He was a good person in him nothing small
Years ago he played for the Slanan Rovers Club in Gaelic Football
When he was a younger man in his life's prime
Though this is going back many Seasons in time
So sad to learn Denis Healy from life has passed away
That he lived as a very good person of him would be true to say
In his late sixties or early seventies he was far from an old man
So many have lived a far longer life span
Dark haired and handsome in his younger years
His passing in Millstreet would not have gone without tears
But for everyone a last Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
We are born as mortals and death is for us all
But he used in a good way his great gift of life
And he is a huge loss to his family and his wife
And he will be sadly missed by many in Millstreet
Who will mourn for a friend they will never more meet
For all of us there is a last night and day
By Cashman's Hill in St Mary's his last remains lay
One can only hope his parting from life was a painless release
That good man Denis Healy may he now rest in peace.
Monday, August 3, 2015
Sunday, August 2, 2015
The Old Powlett River
From the hills above Kilcunda in it's babbling tongue of brown
The old Powlett river it winds it's way down
Through the flat coastal scrub land to the Pacific shore
Where it has flowed forever and will flow forever more
The river that has inspired song, story and rhyme
That was very old even in the Dreamtime
In long gone Summer days by the river in the shade of the trees
South Gippsland's first people The Bunurong danced their corroborees
But no corroboree dancing by Powlett river today
Time always brings with it changes it does seem this way
On towards the Pacific where the coastal scrub grow
The old Powlett river to the Pacific does flow
The waterway that has inspired song, story and rhyme
That was very old even in the Dreamtime.
The old Powlett river it winds it's way down
Through the flat coastal scrub land to the Pacific shore
Where it has flowed forever and will flow forever more
The river that has inspired song, story and rhyme
That was very old even in the Dreamtime
In long gone Summer days by the river in the shade of the trees
South Gippsland's first people The Bunurong danced their corroborees
But no corroboree dancing by Powlett river today
Time always brings with it changes it does seem this way
On towards the Pacific where the coastal scrub grow
The old Powlett river to the Pacific does flow
The waterway that has inspired song, story and rhyme
That was very old even in the Dreamtime.
St Mary's Cemetery By Cashman's Hill
St Mary's Cemetery by Cashman's Hill
So quiet in the gray of the dawn in the slight morning chill
Where many of the deceased of Millstreet Town and Parish in their final rest lay
The mentors and parents as well as family members of the Millstreet people of today
They lived as an integral part of their community and in Duhallow were well liked and well known
And they like us all did have ways of their own
Some of their descendants live in Millstreet today
Whilst others from there are living far away
Many of them their life stories in book form will never be told
In Millstreet they were born and in Millstreet they grew old
In St Mary by Cashman's Hill their remains are at peace
For all of us eventually from life a final release
Above St Mary's by Cashman's Hill the dawn is breaking gray
A similar spot awaits all of us and time does tick away
In the calm of a Summer dawn the silence is profound
In the quietness of St Mary's where gravestones in numbers do abound.
So quiet in the gray of the dawn in the slight morning chill
Where many of the deceased of Millstreet Town and Parish in their final rest lay
The mentors and parents as well as family members of the Millstreet people of today
They lived as an integral part of their community and in Duhallow were well liked and well known
And they like us all did have ways of their own
Some of their descendants live in Millstreet today
Whilst others from there are living far away
Many of them their life stories in book form will never be told
In Millstreet they were born and in Millstreet they grew old
In St Mary by Cashman's Hill their remains are at peace
For all of us eventually from life a final release
Above St Mary's by Cashman's Hill the dawn is breaking gray
A similar spot awaits all of us and time does tick away
In the calm of a Summer dawn the silence is profound
In the quietness of St Mary's where gravestones in numbers do abound.
A Winter's Night In Koroit
A dark, cold and wet night in Winter in old Koroit Town
And on the sidewalks of Commercial Road few do walk up and down
But in Mickey Bourke's pub there is laughter and cheer
Amongst the patrons who enjoy their pub banter and beer
Where the main topic of the night is Australian Rules Football
The local Koroit Saints the reigning Premiers this year doing well over-all
Who known The Saints may again be Hampden League Premiers on Grand Final Day
In football as a Club with a proud history as ever they have a winning way
But out on the street all is so very quiet
Where in a lane-way two male cats scream as they fight
In Koroit on a Winter's night Mickey Bourke's and the Caledonian Pub are the places to be
For an hour or two of socializing or may be even three
Whilst out on the street so few people in sight
In Koroit Town on a chilly and a bleak Winter's night.
