The Only Heaven I Do Know Of

I do not believe on an afterlife heaven since the heaven i know it is all around me
Every day on my walks in Nature such amazing beauty i do see
The white butterflies they are dancing above the flower beds and the sunlit trees
On a beautiful sunny day in late November with only a slight southerly breeze
My heaven it is all around me i walk in it's woods every day
The silver billed magpies are singing on the trees in the park by the bay
Late Spring in South Western Victoria is such a beautiful time of the year
The familiar song of the male blackbird is always a joy for to hear
A young calf in the nearby paddock is calling to her mother cow
The only heaven i do know of it is in the here and the now
The dark welcome swallows are chirping as fast as a car they do fly
In their pursuit of flying insects above me in the sunlit sky
So many people in the World to their god in heaven do pray
But the only heaven i do know of is where i am living today.

They Will Have Us To Blame

Without a healthy natural environment you cannot have a healthy nation
And there will be far less jobs for to work in for the future generation
That the economy is built on the natural environment seems only true to say
And for our bad environmental practices the future generations will have to pay
When we abuse the natural environment we rob the nation of it's soul
We have to stop mining fossil fuels and burning brown and black coal
We have to turn to renewable energy the gifts of sun and wind
To Mother Earth who feeds us we have not been a good friend
Far too many polluting factories in every big city and town
We would be better off and far healthier if all mines were closed down
And though Climate Change is a natural occurrence as everyone does know
Without a healthy natural environment the economy cannot grow
There will not be many jobs for the future generation which does seem a great shame
But for our bad environmental practices they will have us to blame.

You Will Be Dead Forever

Even the casual clothes we wear to some young people do seem out of fashion
Our better years long in the past we have lost the youthful passion
For life that we had years ago though we have not lost our desire for to keep living
Since few ever have a wish to die though time is unforgiving

Every baby is born with a soul as a fountain for joy and laughter
Though none has come back post bodily death for to tell of a life hereafter
When Life's Reaper comes reaping your way by your God you too will be forsaken
And from the eternal sleep of death none ever does awaken

It is said that Jesus Christ the son of God whose name lives on in glory
Was crucified and rose from the dead and so many believe this story
Yet many of those who believe in a God harbor a morbid fear of dying
They may say they believe in God's Kingdom in the sky but their fear of death says they are lying

Time on our lives does tick away and leaves us looking and feeling older
With loss of hair and age wrinkles and pains of back and shoulder
Some of us become thin and frail with age and others grow old and fatter
And our material gains at life's journey end to us then will not matter

Though most of us retain the lust for living we have lost our youthful passion
And even the casual clothes we wear nowadays seem out of fashion
From your greatest gift the gift of life eventually death you will sever
So live for as long as you can live for you will be dead forever.

I Have Not Seen Them For Years

I have not seen them for years my friends over there
Some of them like i did went to live elsewhere
And some of them with the deceased now does lay
For all of us there is a last night and day

Today i would be a stranger to many in and near Millstreet Town
Where i spent my best physical years when my hair was dark brown
But of my friends of the past only memories remain
And only in my visualizing i see them again

My journeys in life have brought me far south
Of the home of the rook and the badger and the brown river trout
And today even in Claraghatlea where i grew into a man
I may be a stranger to many in where my life's journey began

The friends of my younger years long past their physical prime
Like me they now would be showing the passing of time
And that i went my own way in life well may be so
But i retain good memories of the long ago

We live in the now and the past it has gone
And tomorrow will dawn and life does go on
And i may never again hear the lowing of a cow
In Spring in a field by old River Finnow.

You Have Not Harmed Anybody

You have not harmed anybody in any way
So why do you worry what others of you do say
And even if they speak untruths of you this gives you no reason to fear
Since of any wrongdoing your conscience is clear
In every village and city and town
There are people in their words who like to drag others down
For to meet one of their sort you do not have to walk far
Not even as far as your local public bar
There are some negative and small minded people for to give them their due
But the saying we are what we are does remain as ever true
It is a fact of life that everyone you know is not your friend
This is how we are why otherwise pretend
And since you have never harmed anybody any attention why bother to pay
Of the negative things of you that a few do say.

On Padraig Pearse's Visit To Millstreet

It has been one hundred years since Padraig Pearse came to Millstreet Town
A man wanted by the British as a leader of the rebellion against the soldiers of the Crown
Who were occupying Ireland then the feared and loathed black and tan
The brave leader of the nineteen sixteen rising in Dublin was quite an inspiring man

To most of the population of Ireland then but it does seem sad to say
That for his love of his Country Padraig Pearse with his life was made to pay
When he was one of those who was executed by the British as a revolutionary foe
After the failed Easter Rising in Dublin ninety nine years ago

After a speech in Millstreet Town he visited Howard's Railway Hotel
Though none living today of this historical occasion to tell
Where with Duhallow's Sinn Fein leaders he met with and did dine
In the pub now known as Corkery's co owned by a descendant of the original owners from the maternal line

Recently on the outer wall of Corkery's Bar by descendants of the original owners Margaret Moynihan and Noreen Corkery a plaque was unveiled
To commemorate Pearse's visit and Tom Meaney, Noel Buckley and Jerry Lehane and Fr Sean Tucker among others hailed
The visit of the brave man who remains a hero to many in the Ireland of today
In his case it was true that the good do not live for to grow old and gray

Since Padraig Pearse visited Millstreet a century of years in time has gone
And today life in the Town in view of Clara Mountain as usual goes on
Most of the babies back then in eternal rest now lay
And life goes on as usual and time as ever ticks away.

The Goldfinches Nest

Their twittering songs carry me far away
To the place where i first looked on the lamp of day
The birds of red around bill, dark brown, fawn and wings tipped with gold
Small feathered creatures of Nature beautiful to behold

Introduced by European man to Australia going back decades in time
Goldfinches have inspired artists and writers of song, story and rhyme
To sketch and write of these birds to lovers of Nature well known
Distinctive in their songs and appearance with ways of their own

I recall the first goldfinch nest i did see
Cup shaped among the leaves of low branch of a tree
Made of moss and lichen and lined with plant down
In the grove by my old home a mile from Millstreet Town

A nest built by the female this is the goldfinch way
With five speckled brown eggs of a palish gray
The male he would help her for to raise their young
The praises of goldfinches so many have sung

This beautiful memory with me does remain
That in my flights of fancy i often visit again
Of the goldfinches nest in the greenness of May
In the grove by my old home from here far away.

