I dedicated this book to my beautiful wife Rae, our nine wonderful children, my dear Mum and Dad, the brave men and women of our Armed Forces, and our State Emergency Service workers & volunteers.
Tales from the Suburban Bush
Craig A. Waterman (Cracker - The Suburban Bush Poet)
INDEX: ANZACs 1. Fallen 2. The March 3. I Remember 4. Graduated with Honour 5. My Brother 6. A Name Up on the Wall 7. Stay With Me 8. He’s Been Gone One Hundred Years 9. The Shot AUSTRALIANA Mates, Mobs and Mayhem 1. Mateship 2. Heart in the Bush, Soul in the Sea 3. Australia Day 4. First Nation 5. Spirit of Australia 6. The Chosen One 7. Warroora Dreaming 8. Gone Fishin’ THE GREATEST AUSTRALIANS Volunteer and Emergency Services 1. The Vollie 2. Of Hearts and Hoses 3. An Orange Angel 4. The Fisherman’s Friend THE SPORTING NATION 1. Inspiring a Nation 2. Rookies Reward 3. The Baggy Green 4. Wallabies MOMENTS IN TIME The Light and Dark within us all 1. A New Dream 2. Alone 3. Dreams 4. The Light 5. Two Paths 6. The Box of Broken Dreams 7. A Wandering Soul TALES OF BALI 1. Island of My Heart 2. Springing the Trap 3. Drifting, Drifting, Drifting 4. A Hero for Our Time
FOREWARD Tales from the Suburban Bush…..the title may either confuse or intrigue you. Either way…. you’re here. I’ve chosen the title to reflect where I came from as well as my love for getting away from it all. Growing up in one of the outer (at the time) southern suburbs of Perth was a wonderful place to be at a wonderful time to be alive. We were blessed with a safe, leafy, wellgroomed area with a river as our northern and western boundary. The Canning River was as much a part of all of our lives as the streets and parks where we played. Fishing, prawning, water skiing and general boating went hand in hand with street football, cricket or building a cubby house in one of the many patches of remnant bushland that existed back then. Some of which, fortunately, is still there today. The canyon over the road from the local shops springs to mind as one thing that is still there. It seemed such a large and dangerous hole in the ground from a kid’s point of view. Looking at it now…. the school pool is larger and deeper. The area, Rossmoyne, also had great schools with plenty of sporting area to use. Unfortunately, school and I didn’t blend well together. Our mutual parting just before my fifteenth birthday was followed by a resounding sigh of relief from all concerned. Parents, teachers…. and especially student. By this time in my life though, I had realised that I liked to tell a story or two. My natural tendency to embellish said stories probably didn’t work in my favour at the time though. No one likes a fifteen year old Bull$@(t artist. So off into the family business to do a trade it was for me. Dad’s electrical business was run with a partner and had seen some quite successful times. Dad had a natural affinity for hard work (still does) .This lead to my parents and my Uncle and Aunty affording to purchase a holiday home just outside Mandurah on the Serpentine River. Tough life for a kid. Growing up on a river full of fish and prawns. Then being dragged kicking and screaming on long weekends and school holidays down to a river full of crabs and cobbler. Bloody hard it was. So hard I bought the house next door nearly 30 years ago…….I’m writing with the sound of boats cruising along the river about eighty metres away. Tough life for an adult. Through all of the fantastic…some not so…moments that I’ve had in life something still seemed to be missing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been great. I’ve been married a very long time to the woman of my dreams and we have had nine wonderful children together. That takes time as you can imagine….so the story telling stayed on the back burner. Then I wrote a little bit of bush poetry that was rattling around in my head one evening…..and the nagging feeling burst into deep desire to write things that I could leave for my kids. Stories they could understand, be part of and be proud of. Almost all is in the form of bush poetry….along with a story explaining how it came to me…and or why. I hope you enjoy.
Cracker C.B.E.
ANZACs I’ll start off with one of my favourite things that I have written. It’s a part of the ANZAC series that I am working on and that deserves to be the first part of the story. The ANZAC legend is a great part of our national story. Amazing to think that such a large defeat is revered and recalled in such a way…but the underdog story and fighting back from the brink are very much part of our national psyche. The point of difference that I have chosen this for as the beginning is where it focuses….not on those that we lost….but the many that stayed home and waited.
