It is my little Karen and Linda and my little Johnny and Fred
And my little Jane and Roseanna and my little Timmy and Ted
In that all of our children are special my husband Joe does agree
And what makes me even more happy is all of them do look like me
I keep telling them they are special their equal not be found anywhere
On doing so i am building in them some self confidence for life in the big World out there
A World that can be hard to live in where some people keep dragging you down
I am not raising my beautiful and special children to become the failures of the town
I know that my children are special why should i pretend otherwise
For any mother on their children not to feel like i feel to say the least would not be wise
I am not raising my sons and my daughters to live their lives in poverty
But i know that this will not happen since my children are born of me
I must not teach them for to respect others since for to achieve success this is not the in thing
My life lesson to them is simple their own praises they always should sing
It is a tough World the World out there where only the strongest succeed
Where for one to become materially successful a strong sense of self one does need
It is my littel Andy and Peter and my little Sharon and Ann
And my little Rosy and Tammy and my little Billy and Stan
They were born of me a great person after their dad in me planted the seed
And they do have the bloodlines in them that are needed in life to succeed.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Tower Hill
Tower Hill in South West Victoria near Koroit is a historical place
A spiritual home to Budj Bim an old indigenous race
Where emu, koala, grey roo and black wallaby live wild and free
In a volcanic valley where there is so much beauty to see
A place re-vegetated from the paintings of Eugene Von Guerrard an artist in Seasons long gone
Today the old natural beauty of Tower Hill lives on
Where South West Victoria's first people often assembled and had their corroborees
In long gone Summers in the shade of the trees
This was long before Victoria was named for an English Queen
And long before the arrival in the south west of the first European
Going way back in time more than two centuries ago
But that time brings with it changes happens to be so
And on Tower Hill lake one can see and hear
Waterbirds in all Seasons and every day of the year.
A spiritual home to Budj Bim an old indigenous race
Where emu, koala, grey roo and black wallaby live wild and free
In a volcanic valley where there is so much beauty to see
A place re-vegetated from the paintings of Eugene Von Guerrard an artist in Seasons long gone
Today the old natural beauty of Tower Hill lives on
Where South West Victoria's first people often assembled and had their corroborees
In long gone Summers in the shade of the trees
This was long before Victoria was named for an English Queen
And long before the arrival in the south west of the first European
Going way back in time more than two centuries ago
But that time brings with it changes happens to be so
And on Tower Hill lake one can see and hear
Waterbirds in all Seasons and every day of the year.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
I Am From The Place
I am from the place where the green rushes grow
In the fields of the brown hare and silver back crow
And a little of Nature's ways i came to know
Of where Finnow to the Blackwater ever does flow
And since i am one unworthy of literary note
I cannot lay claim to the title of poet
Though for many years i have been a rhyming buff
And i am one who has penned many pages of stuff
And here in this great sunny Land of the south
There is plenty in Nature for to write rhymes about
On this pleasant evening in early January
A silver billed magpie is piping on a sunlit wattle tree
And familiar to many and familiar to me
The song of the magpie larks that sound like pee wee
Medium sized black and white birds i do see and hear every day
From where humans frequent they are never far away
And though her wonders are many and her secrets not few
Of Nature every day we do learn something new
That in life we never stop learning does seem true to say
Though all of the wisdom and knowledge we acquire with us may not stay
Till the day we do die whenever that will be
Though most things of the past live in our memory
And though the best days in my life in the forever gone
For as long as i live i hope to rhyme on.
In the fields of the brown hare and silver back crow
And a little of Nature's ways i came to know
Of where Finnow to the Blackwater ever does flow
And since i am one unworthy of literary note
I cannot lay claim to the title of poet
Though for many years i have been a rhyming buff
And i am one who has penned many pages of stuff
And here in this great sunny Land of the south
There is plenty in Nature for to write rhymes about
On this pleasant evening in early January
A silver billed magpie is piping on a sunlit wattle tree
And familiar to many and familiar to me
The song of the magpie larks that sound like pee wee
Medium sized black and white birds i do see and hear every day
From where humans frequent they are never far away
And though her wonders are many and her secrets not few
Of Nature every day we do learn something new
That in life we never stop learning does seem true to say
Though all of the wisdom and knowledge we acquire with us may not stay
Till the day we do die whenever that will be
Though most things of the past live in our memory
And though the best days in my life in the forever gone
For as long as i live i hope to rhyme on.
I Saw Him The Great Willie Neenan
The fox on the high field was barking in a voice though familiar wild and shrill
In the cold depths of mid Winter when January was blowing out it's chill
The pale moon did offer a faint light in memory time does stand still
I saw him the great Willie Neenan running on the high road to Bealach Hill
Alone with his thoughts on the high road the passionate athletic man
One who took on the best in the World and his legend the decades does span
On the steep road that leads to Kilmeedy the seeds of his greatness were sown
The miles he ran in training and racing would at least be a million if known
On a high road that most only walk on he ran at a good pace in the moonlight
His dark shadow on the road with him and no other human in sight
Towards the flatter road in Kilmeedy he did increase speed down the height
Leaving Bealach alone in it's loneness the great man he was out of sight
He ran against the best in the World and by him younger athletes inspired
To him running it did come natural one who never easily tired
Again he had conquered old Bealach the one with the untiring feet
On his way to Millstreet Town to Ballydaly the legendary Millstreet athlete
A white backed magpie was warbling on a wattle in the grey dawn of a Summer's day
As i awoke to realize i was only dreaming of a man from a place far away
The great person and great athlete Willie Neenan all is quiet where he now does lay
One who had run many miles in his lifetime how many could anyone say?
