On The Adelaide Hills

There is not one gray cloud in the blue and sunny sky
Where the brown hills of Adelaide are so bare and dry
Not a sight of an animal sheep, goat, cow, roo, rabbit or hare
Just shriveled tufts of grass where the sun dried ground is bare
Off of the highway on the Adelaide Hills few trees to be seen
The undulating paddocks i have never seen healthy and green
The kangaroos and wallabies from the Adelaide Hills in drought times migrate
To travel for food and water the need in them does create
The Adelaide Hills are always thirsting for rain
Where years of drought have dried out every creek and drain
All life sucked from the earth by the thirsty sun and breeze
The only flora that survives there hardy small slow growing trees
The high undulating hills of lots of rain are in need
To instil the growth in every dormant grass seed.

A Farewell To Adelaide

Farewell to where friends are so easily made
To the bright and sunny City of old Adelaide
To where many do greet you with a happy smile
I will be returning though not for awhile
In the beautiful City by the southern sea
This morning i eat my last sandwich and drank my last cup of tea
Before saying goodbye to this beautiful place
The City that often has a sunny face
From Adelaide this evening i will be far away
But to there i will return in some future day
Yes i will be returning as often before
To the grand old City on the southern shore
And until i return to old Adelaide again
Good memories of this visit with me are bound to remain.

I Am From The Fields

I am from the fields where the green rushes grow
The home of the badger and rook and grey crow
And in my flights of fancy i often do hear
The song of the robin in the Spring of the year

All creatures of Nature live by Nature's law
I knew them by sight and voice magpie and jackdaw
And though my love of Nature only seems to grow
So little about her i can claim to know

Far from where i first looked on the bright lamp of day
The years have left me feeling weary and looking gray
It has been awhile since i was in my life's prime
Eventually we all become victims of time

Yet of Nature we learn something new every day
We never stop learning as the wise one does say
Though mortality is a fact of life and fact never lie
We do learn as we live till the day we do die

Far north of this sunny Land my life's journey began
And near the bracken clad hills i grew into a man
But my quest for adventure has brought me far south
Of the home of the raven and the shy river trout

But in Spring on my flights of fancy the chaffinch i hear
Singing in a leafy grove to my thoughts ever near
And on a Summer evening i hear the soft lowing of a cow
In a darkening field by the River Finnow

I am from the fields where the silver tongued rill
Babbles to the river from it's birthplace by the hill
But only the good memories with me do remain
Of what used to be and may not be again.

Sad Thoughts To Melancholia

Sad thoughts to melancholia does give rise
And fill with tears the tear wells of the eyes
Even in a happy crowd one can be very sad
For life's happier moments one ought to feel glad
Though few wish to know of a sad sack of the town
In life for most there is many an up and down
So few who live as happy every day
We have our lighter and darker moods life is this way
Yesterday he whistled a lively and happy air
And today he is in a dark mood of despair
Of the good days and the bad days most do know
So few with the gift of the constant inner glow
Sometimes sad thoughts to melancholia does give rise
And fill with tears the tear wells of the eyes.

Noisy Miners

The birds who wage war on other birds every day
And from their territories do chase them away
The aggressive noisy miners in feathers of mottled grey
In mobs have even been known to tackle large birds of prey

Their territories with aggression they do defend
Any other species of birds to them are not a friend
They do have aggression in their warring call
With them it is all for one and one for all

They do invade territories as their numbers do grow
And to other birds mercy they never do show
For their aggressive behaviour noisy miners are known
In birds as in humans it is to each their own

Wherever they do live they do rule by fear
They do not tolerate other birds who to them live near
Birds of the park-lands of many a coastal town
To be amongst Australia's most aggressive flock birds their claim to renown.

Andrew Hickey

Andrew Hickey lived in Millstreet Town perhaps all of his long life
On Main Street he and Mary nee O Donoghue had a hardware store his devoted wife
In Millstreet Town they raised their children where Andrew was well liked and well known
And it can be said of him that he was one of Millstreet's own

It can be truly said of Andrew that he was a gentleman
One who never harmed anybody in his very long life span
He will be missed by friends and family where his was a well loved face
Millstreet for him living in it surely was a better place

Andrew Hickey in his lifetime was one who never made a foe
One of the nicest and kindest of people of the Millstreet of long ago
Sad to think he will not be seen in Millstreet Town in the flesh again
But good memories of the person he was in all who knew him will remain

Never to be seen in the flesh again on the streets of Millstreet Town
One who lived by good example and in deeds or words never put anyone down
Such a good and decent person though his gift of life from him has gone
In the minds of all who knew him good memories of him will live on

Gone from the Town of Millstreet where he first saw light of day
But it can be said of Andrew Hickey that he was a good person in every way
His heart that beat with kindness by Life's Reaper rendered still
Is now at rest forever in the quiet by Cashman's Hill.

They Have Their Own Battles

Many to fight wars do not have to go to Lands far away
They have their own battles to fight every day
Their battle is for survival in their home-place
Each day brings to them a new challenge to face
The people who lose big for others to win
Luxury to their kind would be a home to live in
A flat or a unit for to call their own
Homelessness and hunger to them are well known
For basic survival they struggle to cope
And of a better tomorrow only live in hope
Where they live a millionaire you will not meet
The poorest of the poor live on Poverty Street
To fight wars they do not have to go to Lands far away
They have their own battles to fight every day.

A Warm Day In February

The day it is warm close to forty degrees
But there is a refreshing coolness in the mild coastal breeze
That blow from saltwater in the park by the bay
Even for February it is indeed a warm day
People in their swimwear on the ramp to the beach walking to and fro
Many of them tourists and holidaymakers it does seem so
People of different ages the young and the old and those in their lives prime
A swim in saltwater one of their ways of enjoying a good time
Last week it was cool the weather acting strange
But then we are in the age of Climate Change
The average Worldwide weather temperatures are on the rise environmental scientists do say
On future Summers one can expect warmer days than today
And close to forty degrees is far from cool when all is said and done
And today it is warm enough for anyone.

On Clara In July

I retain the mental images of evenings in July
When the brown larks above Clara Mountain did fly
Fading musical specks in the gray of the sky
I only have memories of Summers gone by

When the whortleberries the tiny blue fruits of the heather were ripe for to eat
Well worth the uphill climb to enjoy the natural treat
That in the taste buds of the mouth did taste oh so sweet
On the old hill overlooking the Town of Millstreet

As long as we retain the precious gift of memory the good memories last
Of the things we enjoyed that we did in the past
Of Clara in July the mental images i do retain
That in visualizations i visit again

Alone with Mother Nature just before sundown
Overlooking the green fields west of Millstreet Town
At a pleasant time of year with Summer in her prime
My memories go back the years decades in time

It is true of the past that it is in the forever gone
But the mental images today in me are living on
Of when i eat whortleberries on Clara in July
And the brown larks were singing in the gray evening sky.

A Scribbler Of Rhymes

Not one of literary importance as one might say
A scribbler of rhymes i just scribble away
I must be addictive to pen rhymes every day
With rhyming words i am one who does like to play
A rhymer since nineteen seventy three this is going back in time
Yet i am one who never does run out of rhyme
Anybody can write rhymes you can have that from me
It is rather easy as easy as can be
In literature i will never be one to the fore
Rhyming is something i enjoy doing and little else more
I do not write in expectation of money or fame
How boring we would be if we all were the same
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And in more than four decades of time i have penned reams of stuff.

