Everyone Does Need Friends

Everyone does need friends this well may be so
But your best friend of today may be your future foe
On the length of friendship as in love and in life there is no guarantee
Since far into the years ahead we cannot see
Though many will look on you as one of the losers of the town
You will know your true friend when you are financially down
Your friend will love you for the person you are
And not for the size of your home or the size of your car
Like it is said a friend in your time of need is a friend indeed
Your true friend will not forsake you when of help you are in need
When hope in your life it is all but bereft
Your friend will stand by you when all other have left
You to make a friend of one far more successful than you
But your friend to you will remain ever true.

The Rose Of Warrnambool

Unmarried in her early twenties without children a teacher in a primary school
Tall, beautiful and charming, down to earth and kindhearted the Rose of Warrnambool
With eyes as blue as ripened sloes and shoulder length hair of chestnut brown
Her mum an Aussie from nearby Dennington her dad from distant Millstreet Town.

Though 'tis a place she vows to visit in a not too distant day
She has never been to her dad's Hometown in Duhallow faraway
In view of Clara Mountain photos of it she has seen
She says it looks a scenic place so beautiful and green.

She says Millstreet by old Clara is a must go to place for me
And meet with dad's relations my Irish ancestry
Though where the Finnow waters flow from here a distant place
I know I'd be a stranger just another foreign face.

Dad says the Winter wet and cold there when Clara wears his hat of snow
But in the Town he was born and raised in many people there he does know
Of his young years in Duhallow fond memories with him stay
And his wish is that in view of Cashman's Hill his last remains will lay.

A lovely young woman in her early twenties not yet in her life's prime
She says for marriage and child bearing she does have heaps of time
The beautiful Rose of Warrnambool unshackled by conceit
Her Mum is an Australian and her dad is from Millstreet.

Since Life Can Be A Challenge

Since life can be a challenge in many a way
The two words be happy seem easy to say
You must work overtime with a big home mortgage to pay
And your pregnant wife due to give birth any day
For the family this should be a joyous occasion indeed
But with the arrival of a new family member to clothe provide for and feed
To add to your already three girls and a boy
The extra stress on your finances may temper some of your joy
In the dark of the morning to the ring of the alarm clock you wake
To prepare for work an hour before daybreak
With the rising cost of living and big bills for to meet
How can you feel the happiest one on your street
And with your most recent home mortgage payment overdue
Only survival not happiness is what you pursue.

The Knowledgeable With Wisdom

'Tis known of knowledge that in a garden it does not grow
Though from learning through living some of it we can come to know
Yes in life as we live we do learn as we go
Though it can be true you learn far less from your friend than your foe
But to wisdom knowledge is different in varying degrees
As different one might say as chalk is from cheese
A knowledgeable person is not necessary wise
That the difference between them can be great some don't seem to realize
Yes knowledge and wisdom seem different indeed
One might say of them they are a different breed
Each are good to have in their own sort of way
Though they have little in common it does seem fair to say
The knowledgeable with wisdom to say the least few
But on saying this I am not saying anything new.

There Is Far More To Australia

From Cape York Peninsula to Wonthaggi Town
This is a big Country to drive up and down
The highways through the outback lands wide, flat and brown
Australia does have many claims to renown.

The most urbanized Country in the World as some are known to say
In and around the big coastal cities most of the Nation's population does live and stay
Of sub tropical and tropical and temperate climates of varying degrees
Though a big Country that could do with many more trees.

A land of miles of sea side beaches for recreation and fun
A paradise for the lovers of the sun
But for skin exposure to the sun there can be a huge price to pay
As some sun lovers do not live for to grow old and gray

But there is far more to Australia than most do read about
It can be a Land of storms, fire, earth tremors, floodings and drought
And in the lonely outback miles from anywhere
A sparsely treed bare country few people live there.

The Land of marsupials and people of the Dreamtime
It has inspired artists to sketch and writers to song, story and rhyme
And of species of beautiful birds nowhere else to be seen
In landscapes that often look more brown than green.

I've Not Walked In The Old Fields

I've not walked in the old fields for many a day
Of the Townland I was born and raised in from here far away
Claraghatlea scarce a mile from the Town of Millstreet
Where the rivers the Finnow and the Cails do meet.

In a damp rushy field that is known as the Lyre
They join with a babble that never seems to tire
And together journey to Drishane by many a ditch and hedgerow
Where into the mighty Blackwater they flow.

In a river side field where the rank rushes grow
In fancy I can hear the male pheasant crow
When hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
Time may have ticked on but the memories stay

Of little brown lark carolling as he did fly
A musical speck in the clouds of the sky
His descendants today sing the very same song
That is born in their kind and to them belong.

Till the Reaper comes to claim the life's breath from me
A migrant in this Land is all that I can be
But good memories of what was with me do remain
And in my flights of fancy I go home again.

I Have Been Advised By Some

I have been advised by some to give rhyming away
That by now I should have said all I have to say
On life and on Nature and on people as well
But I have not yet written my last doggerel.

I have never pretended that I am a poet
Or that I should be worthy of literary note
I say not for the first time what I've often said before
I write for enjoyment that and nothing more.

An addictive rhymer I very well may be
But the rhymes they do seem to keep coming to me
To the nine thousand plus I have written I add more each day
One might say with words I am one who likes to play.

My worth as a rhymer I always do doubt
But every day more things for to write about
I write of the wonderful World around me
Of the beauty in Nature I hear and I see.

In Spring how lovely to wake from sleep at night
To the flute of the magpie in the pale moonlight
The silver billed bird with the beautiful song
In his breeding Season he pipes all night long.

I have written about him in doggerel rhyme
That some look upon as a waste of good time
But this is my hobby and would you not agree
That each to his or her own this is how it should be.

I have been penning doggerel since my fading life prime
And though some do advise me on such to call time
For many years now I've been a rhyming buff
And I intend for to keep on penning stuff.