tested and tried
People come to Port Fairy in February from places far and wide
Where the judge does decide Australia's sheepdog supreme
For the winning dog and it's human connections Nationwide esteem
Where Australia's best dogs at sheep penning compete for National renown
In the football oval in Port Fairy's sea side Town
The Australian sheep penning champion the dog all sheepdog handlers wish to emulate
Since he or she beats the best dog in every Australian State
For the dog and their handlers quite a challenge to face
For Port Fairy in February can be a warm and a humid place
And in sheepdog trials as in life the winner takes all
And the loser is one few do wish to recall
In Port Fairy in February the weather mostly warm and fine
Where Australia's best sheepdogs compete for glory in the warm sunshine.

The Humble Unassuming

Of singing their praises i never do tire
The humble unassuming are people i admire
Nice people to know of and a pleasure to meet
One of their greatest gifts is to be free of conceit
Egotistical people i find hard to bear
And it is sad to think their kind are not rare
Such people who never help to make my day
I would rather not meet them in truth i can say,
Those who can win with humility and lose with grace
And meet adversity with a smiling face
Are people that i do feel happy to know
One can say of them they have the inner glow
The humble unassuming are a joy for to meet
It is one of their gifts to be free of conceit.

Danny

Danny as a young man wished to make mum and dad proud to call him son
But now he says does it matter when all is said and done
Since they are of the long deceased and time has left him old
It does not bother him one bit to know his life story will never be told
In his early eighties one who never had children or a wife
But Danny in his better years never short of women in his life
In his early eighties he says i am too old now for women with a big smile on his face
Of relationships i am in retirement i will grow old with grace
At the weekend in the local pub he enjoys the beer music and song
With a big smile on his wrinkled face he joins in the sing along
The hair upon his balding head is of a silver gray
But he is not too proud to say that he has known a better day
A likeable old fellow to many he is known
It can be said of Danny he has a charm of his own.

Since I Left Duhallow

Since i left Duhallow far from here i have been in many places
And i have met a lot of people and i have mixed with different Races
To find there is more good than bad in any one Race for of good i did meet many
And in my travels i recall of the truly bad i never have met any

Of meeting people of all sorts i have come to realize
You do treat people with respect and they will treat you likewise
This is how it is and will remain when people you are meeting
They will respond in most cases to the warmth in your greeting

In every place that i have been in every village, town and city
I have met a few who were racist but their kind i do pity
For racism has it's source in ignorance and racist people are unenlightened
Towards difference to them they do understand the anger in them heightened

I have worked with and mixed with many Nationalities since i left Millstreet in a long gone December
And amongst them not one bad person as i do well remember
Treat others as you would like them treat you advice i feel worth giving
You never do make enemies if by such a code you do keep living.

Of Aging Macho Heroes

Of aging macho heroes many stories are told
But it is not a nice feeling to be getting old
You may wear a hairpiece or use hair dye to hide your gray
And you may use anti aging creams to hide time's decay
And though than your age you may look younger by many a day
Your sagging aging body dyes and creams does betray
As a physical being my better days are long gone
And only the fear of death makes me want to live on
Of sexual appeal most aging men are bereft
Our egos it does seem are all we have left
Time does strip from everyone youthful elan
In a decade from now i will be an old man
My better days physically are in the past
But youth as is said is a thing that does not last.

The Sochi Games

Fifty billion spent by the Russian Government on the Sochi Winter Games to bolster Alexander Putin's fame
Seems a huge waste of money and a terrible shame
At a time when many Russian people are doing it tough
Just to keep inflated Putin's ego this is not good enough
On staging the Winter and Summer Olympics and the Football World Cup billions in money is spent
And poor people from these Games does not receive one cent
Life in the Human World is only for winners is how it does seem
To be short of money that goes with success does not do anything for one's self esteem
The medalist in the Olympics know of Worldwide renown
And become National heroes and heroines and the pride of their Hometown
And billions spent to promote big egos in Sochi whilst homeless people in Russia are doing it tough
In this so called enlightened age of the twenty first century this is not good enough
With Alexander Putin in the World spotlight and he glowing with pride
That the Sochi Games are about the promotion of big egos cannot be denied.