We Learn As We Live

The more you do know you do come to realize
That so little you do know is this a surprise
Of Life and of Nature though we learn every day
We never stop learning as the wise one does say
Yes we never stop learning this is not a lie
And we learn as we live till the day we do die
This is how it was and is and it always will be
A lesson for us in all we do hear of and see
If to the higher self you try to live true
And always give credit to where it is due
And help anyone of your helping in need
Of your future good Karma you are planting the seed
And we learn as we live happens for to be true
This applies to all and all includes me and you.

Big Danny

Big Danny has many good stories to tell
Of his happy nights in the old Sem Hotel
A man who enjoys the barroom atmosphere
One can say of him that he does like his beer

In his early thirties he does not have a wife
Or of children he knows of to support in his life
He is not the type in life to settle down
One who never stays too long in any town

A scaffolder, a shearer, a drainer some of the jobs he has worked at
From the Cairns tropics south to Ballarat
Tall handsome, broad shouldered and handsome and full of elan
In the prime of his life the love to wander man

Two years ago on the last time i met Big Danny he was walking to the train
With a handshake he bid me goodbye saying i hope we will meet again
I have not seen him since and where he is today
Perhaps working and traveling otherwise i cannot say.

Few Things In Life

Few things in life come easy it does seem this way
For most things there always is some price to pay
And though many do daydream of great wealth and fame
No two dreams it does seem exactly the same

Yet we all cannot be wealthy and famous and great
And of the privileged minority the masses celebrate
In a World where a few for to win many have to lose
Though losing is a thing anyone does not choose

So many on a life's journey that does lead to nowhere
There are millions of poor people in the big World out there
The Stateless, the Homeless and the Refugees
Poverty it is known to come at varying degrees

And though success in life is also a relative thing
The praises of the billionaires the gullible masses do sing
Since the fact is we are all born as mortals and fact never lie
And eventually one day or night everybody must die.

My Aged Neighbour

Since only the good in everyone he does see
My aged neighbour is a better person than me
Respect to all others and their opinions he does show
One can say of him that he has the inner glow
Of the one who does not differentiate between race, color and creed
One can say is a very good person indeed
Of anyone he never has unkind things to say
I only do wish that i could be this way
Without children or a wife he lives on his own
And though in his eighty eight years of living an easy life he has not known
He always seems happy one without a care
Nowadays people like he is to say the least rare
On how he lives as a person there is a lesson for us all
Compared to him in ways i do seem quite small.

It Has Been Many Years

It has been many years since i first saw light of day
And though the lust of the wander has carried me far away
From the old fields i loved where the rushes do grow
Yet so little of life's ways i can claim to know
Though it applies to everyone and not to the few
From life every day we do learn something new
And if we are open to learning this is not a lie
That we never stop learning till the day we do die
The words of the wise person i do recall
That the know it all people know little at all
Yet the more we get to know the more we realize
That so little we do know is this a surprise?
Yet we can only learn as we live it does seem fair to say
And from life we do learn something new every day.

February In Duhallow

The cattle in the farmyard sheds bellowing for silage or hay
It is cold and wet in Duhallow on this February day
Swollen by heavy rain and showers of sleet and the melting of snow
The Blackwater bank high in the old fields with a loud babble does flow

On it's journey of one hundred kilometers or more
That ends somewhere beyond Youghal at the Atlantic shore
On it's way it receives the waters of every north and east Cork river, stream and drain
That often flows bank high swollen by heavy rain

In Duhallow in February the sun seldom does shine
And the weather is more often cold and wet and windy than fine
The summits of the Boggeragh Ranges often cloaked in fogs of gray
Though Spring is drawing nearer with the dawning of each day

February in Duhallow is a cold and wet time of year
And on the bare deciduous trees birdsong one does not hear
But it is not that long till the coming of Spring
When the trees will grow leaves and the nesting birds will sing.

The Rhymers

The literary critics may dismiss their work as of another time
But the rhymers rhyme on they are born to rhyme
And they will go on rhyming till their last night and day
The rhymers could never give rhyming away
The rhymers with rhyming words do like to play
And despite what the literary critics do say
The rhymers love rhyme and will be rhyming on
When the life from the last literary critic has gone
Long before Chaucer was born rhyme was the in thing
And the rhymers wrote verses for singers for to sing
Every rhymer does write in a style of his or her own
And though the rhymers nowadays not amongst literature's best known
Despite what the literary critics of them may say
There will always be people who live to write rhymes every day.

Baz

Of his Hometown of Halifax in Nova Scotia he has good stories to tell
But in his guest house in Semaphore he is doing financially well
Today in Nova Scotia the weather temperature below minus fifteen degrees
And in Semaphore a high of thirty six of only a slight breeze

Going by what he says it looks like in South Australia Baz will grow old
Nova Scotia for him to live in is far too cold
He may never even visit there again
By the southern Pacific he may remain

I have found my own Earthly Utopia he does say
And where the weather temperature never drops to near zero i am happy to stay
He will not be going back to Halifax in the Spring
When the tanagers in the green Park-lands do sing

And light pale green leaves are on the maple trees
And the warmth of May in the freshening breeze
And though good memories of what was in him does remain
He may never see Nova Scotia again.

Dennis Singleton

The old clock of time becomes everyone's foe
He left Carriglea many Seasons ago
For to live in New York in the U S of A
Though in Florida he lived his last night and day

I knew Dennis Singleton as a young man
Near the prime of his life full of youthful elan
But in Carriglea near Millstreet Town he did not stay
The lust of adventure took him far away

From the fields near old Clara where he spent his young years
Where he grew to love Nature laughed and shed childhood tears
And like many migrants he would have known of life's many an up and down
Far south of the countryside by Millstreet Town

Many of his young friends in Duhallow he was never more for to meet
Since his journeys in life took him far from Millstreet
So many have left Duhallow never for to see again
The Boggeraghs half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain

Far from Carriglea in Florida in the U S of A
Dennis Singleton has lived his last night and day
On all of our lives the clocks ticking away
May he rest in peace where his last remains lay.

In Old Semaphore

A beautiful morning by the ocean shore
In sunny South Australia in old Semaphore
Under the watchful eyes of their parents from them ten meters away
In the shallow waters by the jetty young children do play
In the blue and sunny sky just a few clouds of gray
It does have the making of a warm day
On the walkways by the ocean mothers with their babies in prams out for a morning stroll
A walk by saltwater is always good for the soul
Whilst others walk their dogs or jog or cycle many people about
In the seaside park in the morning when the sun is out
And by sunny Semaphore a well known tourist Town
Cars and trucks on the esplanade buzz up and down
Mental images of such beauty are bound to remain
In memory for to visit again and again.

From Penola To Narracoorte

From Penola to Narracoorte in South Australia off of the highway on either side
Thousands of acres of vines far as the eyes see stretching for miles far and wide
Wine from grapes in South Australia enjoyed by wine lovers everywhere
Penola and Narracoorte well known places in the bigger World out there
The vineyard owners of South Australia thanks due to their fine wines widely known
With the World's best winemakers they can hold their own
Wines from vineyards in Penola and Narracoorte in top restaurants enjoyed far from home
In the big Cities of the World such as New York, London, Paris, Tokyo and Rome
Yes the vineyards of south eastern Australia have enjoyed a Worldwide fame
Good wines to the districts they came from always give a good name
The vineyards of Penola and Narracoorte far beyond south eastern Australia are widely known
With the best wines in the World they do surely hold their own
From Penola to Narracoorte by the highway on either side
Vineyards that are very famous due to their fine wines known Worldwide.

