When those aircraft started falling in an outrage so appalling
That the world was changed forever on a clear September day,
Did you shed some tears of pity for the pain of New York City?
Did you grieve for senseless slaughter in a country far away?
Do you feel a fear of flying, and of shattered aircraft lying
In the piles of smoking rubble in some city overseas?
Have the sites of foreign action lost a lot of their attraction?
Do you think of coming holidays with feelings of unease?
At a time of narrowed choices, clear your mind and hear the voices
Of the Spirits of the Outback, as they praise their ancient land.
Hear their whispered words come stealing as they softly start appealing
For a nation to appreciate the wonders close at hand.
Youre an Aussie, so you reckon.Follow where the Spirits beckon!
Go and see the wide horizons as the dusty tracks unwind!
Take your car and dare to travel over western dust and gravel.
Feel the sense of isolation when the citys far behind!
See the kangaroos go bounding.Hear the thump of tails resounding!
See the wily snakes and lizards in their careful camouflage.
See the bright green budgies winging, with a thousand of them singing!
See a string of camels striding through a distant blue mirage.
Go and see the sunset glowing where the coolabahs are growing
Near Kynuna, where the legends of the past can touch your soul.
See, in wild imagination, as the icon of a nation
Meets his fate in muddy waters at the Combo waterhole!
See the headstones sadly angle, in the weeds and grass entangled,
Where the dead men lie forever now their lonely lives are spent,
Sense their selfless sacrifices as they paid the losers prices
In the game of dice with danger, in a stark environment.
Go and watch as riders battle with the speedy bush-bred cattle.
Hear the stockwhips crack and rattle when the muster has begun!
Stand and feel an eerie shiver as the ghosts of Snowy River
Gallop silent through the snow gums on an alpine mountain run!
See the purple storm clouds banking when the mill has ceased its clanking
And the lives of stock depend upon the rain about to fall!
Go and see the grasses growing where the rivers have been flowing,
And the way the wildflowers carpet all the country, wall to wall!
See the distant mountains shimmer in the hazy mid-day simmer.
See the wide blue vaulted heavens where the wedge-tailed eagles fly.
Go and see the rivers shining where the ghost gums are entwining.
See a windmill silhouetted up against a sunset sky.
When the blackened billys boiling and the campfire smoke is coiling,
See the sparks that dance like fireflies as they float into the night!
Go to sleep, when day has ended, neath the Southern Cross, suspended
Like a precious jewel above you, with its pure and lustrous light!
View the painting, dotted, mystic, of an ancient race, artistic
And simplistic in their spirit.Go and see and understand
Why they love their Keeping Places in these endless open spaces.
Go and sense their total bonding with their Rainbow Serpent land!
Go and see the Wests aorta source of life, artesian water!
See the lilies splashing colour on the creeks of Kakadu!
Heed the Spirits!Go and do it, or forever you will rue it!
Flash resorts and frantic cities are the same the whole world through.
Do not sit at home stagnating when Australia is waiting!
Go and see the opal colours of the country further out!
Meet the people unassuming!See the golden wattle blooming!
Go and see the vision splendid that The Banjo wrote about!
Leave your comfort zone behind you!Let the inland core remind you
Of the courage of our pioneers, who played a vital part
In the gradual formation of our image as a nation.
Let the Spirits of the Outback live forever in your heart!
Disco Duck said
04:12 PM Nov 2, 2009
Tangmalangaloo
- P J Hartigan ("John O'Brien")
The bishop sat in lordly state and purple cap sublime,
And galvanised the old bush church at confirmation time;
And all the kids were mustered up from fifty miles around,
With Sunday clothes and staring eyes and ignorance profound.
Now was it fate, or was it grace, whereby they yarded too
An overgrown two-story lad from Tangmalangaloo?
A hefty son of virgin soil, where nature has her fling,
And grows the trefoil three feet high and mats it in the spring;
Where mighty oaks uplift their heads to pierce the welkin's rim,
And trees sprout up a hundred yards before they shoot a limb;
There everything is big and grand, and men are giants too -
But Christian Knowledge wilts, alas, at Tangmalangaloo.
The bishop summed the youngsters up, as bishops only can;
He cast a searching eye around, then fixed upon his man.
But glum and dumb and undismayed through every bout he sat;
He seemed to think that he was there, but wasn't sure of that.
The bishop gave a scornful look, as bishops sometimes do,
And glared right through the pagan in from Tangmalangaloo.
"Come, tell me, boy," his lordship said in crushing tones severe,
"Come, tell me why is Christmas Day the greatest in the year?
How is it that around the world we celebrate that day
And send a name upon a card to those who're far away?
Why is it wandering ones return with smiles and greetings, too?"