Is This Karma Gone Wrong

Why do you remind me of something i know
That in life we do receive the Karma we sow
And since i am not one of life's successes i do have to say
That i must have sown the seeds of poor Karma in some bygone day

What we put into life in return we receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
But often i wonder if in my thinking on this i may not be right
Since for many good people life is an uphill fight

For poor people in war zones and drought ravaged areas a battle every day for survival they do face
Their only crimes to be born and living in the wrong place
For them it is Karma gone wrong would you not agree
At least anyway this is how it seems to me

I believe that what from life we receive it is only our due
But to millions of people less fortunate than i am this cannot be true
Through no fault of their own they live in dire poverty
Is this Karma gone wrong ask one other than me.

By The Lake Of Gortavehy

In the bracken valley by the hill of stone upon the higher ground
By the Lake of Gortavehy Nature's beauty does abound
Where the sounds of Nature such as the kronking of ravens and the bleating of sheep one is likely to hear
To quiet old Gortavehy Utopia must be near
Since last i was in Gortavehy twenty seven years gone by
In the prime of the Summer a balmy evening in July
The small brown lark was singing a musical speck in the sky
Though born in a ground nest to sing he has to fly
Far north even as the migratory bird does fly from this far Southern Shore
Gortavehy in the mountain countryside between Millstreet and Rathmore
The bracken and stony valley around the deep dark lake
Far too tough and unyielding for the plow for crops to break
It is Winter in Gortavehy from here far away
And a sleety rain is falling on this cold February day.

Do Leave It To Others

Self promotion nowadays with many seems to be the in thing
But it would be better to leave it to others your praises to sing
Though boasters it does seem are no longer rare
People with some humility have discretion and are more self aware
If you want to hear boasters you need not walk far
No further in distance than your local public bar
Like every other pub of this sort it has it's own share
But then boasters in pubs have never been rare
That kindness and compassion can blossom in genuine love of self does seem true indeed
And of more of their kind the Human World is in need
But boasters are narcissistic and to self can only relate
This false sense of greatness of themselves they create
And though self promotion nowadays with many seems the in thing
Do leave it to others your praises to sing.

Mary Cronin

In Millstreet Town and Parish everyone of her did know
One can say of Mary Cronin that she had the inner glow
For many years she owned the newspaper shop on the Main Street of Millstreet Town
A nice person who lived a simple lifestyle and never yearned for renown

As a nice and honest person Mary Cronin became known
And it truly can be said of her she was one of Millstreet's own
So honest in her business about her she had a saint like way
In the Cronin family grave in Drishane her last remains now lay

Gone from the Town of Millstreet a well known and beloved face
Mary Conny as she was known as was a credit to her own home place
And though in the Town in view of Clara never to be seen again
Fond memories of the nice person she was with those who knew her will remain

The changes keep on happening and nothing seems to last
And it is only in memory we can return to the past
And Millstreet in Duhallow has undergone changes quite a few
Just like every other Parish and this is nothing new

She did live to a good age and time no longer on her side
Yet sad news out of Millstreet to learn Mary Cronin she has died
That the Human World was better for her in it is only fair to say
In the Millstreet she was born and raised in she has lived her final day.

On Bush Flies

Rural Australia in Summer the land of bush flies
They start off their buzzing just after sunrise
In the paddocks and parks in and near and far of every country town
Buzzing all day long till just after sundown

Bush flies on your hair and on your hands, face and eyes
And bush flies on your food, bread, meat and french fries
Addicted to salt they find on our bodies and food they do seem to be
Every day in their billions them you do hear and do see

The plagues of locusts arrive and in a few weeks have gone
But the tiny dark bush flies they do linger on
On your exposed skin every day perhaps searching for salt
And what is in their nature can hardly be their fault

Of human kind it's sort has never been shy
Quite an intrusive flying insect is the dark tiny bush fly
In rural Australia there are billions of them buzzing everywhere
Despite fly sprays and insect repellents wherever there are humans and animals bush flies are also there.