From Coleraine To Casterton

The landscape the same each time i drive this way
The hills between Coleraine and Casterton looking brown and dry today
A country too high and too dry to plough for roots crops or grain
That could do with a long spell of life giving rain
A country in need of it's every bush and tree
Where sheep and cattle are the only animals that one does see
From the undulating roadway that winds up and down
Between Coleraine and old Casterton Town
Of Nature's varying scenery one never grows tired
By such rugged natural beauty the writers and artists inspired
On the roadway between Coleraine and Casterton many times i have been
But the undulating country around always more brown than green
This high and brown countryside very well could do
With a week of heavy rain or even better two.

Men Die And Kill For

Men die for flag and Country and because of religious and racial and cultural differences wish on each other ill
And because of love and money and territorial disputes are willing for to kill,
Women too commit murders but compared to males it is known female murderers are few
These are old statistics relevant to today and in this there is nothing new
Females to support violent causes and wage war on others than males far less inclined
There is and has always been far more aggression in the macho male kind
Religion, nationalism and patriotism are causing problems Worldwide
And some men think it is okay for to kill since they have god on their side
Long before money became fashionable men murdered for the love of gold
In some ways men have not changed that much since the long gone days of old
Wherever macho men are there is bound to be anger about
Human male aggression the Human World would be better off without
Doubtless i never will live to see a World free of violence and crime
But this will not occur in the near future or at least not in my time.

There Are Gifted

There are gifted artists and musicians and gifted writers as well
And gifted and talented singers whose records by the millions sell
And it takes one to be gifted at making money for to become a billionaire
Though some will tell you that people today as ever are rare
Of elite sportspeople we read of and we hear of every day
At their chosen sports they are ahead of others by quite a long way
Many who are gifted live as good people but having said this not all
Of the names of those known to be gifted so many who are flawed to recall
Gifted people of one kind or other are to be found everywhere
There are millions of them in all Countries in the big World out there

The Gray Shrike Thrushes

The sights and sounds of Spring long gone in my memory i retain
When i visualize the gray shrike thrush sings in my thoughts again
The distinctive and familiar whistling song i fancy i do hear
Of one of Nature's finest feathered minstrels of the Springtime of the year
Not the prettiest of wild birds in his cloak of gray and brown
The feathered minstrel of the wood beside the country town
His kind are not gregarious and as flock birds are not known
But are not that shy of humans and have ways of their own
Birds i have seen and heard often though them i do not see and hear every day
Out of their breeding Season their whistling song with them does not stay
Amongst the finest of songsters of the far southern Spring
To listen to them whistling is such a joyful thing
The gray shrike thrushes the feathered minstrels of the Springtime of the year
Their whistling so distinctive melodious and clear.

The Bell That Rang For Him Today

In life we all have our own dreams that we choose to pursue
And he had his dreams like everyone though none off his dreams for him came true
And he had his needs like everyone though compared to most his needs were small
The bell that rang for him today will one day ring for us all
Though he never did father children or he never had a wife
He had his moods like everyone and his many an up and down in life
But he did grow old gracefully his hair was silver gray
He did not try to hide the years that bring physical decay
Though religious and moral in his ways some thought of him as quite strange
Conservative in his thinking one who did not like change
And it never could be said of him that he liked the stuff of cheer
Since he never tasted alcohol not even a light beer
He believed on eternal happiness for his good soul so death he did not fear
And the bell that rang for him today was one he did not hear.

In Park Lake Pertobe

The sun behind gray clouds is hidden away
On a sunless though warm humid February day
And in the shallows of Lake Pertobe thousands of small fish school
In weather quite calm for often breezy Warrnambool
For it's waterbirds and natural beauty Lake Pertobe is widely known
A Warrnambool coastal park with a charm of it's own
A place i could gladly visit every day
Earthly Utopia from here cannot be far away
For it's scenic beauty Warrnambool it can lay claim to renown
Park Lake Pertobe a beautiful place in a beautiful town
Where from the roll of the tide of the Pacific you hear
And a nice place to visit any time of the year
To sketch and write of it the artists and writers Park Lake Pertobe inspire
And of singing of it's beauty one never could tire.

Suppose You Are What You Are

Suppose you are what you are this is all you can be
Though what you are does not seem that good to me
You classify people by their race and creed
By your words you sound very racist indeed
The seeds of harmony your sort never do sow
You pigeon hole people you do not even know
But sad to say people like you everywhere
There are millions of more like you in the big World out there
Since your idea of a fair go does not include all
By your very opinions in ways you seem small
We can be judged by our words as the wise one does say
Meeting people like you never brings joy to my day
But then suppose you are what you are is all you can be
Though what you are does not seem that good to me.

The Pride Of Duhallow

Her wavy shoulder length hair as dark as the wing of a crow
The beautiful young woman from the place where The Araglen flow
In fields of Duhallow from here far away
On towards the Blackwater it flows with a babble by night and by day

Her eyes are as blue as the sunny Irish Sky
On a nice day in Summer in the prime of July
So friendly and charming and free of conceit and guile
The beautiful person has such a beautiful smile

Of the home of the badger and the shy river trout
The Pride of Duhallow has made it far south
To the Land of koala and echidna and roo
And white long billed corella and yellow tailed black cockatoo

She tells me that she will be home for the Spring
When in the groves of Duhallow the wild birds do sing
And the hawthorns will wear their white blooms of the May
In Warrnambool her's will not be a long stay

She will tell her friends in Duhallow of the places in she has been
Of her travels in Australia and the beauty she has seen
The beautiful young woman i met on a Warrnambool street
Far south of where the Blackwater and the Araglen meet.

How So Very Cruel

How so very cruel some people can be
A photograph today in The Melbourne Sun of a kangaroo i did see
Standing upright with an arrow in her neck she must have suffered great pain
The person who did such a cruel thing free ought not to remain

It was reported the kangaroo and the joey in her pouch were humanely put to rest
For to take them out of their suffering suppose this was best
That human beings can be so cruel a fact that is known
The people that kindness and compassion have chosen to disown

Since shame on themselves they have only chosen to bring
The praises of such people any sane person could not sing
For their crimes and sins for them a price to pay
If the law does not catch up with them Karma will one day

That some people can find pleasure on inflicting pain on poor creatures the thought of it is even sad
Suppose there are two sides to humanity the good and the bad
And a photograph of the bad side in the Melbourne Herald Sun of today
For the revulsion at such cruelty are there words for to say?

I May Never Climb Clara Mountain Again

I may never climb Clara Mountain again
On a day that is clear of the gray fogs of rain
Or on a Summer twilight hear the soft lowing of a cow
In a rushy field by the River Finnow
I can only visualize beautiful sounds and sights i have heard and seen
In Spring bluebells, snowdrops and primroses on a ditch of a bohreen
And the dark brown river birds dippers of breasts white as snow
By their distinctive high pitched songs them i did know
Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
We learn from Nature and life every day
We do never stop learning as the wise one does say
And though i may never climb Clara Mountain again
Fond memories of what was in me does remain.