The Sounds Of Nature

I love to hear the freshening breeze
Soughing in the branches of the trees
A pleasant enough sound to hear
In any Season of the year
I love to hear on a calm night
The magpies singing in the moonlight
In their breeding Season in late Winter and the Spring
Their warbling flute like notes to hear is a beautiful thing
A sound of Nature known to coastal people Worldwide
The rumble of the rising tide
And the cracks of thunder in the sky
Where the gray rain clouds are rolling by
The sounds of Nature night and day
For as long as we live with us does stay.

On Brendan Murphy's Birdfeeding

His short film on seed eating birds on the bird feeder in his back yard on the internet seen Worldwide
From his beloved home place of Millstreet far beyond the borders of Duhallow's green countryside
Brendan Murphy to Nature's wild creatures is one who is quite a good friend
On kind people like he is in depths of cold Winter weather for their very survival small birds do depend

Great tits, chaffinches, greenfinches and house sparrows some of the birds on his bird feeder i did recognize
That Brendan is one who loves Nature to anyone who know him is not any surprise
Nature's creatures are in need of more friends like him since many species of birds are becoming rare
And wild creatures in the cold Winter weather to survive are in need of some human care

Brendan's discussions with Jerry Riordan on L T V are quite enlightening one can say
For to hear them discuss Duhallow's wildlife does never fail to make my day
Of Nature's ways we never stop learning that we learn as we live seems so true
And we learn from those who love Nature and credit for this is their due

Brendan Murphy's short film on L T V on small birds in his backyard to say the least is a delight
This is a man who truly loves Nature and on Nature's ways does have great insight
It is thanks to those like him in Duhallow that the woods are not destined for a silent Spring
He helps Nature by feeding the wild birds and this is a commendable thing.

To Try And To Fail

To try and to fail it is never a sin
Since only one out of the many does win
And for one to rise someone else has to fall
As the Abba song goes the winner takes it all
And since there is always one better than you
To try and to fail is the best you can do
But the champion boxer does not earn his renown
By staying on the floor when by a hard punch knocked down
Most humans with each other for success do compete
But as good as you are your match one day you will meet
And you can only be the best you can be
This is how it is would you not agree?
Far less winners than losers since life is this way
And in your life some new challenge for you to face every day.

Old Johnny

Old Johnny will not be going back to Ireland to his first home-place near Tralee
To the place in view of the mountains where the lamp of day he first did see
He says i do not feel homesick for Kerry i have not been back since i left in the Spring of sixty three
He does feel happy in south Warrnambool as happy as he could wish to be

He feels where he was raised today he would be a stranger an aged blow in from elsewhere
A balding gray haired old bloke from the bigger World out there
But for where he was born and raised in he has never shed any nostalgic tears
It is just another place to him and he has not lived there for fifty two years

He says where i came from the main daily topics were Hurling and Gaelic Football
And politics and religion and farming things that did not interest him at all
He is happy growing old in south west Victoria in the City of greater Warrnambool
Thousands of kilometers south by sky travel of where he went to primary school

Two years ago he lost to cancer the mother of his children his London born wife Kate
For forty six years his best friend and his beloved soul mate
Old Johnny who says if he said he missed his first home-place near Tralee he would be telling a lie
He is happy in Warrnambool by the Pacific where he will stay till the day he does die.

Only The Fear Of Death

Have you ever felt the World is against you that the gods are not on your side
And only the fear of death keeps you from ending your life in suicide
There are millions if not billions of people in Countries and towns and cities Worldwide
Who everyday do feel suicidal when their dreams of success are destroyed
But it is the fear of death keeps them living the fear of the post death unknown
If there is a god that god is for the wealthy since the wealthy they are of god's own
You are very poor though you once aspired to be wealthy but your losses became others gain
Why so many grow poorer for one to become very wealthy does seem way beyond me to explain
But it is the fear of death that keeps people living though they may be as poor as the word can be
Since anybody has not come back from the dead of an afterlife for to tell you of then of the fear of death you cannot live free
You have often thought of death by suicide but your fear of dying makes you want to live on
Though you are as poor as a church mouse and your happier days are in the long gone
The will to live in you is far stronger than the great fear that you feel of death
And you will live on till the life's Reaper claims you and you will fight for your last living breath.

In Yangery Today

The pleasant aroma of freshly mowed hay
Carrying in the breeze blowing uphill from the bay
The sun intermittently peeps through clouds of gray
And the blackbirds are singing in Yangery today
White butterflies dancing in the morning breeze
In near perfect weather temperature of twenty degrees
And the warbling flute like songs of the magpies so pleasant to hear
The birds who do sing every day of the year
The Moyne Shire a lovely place to be in the Spring
Pee wee pee wee the magpie larks do sing
The dark welcome swallows do chirp as they fly
Whilst chasing flying insects across the gray sky
The paddocks scenting sweetly of freshly mowed hay
And Nature is at her finest in Yangery today.

He Or She A Rare Person

He or she a rare person the one known as a living saint
For so very few are flawless with minds free of taint
Perhaps it is part of natural law
For to be born with some human flaw
But to make the World a better World to live in
With your own self this does begin
And to you do i have to explain
That by you becoming a better person it is to humanity's gain
Those who treat everyone as equal and the same
Do not help to make small gods of those of wealth and fame
And by doing a good deed or a few every day
You are helping to make the World better for to live in on your own way
But if you do not believe on giving to receive only take and take
Any difference to humanity you do not make.

Yellow Tailed Black Cockatoo

To many they are known as yellow tailed black cockatoo
The big dark brown parrots known to some as weerloo
Shredding pine cones for their dark seeds them one often does see
In small flocks or family groups on a mature monterey pine tree
In a cavity high in trunk of an old tree the female birds does lay
One to two eggs of a palish white to gray
But only one chick to adulthood does survive
In Nature in most cases the weak have to die for the strong for to thrive
Of human kind they seem quite wary and shy
And they call out wee yu as they travel by sky
Quite familiar in their striking appearance and their wee yu like song
Once seen and once heard one should not get them wrong
To most people they are known as the yellow tailed black cockatoo
Though some do refer to them as the weerloo.

In November

So good to be living on such a nice sunny day
In the nearby mowed paddocks the sweet scent of hay
That comes wafting to me in the afternoon breeze
In a pleasant weather temperature high of twenty degrees

Close to the end of November with the calendar Summer quite near
The song of the blackbird is so pleasant to hear
Though the paddocks looking somewhat brown could do with some rain
With such beautiful weather how could one complain

The buzzing of bush flies and nectar gathering bees
And white butterflies flitting around the sunlit trees
And everywhere i turn to look i do see
The beauty of Nature that is all around me

The sights and sounds of Nature to enjoy are free
The songs of the magpie, shrike thrush and pee wee
The beautiful colors of the different species of flowers
That were brought to life by the early Spring showers

In November in the prime of the southern Spring
Nature is in bloom and the wild birds do sing
And everywhere i turn to look i do see
The natural beauty that is all around me.

