July Far Away

In the blue sunlit sky just a few clouds of gray
And the sweet scent of grass mown for silage or hay
And the swallows chirp in pursuit of flying insects as they do every day
Above the old fields in July far away

In the sunshine the children laugh as they splash water in the river pool
Enjoying their holiday week free of school
The sound of young laughter a pleasant thing to hear
In Summer a beautiful time of the year

The fields and the groves lush and leafy and green
When Nature at her very finest is seen
And contented cattle lay chewing their cuds in the shadow of the trees
In near to perfect weather temperatures of around twenty degrees

In the clear river pool the dappled brown trout
Enjoying the sunshine lazily swimming about
Of most land life forms quite fearful and shy
They quickly swim to the cover of the reeds when they sense danger to them nearby

And white butterflies seemingly dancing in the warm breeze
That gently rustle in the green and glossy leaves of the trees
And the sweet scent of grass mown for silage or hay
Wafts to me in the breeze from meadows far away

A Voice From Once Heard

A voice from once heard that one should never again get wrong
The familiar karrawang calls of the pied currawong
They can be heard calling in flocks at any time of year
And often when you hear them singing you know rain is near
On the nestlings of smaller birds they are known to prey
And farmers and gardeners and orchardists of them never have nice things to say
Since of noxious weeds such as mistletoe and prickly pear they eat the fruit and seed
And in so doing introduce in their droppings many an unwelcome weed
But currawong were centuries in Australia before noxious weeds with Europeans came
And birds for what they do eat are surely not to blame
For noxious weed infestation since humans introduced them from elsewhere
Most plants in their natural environment ought to be left there
When the currawong call in flocks one can safely say
That the storms that bring heavy rain are not far away.

One Can Say That Prison Is Full

One can say that prison is full of his kind
And that soon to be the address of the one with the criminal mind
He stole from a poor old lady the three hundred dollars in savings she's had
He is following in the footsteps of his criminal dad
A chip of the old block of him one might say
He models himself on dad in every way
His dad is in prison for quite a long time
Serving out his sentence for serious crime
The dad not responsible for the crimes of the son
Since he himself is paying for the wrongs he has done
And by stealing from an aged pensioner her money for bills to pay
He did not cover himself in honor in any way
He is not a twenty first century Robin Hood
As his crime was not for any poor person's good.

The Only Immortal

The greats of human history to life have come and gone
But life in the World without them goes on
Though they did leave their marks in human history
Like all of us they were born to mortality
But Nature lives on her own life she does create
She has the power in her to self generate
She hibernates in Winter and awakes in the Spring
When her wild born birds build their nests whistle and sing
Like all of Nature's life forms us humans are born to die
The facts tell us this and facts do never lie
Nature the mother of life for her dead never shed tears
She just gives birth to new life as she has done for millions of years
Nature is the only immortal that does seem fair to say
Since for all others there is a last night and day.

The Brown Creek From The Mountain

Through old scrubby paddocks that often look brown
That borders the outskirts of the country town
The brown creek from the mountain by night and by day
Babbles to the big river to the ocean from it's home far away
An old waterway in time very old
From the scrub clad hills where men once mined for gold
Very old in the age of the dinosaurs and the Dreaming-time
The inspiration of song and of story and rhyme
Through the land of the emu and sulphur crested cockatoo
Where in Seasons long gone Australia's first people hunted kangaroo
Since then many Seasons have come and have gone
But the brown creek from the mountain it keeps on babbling on
To the big river to the ocean shore
It has flowed forever and will forever more.

It Is Only In Fancy

It is only in fancy now i can hear a cow
Lowing in an old field by the River Finnow
On a balmy evening in July before sundown
In the green countryside just west of Millstreet Town

The great gift of memory it is a wonderful thing
And it is only in fancy i can hear the robin sing
In the warmth of the sun on a leafy birch tree
The memories of what was are living in me

I can only visualize my youthful elan
In the far away place that i became a man
Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy

It is only in fancy i can hear the silver tongued rill
Babbling in the moonlight down the field by the hill
On it's way to the river to the sea far away
In a voice never silent by night or by day

And only in fancy of late i have seen
Nature's primroses, snowdrops and bluebells on the ditch of bohreen
When the hawthorns are cloaked in blooms of white to gray
And the old fields are in their wildflowers of the May

And the contented cattle chewing their cuds on lush grass do lay
In the warmth of the sun on a pleasant Spring day
Memories of the past of the forever gone
And the now is all that does matter and life does go on

Yes the past it has gone and only the memories remain
Of what used to be but cannot be again
In the backyard i am returned to the present by the song of the pee wee
A bird of the now i often hear and see.

Liam O Driscoll

As nice a person as one could wish for to meet
For as long as i can remember Liam O Driscoll had lived at Lackabawn in Millstreet
Though one who was many years past his prime day
It is so sad to read that he has passed away
A man who must have lived for at least eight decades of years
One in passing by friends and family farewelled in tears
One never more to be seen again walking up and down
The old streets of Millstreet his beloved Hometown
A likeable fellow to many well known
Liam O Driscoll he was one of Millstreet's own
And of him it would only seem fair to say
That he was a good person in every way
From life's suffering and cares in death there is peace
And hope from life that he did have a painless release.