Years Ago Penning Rhymes

Years ago penning rhymes did come easy to me
I am not the man that i once used to be
My memory not what it was decades ago
It does look like time it has become my foe

I never refer to myself as a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
As rhymers do go not one to the fore
I write rhymes for enjoyment and little else more

My best days in life in the forever gone
But i must be addictive for to keep rhyming on
Everyday i feel compelled more rhymes for to write
And email them into an internet literary site

Though i am just a writer of rhyme doggerel
I too do have yarns and stories for to tell
We all have our own stories of life one can say
And with rhyming words i am one who likes to play

Ordinary rhymers like me to be found everywhere
There are millions of us in the big World out there
Though years ago penning of rhymes came easier to me
Suppose i am not the man that i once used to be.

Kathleen O Riordan

Kathleen as nice a person as one could wish for to meet
Herself and her husband the late Sean O Riordan raised their children in Millstreet Town in Church Street
Sad to think in Duhallow she is never to be seen again
Amongst family and friends and all who knew and knew of her good memories of her will remain
The Kathleen O Riordan's of the World are rare
Since in life she was burdened with a heavy cross for to bear
That she was a woman of courage of her cannot be denied
She did not give up on life when her husband Sean suddenly died
In the Tanyard in St Mary's her last remains lay
For all of us there will be a last night and day
Good people are remembered when the life's breath from them has gone
Mental images of them in those who knew them as long as they live will live on
One can only hope for Kathleen O Riordan that her parting from life was a painless release
She lived as a good person and may she now rest in peace.

The Grieving And Sad

In public you have had to struggle to choke back the tears
As you thought of the past and your happier years
When you were happier and healthier and fitter and younger going back years ago
Long before the one known as time did become your foe

The Reaper of lives has claimed the life of the love of your life
You often think about her your beautiful wife
The mother of your children who of cancer died last May
In the local cemetery her last remains lay

She died in her forty eight year this not old one can say
In her brunette hair there was not that much gray
Her last days of life painful since cancer kills slow
And death is forever a fact of we do know

In your early fifties two decades past your prime
and your ageing body feeling the passing of time
Since the Reaper of lives from you stole love away
You think of the what used to be every day

But you cannot change the past in the forever gone
And life all around you as usual goes on
And so many like you in the big World out there
The grieving and sad to be found everywhere.

Eighteen Months Ago They Were Feted

Eighteen months ago they were feted as heroes their praises the majority did sing
But the majority has dwindled to a minority human allegiance can be a fickle thing
The opinion polls for them not looking healthy whilst the opposition parties are doing well
The Government parties not popular with voters their policies they cannot sell
That the the previous Government left them with financial problems to the voters they use as an excuse
For their poor performance in Government though the blame game to their cause of little use
The voters do not need excuses only a good performance of governing them will satisfy
In the opinion polls they have the Government on notice to voice their disapproval the voters not shy
In eighteen months the majority have dwindled to a minority the Government with the voters on the nose
Eighteen months can seem an eternity in politics and this is life one must suppose
If an election were to be held tomorrow the Government would lose in a landslide
But the election is not due for eighteen months so the present incumbents have time on their side
Eighteen months ago they were heroes but those who then feted them as heroes now want them out
They have eighteen months to get the voters back on their side but their capability of this many doubt.

The Cook

An out of date saying from an out of date book
Some ageing Australian males refer to their wife as the cook
Of their sort one could feel quite safe for to say
That they do not give their wives flowers on Valentine's Day
Old blokes who never refer to their partner as the love of my life
Or use words for them such as honey or my dear or wife
Though the word cook seems harmless enough one cannot deny
That the status of women it does not glorify
The woman known as the cook serves her husband's needs in every way
From him she does not expect flowers on St Valentine's Day
To raise his children, cook his meals and wash his clothes is her duty in life she believe
And what we expect from life in return we usually receive
Whilst her husband is in the pub she is home cooking his tea
To her women's rights is not a good idea.

Saturday Evening In Old Penshurst Town

It is Saturday evening in old Penshurst Town
On Bell Street few cars and trucks pass up and down
In view of Mt Rouse the stony brown hill
Where from Season to Season time seems to stand still

Penshurst is a quiet Town in the volcanic stony countryside
Where peace and natural beauty through time does abide
No factory chimney puffing gray smoke to the sky
Where the weather at most times is sunny and dry

A place that has inspired song, story and rhyme
That was very old even in the Dreamtime
Too stony and dry for to plough for grain
Where the thirsty paddocks welcome every drop of rain

For Mt Rouse Kolor was it's Aboriginal name
To have existed perhaps forever one of it's claims to fame
Where long before the arrival of Europeans Kolor's first people had their Corroborees
On warm Summer evenings in the shade of the trees

Saturday evening in old Penshurst Town
On Bell Street few cars and trucks pass up and down
In the shadows of Mt Rouse of the brown and stony face
A quiet and beautiful Town in a beautiful place.

Are You One Who Has

Are you one who has had a terrible day
When nothing did seem for to have gone your way
Your boss of late not doing financially well
One reason he is making life for his employees a working place hell
He says if business does not improve he will close the works down
And if so you will become one of the unemployed of the town
With a wife and three young children two girls and a boy for to provide
For you need a good income and good luck on your side
And a better job than you now have where your work effort is not matched by your pay
That life can be quite hard you have learned the hard way
For a new job start locally you have made enquiries elsewhere
But on economic hard times not many jobs out there
So with your cranky boss it looks like you must stay
And work very hard for your poor take home pay.

Pat Joe Kelleher

One of the nicest of people of old Millstreet Town
To live as a compassionate and good person his claim to renown
In his lifetime Pat Joe Kelleher made many a friend
Good memories of him will not die at his life's journey's end

Devoted to his son and daughter and to Kathleen his good wife
Pat Joe Kelleher in time was granted a long life
One who did so much good in his given time span
And who lived his life as an honourable man

He worked in Mary Cronin's shop on Main Street Millstreet Town for many years
And his passing from life would not have gone without tears
Pat Joe always did have a great smile on his face
His kind has helped to make Millstreet such a welcoming place

In Duhallow Pat Joe was well liked and well known
And in his lifetime of Many Seasons his friends in numbers had grown
Truly a people's person of him one can say
About him he did have an endearing way

His funeral for Millstreet was such a sad day
By Cashman's Hill in St Mary's his last remains lay
He did pass from life without having a foe
The Human World is in need of far more like Pat Joe.

In Millstreet Town Tonight

The streets seem deserted not a soul in sight
And the sky full of stars around the faint moonlight
Two tom cats in a laneway do scream as they fight
But there is laughter, music, dancing and song in the Millstreet Town pubs tonight
The weather though dry is cold enough for to snow
And a chill in the wind that from Clara does blow
Above the quiet streets of the Duhallow Town
As weather goes unpredictable February wears it's angry frown
But in the Millstreet Town pubs there is laughter and cheer
As the pub patrons enjoy their Guinness and beer
There is music and laughter and dancing and song
And everyone welcome to join in the sing along
Whilst out on the street not a human in sight
In Millstreet Town on this cold February night.

For The Sins Of Your Father

Your badly flawed dad may be serving prison time
Amongst all like him who have resorted to crime
But his sins in life should never be your shame
For his wrongdoings he has himself for to blame
The saying of like father like son does not always apply
Of who you are to anyone never deny
Because of your dad your identity why hide
On the person that you are you ought to take pride
Unlike your dad you are one who does not have darkness of mind
You work hard to support your wife and your children and you are compassionate and kind
In any way you never put anyone down
So why not walk with your head high when out on the town
For the sins of your father you are not to blame
He is an individual and his is his own shame.