For As Long As I Can

I am a stranger to the manager of the bank
And i am at the bottom of the social rank
But i only want to grow old as a happy man
And live for as long as i possibly can
life's sad days like all i would rather forget
Why torture one's mind with thoughts of regret
And since my biggest worry compared to many seem small
In that respect i am not faring badly at all
Why should i envy the known billionaire
If his or her mind is burdened with care
Since the things that cannot be bought by material wealth
Are peace of mind, happiness and good physical and mental health
I just wish for to live for as long as i can
And die without pain as a very old man.

On Bernard O Donoghue

In Worldwide literature his is a well known name
For many years Bernard O Donoghue has stood on the poetic hill of fame
It truly can be said of him with words he has a way
One of the major poets of the Poetry World of today

Far from Cullen his home-place not that far from Millstreet Town
Bernard is one who knows of great literary renown
As a Fellow of The Royal Society of Literature he is up there with the best
One can say of him he has passed the poetic test

In The Irish Poetry Reading Archive and a former winner of the Whitbread Poetry Prize
To the top of the milk the cream always does rise
A down to earth fellow for one who is famous and well known
One can say of him in a class of his own

Yet in Millstreet or Cullen for him there has never been a street parade
Of far lesser mortals far more has been made
But in kilometers far from Cullen and Millstreet
He does remain famous where great minds do meet

That he is a great poet of him cannot be denied
But on his seventieth year time is not on his side
And eventually time becomes everyone's foe
I knew him as a boy many decades ago

It can be said of Bernard he has the inner glow
And his status as a poet it only does grow
He left Cullen for Oxford before his physical prime
And this is going back many Seasons in time.

Your Gift Of Life

Your gift of life only came to you by chance
And success and failure often can depend on circumstance
For to win a job start with others you must compete
And every day for you a new challenge to meet
If everyone were wealthy and famous and great
There would not be anyone for the masses for to celebrate
And though failure is one thing anyone does not choose
For one for to win big others do have to lose
But at the end of life's journey for all it is the same
The pauper then becomes equal to the one of wealth and fame
That death does make us equal only true for to say
There are no millionaires where dead people lay
And live in the now since you cannot change the past
For every day you live is one nearer to your last.

Betrayed Love

In Cape Bridgewater they were married by a marriage celebrant on the beach in the sun
And later on that evening their wedding reception in a Portland Hotel was much fun
A day with family and friends she would never forget
But sometimes what should be happy memories are tainted with regret

To the handsome young man she loved she had become the wife
A love that she thought that would last for life
He told her he would love her till the day he did die
Though some men are unfaithful and have been known to lie

But that was a year ago now she is in tears
And the bitterness and grief of betrayed love can linger with one for years
Three months ago he left her to elope with somebody new
To know of betrayed love she is one of quite a few

The lingering heartache of betrayed love she has known
Five months pregnant she must raise her child on her own
Her wedding on the sunlit beach at Cape Bridgewater to her now a bad memory
That love does have it's dark side is how it seems to be

Though the hurt of betrayed love in her does remain
Perhaps sometime in the future she will fall in love again
For her love ache will lessen with each passing day
Since time is the best healer as the wise one does say.

Duhallow's First Equal Opportunity Employer

Denis Mac the builder who with his wife Cis was the original owner of the Star Ballroom and the Cinema in Millstreet Town
Used to say that these were not his greatest claims to renown
But that in word or deed he never put anyone down
And that he employed all kinds of people black, white and brown

Denis Mac was a witty and a well traveled man for to give him his due
And to those who told him that his claim was untrue
I stand by my word is what he used to say
And he was a man who with words had a way

Of Denis Mac so many stories were told
When i was a boy he was growing old
One of Millstreet's greatest characters when i was young
As a great Gaelic Footballer his praises were sung

As a young man he migrated to the U S A and later on in life
He grew old in Millstreet Town with Cis Murphy his Millstreet wife
Two endearing old characters of the Town's West End
In their long lives so many they were known to befriend

As witty a fellow as one could wish for to meet
Duhallow's first equal opportunity employer Denis Mac of Millstreet
He used to say to employ all kinds of people is my greatest claim to renown
Paddy 'Black' Twomey, Joe White and Daniel and Jackie Brown.

When The Sky Of Night

When the sky of night wears it's starry gown
Above the dark fields of the old country town
The chirping of the migrating redwings one does hear
In November in the late Fall of the year
In late Autumn when the cold freshening winds in the North-lands do blow
And their northern breeding woods are covered in snow
The redwing thrushes know that it is time
For to fly south to the slightly less colder clime
With a map of their journey in each tiny brain
They travel by sky to the country of cold winds and rain
The memories today with me i retain
Of a sound of Nature i may not hear again
The migrating redwing thrushes in the night sky
As to their wintering woods they do fly.

The Peek Wurrong

To an ancient pre written history their history belong
Port Fairy's first people the Peek Wurrong
Thousands of years before the Town of Belfast became Port Fairy by name
For the coastal countryside now known as the Moyne Shire the Peek Wurrong had a different name
There is a memorial stone by the park in Port Fairy Town
To the people by the first European settlers who were mercilessly gunned down
By the colonizers from the North-lands Australia's first people were not treated well
They do have sad and tragic stories to tell
Of persecution from the invaders in the Country their ancestors had lived in for thousands of years
Their written history is of dispossession, suffering and death and tears
For decades under white law their basic human rights of them denied
But what has happened to them has happened to dispossessed people Worldwide
But the title of Port Fairy's first people will always belong
To the tribe who were known as the Peek Wurrong.

So Little About Life

Though i have traveled far from where the Blackwater flow
So little about life i can claim for to know
Yet from the book of life we do learn every day
We never stop learning it does seem this way
Close to forty years past my physical prime
And so much to learn in so little time
And the more i do learn the more i realize
That of life i know little is this a surprise
Though in reality many may think their world is small
I do envy those who think they know it all
Suppose to think you know so much you would feel okay
Ignorance can be bliss as the wise one does say
Of life so little i do know i have come to realize
And this in itself should not seem a surprise.