And on the sidewalks of Commercial Road few do walk up and down
But in Mickey Bourke's pub there is laughter and cheer
Amongst the patrons who enjoy their pub banter and beer
Where the main topic of the night is Australian Rules Football
The local Koroit Saints the reigning Premiers this year doing well over-all
Who known The Saints may again be Hampden League Premiers on Grand Final Day
In football as a Club with a proud history as ever they have a winning way
But out on the street all is so very quiet
Where in a lane-way two male cats scream as they fight
In Koroit on a Winter's night Mickey Bourke's and the Caledonian Pub are the places to be
For an hour or two of socializing or may be even three
Whilst out on the street so few people in sight
In Koroit Town on a chilly and a bleak Winter's night.
Saturday, August 1, 2015
Our Memories Stay With Us
The same for everyone as for you and i
Good memories stay with us till the day we do die
And our bad memories too much to our regret
Till death too with us will stay though them we would like to forget
Good memories a source of joy when we think of the past
Of when we were younger but youth does not last
But from our bad memories we learn more about life or it does seem this way
This is what the long deceased sages did say
Of our happy and sad times as most would agree
We all have our memories it does seem to me
We all have our memories of the long gone years
Of joy and of sorrow and of laughter and tears
The same for everyone as for you and i
Our memories stay with us till the day we do die.
Good memories stay with us till the day we do die
And our bad memories too much to our regret
Till death too with us will stay though them we would like to forget
Good memories a source of joy when we think of the past
Of when we were younger but youth does not last
But from our bad memories we learn more about life or it does seem this way
This is what the long deceased sages did say
Of our happy and sad times as most would agree
We all have our memories it does seem to me
We all have our memories of the long gone years
Of joy and of sorrow and of laughter and tears
The same for everyone as for you and i
Our memories stay with us till the day we do die.
We Are Told
We are told that we should not speak wrong of the dead
That they are past self defense and we should save our negative criticisms for the living instead
For those who have wronged us in some sort of a way
This is what wiser counsel than me have to say
But with such thinking i for one struggle for to agree
Since the dead are past harming anyone only the living can harm me
If a living person any woman or man
Does wish for to harm you in some way they most certainly can
It is not the dead but the living i do fear
That the dead cannot harm you is obviously clear
It is only the living use a bomb, gun or knife
To deprive somebody of her or his gift of life
Do not speak ill of the dead many are known to say
But to such called words of wisdom little heed i do pay
Of a dead person why should i not feel free to speak ill
If she or he whilst living somebody did deliberately harm or kill
That the dead cannot harm me i know to be true
And in life the deceased who have done wrong negative criticism in death is only their due
But some of the dangerous living in public i dare not criticize
For they well may harm me i have come to realize.
That they are past self defense and we should save our negative criticisms for the living instead
For those who have wronged us in some sort of a way
This is what wiser counsel than me have to say
But with such thinking i for one struggle for to agree
Since the dead are past harming anyone only the living can harm me
If a living person any woman or man
Does wish for to harm you in some way they most certainly can
It is not the dead but the living i do fear
That the dead cannot harm you is obviously clear
It is only the living use a bomb, gun or knife
To deprive somebody of her or his gift of life
Do not speak ill of the dead many are known to say
But to such called words of wisdom little heed i do pay
Of a dead person why should i not feel free to speak ill
If she or he whilst living somebody did deliberately harm or kill
That the dead cannot harm me i know to be true
And in life the deceased who have done wrong negative criticism in death is only their due
But some of the dangerous living in public i dare not criticize
For they well may harm me i have come to realize.
Old Joe
The Town's greatest footballer fifty years ago
But time as they say becomes everyone's foe
With the aid of a cane he is now walking slow
The years on us all does eventually show
In his prime the best footballer for many kilometers around
Three times on Grand Final Day voted the best player on the ground
With a mighty leap and quick on his feet
Nowadays with his cane he shuffles down the street
He was quite a man going back half of a century
And he is just a mere shadow of what he used to be
Fading memories of the past with him does remain
And often in fancy he is playing football again
Fifty years ago he was in his physical prime
Old Joe he has become a victim of time.
But time as they say becomes everyone's foe
With the aid of a cane he is now walking slow
The years on us all does eventually show
In his prime the best footballer for many kilometers around
Three times on Grand Final Day voted the best player on the ground
With a mighty leap and quick on his feet
Nowadays with his cane he shuffles down the street
He was quite a man going back half of a century
And he is just a mere shadow of what he used to be
Fading memories of the past with him does remain
And often in fancy he is playing football again
Fifty years ago he was in his physical prime
Old Joe he has become a victim of time.
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