As Long As You Never

As long as you never harm anyone in any way
And your bills and living expenses do happily pay
And try to perform at least one good deed every day
Then as a person you are doing okay
He is not a good person the wealthiest man of the town
He climbed to the top by dragging others down
Though the trappings of wealth he is proud to display
He is not a good person of him one can say
His praises the gullible and impressionable locals may sing
The loyal subjects do bow to the badly flawed king
They look up to one who in ways is quite small
Who in truth is not a good person at all
As long as in your dealings you are honorable and you help anyone of helping in need
Then of your future good Karma you are planting the seed.

The Babies Born Yesterday

The babies born yesterday a day older today
And the biological clocks on their lives already ticking away
Every day one does live one day nearer to the last
Tomorrow is coming and yesterday in the past
Ageing people for to hide the signs of Seasonal decay
Use anti ageing creams to smooth wrinkles and hair dyes to cover their gray
Time does not wait for anyone as the wise one does say
Youth with everyone seems to have a brief stay
And since we are born as mortals why otherwise pretend
The life journey for everyone does come to an end
The Reaper of lives treats all lives as the same
The billionaire and the one without a penny to his or her name
There is no class distinction where dead people lay
All of those who will never more see light of day.

The Yarpturk Wednesday Whistlers

At Kathy Baulch's home on Wednesday mornings the craic it is great
When the Wednesday Whistlers the music of Ireland do celebrate
Multi talented musicians who play many musical instruments from places far and near
The pleasant sound of their music a joy for to hear

To get to these sessions John and Carol from Werribee to Yarpturk have to travel far
At least a six hour return journey by car
Though they do not make the journey every Wednesday it would seem fair to say
That it is a testament to their passion for playing music to travel such a long way

A leading exponent of music of the Moyne Shire on guitar
Michael Shack in his own right a musical star
And Kathy and Margo and Judy and Natasha tin whistlers supreme
Getting better with each session is how it does seem

Bronwyn and Russell and Janice and Kathy Webster music loves to play
The Wednesday morning sessions at Yarpturk helps to make their day
The Yarpturk Wednesday Whistlers have become known far and wide
Even beyond the Moyne Shire and the coastal countryside

And after the sessions Kathy always serves up an afternoon tea
A generous and hospitable person she keeps the musicians happy quite a good idea
With lots of good music to listen to for free
Kathy's home in Yarpturk on Wednesday mornings is the place to be.

On Michael Dineen's Ninetieth Birthday

On Sundays at 11 a m mass in Millstreet with their two daughters and son they were often seen
When they lived in Kilcorney Michael and Margaret Dineen
Before they moved to Pound Hill in Millstreet Town where they live today
On looking back the Seasons how fast time does tick away

On the Millstreet Town Website In the Wallis Arms Hotel images by Geraldine Dennehy and a story by Sean Radley on Michael's ninetieth birthday
With family and friends for his years he looks healthy and well of him one can say
There are not many of six decades beyond their life's prime
Who as Michael has have aged well through the Seasons of time

Since i last saw the Dineens three decades have gone by
On looking back the years how time does seem to fly
After fifty six years Michael and Margaret as a couple going well
Of marriage longevity they have a great story to tell

It does seem like Michael Dineen on his ninetieth birthday with his family and friends enjoyed his big night
A man i know from years ago if only by sight
He and Margaret raised their children in Kilcorney before they moved to Pound Hill
On looking back the years it does seem that time does stand still.

They Too Have Life Stories

Though their lives stories they will never get to tell
They too have life stories the never do well
It seems their lives journeys never take them to anywhere
They are the unknowns of the big World out there
Poverty is something that comes at varying degrees
To the Homeless the Stateless and the Refugees
In a Human World where for some for to win many have to lose
Though losing is something anyone does not choose
Though many of them under the shadow of doubt
Stories of wealthy celebrities in the media every day we read and hear about
And some of them in their ways so very small
Of them in truth one can say not good people at all
The life stories of poor people remain as untold
In their mid twenties from the hard life they look frail and old.

The Reaper Of Lives

The billionaires, the celebrities and the poor of every village and city and town
The people who will never know of renown
But the one who does not respect people of money or fame
To The Reaper Of Lives all lives are the same
The World's materially wealthiest people from death cannot hide away
The Reaper Of Lives will find them one day
The one who claims the lives of the young and the old and those in their lives prime
Is the one who does laugh in the face of time
The Reaper Of Lives is one who does not have or does not need a friend
The one who brings the lives of the greats to an end
The one that the living of do live in fear
Wherever Life's Reaper is death is quite near
The one whose praises anyone never does sing
The Reaper Of lives claims the life of every living thing.

The Coorong Of South Australia

The Coorong of South Australia where only saltbush grow
Around the sunlit saltpans as white as new fallen snow
Upon a stunted gum tree in a voice guttural and slow
The long drawn out cawing of a dark pale eyed crow
Where Australia's first people hunted and fished centuries ago
Their ancestors had lived in the Coorong for sixty thousand years or so
But time brings about changes as the wise one does say
No black tribes in the Coorong for to hunt and fish today
Since i was last in the Coorong more than a few Seasons have gone by
On pursuit of flying insects the dark swallows chirped in the sunny sky
The nearest human dwelling from where i was far away
And of white saltpans gleaming in the sunshine the memory with me stay
On a very warm day in February of thirty eight degrees
And very little relief from the heat in the timid coastal breeze.

The Past Follows Me

I dwell far too much on the what used to be
And wherever i go to my past goes with me
With the saying of live in the now seems hard to disagree
But so much indeed for the gift of memory

Though a bit warm it is a nice February day
A freshening breeze blowing uphill through the park by the bay
The natural beauty around me a joy to behold
I waste too much time dwelling on memories of old

A weather temperature high for the day of twenty two degrees
And the balmy air full of the buzzing of flies and bees
The flute like warbling of the magpies so pleasant to hear
Earthly Utopia to this place does have to be near

Everywhere i turn to look Nature's beauty i do see
The magpie larks in the park singing pee wee
In such peaceful surrounding how can one complain
A beautiful place for to visit again

Though tomorrow today will be of the past
Beautiful scenes such as this in my memory bound to last
Since i am one who is tied to the what used to be
To wherever i go to the past follows me.

She Carried Joy With Her

Of blue eyes and wavy shoulder length hair of gray
Just meeting her did bring some joy to my day
The beautiful stranger free of any conceit
That i met today as i walked on the street
A friendly and warm person untainted by guile
In passing she greeted me with a nice smile
Perhaps in her early sixties of cares she seemed free
With a beautiful smile she said good day to me
Wherever her sort are joy is to be found
They carry it with them and spread it around
Of unfriendly people too many i do know
So nice to meet one who has the inner glow
She carried joy with her whilst walking the street
Her kind of person is a pleasure to meet.

