An October Sunday In Warrnambool

On Sunday the second of October the weather calm and cool
The rain drizzling down on the streets of Warrnambool
Most of the shops are closed the sky gloomy and gray
On the coastal City the sun is not shining today
Warrnambool is known as a breezy City with a sunny face
But despite a few cars on the street today it is a quiet place
On Kepler Street at the corner of Timor a quiet side of the Town
The water drains flowing and the rain drizzling down
But the rain it is needed in mid Spring of the year
As the longer warmer days of Summer to the south west draw near
When holiday makers will flock to the coastal City and business owners will do a brisk trade
In Summer by them the most of their yearly profit is made
Today it is raining and the weather is calm and cool
And the sun is not shining in old Warrnambool.

Call This Migrant Nostalgia

The passing of time has left me wrinkled and gray
And from where i was born and raised i am far away
In this beautiful Country i may live my last night and day
Call this migrant nostalgia or call it what you may

Where i used to live when my hair was dark brown
Today i would be a stranger to many near and in Millstreet Town
And perhaps some young locals may well even say
Who is this old stranger time worn and gray

In fancy every day i walk in the fields where the waterways meet
Or chat with old friends in the Town Park of Millstreet
Or hear the babble of the silver tongued rill
Flowing from the high fields by ancient Clara Hill

It was my love of adventure that made a migrant of me
But a bloke from Duhallow is the best i can be
In my dreams from the slopes of Clara i see Gortavehy in it's face of stone
And Goddess Anu's Breasts in Sliabh Luachra known as The Paps Of Shrone

It is our gift of memory that links us to the past
Yet the clocks on our lives ever keep ticking fast
But the now is what matters and the past it has gone
And Finnow the white river to the Blackwater keeps babbling on.

Then I Am One Of The Many

In a troubled Human World where worries are rife
I struggle for to make any sense out of life
The Worldwide rise in numbers of the human population brings with it more poverty and crime
One can say that we do live in a troubled time

If money and fame is what human life is about
Then i am one of the many who is counted out
Since the requirement of recognition i have failed for to meet
Just another number in a government statistical sheet


That a successfully lived life is based on money we are led to believe
And the not financially well of are dismissed as those who do under achieve
On how financially well off you are to most people only count
In a Human World where kindness and compassion to little seems to amount

It is true that being poor will not do anything for your sense of self esteem
As poverty comes with a punctured ego is how it does seem
And so many who do not have the gods on their side
Are losing out big time in the social divide

We have been learning of the ways of survival before we learned how to crawl
Yet i struggle for to make sense of life at all
If money and fame is what life is about
Then i am one of the many who is counted out.

The Man Who Feels Fear

In his eighty ninth year the man who feels fear
The bangs of the war guns he never did hear
As a young man he was never in an army or learned how to use a gun
Drinking and socializing and making love to women was his way of having fun
A father and great grandfather and divorced by his wife
He says his fear of death has guaranteed him a long life
The brave young men of his younger years went to an early grave
There is always a price to pay for being too brave
Of any acts of bravery on his behalf he cannot tell
But the man who feels fear for his years looking well
At the local pub he enjoys a good laugh and joins in the cheer
And he has not lost his liking for the beer
As a young man he never put his life on the line
One reason he is alive at eighty nine.

It Is The Thrill Of The Chase

It is the thrill of the chase in our dreams we pursue
And most people have their dreams but dreams seldom come true
We all cannot be winners as the wise one does say
And winners are grinners it does seem this way
But the one without a dream in his or her head
Is the one who without hope who seems truly dead
Of late things for you are not going your way
But for you tomorrow may be a better day
Your dreams keep you going when times on you are tough
Those who try hardest usually prove good enough
To overcome disappointment and know of some success
Those who have known of sadness appreciate moments of happiness
Life for you not easy and your dreams for you not coming true
But your turn of better luck you are overdue.

One Can Only Wonder

One can only wonder what life is about anyway
We are born of a woman for to die one day
Many marriages and partnership bring children their seed will live on
When the last breath of life from their bodies has gone
Many believe that good souls have wings for to fly
Post bodily death to their god's paradise beyond the sky
And though billions of people to their chosen god pray
Of an after bodily death life for the soul is not for me to say
I am one who cannot believe on what to me is unknown
But like as is said it is each to their own
Belief or lack of it though some of the non believing kind
Will even tell you that there is a god of the mind
And one can only wonder what life is about anyway
Since for all of us there is a last night and day.

All One Does Have Are Memories

All one does have are memories good or bad of the past
And time does not wait and the clock ticking fast
Today a mother gives birth to a daughter or son
And tomorrow will dawn but not for everyone

Many destined to live poor due to birth circumstance
Of any success in life they do stand little chance
Every waking day for them a new challenge for to meet
Life is never easy on Poverty Street

There are millions of hungry and homeless people in the big World out there
But to meet a poverty stricken person you need not travel to elsewhere
Near where you live there are people who are doing it quite tough
On the poorest of poor diets and living and sleeping rough

If everybody were equal there would not be poverty
We would not have the homeless and hungry and the refugee
But for a few to grow very wealthy many grow poorer life is designed in this way
And this in itself seems a sad thing to say

In a Human World where a few own the majority of the wealth something that does not seem right
Millions are sleeping without shelter tonight
For the poor and the hungry and homeless and the refugee
How sad very sad life for them it must be.