What If

What if i am one who writes doggerel
One who is destined for the poetasters hell
And to those who say for your rhymes you never receive any pay
You ought to consider giving rhyming away
I say with rhyming words i do love to play
And till the day i do die as a rhymer i will stay
Since i penned my first rhymes in nineteen seventy three
The bug of the rhyme it has got into me
And i care not what others of me have to say
I just add to my growing numbers of rhymes every day
I do not consider it a waste of time
On writing my thinking on paper in rhyme
If i said i would give away rhyming this would be a lie
As i hope to be doing it till the day i do die.

Father Ed

A popular man among his parishioners is the priest Father Ed
But rumor does have it that he is good in bed
No smoke without fire it does seem this way
But rumor is rumor one also can say

His parishioners do not believe the rumor on their priest going about
Of his chastity and purity they never do doubt
They see him as pure as the new fallen snow
One of those who possesses the rare inner glow

Rumor has it that he is quite randy for one of forty one
And it has been said he did father a son
Among the gossip mongers of the town the stories are rife
Of the priest Father Ed and his not so pure life

It is said his latest lover is a beautiful blond of twenty three
And that their sexual liaisons as per usual kept in secrecy
And that she knows what he looks like without his clerical clothes
You do believe what you wish to believe one has to suppose

His loyal parishioners see him as a living saint
But rumor has it he is one that is not free of taint
A man of the cloth who is randy in bed
The whisperers say of middle aged Father Ed.

Love

The wise grandmother said to her grandson
If you cannot love yourself you cannot love anyone
With such a truism few would disagree
Any act of love is a good act it does seem to me
Love and kindness are siblings in a loving person you will find
A person who is also compassionate and kind
Of more love in the World we are badly in need
And those with the gift of love are good people indeed
But love on the bushes and trees does not grow
And those who do have it have the inner glow
Love it does not have an age it can be in young or old
And it is something that cannot be bought or be sold
Those who do not have love in them cannot be compassionate and kind
It is a gift of the beautiful mind.

A Story Of Cormac Dineen

Some stories remain as a memory of joy
Like the one that i often heard as a young boy
Of a Gaelic Footballer who played for Cork in red and Millstreet in green
The legendary borderer Cormac Dineen

A story often recalled when local old yarners did meet
Of the man who was born on the Cork Kerry border between Rathmore and Millstreet
The Kerry County G A A Board wanted young Cormac with them for to play
But their rivals in Cork did not see it this way

Cormac's birth home was on the Cork Kerry border this is how the dispute arose
Between Munster's Gaelic Football's most historical foes
Till a drawn up map of the border put the issue beyond doubt
That Cormac was a Cork man by a hundred meters or thereabout

In Gaelic Football a huge boost to Cork it did seem
But had Cormac been playing with Kerry he would have known of a far greater esteem
For in the nineteen fifties when Cormac was in his physical prime
For Kerry in Gaelic Football it was a glorious time

In Gaelic Football for Cork and his club of Millstreet great games he did play
But only the memories are with us today
Of the fearless defender who often broke up many an opposition attack
As often was said of him a hard nut for to crack

Eventually time becomes everyone's foe
And Cormac Dineen died some six years ago
Born on the Cork Kerry border Kerry wanted him with them to play
But their football rivals in Cork on it did have their way.

In Illowa Today

The paddocks already are looking quite brown
In Illowa between Warrnambool and Koroit Town
The calendar Summer less than a fortnight away
And in some of the mowed paddocks giant sized bales of hay

Left by the balers scattered here and there
Some of them to be sold to farmers elsewhere
And some as drought fodder the farmers will keep
For to feed to their cattle and horses and sheep

The sun shining warm in a blue and cloudless sky
For late Spring the countryside looking brown and dry
The one who is a friend of hunger and fire
El Nino the thirsty one is in the Moyne Shire

The creeks already down to a trickle and bone dry every drain
And though we had recent showers the Moyne Shire is in need of more rain
Today has a forecast high of twenty seven degrees
With warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze

In weather quite warm for the time of year
The warbling song of the magpies is so pleasant to hear
In the freshening breeze the sweet scent of hay
And the blackbirds are singing in Illowa today.

Self Love In Moderation

Self love in moderation is quite a good thing
But leave it to others your praises to sing
Though those into self promotion are no longer rare
Of their sort of late i have met quite a share
Of people who tell me of how marvelous they are
They boast of the size of their house and the size of their car
Since of their marvelous qualities they have too much to say
For to meet them i never go out of my way
With that self praise is no praise i can only agree
It is just another form of bragging it does seem to me
Self love in moderation can be a great gift indeed
For to love others a love of self you do need
But too much love of self into narcissism can grow
And a narcissistic person is one without the inner glow.

Where Poverty Is

The gap between the wealthy and the poor is increasing by the day
Inequality is rife despite what some may say
In climate and drought and in war refugees
Poverty does come in varying degrees
The homeless and hungry and the financially down
Live in the poor suburbs of every big town
Divided by culture and religion and values in life
Where poverty is discontent is rife
Some of the poor of the poor suburbs do turn to crime
And find themselves behind bars serving prison time
For as long as the gap between the wealthy and the poor does increase
Between people there will never be harmony and peace
The majority of the wealth of the World owned by a minority
And millions of people in dire poverty.

Rhyming Sonnets

Rhyming sonnets are so very easy to write
And easy to read, memorize and recite
It takes little effort and not that much time
For to write in a notebook fourteen lines of rhyme
To write rhyme is easy as easy as can be
Hog rhymes with dog and bee rhymes with tree
This seems so simple would you not agree
Quite easy to you and quite easy to me
Those who tell you that rhymers are many and poets are few
Are not telling to you anything that is new
Reading rhymes i loved when i was a boy
And writing them nowadays i thoroughly enjoy
And rhyming sonnets are so easy to write
Easy to read, memorize and recite.

It Will Not Matter To You

It will not matter to you when the life's breath from you has gone
If you are forgotten or your name does live on
Fame and wealth only count to living women and men
When you are deceased nothing matters to you then
Everyone cannot be wealthy and famous and known far and wide
Beyond the borders of their hometown or their home countryside
The praises of the wealthy and the famous many do like to sing
And that many good people are forgotten in death does seem such a sad thing
But it will not matter to you when you are dead
If nice things about you are written and said
For the dead past all feeling and every care
And in death the deceased pauper becomes equal to the deceased billionaire
And it will not matter to you when the life's breath from you has gone
If you are forgotten or your name does live on.

