THE DON
Saint Peter heard a knocking
at the gates on Tuesday evening,
A hero from Australia,
The Don, had come to stay.
He'd left a nation crying
and the flags at half-mast, flying:
He's out. The inning's finished.
Time to bid the crowd good day.
He'd come to find his Jessie,
the love of all his life;
The Menzies lass from Bowral
His gentle, blue-eyed wife.
He supposed that folks might miss him
but 'twas time to travel on;
Time to leave the earthly trappings
of the man who was The Don.
They'd remember him for cricket,
for his prowess with the bat;
And for scholarships, museums
and his green and baggy cap.
But I'm sure that he would rather
as his name echoes 'round the land
is that his impeccable behavior
proved that Bradman was a man.
© Jenny Markwell 2001
PAVAROTTI
From the Great Book of Life,
on yesterdays page,
God called home a soul
who belonged on the stages
of the world’s greatest theatres
where concerts are sung:
where music’s so sweet
that notes seem to be hung,
suspended by yearnings
to keep them earthbound
before they burst through the stars
and in Heaven’s Halls sound.
©Jenny Markwell 2007
Billy Died Last Night
Just below the papers you see as you look down
Is the body of old Billy - there lying on the ground.
He died last night in this his house - he had for many years
For the local park collects the ones who wallow in their tears.
But they are not the only ones who stay in this here place
'Cause many that you'll find 'round here have often won the race.
But the race of life grows harder with every passing day
And what you did ten years ago - don't matter much today.
Well Billy was a mate of mine - I knew him from a lad
'Cause I remember years ago when he passed here with his dad
I'd not been here too long myself, the day that they passed by
But I can still remember the disgust in Billy's eye.
He looked around and pointed to - me, and other ones
And asked his dad "Are they the ones that everyone calls bums?"
His dad turned round and grabbed him so tightly by the sleeve
While saying "Son now come along we really have to leave."
From time to time old Billy - though still then just a lad
Would wander through to have a look - though never with his dad.
Then when his visits halted - for many years it seems
I hoped Bill was out fulfilling what was in his dreams.
Well it seems that life had struck on Bill - a devastating blow
Don't ask me what it was - for really I don't know.
But I think from years of talking with the very sorry lad.
It was all tied up with something that had happened with his dad.
He didn't tell - I didn't ask, though I wish I had today
For maybe I would know the cause - of what brought him here to stay.
Now as they come to take him, to another resting place
I cry out loud "Don't worry Bill - boy you had lots of mates."
And realise to call him old - was one big-great mistake
But I've known Bill so many years - it's a liberty I take.
For I can still remember his first visit on dad's knee,
And know I watch him carried out - at only forty-three.
© Christopher Kessey
MATTHEW'S SHINER
Matthew is a good bloke, a friendly, quiet sort of lad,
Through instruction and example he’s very like his dad.
He plays footy in the winter, tennis is his summer choice
And our Matt can sing a bit, with a real strong tenor voice
He’s just the sort of fellow that mothers dream of snaring,
A good catch for their daughter, he’s always kind and caring.
On Sundays you can hear him at the church down by the creek
Singing hymns with gusto, he’s there almost every week
Matt sits behind Miss Evans, who’s rather short and fat
She wears a blue silk dress with handbag, gloves and hat
Miss Evans has known Matthew since he was just a boy
Like all the congregation, she says to know him is a joy
One Monday morning recently, his mates, with great alarm
Saw Matty had a black eye, how had he come to harm?
They knew he was in good shape at the pub on Sat’dy night
Whatever could have happened to create this sorry sight?
“Miss Evans hit me” Matthew said, standing there forlorn
“She hit me with her handbag in church on Sund’y morn”
His mates could not believe it, how could this come about?
Why would that Evans woman give Matthew such a clout?
He said “You might remember yesterday was stinkin’ hot,
‘twas worse inside that little church, we all did sweat a lot.
We sat there through the sermon, perspiration running free
Our clothes were sticking to us all, as it was plain to see
As we stood to sing a hymn, I could not believe my eyes
Miss Evans blue silk dress was caught between her thighs
I knew she’s be embarrassed, and so, just like a mug
I reached over quickly and gave her dress a tug
She reacted instantly, and her handbag in an arc
Swept round and hit me on the dial and left this dark blue mark.”
Can you envisage all the fun they had at Matt’s expense?
But over time it quietened down, and finished up past tense.
Matt said “Sorry” to Miss Evans, she accepted with good grace
And she said she was sorry for the mark upon his face.
If ever Matt should see again, clothing caught in a derriere,
he resolved to never pull it out, he’d simply leave it there.
On a Monday some weeks later his mates got a surprise
To see our Matty standing there, this time with two black eyes!
“Me brother Tim came up from town, we went to church together,
and again you will remember we had hot and sticky weather.
Again Miss Evan’s dress was caught between her rear end cheeks
I ignored it, as with horror I recalled, the strife of recent weeks.
But brother Tim, with eagle eye, soon saw the dress was stuck
I had no time to say to him “Please with it have no truck”
I knew Miss Evans would not want to have her dress pulled out
While Tim just stood there smirking like a cheeky city lout,
We both bent down together, as Tim with a great broad grin
Pulled out the dress, I said “No!”, and rammed it straight back in!”
© Bill Luders 2008