John Twomey Of Laharn

I have heard through the grapevine that he is doing okay
John Twomey of Laharn for the Aubane Gaelic Football Club he used to play
When he was a younger man in his life's prime
Before the Aubane Club fell victim to the passing of time

John Twomey the fellow who does laugh at life
I hear he has school going children and a wife
To support on his farm in the shadows of Mushera above Millstreet Town
Where the undulating road to Kilcorney does wind up and down

News out of Millstreet does travel far beyond every Millstreet Town pub
It is said John is a committee member of Mushera's St John's Gaelic Football Club
I would like to bet if St John's win or lose he would have a smile on his face
For laughter in his life there is always a place

One never short of a good yarn for to tell
John Twomey of Laharn i hear is fit and well
I remember him as dark haired and handsome and full of youthful elan
Though it has been a while since he was a young man

I remember when the three Twomey brothers Donal, Jerry and John for Aubane lined out to play
Though this is going back in time many a day
The youngest of the brothers John never took it to heart when Aubane were beat
With a smile on his face he accepted defeat.

Magpie Larks

In Australia magpie larks are known everywhere
In paddocks and town parks in the big country out there
They build cup shaped nest of mud on fork of branch of tree
And are known by their familiar call of pee wee
They live mostly in pairs though in numbers they abound
And they live on small insects they find on the ground
Medium sized black and white birds i do see and hear every day
They seem almost tame in their confiding way
Of us humans they seem to show little fear
They only take to flight when to them you approach very near
Well known by appearance and their distinctive song
Once seen and once heard birds you cannot get wrong
Familiar Australians of them one can say
They sing out pee wee in the park every day.

Most Of Us

Most of us have our own struggles to face in life
It can be soul destroying this thing known as inner strife
And many who with mental pressure do not cope well
Of their tragic lives have only sad stories to tell
And since success can be relative as some would agree
What is a successfully lived life ask one other than me
For many that the majority look on as successful as people not good at all
In their ways and opinions they do seem quite small
Suppose it is only part of natural law
That even the best are born with some human flaw
The people of money in the Human World may be to the fore
But of the kind and compassionate we are in need of more
For these are the people with good on their side
And they are good friends of the poor Worldwide.

A Warm February Day

The day it is warm close to forty degrees
And so very humid with scarce any breeze
For coastal South Western Victoria a very warm day
Though not unusual for February it does seem this way
In the coastal countryside by Warrnambool
A few days ago it was windy and cool
An old resident of the Moyne Shire said the weather is acting strange
But then suppose we are in the age of Climate Change
In forty eight hours in weather temperatures an eighteen degrees upwards swing
Weatherwise this does not seem a natural thing
The sheep sheltering from the sun in the shade of the eucalypt trees
In very warm weather of high humidity in the absence of a freshening breeze
And above the brown paddock in the clear blue sunny sky
In pursuit of flying insects the dark welcome swallows do chirp as they fly.

I Can Improve As A Person

I do not wish to grow into an angry old man
Bitter with the Human World at the end of my life span
With the darkness of selfishness clouding my mind
I only wish to grow old as compassionate and kind
And help anyone who of help are in need
To reap the good fruit you must sow the good seed
This is the sort of philosophy on which i do believe
What you put into life in return you receive
I can improve as a person i know that i can
For i too in my own ways am a self centered man
Of my own shortcomings i too am aware
The truly compassionate and kind of the Human World are rare
Most of us can be kinder would you not agree
And heaps of room for self improvement in me.

I Only Reminisce

From there i have been many Seasons away
And by all accounts Millstreet is a changed place today
But the old fields of Claraghatlea would look much the same
I remember some of them by their given name

And the tiny brown wren i would recognize
He does have a loud song for one of his size
And the song of the robin with me does remain
In my flights of fancy i do hear him again

In the groves and the woodlets when i was a boy
My first lessons of Nature i did enjoy
In search of insects the mottled brown treecreeper climbing on trunk of tree
Was indeed a wonder of Nature to me

And the dark brown water birds dipper of breasts white as snow
By their metallic song them i came to know
When the fields were resplendent in their Nature's flowers
On grass lush and green from recent Spring showers

And the hawthorns cloaked in their white blooms of the May
And the contented cattle chewing their cuds do lay
In the mid afternoon in the shade of the trees
With the songs of the birds carrying in the freshening breeze

I only reminisce of a time i have known
And of unrivalled beauty that is Nature's own
Of the what used to be in the forever gone
And the clock on my life ever keeps ticking on.

I Have An Addiction

I have an addiction of penning of rhyme
But suppose i could be doing worse with my time
And though in literature i will never be one to the fore
I write rhymes for enjoyment and little else more
Just one of many with words who likes to have a play
I add to my growing numbers of rhymes every day
Though rhyming has not eased my financial woes
I could be doing worse with my time i suppose
And since i am not seen to be worthy of literary note
I never refer to myself as a poet
I only write for enjoyment not for fame or pay
And more new rhymes keep coming to me every day
Perhaps i will be a rhymer till the day i do die
If i did tell you different this would be a lie.

John Price

Though of him i heard good things said him i did not personally know
Years ago he left his home for Toronto in Millstreet Town Minor Row
And with him went Maureen O Sullivan of Claraghatlea the love of his life
The mother of his children and his devoted wife

It is sad to learn that John Price has passed away
That in Toronto he has lived his last night and day
Older people i knew of John and Maureen used to say
Such a pity in Millstreet that they did not stay

Yes many regret at home they did not remain
In their case a great loss to Millstreet was Toronto's gain
So many good people like them have found new lives elsewhere
In big towns and cities in the big World out there

Doubtless to his family and friends in Toronto the late John Price of Millstreet had good stories to tell
Of the Town and the Parish where he was known well
The Town he lived in on his life's formative years
Perhaps like many migrants some of his old memories had him close to tears

What applies to most others applies also to me
The news of the passing of one we know or know of reminds us of our own mortality
But what matter most those who knew John Price of him had only good things to say
And may he rest in peace now wherever he lay.

A Dishonourable Pair

One cannot say of young Fred that he lives an honourable life
Whilst his best friend is far away from home working he is making love to his wife
Unbeknown to her husband Steve his wife Jenny with his best friend is having a sexual affair
One can say of them they are a dishonourable pair
As is said when the cat is away the mice they will play
With Jenny and Fred it is surely this way
One can say of poor Steve that he does not know who his true friends are
From home he is working six hours by car
Whilst he is far away from home working his most trusted friend Fred
Is in his home with his wife Jenny having fun in bed
And since their affair is not on public show
Of the liasions between his wife and best friend perhaps Steve of will never know
And what you do not know will not bother you as the wise one does say
With Steve anyhow it is surely this way.

Behind Every

Behind every great man there is a great woman as some like to say
Though some will tell you it is the other way
Though i often ask myself what is greatness about
Since some looked on as great live under the shadow of doubt
Behind every great woman a great man as some would agree
Though others would see it in ways differently
A great person in any way is not small
And some looked on as great really not great at all
A person unknown to fame in some ways can be great
The one seen as unworthy for others to celebrate
Though he or she does at least one good deed every day
On helping one in need of help they go out of their way
Behind every great person another great person in some cases happens to be true
Though some never receive the credit that they are due.

February At Her Finest

A Summer day in early February close to thirty degrees
The sun shining warm with a freshening coastal breeze
And in the deep blue sky just a few clouds of gray
It is indeed a very nice Summer's day
The buzzing of the nectar gathering bees
In the warm air around the flowering bushes and trees
And in the eucalypt shade the contented cattle chewing their cuds lay
Earthly Utopia from here cannot be far away
Of the natural beauty around me a poet would write
For others to read and enjoy and recite
Everywhere i turn to look i do see
The beauty of Nature that is all around me
It is indeed quite a beautiful day
February at her finest in truth one can say.