I Am Getting On In Years

I am getting on in years into my life's Fall
And little about life i do know at all
A bit of the big World out there i did see
But many have seen far more of it than me
I was born and bred and raised as an Irishman
And i have been to Britain the U S and Japan
And for a few weeks i have traveled about
In green New Zealand the Pacific Land of the south
I live in Koroit in Victoria Australia today
But i often do daydream of Lands far away
And big towns and cities in the Big World out there
The wander bug in me for places elsewhere.

A Beautiful Daydream

I daydreamed i was on a beach in Brazil
Dancing to the samba drummers after drinking my fill
Of easy for to drink red Brazilian wine
On a nice day in Summer of  pleasant sunshine
With beautiful bikini clad women dancing with me
Enjoying the good life and as happy as can be
Beautiful dark women athletic and tall
Enjoying the good life in the Land of Football
The son of wealthy parents in the bloom of my life's prime
One not short of money and having a good time
The power of imagination is far greater than one realize
You can go to far places when you visualize
A beautiful daydream of a beautiful day
On a beach in Brazil from here far away.

For Many Years

For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And the stuff i do pen is only rhyming stuff
My better days in life in the forever gone
But true to my life's calling i keep on rhyming on
And since for my rhyming efforts i never receive any pay
I have been advised by a few to give rhyming away
But what others think of me is their business and this suits me fine
Since what is their business is no business of mine
It has been nearly sixty years since i was a boy
And to me rhyming is a thing i do thoroughly enjoy
I penned my first rhymes in nineteen seventy three
In life most of us have some hobby would you not agree
And i hope to be rhyming until the day i do die
If i did tell you otherwise this would be a lie.

In Heatwave Conditions

In heatwave conditions of many days of over thirty degrees
Thirsty El Nino in the warm sun and the breeze
Is sucking the last bit of moisture from the dry ground
In places of drought conditions healthy crops not to be found
It does seem that the warm weather is here for a spell
Humidity and heat does not mix very well
In the bedrooms at night the buzzing female mosquitoes do bite
For to lay their eggs human or animal blood they do need in their diet
Though the cooler Autumn weather with every day drawing near
Summer in South East Australia can be a very warm time of year
The warm and humid air full of the noise of buzzing flies and bees
The weather not pleasant when the temperatures rise above thirty degrees
The laughter of children cannot be heard in the park playground today
The weather too warm for them to go out of doors to play.

The Only Person Here From Millstreet

In Koroit in South West Victoria a Duhallow person i have yet to meet
Perhaps i am the only person here from Millstreet
Though many Koroitians can lay claim to Irish ancestry they do not play Hurling or Gaelic Football
Here the games they mostly play are A F L, Cricket, Lawn Bowls and Netball
In Koroit i have yet to meet a Hurler or Gaelic Football player
In South West Victoria such people are rarer than rare
On the National games of Ireland most Koroitians little if any interest at all do show
Of the main field games of Ireland not much they do seem to know
In Duhallow where i lived for many a day
A F L or Cricket are games they do not play
It seems the people of Duhallow and South West Victoria in their sporting preferences little do share
And field games are popular in almost every Country and culture as most are aware
Do not know of anyone here in Koroit from anywhere near to or from Millstreet Town
Where i used to live when my hair was dark brown.

Felicia Hemans

Of the English Language she does remain a major poet
Felicia Hemans though long deceased is a literrary person of note
Born in Liverpool in England in Dublin in Ireland she died
Many of her poems were inspired by her beloved Welsh countryside

Even in her lifetime Felicia Hemans was famous and became widely known
One can surely say of her one in a class of her own
For one who died at a relatively young age her output of quality poetry was great
In just over two decades of writing many great poems she did create

One like her surely a credit to the Wordsmith Trade
It is only in the mind of a genius that a poem that lives on for centuries is made
And the word genius to Felicia Hemans does have to apply
The many great poems she penned in her short lifetime to this does testify

A woman with words who surely did have a way
Not many poets of her caliber living in the Human World of today
Though since she drew her last breath many decades of time have gone
Many of the poems she created today are living on.