November In The Moyne Shire

The greenness of Spring is around me everywhere
And the songbirds are singing in the grove over there
Close to the house by the Southern Cross roadway
In Illowa it is a beautiful day
November in the Moyne Shire is a lovely time of year
In the prime of the Spring with Summer ever near
A freshening coastal breeze blowing from the south
On a beautiful evening to be out and about
A magpie is warbling on a sunlit wattle tree
And a magpie lark sings his familiar pee wee
And a shrike thrush is whistling and a blackbird does sing
In the warmth of the sun in the prime of the Spring
And the cattle on lush grass gaining weight by the day
With the calendar Summer just two weeks away.

It Is My Lack Of Cash

It is my lack of cash that does keep me away
From where i first looked on the lamp of day
Claraghatlea just west of the Town of Millstreet
So many there that i never more will meet

For some i know in Millstreet did not stay
And where the deceased are some of them now do lay
And only memories now remain with me
Of my erstwhile friends and of the what used to be

Since i left Claraghatlea by Millstreet Town
On life's journey i have known many an up and down
But for my fading memories of the long gone years
I have shed the last of my nostalgic tears

Yet often in fancy i visit the home fields again
On an evening in Spring in the drizzling rain
The nesting birds singing on the bushes and trees
Their pleasant notes floating in the freshening breeze

And the rill in the fields from high Claramore
Babbling to the rivers to the Atlantic Shore
And in the fading twilight the soft lowing of a cow
In a darkening field by the River Finnow

I only have memories of friends i have known
In the place where i used to be one of their own
And it is only my lack of finances that do keep me away
From the place where i first looked on the lamp of day.

This Is The Price We Do Pay

Such shame on humanity this surely does bring
What has happened in Paris is such a horrible thing
Carried out by soulless men in their god's name
Extreme ideologists who do not have any sense of shame

Reprisals by the French Air-force on ISIL targets in Syria already taking place
Where more civilian casualties are likely on what could be another human disgrace
The darker side of humanity is in need of more light
Two wrongs as is said never does make a right

On their indignation at the sins against us many maintain their rage
With a photo of the French Flag as their cover image on their Facebook page
The us against they syndrome alive and well it does seem
A show of patriotism can be a boost to a flagging sense of worldly esteem

As the main source of terrorism against western people one must go to the execution of Saddam Hussein and the war on Iraq
For the stupidity of the likes of Bush, Blair and Howard this is the Sunni Muslim payback
For a needless war this is the price we do pay
It does seem like terrorism is with us to stay

So many have been murdered and maimed in a terrorist attack in Paris in France
Against those with bombs and guns the unarmed do not stand a chance
But the blame for these murderous frenzies is not all one way
For the invasion of Iraq this is the price we do pay.

A Dream

In the prime of Summer on warm July
Countless stars shining in the clear sky
The scream of a barn owl echoed in the still of the night
And the cross on Clara was visible in the moonlight
In the quiet fields with a silver tongue that is never still
The babbling song of the Claramore Rill
In fields of Claraghatlea by ditch and hedgerow
On to the river as ever does flow
Out hunting for prey in a field nearby
The familiar shrill sound of a fox's wild cry
A watchdog in a yard barking and a rooster in a fowl shed crowing
And a cow in a field to her calf was lowing
Till i woke from sleep in the dawning gray
To the warbling song of a magpie on a November Spring day.

On The Passing Of Murray Quick

He used to work for Cunningham and Kelleher as their Kato operator
On the big earth digging machines than him there was none greater
He was a sturdy well built man and few if any stronger
But sad to hear that Murray Quick is not with us any longer

On his fifty seventh year he breathed his last in life he bore his crosses
He had his good and bad times and his winnings and his losses
He did not die a pain free death by cancer he was taken
Remembering the man he was fond memories awaken

It is sad to think that the breath of life from Murray has departed
He was a good fellow to know and in his ways kindhearted
To many he was a good friend to his family his passing a great sorrow
Sadly for some people today there will not be a tomorrow

He died far north of his home State of Victoria in Queensland in sunny November
He was a good man Murray Quick and all who knew him will remember
That he was a kind person who had the gift of giving
And sad indeed the very thought that he is no longer living.

The Brave Men Of My Home Countryside

I come from a place where brave young men for what they believed in died
That they were true to their beliefs of them cannot be denied
The stories of the bravery remain a sense of pride
Of the legendary heroes of my home countryside
Fearless in the face of danger a reason they died in their lives prime
The stories of their bravery have not faded in time
Among men they were heroes where the gun fire was loud
Of the brave men of my home countryside why not i too feel proud
Some of them died in battle others with their backs to a wall
To die for what you believe in the greatest sacrifice of all
They died for their idea of freedom of their bravery stories told
The good die young they tell us and they did not live to grow old
When courage it is needed brave men from fear do not hide
The stories are inspiring of the brave men of my home countryside.

Young Joe

Young Joe he is on the roadway to elsewhere
To big towns and cities in the big World out there
Far from his home in the little bush town
Surrounded by paddocks from sun bare and brown

The lust for adventure in one of nineteen
So much living to do and so many places to be seen
His journey take him far from the home of roo and shrike thrush
And the old country town in the quiet of the bush

Tall and strong dark haired and handsome with youth on his side
In the young mind the lust of the wander cannot be denied
A pretty teenage country town girl for him in tears
Her ache of lost love it may live on for years

His mum and dad and his younger sister hope in not distant day
That he will return home for the long stay
But he may not be back home again for some time
On a life of adventure he may spend his physical prime

Those with the spirit of adventure are not of a rare kind
The bug of the wander is in the young mind
His journeys in life could lead him to anywhere
Young Joe wants to see more and more of the big World out there.

Money Speaks Every Language

With chestnut brown hair dye he covers his gray
And he use anti aging creams to hide age wrinkles away
In his mid seventies he lay on the beach enjoying the sunshine
His young lover beside him a beautiful blond of twenty nine

A grandfather eight times divorced from his fourth wife
Money speaks every language he is enjoying the good life
The aging sugar daddy a known billionaire
Of beautiful looking young women in his life he has had quite a share

But of his every new lover he quickly seems to tire
There is always a pretty one for him to make love to spend money on and admire
With big wads of money on gifts on them for to spend
He will never be short of a pretty young female friend

He is only interested on a young beauty in her prime
For to wine and to dine with and to have a good time
Some men of his age struggling to stay alive
But he is quite healthy and not lacking in sexual drive

Lying on the beach in the sunshine the virile old man
With his pretty young blond lover beside him improving on their suntan
Money speaks every language as the wise one does say
And never more so than in the Human World of today.