As You Think You Are

On the corporate ladder you may have climbed far
But you are not as important as you think you are
Far greater than you their life journey did end
Life's Reaper to anyone is not a friend

Far greater than you are not with us today
At peace from the cares of life where they do lay
The one who on all lives has the final say
The Reaper of Lives did come reaping their way

The one known for to cut the tall poppies down
Does not respect the lives of the billionaires of the town
To the Reaper of Lives all lives are the same
The paupers and those of material riches and fame

You may be known to many as a multi billionaire
And people of your kind in the World may be rare
And be chauffeur driven in you big expensive car
But you are not as important as you think you are.

What Goes Around Comes Around

Today in the World people in a violent and painful way have died
People murder good people like Christ was crucified
Nailed to a timber cross on the Hill of Calvary
How cruel and how callous some people can be
Some people of any compassion are sadly in lack
A life from once taken cannot be given back
If the law does not catch up with them Karma will one day
What goes around comes around as the wise one does say
Those who deliberately injure and kill people and take life as cheap
Are only sowing the seeds of the Karma they will reap
If they are not punished by law to Karma they will pay
What goes around comes around life is this way
What we put into life in return we receive
On such a philosophy i do believe.

For As long As I Live

For as long as i live till my last night and day
My rhyming addiction perhaps with me to stay
I have been a rhymer since in my life's prime
And over four decades of years i have penned heaps of rhyme
It is something you may have heard me say before
That i do enjoy rhyming and little else more
I penned my first rhymes in nineteen seventy three
It was love of rhyme made a rhymer of me
My worth as a rhymer i may have reason to doubt
But never shortage of things for me to write about
And though my physical best days in life in the forever gone
I do enjoy rhyming and i will rhyme on
For as long as i live till the day i do die
If i did tell you different this would be a lie.

Though Losing Is Something

Though losing is something anyone does not choose
For one for to win someone else has to lose
This is how it is and it always will be
And everyone loves a winner would you not agree
There are winners and losers in sports, life and business and in everything
And only of winners the masses do sing
Winners are remembered and though sad for to say
Losers are quickly forgotten since life is this way
Most people in life their own dreams do pursue
But dreams are just that and for few do come true
Good luck and endeavour two things one does need
On your side in life for you to succeed
What has often been said before i repeat again
For one to win others have to lose as a fact does remain.

Where Nobody Cares

Where nobody cares if i was dunce of the primary school
Far north of the City of old Warrnambool
Or of where i used to live when my hair was dark brown
In Claraghatlea less than two kilometres from Millstreet Town

Or if i am a fellow who pens doggerel
Without any literary success of to tell
Where i am a stranger and an almost unknown
They will never look on me as one of their own

Of how long i will live here or of how long i will live is not for me to say
Only know the clock on my life does keep ticking away
Or of what happens to my remains when i have lived my last night and day
Only know i have earned my wrinkles and gray

I used to daydream that i might be a poet
A person deemed to be worthy of literary note
But daydreams as is said do seldom come true
Suppose from life we receive what is only our due

Suppose a stranger as such is the best i can be
Where nobody cares or spends one thought on me
Or if i was the dunce of the primary school
Far north of the City of old Warrnambool.

Johnny O Sullivan

Johnny O Sullivan of the Clara Road in Millstreet was a hard working and an honest man
One who earned his every pay in his working life span
Predeceased by Kathleen his devoted wife
He was one who did live quite an honourable life

Survived by his son Jerry and grandchildren and great grandchildren Johnny in Millstreet had lived for many years
His family and relations and many friends would have farewelled him in tears
One who in his long life had never harmed anyone
And one who will be remembered for the good things that by him were done

There is a sad toll to the funeral bell
And for all of us one day from life there is a final farewell
But honour is due to those who live life in a kind and good way
And of Johnny O Sullivan such things one can say

It is sad to learn that the life's journey has come to an end
Of a man who worked hard and to many was a good friend
One can only hope that his parting from life was a painless release
By Cashman's Hill in St Mary's he now is at peace.

It Is Easy To Publish

It is easy to publish anything you do write
Just email it off to a free literary online submission site
For to be published on the internet in Countries Worldwide
Why pen stuff from the public gaze for to hide
To email your literary work to an internet site is as easy as can be
You can publish it online of any charges free
Book form may remain as the preferred choice of publication for money and fame
Though writers on the internet too have built for themselves a name
Rejection slips from book publishers to writers is nothing new
And some writers of publisher rejection slips have received more than a few
But to get your work published there is an easier way
You can have it published online without any fee for to pay
And this is far better one would have to say
Than putting it in a file and in a cupboard stowing it away.

Shy People

Is every social gathering you attend a challenge for you to face?
On such occasions you are not the only one who does feel out of place
For shyness is something known to quite a few
In this i am not saying anything that is new
Some psychologists tell us shyness is born of low self esteem
But this is just their opinion or so it does seem
Since the human family is comprised of every kind
And who knows of the workings of the human mind
But i do like shy people they are in a class of their own
At parties and social gatherings their kind are not known
For to tell of their life achievements or of how great they are
And of their marvellous job and of the size of their car
I do like shy people for their humility
It is a gift to be humble would you not agree?

On Sherkin North Shore

A long way from Millstreet Town in view of Claramore
To Sherkin Island and Sherkin North Shore
Where their dreams of an alternative lifestyle Michael and Kathy O Connor pursue
In their case fortune favours the brave happen to be true

A down to earth person untainted by conceit
Michael a well known veterinarian from the Town of Millstreet
Perhaps in his early sixties with Kathy his wife
Is brave to take up a new challenge in life

There has been a program on them with the Brennan Brothers on Irish t v
Their successful project on Sherkin North Shore part of their lives destiny
To start a business on Sherkin Island is quite a challenge to face
In what is quite a lonely but a beautiful place

Of the O Connor family achievements there is much to talk of and write
Sean Radley has written an article on them with photographs on the Millstreet Website
On Sherkin they offer reasonably priced accommodation for families and groups for a quiet holiday
In peaceful surroundings from the noisy big towns and cities in miles far away

Far from the Town in view of Clara a new way of life
For Michael O Connor and Kathy his wife
Of their lives they have a good story to tell
And on Sherkin North Shore they are doing rather well.

Government For The Wealthy Only

Government for the wealthy only and in many hope is dead
And for the poor of the Country only tough times ahead
And for those on low incomes life has never been so tough
And more becoming homeless and having to live rough
And even poverty does come of varying degrees
In a Human World of millions of refugees
The Stateless and Homeless to be found everywhere
In every village, town and city of the big World out there
In a World where poverty seems the in thing
The praises of billionaires idiots do sing
Suppose the rank and file system will always remain
In a World where many do lose for a few for to gain
For everyone it does seem there is a pigeon hole
From the monarchs and presidents to those on the dole.

You Have Your Opinions

You have your opinions which does suit me fine
Though your ideas on life are quite different to mine
But how boring we would be if we all thought in the same way
Our different ideas makes us more interesting as people as the wise one does say
Yes if we all were the same how boring we would be
If on all things you and i and everyone else did agree
There would not be anything to discuss and nothing on which to debate
Different ways of thinking new ideas always seem to create
Though i may not agree with what you have to say
You have your opinions and this suits me okay
You do look at life in ways different to me
Though between us never any bad feelings or disharmony
And you have your opinions and this suits me fine
Though your ideas on life are different to mine.

