The state that I was born in, it's shape is quite triangular
and folks up on the mainland think we're all farmers, hicks or wranglers
The state that I refer too often suffers from bad press
so here I will do my little bit to offer some redress
The scenery here is very nice, in fact I'd say it's pretty
and we have forest, beach or snowfields just minutes from the city
The air down here is very clean and should be breathed a lot
to help Melbournians and Sydneyites recover from lung rot
There are pastures green and forests too (though they are getting smaller)
and for flowering plants the whole world through you won't find any taller
Our waterways are clean and fresh, our weather is ideal
for fishing there's no better place to get out your rod and reel
Or if you like to bicycle our roads are perfect places
some good long straights and good steep hills to put you through your paces
For walkers there's no better place to wander bush or beaches
but don't forget to pack the salt for margaritas and for leeches
If garden tours are your thing we've got the best of them
English, native or Japanese, we have the creme de la creme
And for those of you who like a drink, try Cascade or Boags perhaps
and somewhere 'round the city they are brewing apple schnapps
For musicians, the Fish Can Concert Hall contains the TSO
and we make our own instruments too, from lute to grand piano
Our Salamanca Market also reflects our island's glories
and if you visit my small stall, you'll hear my small Stall Stories
If organic food's what floats your boat, it don't come any better
for seafood, beef, olive, jam, for wine and goat's milk fetta
Why travel all the way to France when we are just down here
If it's the language that you want, le weekend and brassiere
So travel here and travel there, but travel to Tasmania
and just in case you lose your map - we're just south of Australia
(Written when I still had my stall at Salamanca)
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Pegleg
When you're chopping wood you get warm twice
and a real log fire is real log nice
just be careful not to bring in mice
...or maybe that's spiders
anyway
When you're chopping wood watch out for splinters
it's a risk you take over many winters
and careful that you don't smash windows
...that's a pane in the glass!
but
When you're chopping wood don't forget your toes
you should have at least ten of those
or maybe eight is how it goes
...it depends how good your aim is
so
When you're chopping wood wear some protection
for the axe may go in any direction
and a classic case of misdirection
...well it'll take your leg off
then
When you next cut wood it'll be wood turning
that will be the skill you'll next be learning
because a new leg is for what you're yearning
...here's one I made earlier
This was written with the Beverley Hillbillys in mind. (Texas Tea, Black Gold etc)
and a real log fire is real log nice
just be careful not to bring in mice
...or maybe that's spiders
anyway
When you're chopping wood watch out for splinters
it's a risk you take over many winters
and careful that you don't smash windows
...that's a pane in the glass!
but
When you're chopping wood don't forget your toes
you should have at least ten of those
or maybe eight is how it goes
...it depends how good your aim is
so
When you're chopping wood wear some protection
for the axe may go in any direction
and a classic case of misdirection
...well it'll take your leg off
then
When you next cut wood it'll be wood turning
that will be the skill you'll next be learning
because a new leg is for what you're yearning
...here's one I made earlier
This was written with the Beverley Hillbillys in mind. (Texas Tea, Black Gold etc)
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Old Spice and Winfield Blue
They had a clean out at the farm and found an old football photo
I'd seen it before, and knew two of them
Dad and his brother Kevin
But it turns out there's a third, the older brother Rex
It was the Young Christian Workers
Christ look at the hair
And the boots! The old ankle high, hard capped drop kickers
He was thin then, my Dad, and thin again now
In between he was bandy legged and beer bellied
Chimney smoking and not minding a drink,
"If your gunna have a drink - have a drink" he'd say,
and he would
He loved weddings
Lucky he had five daughters
Father of the bride suited him, so did the camera
Aleays smiling and tanned (that was okay then)
My favourite smell of him is a wedding smell
After a bath and a shave, the smell of Old Spice and Winfield Blue
Smelt it a few weeks ago, a man walked by my stall, the same smell
It took me back twenty years, two thirds of my life
Almost a quarter of his
He liked singing and had a good voice
Perry Como, Bing Crosby, Frank Ifield
Christmas morning and they'd all come out
And every few years a night at the pianola with the football brothers
They's call him Bollivar - after some boxer
and he'd sing and whistle, a good whistler
I'd fetch the beer, long necks then, more sociable than stubbies - a shared beer
The youngest, I never seemed old enough to drink with Dad
I guess I don't have an, 'I'd like a beer' look about me
We didn't get on for a lot of years
but that's okay now
Now it means we get on better, I think
There's another photo I'm looking for - no two more
One is Dad as a goal umpire
And one is Dad in the only white shorts in the line
He could stand out my Dad
Written behind my stall at Salamanca Market, and some time later read for Dad's eulogy - but not by me (very soft, me) It's more of a read aloud poem, but I like the sort of 'swelling' of emotion followed by a trivial fact, then emotion again - a bit like a boat ride.
For the same idea done much better look for Les Murray's 'The Last Hellos'. I sought it out at the library just after Dad died and cried all the walk home while reading it. Beautiful.