Live And Let Live

Live and let live as the wise one does say
You do not earn one's respect by insulting them in some way
Do unto others as you would like them do unto you
A quote that is relevant and remains ever true
The one who find pleasure on verbally putting others down
Is never the most popular person of the town
Passing judgments on others none ought to condone
Leave it to the one without sin to cast the verbal stone
Those without compassion in life have lost their way
And sadly too many of their kind in the Human World of today
Some people in their ways are so very small
Their idea of a fair go does not apply to all
Respect is a thing that goes more than one way
Live and let live and you will be doing okay.

Maddy Bowen

It is mostly biographies of the wealthy and famous that are published to sell
Though in everyone's life there is a story to tell
It is only the lives of celebrities the gullible masses celebrate
Though in death everyone does share a similar fate

Though this is going back some six decades in time
Maddy Bowen was a rare beauty when in her life's prime
As Madeline Rice with shoulder length hair of chestnut brown
She was indeed the fair rose of the town

She married Jimmy Bowen the great love of her life
To him she was a loving and a devoted wife
But sadly and tragically Jimmy died in a work accident when their only child Tommy was a baby of one
Leaving her on her own for to raise their son

Her Tommy grew up to be a nice and a handsome young man
But tragically his life in time was a brief span
He died in a car accident when he was nineteen
Some heartbreaking days in life she has been through and seen

Maddy is aging in a graceful way
Her shoulder length wavy hair is silver gray
Always happy looking and smiling she does seem carefree
She is looking great for one of eighty three.

This Is How It Is

For success many people with each other compete
To be the best in business or the best athlete
To be the best artist or writer, scientist or engineer
Only winners are toasted in champagne and beer
People compete with each other for university degrees
Such things that do not bloom like the blossoms on the bushes and trees
And though losing is a thing anyone does not choose
For one for to win others do have to lose
But this is how life is and how it always will be
For every millionaire so many in poverty
In every suburb and on every street
Every day for success people with each other compete
For every billionaire there are millions in poverty in the Human World of today
This is how it is and it will always be this way.

If With Hope You Keep Faith

Financially embarrassed and tough times of you ahead
And sometimes you feel you would be better off dead
But the longest lived human life in time is a brief span
So hang on to life for as long as you can
And who knows what good things the future to you will bring
For luck when it is good is a wonderful thing
Eventually lady luck will smile your way
All good things come to those who wait as the wise one does say
In your life you have nothing for to celebrate
But than being financially poor many a worse fate
So many financially well off people feeling unwell
And good health is a thing one cannot buy or sell
Your luck it will change if with hope you keep faith
Good things in life come to all of those who do wait.

A Man Of The Boggeraghs

I am of the fields where the waterways meet
Green old Claraghatlea by the Town of Millstreet
Through time and through distance the past follows me
A man of the Boggeraghs is all i can be

Like many migrants to any one place i do not belong
Some tell me my accent it is rather strong
And when some ask where i came from i say from Claraghatlea near Millstreet Town
Where i used to live when my hair was dark brown

Duhallow from Illowa in the Moyne Shire where i live today
In kilometers of sky many thousands away
And though i may never look on the Boggeraghs again
The memories of what was in me does remain

November in Duhallow a cold and wet time of year
At the back end of Autumn and Winter so near
In the subsiding flood of a gray November dawn
The salmon are swimming upriver to spawn

I am living far south of where my life's journey began
Of the countryside where i grew into a man
And though i may never look on them again
As a man of the Boggeraghs i do remain.

Good Health And Happiness

Good health and happiness and freedom of inner strife
These are the most valuable things in your life
These are the things that cannot be bought or sold
For all of the World's money and gold
Those with happiness and good health are blessed indeed
Two essential things every person does need
Though you have heaps of money and huge assets and drive in a big car
Without good health and happiness so much worse off you are
What use to you material assets or financial wealth
If you feel unhappy and your mind and your body are not in good health
In his mid fifties with an illness that is incurable and rare
An unhappy person is the dying billionaire
Any hope of recovery for him does fade
For good health and happiness all of his wealth he would trade.

A November Day

We only can go back in time in memory
And the now is all that does matter would you not agree
The sun it is shining on this pleasant Spring day
And the nesting birds are singing in the park by the bay
November is such a green time of the southern year
The Spring all but over and Summer is near
Everywhere looking so green and the wildflowers are blooming after the recent rain
With such pleasant weather how can one complain
The song of the male blackbird so pleasant to hear
And the birds who do sing every day of the year
The Australian magpies with the warbling flute like song
The birds from once heard you never again do get wrong
The parkland has never been looking more green
And Nature at her finest is to be seen.

It Is Something I Love Doing

For me in it not any money and scarce any fame
This writing of rhyme is a hungry belly game
But i have been doing it since in my life's prime
And this is going back many Seasons in time
As a rhymer i will never be one to the fore
It is something i love doing and little else more
I add to my numbers of rhymes every day
Without the reward of monetary pay
Yet as a rhymer i hope for to stay
Until the Life's Reaper comes reaping my way
As a young man i hoped i would become a poet
One seen to be worthy of literary note
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And we receive from life what is only our due.

The Australian Little Ravens

For their survival instincts they are widely known
Australia's little ravens have ways of their own
Their cousins the Australian ravens than them a bigger type of crow
Apart from each other by size them you know
The Australian little ravens their eyes are quite pale
And it is quite hard to distinguish the female from the male
In pairs or alone and sometimes in flocks they congregate
And they are to be seen in every south eastern Australian State
In stick nest on a tree fork three to six blotched eggs the female lay
And in their breeding Season they mob and drive off birds of prey
From their territories from which with aggression they defend
Though to ground nesting birds the little raven not known to be a friend
Since on their eggs and their young the crows do predate
In Nature many of the vulnerable meet with a cruel fate.

Memories Of The Corpus Christi Procession In Millstreet Town

I was not a religious boy and i am not a religious man
But my memory in time the decades do span
And often carries me back to where my life's journey began
To the places and town where i lived my youthful elan

In my younger years when my hair was dark brown
In June at the Corpus Christi Procession in Millstreet Town
After second mass on a Sunday from the church at the West End to a mobile altar in the Town Square
Willie Murphy on the loud speaker led the congregation in prayer

Girls in their white laced communion dresses young and innocent and free of conceit
From their baskets kissed flower petals and tossed them as they walked on the street
A beautiful memory a lifetime for to retain
And in moments of nostalgia for to visit again

To religious people Corpus Christi in Millstreet was a special day
On many shop and house windows in the Town religious symbols on display
Good memories of the what was to the past brings us near
Doubtless they still have the Corpus Christi Procession in Millstreet Town once a year

But sadly our Seasons of innocence did not seem to last
And for many of us our happiest memories are of the distant past
Most of the girls and boys of my youth i have not seen for years
And for my fading memories i have shed my last nostalgic tears

But to my fading memories i do desperately cling
And in fancy the girls in their white communion dresses i still hear them sing
In our age of innocence in Millstreet County Cork
When we thought that babies were brought to our homes by a stork.