On The Corella Scaring In Koroit

A few evening a week Moyne Shire Council use their bird scarers to scare long billed corellas out of Koroit Town
At least twenty loud bangs sometimes nearer to thirty in the fading twilight just after sundown
The corellas fly from the tall trees making quite a racket the evening sky full of their loud frightened cries
But this is not the last time Koroitians see or hear the corellas which hardly does come at any great surprise
When darkness has fallen the wily corellas back again into old Koroit Town do fly
As they return to their roosting trees they do sound rather noisy at least one hundred of them calling in the dark sky
They know that at at night that there are no bird scaring loud bangs from their roosting trees in Koroit they will not be driven away
Long billed corellas are creatures of habit and old habits are hard to break as they do say
Some Koroitians complain the corellas are noisy so the Shire Council of course compelled for to act
But it takes more than ten minutes of loud bangs to make birds change their roosting habits old habits hard to change this is a fact
Long before Koroit Town there were corellas they have been in the south western countryside long before the Dreamtime
To be territorial and noisy in their roosting habits amongst creatures of Nature can never be a crime
There will always be corellas in Koroit the big white parrots in their home territory will always stay
The loud bird scaring guns may cause them to scatter but in darkness back to their roosting trees they make their way.

Rhymers Never Run Out Of Rhyme

Eventually everyone does run out of time
But for as long as they live rhymers never run out of rhyme
And every day new things for to write rhymes about
The rhymer rhymes on even in times of self doubt
The born to rhyme never give rhyming away
They keep on rhyming on till their lives last night and day
They care not if theirs never does become a noted name
They pen rhymes for the love of it not for money or fame
There are many rhymers in the Human World of today
People who with rhyme words are always happy to play
Of rhymes in their minds they do have quite a store
And they pen rhymes for enjoyment and little else more
All rhymers like all others eventually run out of time
But for as long as they live they never run out of rhyme.

Life Can Be A Battle

Life can be a battle for some every day
But only the bravest keep battling away
When most hope of better things for them from them has gone
Only the bravest at such times do keep battling on

So many with lady luck not on their side
Do bring an end to their lives woes in suicide
The worries that envelope them their spirit does break
Suppose there is only so much any one person can take

But only the bravest can make big worries seem small
As people they must be the bravest of all
They never complain and say life is unfair
They keep battling on in the face of despair

Life can be a battle for those doing it tough
But only the bravest they are brave enough
To keep battling on despite all they have lost
Though life's lessons to them have come at a cost.

On Ian Thorpe's Depression

Without good health mentally and physically life can be hell
Ian Thorpe the great Olympic swimmer is not feeling mentally well
He is suffering of depression such sad news to hear
The future not looking good for him it does appear
A swimmer for Australians to celebrate
Amongst the World's all time great swimmers Ian Thorpe he does rate
Five Olympic gold medals a remarkable feat
At his best Ian Thorpe seldom knew of defeat
But despite all of his sporting achievements and all of his fame
Life for poor Ian Thorpe will never again be the same
Just beyond his physical prime and it is sad to say
That happiness from him does seem far away
So humble in his ways for a swimmer supreme
But life is not kind to Ian Thorpe it does seem.

Time Seems To Pass Quickly

Time seems to pass quickly and keeps ticking on
And at twelve o clock midnight today will be gone
Time it does rust iron and brings decay
And everyday we do live one nearer to our last day
She died fairly recently going back three months or more
The oldest person i knew she was one hundred and four
Till her life's journey's end her faculties she did retain
One of her age i am never likely for to meet again
Some i went to school with are deceased today
In far away cemeteries their last remains lay
The Reaper who claimed their lives will claim the life from me
In the not too distant future whenever that will be
Time as is said never waits for anyone
As the Reaper of lives his work is never done.