What We Do To Our Earth Mother

The environmentally unenlightened of the Human World are not in the few
On saying this i am not saying anything that is new
With her resources being plundered by the people of greed
Mother Earth sad to say of more friends is in need
By materially powerful people Nature's beauty to add to their millions or billions is being destroyed
And due to the destruction of their natural habitat many species of wildlife endangered Worldwide
With many species of songbirds becoming scarce are we heading for our first silent Spring
Even the very thought of this is such a sad thing
Many species of animals and birds becoming rare within their range
Wildlife is in need of more friends in this time of Climate Change
For our disrespect for the Earth Mother who feeds us there will be some price to pay
More beautiful trees for needless development are being removed every day
Many species of wildlife Worldwide only to be seen in a wildlife park or zoo
But what we do to our Earth Mother to our own selves we do.

A Pleasant January Day

For Summer this is pleasant weather the last day of January
It is neither warm or humid just pleasant as the word can be
Though the sun today it has not been out hidden behind the clouds of gray
And the freshening winds blowing from the ocean we well may have some rain today
The weather is not warm or humid quite pleasant for the time of year
And the flute like song of the magpies is always a joy for to hear
And carrying in the winds of the morning the distinctive song of the pee wee
Medium sized black and white birds them i do often hear and see
Australia's largest species of parrot the big dark brown yellow tailed black cockatoos
In a small flock call out wee yu as they are flying some refer to them as the weerloos
And dark welcome swallows in pursuit of flying insects are circling low in the gray sky
Wherever one turns for to look in Nature there is natural beauty nearby
A pleasant day for very late January it is neither too warm or too cold
And Nature she is at her finest with great beauty for all to behold.

Jimmy The Bush Poet

He may not be seen as a writer of note
But he is good with rhyming words Jimmy the Bush Poet
One who may have been more famous in a long gone time
Yet he can spin quite a good yarn in rhyme

In the local pub his is a well known name
His poems have brought to him widespread local fame
A young man in his mid twenties with a baby daughter and a young wife
Writing rhymes in his spare time his hobby in life

With rhyming words one who does love for to play
Five days a week in the Shire Council he works for his pay
Bush Poets in the twenty first century becoming a rare breed
And of more of his kind the Wordsmith Trade is in need

His type of poetry the literary critics dismiss as doggerel
But in his distinctive rhyming style good stories he does tell
No other like him in the old country town
Where he does not have a rival for literary renown

Tall and dark haired and handsome in his mid twenties and quite a clever man
Of rhyming ahead of him of time quite a long span
And though he is one worthy of literary note
His kind literary critics never rate as a poet.

A Fan Of Eugene Brosnan

Though there today to many i would be a stranger for few there now on sight would recognize me
I will always be a fellow from Millstreet this is all that i ever can be
When people ask me where i hail from i say Claraghatlea near the Town of Millstreet
A twenty five minute walk through the old fields to the Lyre where the rivers do meet

The other day by the sea at Lady Bay in the City of Warrnambool
Far south of the Town in view of Clara where i went to Primary School
I met a beautiful woman in her early thirties a tourist from Germany her shoulder length wavy hair as dark as the wing of a crow
When she asked me what part of Ireland i am from i said Millstreet she said this is a Town of i do know

As the Hometown of the singer songwriter and musician Eugene Brosnan of him for years i have been a fan
I know that he does hail from Millstreet he is such a talented man
Because of Eugene she does know of Millstreet in Duhallow's green countryside
The fellow raised in Murphy's Terrace is obviously famed Worldwide

On the walkway in Lady Bay in view of Middle Island where the Merri to the Pacific does crawl
A tourist who did know of Millstreet it is a small World after all
She is a fan of Eugene Brosnan though she has never been in Millstreet Town
Where he did begin his life's journey a journey that led him to renown

Though she never may walk through the old fields to the Lyre where the rivers do meet
As a fan of the singer songwriter Eugene Brosnan she knows of the Town of Millstreet
She waved me a goodbye in parting a future memory for me to recall
There is indeed truth in the saying that it is a small World after all.

Though The Past Just A Memory

Though the past just a memory of the forever gone
Life all around me as usual goes on
Yet in my flights of fancy i often times does hear and see
In Spring a male chaffinch singing on a leafy birch tree
And the mental images remain of the beauty i have seen
When the bluebells are in bloom on the ditch of every bohreen
And the hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms of white to gray
And the fields resplendent in their wildflowers in the prime of the May
And on nutritious grass gaining weight by the day
The cattle chewing their cuds in the sunshine do lay
And from dawn till dark the songs of the birds one does hear
Spring in any Country is a beautiful time of year
And though the past gone forever the memories remain
Of what used to be and cannot be again.

For To Meet Them

For to meet them you do not have to travel far
And if you live in town you need not take your car
Just a five minute walk to the local public bar
To meet those who will tell you of how marvellous they are
After a few glasses of ale their own praises they sing
And though we live in an age when self promotion is the in thing
Of listening to them praising themselves one quickly does tire
About them there is little for to admire
In saying so i am not saying anything that is new
That the narcissistic kind are not of the few
And you do not have to go to the pub their sort for to meet
One does meet them often in the park or the street
And every day of the week of their sort one meets a few
You may say to this do tell us what is new.

Matt Murphy

Since he is one who will never be cowed
Matt Murphy in Millstreet will never be of the in crowd
Of the needless removal of trees from the Town Park of his feelings he left none in doubt
He was the brave fellow who dared to speak out

One who has the courage for to speak his mind
Every community in need of a few of his kind
Though Matt is not the most popular person in Millstreet why otherwise pretend
The one who does not have an enemy does not have a true friend

In public he has never villified anyone
He only told the Town Park Committee the wrong thing they had done
On the removal of conifers from the Millstreet Town Park
To the voices of disapproval he ignited the spark

As Millstreet Town unsung hero he may remain
But on losing some friends new friends he did gain
As is said silence it can be a friend of the weak
When needs be the person of courage does speak

Though he is quite worthy of such a renown
He will never be the hero of Millstreet Town
But of his displeasure at the needless removal of trees he left none in doubt
The one of true courage does always speak out.

A Young Woman From Macroom

In her early twenties and in her life's bloom
Her travels have brought her far south of Macroom
Her shoulder length wavy hair as dark as the wing of a crow
The young beauty from the Town where Sullane waters flow

Far south of the Town she was raised in and where she went to school
In South West Victoria in the coastal City of Warrnambool
But she is not in Australioa for the long stay
She says she will be home in Macroom by May

A beautiful young woman free of conceit
Surprised and happy for to meet a man from Millstreet
Two years out of Macroom for her seemed so long
The lure of nostalgia it can be quite strong

When the wild birds do sing and Nature's flowers are in bloom
She will be back home in the Town of Macroom
in her early twenties though charming slightly shy
In the Park of Lake Pertobe she bid me goodbye.

Of Any Life Achievements

Of any life achievements i do not have stories for to tell
I am just a person who pens doggerel
The years have left me looking old, bald and gray
And time on my life keeps on ticking away
Yet i never yearn for large amounts of money or fame
On the day that i die i will be the same
As the deceased billionaire for in truth one can say
That money is of no value to the dead where they lay
With words i am one who likes to have a play
And i add to my numbers of rhymes every day
No scarcity of subject material for me on to write
And i email my rhymes to an internet site
And i hope to be rhyming on the day i do die
If i did tell you different this would be a lie.