Oblivious To Danger

He does not seem poor yet he walks to the supermarket without shoes
A brave enough man something i would not choose
He might walk on a splinter of glass on the street
Which would leave him with deep wounds on the soles of his feet
To walk without shoes does not seem wise to me
As it could lead to a serious foot injury
But then he is a young man one who lives without fear
And perhaps from where he lives the supermarket is near
That he must be one who loves living with danger cannot be denied
But then he is a young man with youth on his side
Of danger or risk of injury he does not seem aware
Of walking on the flags of the street in bare feet is something most would not dare
He did not seem poor he was wearing good clothes
Some people oblivious to danger one has to suppose.

Of The Person You Are

Does not matter your nationality or your skin color black, white or brown
Or where you do come from village, city or town
Or if you are wealthy or poor or of your gender or creed
If you live as a good person the World of your sort is in need
It only is saying what happens to be true
That your wealth or your religion says nothing of you
It is how you treat others that only does count
Your sense of fair play to greatness does amount
Some people in their ways are so very small
Their idea of a a fair go does not apply to all
Those who lack in compassion lack in empathy
For those doing it tough they cannot feel sympathy
The size of your house or swimming pool or car
Does not tell us anything of the person you are

We Never Stop Learning

I grew to love Nature far north of where i live today
By sky many thousands of kilometers away
In the old rushy fields where the waterways flow
My wonder of Nature did begin to grow

We never stop learning as the wise one does say
And of Nature we learn something new every day
Though to learn perhaps i am one who is quite slow
Since so little of Nature's ways i can claim to know

Some birds i got to know by their chirping and song
Familiar voices of Nature that one cannot get wrong
But on my knowledge of Nature to me it does seem
That i cannot build on my sense of self esteem

Wherever i turn to look i do see
Green beauty and hear the sounds of Nature that is all around me
In sunny November the prime of the southern Spring
The wild-born nesting birds whistle and sing

Her wonders are many and her secrets not few
And every day about Nature we learn something new
That the more we know so little we realize we know is not a lie
And we will never stop learning till the day we do die.

Since I Am One

Since i am one who does not have a literary degree
What is or is not poetry why do you ask me
You must know i am one who is partial to rhyme
Though many will tell you it did have it's time
Of poets and poetry so little i can claim to know
Though my love of rhyme only does seem for to grow
The twenty first century literary critics blank verse does promote
They dismiss every rhymer as a doggerel poet
They dismiss all rhymers as unworthy of literary fame
To them a writer of rhymes is not a poet by name
You ask me what is or is not poetry in truth i can say
That on such a matter i am not an expert never pretended to be this way
And though tastes in poetry has changed since i was a boy
Today writing and reading rhymes i do enjoy.

Would You Not Agree

To be one hundred per cent honest is not in natural law
Not born to life yet the one without a flaw
Even the most perfect of human beings flawed in some way
This is what it takes to be human as the wise one does say
The most perfect of people perfection cannot achieve
Though some far more perfect than others one has to believe
Some flawed rather badly do turn to crime
And spend years of their lives serving prison time
Though most people are honorable in their own way
You do meet one or two flawed more than most every day
And though i have have been in many a town and walked on many a street
The perfect person i have yet for to meet
Anyone is not perfect and this includes me
And the near perfect are rare would you not agree?

On Our Journey In Life

On our journey in life nothing comes easy at all
But we must rise if we wish to go one after every fall
Just like the champion boxer when knocked to the floor
He does not give up he rise and fight on some more
Few things in life come easy why otherwise pretend
It can be a tough journey right to the very end
But live for as long as you can live though tough times of you ahead
The longest lived life in time not long and we will be forever dead
And though you may feel that your turn of luck is long overdue
Remember there are always some worse off than you
As you have a home to live in and enough to eat and does not this seem okay
And remember there are millions worse off than you in the World of today
And though losing in life anyone does not choose
For one for to win others do have to lose.

Michelle Payne's Day

From a famous horse racing family in Ballarat
To the beautiful young Michelle Payne one must dip their hat
The winning jockey of Prince of Penzance in the Melbourne Cup of two thousand and fifteen
The first Melbourne Cup winning female jockey in her cap of green

A supreme ride by the supreme jockey on the Darren Weir trained bay
For sports women of Australia what a historic day
The charming jockey from Ballarat history has made
Her achievement in the sporting annals of time will not fade

The lions share of the glory in the two thousand and fifteen Melbourne Cup to Michelle and Darren Weir as well as her strapper brother Stevie belong
As Australia's first Melbourne Cup winning female jockey Michelle Payne will become the sporting heroine of story and song
It just goes to prove that females with males in most sports with success can compete
On a one hundred to one Melbourne Cup winner for Michelle as well as all women this victory is sweet

The two thousand and fifteen Melbourne Cup on November the third has become Michelle Payne's Day
Near the winning post she dashed to the front on Prince of Penzance the unfancied bay
The only female jockey in the Melbourne Cup field the cheering for her was loud
Jubilant in victory she became the darling of the huge Flemington crowd.

Michael Kelleher's Favorite Topic

Michael Kelleher's favorite topic is always Millstreet
And his first home-place Claraghatlea where the rivers do meet
And the rushy fields in view of old Clara Hill
And the high fields of Claramore the birthplace of the Claramore Rill

Michael Kelleher from Duhallow may live far away
Where some of his boyhood friends are aging today
With them as a teenager he socialized and played Gaelic Football
His younger years he is always happy to recall

He left Claraghatlea for Australia years before his life's prime
In nineteen sixty eight this is going back in time
A grandfather he lives in San Remo Victoria with Rosemary his wife
The big hearted fellow who as ever loves life

His love for the home-place remains ever strong
In the old fields the best of his memories belong
As a boy in the early nineteen sixties with his white headed dog
He often was hunting in Mary O's Bog

In Michael Kelleher what was a huge loss to Ireland is Australia's gain
The accent he brought with him from Duhallow with him does remain
In his dreams the gray fogs on Clara he often does see
And at heart a Claraghatlea fellow he always will be.