In The North West Cork I Lived In

In the North west Cork i used to live in politically it was Fine Gael and Fianna Fail
With the Labour Party in third place compared to the other two their voting block small
But times there i believe have changed little at all
That some things never change wise words worthy of recall
To think for themselves politically many are not that brave
Their ancestors talking to them from the grave
Telling them how to vote a fact that is known
That many people do not have minds of their own
The Government not doing well and times are quite bad
But we cannot vote differently to mum and to dad
As their mums and dads did they vote the same way
That deceased ancestors can influence many in their thinking does seem fair to say
In the North west Cork i lived in Politically Fine Gael and Fianna Fail held sway
And as it was then there it is also today.

Laughter Is Good For The Mind

Laughter is good for the mind would you not agree
At least anyhow this is how it seems to me
You know when you hear it joy to you is near
The sweet sound of laughter is always pleasant to hear
The surly and moody person is one you do not wish to meet
He or she never does spread joy when walking the street
But the one who laughs easily and smiles every day
Is a person worth knowing it does seem fair to say
The one who laughs easily has a great gift indeed
And of more of his or her kind the Human World is in need
To the Human World such joy they do bring
Their praises i always feel happy to sing
Where happiness is laughter does abound
It is such a joyful and beautiful sound.

We Never Stop Learning

Life for us has lessons and more than a few
And everyday we live we do learn something new
And those open to learning do learn till the day they do die
That we never stop learning in truth not a lie
Yes we never stop learning till our life's last night and day
To live for to learn this does seem our way
The knowledge we accumulate in a lifetime is not that great is obviously clear
Though for as long as we live we learn something new every day of every year
That even those with the highest I Q's will die with so much to learn is not a surprise
Such people as they age that so little they do know do come to realize
A knowledgeable man i know and one i do admire
Once told me every day of our lives more knowledge we do acquire
And with his wise words i can only agree
For they have truth in them and do make sense to me.

Most Politicians In Their Ways

In their verbal attacks on each other political advantage they seek to gain
The Government and the Opposition they are at it again
Despite the change of Government their attitude to each other remain as the same
With the Government and Opposition Parties it is blame and counter blame
Most politicians about their political opponents never have any kind things to say
To be negative towards each other for political advantage this is their way
By their words they are not nice people at all
Most politicians in their ways are so very small
To demean your opponent in business or in sport or on whatever is not a nice thing
But by their disrespect towards each other politicians this form of poor behavior to a lower level bring
On how you behave towards another you do have a choice
But politicians to their political opponents just cannot be nice
In their attitude to their opponents they do seem very small
Most politicians are not very nice people at all.

Happy Despite His Poor Existence

His own share of worries in life he has known
But true courage in adversity he is one who has shown
And for one in financial difficulties he does seem carefree
He does seem quite happy as anyone can wish for to be
He does not have a job since the factory he worked in closed down
His partner has left him and took their three years old daughter to another town
Life for him cannot be easy on a poverty line existence on welfare
But he is always smiling as if he did not have a care
Out of moaning of your hard life friends you never do gain
But if i had to live his existence i know i would complain
Despite his tough existence he laughs and smiles every day
Though lady luck she never does smile his way
Happy despite his poor existence his type of person is rare
To meet him you would swear he did not have a care.

In Aubane Hall Tonight

From the overnight frost the high fields are looking quite gray
In Mushera Valley on this February day
And the migratory redwings are chirping on the leafless trees
In weather temperatures just under zero degrees
Old Aubane today will not feel the warmth of sunlight
But there will be dancing in Aubane hall tonight
For there is always song, dance and laughter when Aubane people meet
In the Hall by the Butter Road above the Town of Millstreet
Doesn't matter where you are from London, New York, Paris or Rome
The people of Aubane will make you feel at home
No Matter your Country or no matter your Race
By the people of Mushera Valley you will not be made to feel out of place
The river flowing bank high not an uncommon sight
But there will be dancing in Aubane Hall tonight.