In the cold depths of mid Winter when January was blowing out it's chill
The pale moon did offer a faint light in memory time does stand still
I saw him the great Willie Neenan running on the high road to Bealach Hill
Alone with his thoughts on the high road the passionate athletic man
One who took on the best in the World and his legend the decades does span
On the steep road that leads to Kilmeedy the seeds of his greatness were sown
The miles he ran in training and racing would at least be a million if known
On a high road that most only walk on he ran at a good pace in the moonlight
His dark shadow on the road with him and no other human in sight
Towards the flatter road in Kilmeedy he did increase speed down the height
Leaving Bealach alone in it's loneness the great man he was out of sight
He ran against the best in the World and by him younger athletes inspired
To him running it did come natural one who never easily tired
Again he had conquered old Bealach the one with the untiring feet
On his way to Millstreet Town to Ballydaly the legendary Millstreet athlete
A white backed magpie was warbling on a wattle in the grey dawn of a Summer's day
As i awoke to realize i was only dreaming of a man from a place far away
The great person and great athlete Willie Neenan all is quiet where he now does lay
One who had run many miles in his lifetime how many could anyone say?
Monday, January 5, 2015
The Roadway Of Life To Nowhere
I am on the roadway of life that will lead me to nowhere
And the roadway of life to nowhere never takes one to anywhere
I was nearer to the town of life's success in my physical prime
And this is going back the Seasons some four decades in time
I never felt the need to go to war to fight in conflicts far away
Since what is known as life's battle i must fight every day
In each to their own as some do say some truth you will find
The struggle for survival of body and of mind
The life's road that leads to nowhere will one day have an end
For death is sure to find me on this i can depend
And even those who know of wealth and fame and live in success town
Will eventually fall victim of life's reaper one who does not respect wealth and renown
I am on the road of life that will lead me to nowhere
And the roadway of life to nowhere never takes one to anywhere.
And the roadway of life to nowhere never takes one to anywhere
I was nearer to the town of life's success in my physical prime
And this is going back the Seasons some four decades in time
I never felt the need to go to war to fight in conflicts far away
Since what is known as life's battle i must fight every day
In each to their own as some do say some truth you will find
The struggle for survival of body and of mind
The life's road that leads to nowhere will one day have an end
For death is sure to find me on this i can depend
And even those who know of wealth and fame and live in success town
Will eventually fall victim of life's reaper one who does not respect wealth and renown
I am on the road of life that will lead me to nowhere
And the roadway of life to nowhere never takes one to anywhere.
Everytime I Pass A Cemetery
A place where you cannot make an enemy and you cannot make a friend
Everytime i pass a cemetery i think of my own end
The dead do not have laughter or worries or tears
Or any sort of memories that come from their past years
Yet underneath the grave stones where the dead bodies lay
Live some of the living life forms that survive on decay
People like Nature's Seasons to life do come to and from then go
And time that does rust iron eventually becomes everybody's foe
Everytime i pass a cemetery it reminds me of my mortality
The bell that farewells the deceased will one day farewell me
And every passing second to death brings me more near
And though death it is a part of life it is the thought of it i do fear
Where you cannot make an enemy and you cannot make a friend
Each time i pass a cemetery i think of my own end.
Everytime i pass a cemetery i think of my own end
The dead do not have laughter or worries or tears
Or any sort of memories that come from their past years
Yet underneath the grave stones where the dead bodies lay
Live some of the living life forms that survive on decay
People like Nature's Seasons to life do come to and from then go
And time that does rust iron eventually becomes everybody's foe
Everytime i pass a cemetery it reminds me of my mortality
The bell that farewells the deceased will one day farewell me
And every passing second to death brings me more near
And though death it is a part of life it is the thought of it i do fear
Where you cannot make an enemy and you cannot make a friend
Each time i pass a cemetery i think of my own end.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
In The Age Of Self Promotion
Taking photos of self and texting friends nowadays does seem the in thing
And many indeed far too many their own praises only too willing to sing
In the age of self promotion with most self is the word of the day
Me and my family and close friends what matters most we are okay
If there are wars in the World this is no business of ours
Of this why should we be worrying and losing out on precious sleep hours
And if there are millions homeless and hungry for this we are not to blame
That we are okay is all that does matter their hard lives is not our shame
To the age of self promotion empathy is losing out
That many are locked in their own selves is something that goes without doubt
Compassion this thing of great beauty to many a thing of the past
In this the age of self promotion human values changing fast
Taking photos of self and texting friends nowadays does seem the in thing
And many indeed far too many their own praises only too willing to sing.
And many indeed far too many their own praises only too willing to sing
In the age of self promotion with most self is the word of the day
Me and my family and close friends what matters most we are okay
If there are wars in the World this is no business of ours
Of this why should we be worrying and losing out on precious sleep hours
And if there are millions homeless and hungry for this we are not to blame
That we are okay is all that does matter their hard lives is not our shame
To the age of self promotion empathy is losing out
That many are locked in their own selves is something that goes without doubt
Compassion this thing of great beauty to many a thing of the past
In this the age of self promotion human values changing fast
Taking photos of self and texting friends nowadays does seem the in thing
And many indeed far too many their own praises only too willing to sing.
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