A squall of knowledge hit the lad from Tangmalangaloo.
He gave a lurch which set a-shake the vases on the shelf,
He knocked the benches all askew, up-ending of himself.
And oh, how pleased his lordship was, and how he smiled to say,
"That's good, my boy. Come, tell me now; and what is Christmas day?"
The ready answer bared a fact no bishop ever knew -
"It's the day before the races out at Tangmalangaloo."
Disco Duck said
04:19 PM Nov 2, 2009
Un-Named
by Col
It sounds rather absurd , I've just received word
There's problems down at the infirmary,
All the patients now curse a young first year nurse,
Whose mistake was so elementary.
Because matron decreed, all the dentures did need
To be collected and given a scrub.
Without any debate the nurse gathered each plate,
Placed them in a big galvanised tub.
She was in quite a rush with soap and big brush,
Till those molars shone like they were new,
Oh what a nark not one did she mark,
Then it dawned she was in quite a stew.
As those dentures did soak those teeth saw the joke.
They all smiled with a terrible grin,
Would a solution evolve and her problem solve,
To find the owners for the teeth in that tin.
Well it upset the staff to see those dentures laugh,
While the owners they just couldnt find,
Using tenacity and wit they just wouldnt fit
They were all in one terrible bind.
Until in due course they resorted to force,
With the patients mouths held open wide,
They did push and did shove with no sign of love,
Till each mouth had teeth firmly inside.
Now you should be discreet should ever you meet,
A person with a very fixed grin,
You can bet your whole purse that a very young nurse,
mixed their dentures up in that tin.
ibbo said
06:57 PM Nov 2, 2009
I don't feel alone anymore on this Forum.Disco or should it be Bard?.You have exelled yourself mate,tell me your secret Yummie.Cheers.Ibbo.
Disco Duck said
08:34 PM Nov 2, 2009
It isn't easy Ibbo................I can tell you that!!
First you have to find one and then read it and finally copy it to the forum. Damned harrrrd work. I am so glad thta you appreciate it.
I think we should form a "Mutual Appreciation Society" and only let anyone in who appreciates us......................(I think it is going to be a very small society.)
I love some of that bush poetry stuff!! I never could string ten words together without five swear words. :) There are some very gifted people around.
ibbo said
07:44 AM Nov 3, 2009
Yes, Guitar Patterson,Cyril Lawson,Kevin Ruddish,all legends.My favourite is "The Mongrel"he has penned some beauties all humorous.I think he has one called the seqel to "The Man From Snowy River"paints a picture of the suffering and final demise of his horse and it's injuries sustained whilst running down tree lined mountains looking for some Geriatrics Colt.If anyone knows the Mongels name would you pass it on please.Cheers.Ibbo.
ibbo said
08:13 AM Nov 3, 2009
OK,No disrespect was intended for A.B Patterson or Henry Lawson.Cheers.Ibbo.
drongo & wendy said
08:27 AM Nov 3, 2009
I TO LOVE THE TRUE BUSH POETRY. I have had the pleasure of listening to a MR DON KNEEBONE from Bobinawarrah [north east vic] reciting while attending the Mountain Cattlemens Cup, A true aussie bushman.
Disco Duck said
01:02 PM Nov 3, 2009
Don Lloyd, Ibbo........... Is that the fella you are talking about?
Don Lloyd is a local character from the Northern Rivers of NSW and he's been spinning his yarns to avid followers for more years than he cares to remember. His larger than life character is a regular at functions, where his inimitable style sets the audience rolling in the aisles. His four recordings are always in demand, and are only just now available online. His witty tales and poems have even been delighting the city folk, where his albums are regularly represented on Sydney's 2SM on Grant Goldman's radio programs.
-- Edited by Disco Duck on Tuesday 3rd of November 2009 12:02:48 PM
ibbo said
01:34 PM Nov 3, 2009
hey mate you are spot on.I have or will send you a poem.Cheers Ibbo.
THE SPIRITS OF THE OUTBACK
© Veronica Weal Mount Isa, Queensland
I have had the pleasure of listening to a MR DON KNEEBONE from Bobinawarrah [north east vic] reciting while attending the Mountain Cattlemens Cup, A true aussie bushman.
Don Lloyd is a local character from the Northern Rivers of NSW and he's been spinning his yarns to avid followers for more years than he cares to remember.
His larger than life character is a regular at functions, where his inimitable style sets the audience rolling in the aisles.
His four recordings are always in demand, and are only just now available online.
His witty tales and poems have even been delighting the city folk, where his albums are regularly represented on Sydney's 2SM on Grant Goldman's radio programs.
-- Edited by Disco Duck on Tuesday 3rd of November 2009 12:02:48 PM