Wherever There Is Hope

Wherever there is hope there is beauty and wherever there is beauty there is hope
And in life you are never a failure if with failure you are one who does cope
You are better than the joyful winners who in losing are not gracious at all
Such people do lack in humility and in some of their ways are quite small

Life it may not be kind to you but of this you do not complain
You do look with hope to the future and from such an attitude you do stand to gain
Against the odds you have to battle but you hang in there though times on you tough
You are not one into self pity as a person you are good enough

Wherever there is hope there is beauty for in hope beauty not hard to see
The person though financially down of better times hopeful deserves respect would you not agree
Such people  may not have many admirers but by good example they do lead
The World better for them living in it of more of their kind we are in need

Wherever there is hope there is beauty for hope is a beautiful thing
Though you may not be seen as successful and your praises anyone never does sing
The World is better for you in it of you this a fair thing to say
Those who never lose hope in their hard times from the good times never far away.

The Big Company C E O

He drives around the leafy suburb with his wife and their two young daughters showing off their new mercedes car
But do not expect me to tell you of how wonderful they are
Since i am a cynical old bugger and quite hard to impress
But having such said one can only wish him well in his success
In the most expensive uptown restaurants with his family and friends he wine and dine
One can say that his lifestyle is quite different to mine
A few times i met him whilst out walking and to him said hello
But to me he did not reply the big company C E O
But for this i cannot say i blame him the multi millionaire
Since with an ordinary aged pensioner he would not have much to share
Birds of a feather flock together as some do like to say
Us humans not unlike birds since most of us too this way
Showing off his new mercedes with his beautiful blond wife and their two young children he drive on the wide leafy street
A man i only know to see and do seldom ever meet.

Down In The Salt-pan Country

Down in the salt-pan country the salt-pans white as snow
Grow bigger with the passing of the Seasons where only salt-bush grow
Where few people come to visit and wildlife is quite rare
And scarce enough of grass about for to sustain a hare

In the lonely salt-pan country the ground is cracked and dry
And most days the sun is burning in the clear and blue sky
Where countless little bush flies in the warm air buzz around
And billions of tiny dark ants crawl on the sun baked ground

Such life forms that in cold and wet climates do struggle to survive
But in the salt pan country in huge numbers they thrive
Perhaps in years to come in climate change the only life forms the dry country will sustain
Where the salt-pans grow bigger there never is much rain

Down in the salt-pan country in the Summer of the year
The buzzing of the bush flies the only sound that one does hear
The warm winds of the ocean across the dry lands blow
Of the lonely salt-pan country where only salt-bush grow.

What Is Life About

What is life about since we are born to die
The same for the wealthy and the famous as for you and for i
We are no less mortal than the creatures we live on why otherwise pretend
Since life is a journey that does have an end

And what is this thing known as success anyway
with others we compete for it every day
The praises of the successful others do sing
But success in itself can be a relative thing

The champion athlete and winner of Olympic Gold
No different to others will grow frail and old
The Reaper of lives who treats all lives as the same
Is not one who does respect money or fame

Money does speak every language as some like to say
But for all of us there is a last night and day
Like the creatures we live on we are born to mortality
And death becomes part of our lives destiny

What is life about ask one other than me
Since i believe we are not any different to the age weakened tree
That in the big storm crashes to the ground
Millions of people who thought they were irreplaceable in cemeteries Worldwide to be found

To Pen Rhymes Is Easy

To pen rhymes is easy as easy as can be
And everyday more new rhymes keep coming to me
Amongst wordsmiths one who will never be to the fore
I write for enjoyment that and nothing more
With words i am one who likes to have a play
And more new rhymes for me to write every day
The day it is sunny twenty four degrees
Quite pleasant with only a very slight breeze
The wonders of Nature an amazing thing
Nearby on a sunlit gum tree a magpie does sing
The flute like songs are always a joy for to hear
Of these birds who do sing every day of the year
More new rhymes keep coming to me every day
Suppose most of us can be addictive  in our own sort of a way.