The Son Of The Wife Beater

The man whose young son watches as he beats the boy's mother his partner or wife
Is not setting a good example for his child in life
The boy may well be a wife or partner beater on some future day
Since we learn from our mentors us humans are this way
The young boy comes to the conclusion that violence against women is okay
That we learn from our parents seems true enough to say
For most of the wife beaters of the World violent fathers are to blame
To the wife beating son of a wife beating father in beating women there is no shame
Most of our behavior in our younger years was learned from mum and dad
They helped to shape our thinking in what is good from bad
The child of the wife beater has it imprinted in his brain
That it is okay for a man to inflict on a woman pain
One day his young son will watch on as his son's mother he does beat
As the bad mistakes of the father the son he does repeat.

The President Is Dead

The President is dead the living breath from him gone
But life in the World without him goes on
One mourned by the masses but as is said
All of the tears in the World does not wake the dead
Though mourned by many not mourned by all
There are those who do say in some of his ways he was small
Another President in the deceased President's place
One admired by many as a well loved face
But then there are those who of him does say
Narcissistic like the deceased President in every way
The President is dead all is quiet where he lay
And it is business as usual in the Nation today
He was mourned by many but then there were those
Who did not grieve his passing such is life one suppose.

The Best I Can Be

An ordinary fellow is best to describe me
But the rhymes in my brain they are ever flowing free
But never for money or literary renown
Only for enjoyment and pleasure in notebook i pen them down

Let those who feel worthy of literary note
Lay claim to the honorary title of poet
Let them have the honor they feel is their due
Suppose each to their own can only be true

For my rhymes i never desire wealth and fame
And i care not if mine is not a well known name
With rhyming words i am one who just loves for to play
And i add to my numbers of rhymes every day

On this first of November of sunshine and breeze
The nesting birds singing on the bushes and trees
A beautiful day in the southern Spring
The pleasure and joy Nature to us does bring

New rhymes every day keep on coming to me
But a rhymer at best is the best i can be
But if i said i would quit rhyming this would be a lie
As i hope to be doing it till the day i do die.

If Love And Compassion Ruled The World

If love and compassion ruled the World how great this would be
There would not be war and hatred and there would not be poverty
People would be kind to each other and live in harmony
And in a World of friends one would not have an enemy
If love and compassion ruled the World women in the hours of dark
Would not feel afraid to walk alone in the unlit street or the park
If love and compassion ruled the World every mind would be open to light
There would not be mistrust or hatred or wars for to fight
Lack of love and compassion the main reasons for wars in the World today
For lack of these gifts this the price we do pay
In a World of love and compassion peace would reign supreme
But between reality and what might be quite a difference it does seem
But a World ruled by love and compassion how marvelous this would be
There would be kindness and understanding and peace and harmony.

A Decorated Soldier

A decorated soldier of war under gunfire he was brave
But he carried his grudges with him to his grave
His war enemies of the past he could never forgive
A war hero his grudges he did not outlive
Ten times a grandfather divorced from his wife
He did live a semi reclusive sort of a life
In the national flag he felt a fervent pride
A nationalist and a patriot till the day that he died
With his war medals on his coat he marched in the town's every war parade
He refused to allow old war memories for to fade
Though the war he had fought in was in decades long gone
His hatred of the old enemy in him did live on
As a young man in war he had proved himself brave
But he carried his grudges with him to his grave.

Old Roger

He looks fit and healthy for one of eighty three
Old Roger of cares and of worries is free
He never had children or a long term partner or never a wife
Though a few women have come to and gone from his life

You ask him how he feels he says i cannot complain
I do not have any worries or any ache or pain
What hair is left on his balding head is silver gray
In truth he is aging in a graceful way

His happy smile betrays the gap in his teeth
But a fellow like Roger always a pleasure to meet
A man who laughs often and enjoys music and song
And he always joins in the local pub sing along

A man who loves life and who has great yarns to tell
Among all of the locals one loved and known well
One reason for a long lived life can be a lack of stress
The mind of old Roger open to happiness

The likes of old Roger nowadays seem so rare
Always happy and jovial he does not have a care
That lack of stress can lead to a long lived life is not a lie
It will not be of worry that old Roger will die.

Ann Cronin

So humble and gentle and free of conceit
She was one of the nicest people of Millstreet
So sad for to learn Ann Cronin has passed away
In the quietness of St Mary's she is at peace today

A good mother to her children and to the late Kevin Cronin a good wife
Ann Corkery her maiden name she lived an honorable life
The youngest of three girls a sister to Margaret and Noreen
In the past in Millstreet's West End out walking she often was seen

But this is going back many Seasons in time
When i was much younger and nearer to my life's prime
And though Ann is one of many i have not seen for years
I feel sure her parting from life would not have gone without tears

For she was a beautiful person indeed
And of more of her kind the Human World is in need
She never sought the limelight or of anyone had a bad word to say
And about her she did have a beautiful way

The clock on our lives ever ticking away
And for all of us there is a last night and day
The winds of November blow with a cold chill
Above where the heart of Ann Cronin is forever still.

The True Sportsman

The athlete with the big smile on his face
Although he did not run well in the race
And failed to finish among the top three
Says the others ran a better race than me

But for me there will be another day
It is said of life perseverance it does pay
When i will be the hero of the crowd
For me alone the cheering will be loud

Today i lost although i ran my best
I was found to be wanting when put to the test
The winner had won the right to celebrate
And on his victory him i did congratulate

Today the crowd they did not chant my name
But this no reason for me to hang my head in shame
On hope of better days i do keep faith
All good things in life come to those who wait

The true sportsman although he did not win
Upon his face did wear a happy grin
Success from him cannot be far away
He will be the hero of a future day.

A Fair Go To Everyone

A fair go to everyone ought to apply
Though those with power such a thing of many deny
One reason there are millions of refugees
Living in camps and risking their lives on leaky boats for lands across rough seas
The people with power to millions are a foe
So many by them are deprived of a fair go
To those who treat everyone as an equal great credit is due
To their higher selves they remain ever true
In life it is said to receive you must give
And those who believe on a fair go believes on live and let live
And those who sow the seeds of good Karma good Karma receive
On such a life philosophy i do believe
A fair go to all to all does not apply
Why poverty and homelessness is on the rise this is one reason why.

Stawell In Victoria

For it's famed Easter Gift it is in renown
Stawell in Victoria is a grand old Town
Such warm and friendly people there every visitor meet
A smiling hello for you on every street
People make a town as the wise one does say
And Stawell is surely a winner if towns are judged in this way
Every time i visit there on leaving i feel a bit sad
For to visit old towns like Stawell i for one does feel glad
Their names on steel plates on the sidewalks of the Stawell Main Street
Each in his own right a renowned athlete
Those who win the Stawell Gift have an undying fame
Where many a great athlete for himself made a name
Town of a friendly people who feel pride in their home place
Stawell in Victoria of the famous foot race.