I'd seen it before, and knew two of them
Dad and his brother Kevin
But it turns out there's a third, the older brother Rex
It was the Young Christian Workers
Christ look at the hair
And the boots! The old ankle high, hard capped drop kickers
He was thin then, my Dad, and thin again now
In between he was bandy legged and beer bellied
Chimney smoking and not minding a drink,
"If your gunna have a drink - have a drink" he'd say,
and he would
He loved weddings
Lucky he had five daughters
Father of the bride suited him, so did the camera
Aleays smiling and tanned (that was okay then)
My favourite smell of him is a wedding smell
After a bath and a shave, the smell of Old Spice and Winfield Blue
Smelt it a few weeks ago, a man walked by my stall, the same smell
It took me back twenty years, two thirds of my life
Almost a quarter of his
He liked singing and had a good voice
Perry Como, Bing Crosby, Frank Ifield
Christmas morning and they'd all come out
And every few years a night at the pianola with the football brothers
They's call him Bollivar - after some boxer
and he'd sing and whistle, a good whistler
I'd fetch the beer, long necks then, more sociable than stubbies - a shared beer
The youngest, I never seemed old enough to drink with Dad
I guess I don't have an, 'I'd like a beer' look about me
We didn't get on for a lot of years
but that's okay now
Now it means we get on better, I think
There's another photo I'm looking for - no two more
One is Dad as a goal umpire
And one is Dad in the only white shorts in the line
He could stand out my Dad
Written behind my stall at Salamanca Market, and some time later read for Dad's eulogy - but not by me (very soft, me) It's more of a read aloud poem, but I like the sort of 'swelling' of emotion followed by a trivial fact, then emotion again - a bit like a boat ride.
For the same idea done much better look for Les Murray's 'The Last Hellos'. I sought it out at the library just after Dad died and cried all the walk home while reading it. Beautiful.
Brainless
I've discovered a trick that sounds rather frightful
But in point of fact has proved quite inciteful
This morning as I lay half asleep in my bed
I discovered my eyes could flip 'round in my head
Well of course I was shocked, and could do nothing but stare
'til I got used to the gloom and could see what was there
There were two shafts of light coming in from the ears
(Illumination enough to confirm long held fears)
My eyes spun back 'round in horror and shame
Because today I discovered - I don't have a brain
But in point of fact has proved quite inciteful
This morning as I lay half asleep in my bed
I discovered my eyes could flip 'round in my head
Well of course I was shocked, and could do nothing but stare
'til I got used to the gloom and could see what was there
There were two shafts of light coming in from the ears
(Illumination enough to confirm long held fears)
My eyes spun back 'round in horror and shame
Because today I discovered - I don't have a brain
Sunday, March 20, 2011
A Sure and Effective Cure for Romance
A Sure and Effective Cure for Romance
is never to take your girl to a dance
Never take her out to dine
and never be in bed by nine
Flowers are fine as long as they're dead
and don't go giving her breakfast-in-bed
Valentine's Day is to be neglected
(remember it once and it's always expected)
Never buy perfume for birthday's and such
even sending a card is a little too much
Lingeire is totally off the list
and anniversaries should always be missed
If you happen to be caught in an amorous clench
then a kiss is okay, but Liverpool, not French
If she seems to be getting a little bit frisky
say that in this day and age sex is too risky
Remember to keep these rules clear in your head
and follow them closely, both single and wed
For if you happen to be maritally cursed
the rules still apply, but apply in reverse
is never to take your girl to a dance
Never take her out to dine
and never be in bed by nine
Flowers are fine as long as they're dead
and don't go giving her breakfast-in-bed
Valentine's Day is to be neglected
(remember it once and it's always expected)
Never buy perfume for birthday's and such
even sending a card is a little too much
Lingeire is totally off the list
and anniversaries should always be missed
If you happen to be caught in an amorous clench
then a kiss is okay, but Liverpool, not French
If she seems to be getting a little bit frisky
say that in this day and age sex is too risky
Remember to keep these rules clear in your head
and follow them closely, both single and wed
For if you happen to be maritally cursed
the rules still apply, but apply in reverse
The Humble Bumble
It comes as no coincidence
That there are frequent incidents
Of mistaking the identity
Of one or other Bumble Bee
They Buzz alike and are striped alike
Their wings - and the way they fly, alike
Their habits too are similar
Moving from Stock to Rose to Primula
Though it causes great confusion
The Bumbles in their profusion
Roll out of the Bumble Bee factory
Resembling each other exactly
It sets my mind to spinning
To think that in the beginning
A single Bumble prototype
Means all future Bees look alike
So next when in your garden
Say 'I beg your Pardon'
And ask one Bumble or another
'Is that you, or is that your brother?'
That there are frequent incidents
Of mistaking the identity
Of one or other Bumble Bee
They Buzz alike and are striped alike
Their wings - and the way they fly, alike
Their habits too are similar
Moving from Stock to Rose to Primula
Though it causes great confusion
The Bumbles in their profusion
Roll out of the Bumble Bee factory
Resembling each other exactly
It sets my mind to spinning
To think that in the beginning
A single Bumble prototype
Means all future Bees look alike
So next when in your garden
Say 'I beg your Pardon'
And ask one Bumble or another
'Is that you, or is that your brother?'
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