The Pride Of Edel Quinn Hall

She has just turned seventy and her long term Aussie husband is seventy three
After thirty seven years love between them is strong and they seldom disagree
A grandmother ten times her once brown hair now gray
Physically like all of her age she has known a far better day

A migrant from Kanturk in Duhallow quite attractive looking for her years
Though for her happy times there she does not have any tears
The Show-band era in Ireland she readily does recall
Where at the dances she was the pride of the Edel Quinn Hall

She left Kanturk when in her life's prime
And she has not been to there for quite a long time
The Town by the Allow in distance far away
From Geelong in Victoria where she lives today

Some that she grew up with in eternal rest lay
And some married and raised their children and live in Duhallow today
And some like her had the wander bug in them for places elsewhere
And went to live in big towns and cities in the big World out there

The pride of the Edel Quinn Hall in Seasons long gone
Since she lived in Kanturk many hours have ticked on
On a sunlit wattle tree in her backyard in a suburb of Geelong
The black and white Aussie magpie pipes his familiar song.

On Jeoffrey O' Sullivan's Memories Of Tubrid

A changed Country Ireland the Ireland of today
Since the young Jeoffrey O' Sullivan traveled with his mother and siblings by donkey cart to Tubrid in May
The spring well of devotion near the Town of Millstreet
A short walk through Matty Owens bog to where the rivers do meet

Such a wonderful memory of his time as a boy
Of beautiful Tubrid for him for to share and enjoy
But many changes have occured in Duhallow since then
And the children of those days now aging women and men

So many children who went with their parents to Tubrid to do the rounds and pray
As Jeoffrey does will remember and tell of those memories today
Where they drank the clear waters of Tubrid's bright spring
The great gift of memory can be such a wonderful thing

In May above Matty Owens bog the skylark sing as he fly
A musical speck in the gray of the sky
The song his ancestors sung in the Spring of the year
That those doing the rounds at Tubrid so often do hear

Jeoffrey O' Sullivan's wonderful memories of what for him used to be
Awakened the nostalgia that was dormant in me
Of that beautiful spot where people go to for to pray
In Matty Owens bog in Claraghatlea in May.

Compared To Most

Compared to most my personal problems seem small
And of worries i do not have many at all
And on little money i manage to get by
The nice tag of lucky to me must apply
I sleep in a comfortable bed how can i complain
When i never had to sleep out in the cold wind and rain
I am rather lucky would you not agree
And many so many not lucky like me
For i cannot say life for me an uphill fight
Since i never do go to bed hungry at night
And even poverty does come in varying degrees
In a Human World of millions of refugees
And i cannot complain since life for me okay
But for many too many it is not this way.

So Many Greedy People

So many greedy people living in this World today
The more they have the more they want with them it is this way
So lucky the compassionate the caring and the kind
The sort of person that you are is living in your mind
Into his sixties getting old he has lived the most of his life span
The wealthiest person in the town is an unhappy man
His wife rests in peace in the cemetery his oldest grandchild is nineteen
And he a multi millionaire a poor day has never seen
But he feels quite unhappy life for him seems misery
Moneywise the wealthiest person in the town but spiritually in poverty
He is so mean with his money the meanest in the town
If you did not know him you would say financially he is down
Just one more greedy person of his kind quite a few
The more some have the more they want and this is not saying anything that is new.

How Could I Not Love Australia

My best years behind me old age of me ahead
And eventually i too will be one of the dead
But i do feel lucky as lucky can be
To live in Australia this Land good for me

The wonderful wildlife i see every day
Words to describe them i do not have to say
The marsupials of day and the marsupials of night
In Australia the garden of Nature's delight

The birds of Australia an amazing sight
Of such beautiful colors when seen in the sunlight
How could i not love Australia with so much to see
And Nature's beauty everywhere around me

No shortage of space for to travel about
In this vast and this beautiful Land of the South
The history of it's first people is so very old
Of the Land of the gum and the wattle the green and the gold

The years telling on me i have outlived my prime
And i am becoming one more victim of time
And though i am from elsewhere i do love sunshine
And the lifestyle Down Under it does suit me fine.