Fallen The news came in a telegram And it said she’d lost her son She fell down to her knees He was her first and only one She had known that there’d be danger But the cause was true and just When she asked why he volunteered He’d said ‘because I must’ ‘Mum, our freedom is in danger So I go to keep it safe’ ‘And if I fall along the way Someone must take my place’ ‘I love my family and my country And I’d die to keep them free’ ‘There are thousands of my mates out there And they’d do the same for me’ So she sent him with her blessing And he said ‘I’ll see ya soon’ Now she held this letter in her hand As she sat alone in his room Her boy had grown into a man Became what he had strived to be A defender of his Nation And he’d died……to keep it free Lest We Forget
ANZAC Day for many Australians is the day they hold in the highest esteem. It surpasses other public holidays in that it brings us all under one banner. We still have and undoubtedly will always have points of difference that will be discussed or argued about ad infinitum. This day should always be the day we recognise our freedom and give thanks to those that won it and those that still protect it. I have over the years taken our children to dawn services and ANZAC Day marches. In 2017 I was unwell in the morning and unable to attend until later in the day. Sitting at home I was receiving photos from my kids that had taken it upon themselves to attend. Job done. Here is my tribute to those that make this day what it is in the largest cities and the smallest country towns in our great brown land.
The March Dad took me to the ANZAC Parade Guess who we went to see It was someone that gave up their life So that my life could be I stood waiting quietly Hoping Dads mate soon would pass Dad said “Son, just wait and look They could be first through to last’ Old men, young men, ladies all They marched with obvious pride But Dad had brought me for someone special Maybe they’re over the other side? I soon began to wonder why Dads mate, they had no name Dad said ‘Son, when you finally see ‘em You’ll never be the bloody same’ ‘See they did what they were asked to They knew there was a price’ ‘But when the time came and we called ‘em up We didn’t have to ask ‘em twice’ ‘They filled our ships and headed off Some knew they were gone for good’ ‘If they asked us for the same today Do ya think we bloody could?’
I took in all my Dad had said And began to understand The person that we’re here for Is no single woman or man Waiting, watching patiently I soon began to see That every person marching past Gave up their life…………for me Lest We Forget
Remembrance Day is another opportunity each year to tell our Diggers thank you. Whilst still quite a solemn day it also marks an ending to hostilities, something to be thankful for, and something still to be hoped for in some parts of the world.
I Remember At 11AM every day I Remember At the going down of every sun I Remember Driving to work under the blue skies of freedom I Remember At the polling booth of a free and democratic land, every 3 years I Remember With a raised cold beer after a hard day’s work I Remember When I look into the eyes of my beautiful children I……….Remember I Remember the sacrifice……I Remember the loss I thank you……. ……..and I will ALWAYS……Remember
One of the many things to remember about commemorating theatres of war from our past is that we still have people on active duty around the globe. Australian service men and women are patrolling the towns, deserts and waterways of nations that would seek to do harm to either their own citizens or ours.
“The Price of Freedom is Eternal Vigilance” Thomas Jefferson The following poem is unfortunately all too real in the present day.
Graduated with Honour I stood and watched the ‘Passing Out’ Heart swelling out the pride His mum, she saw it differently She stood silently …and cried My boy, he knew, this was his life Defending freedom was his call He’d be deployed beyond our borders Believing freedom was for all I stood there at the airport gate My pride filled heart now felt some pain His mum, she hugged the child she’d borne And hoped that she’d see him again The news came through sporadically Sometimes a letter or a quick phone call He couldn’t say quite what he wanted to But in his voice, mum could hear all She sensed a danger in his words Feelings of terror left unspoken But he spoke with pride about his mates And a code that would not be broken They did the things that they must do Followed orders to a T But the enemy, they did not play fair When they placed an IED The morning news spoke solemnly Another Digger had gone down No phone call from our boy that day His camp was near that town
A crunch of gravel in our drive My heart it tore in two
A tear ran down his Mothers face She knew what they were here to do The solemn face, the smart salute My wife fell into my arms The chaplain got the words just right Our boy had done his duty hard He mentioned the word Hero And how our Nation will remember But we just want our boy back home He’ll be 21in November They flew him in with lots of fuss Our flag draped upon his coffin He was carried with pride, but the looks on their faces say This happens too F*&kin’ often He was buried here in our home town All his mates lined our main street They all whispered and asked why he went over there To fight an enemy that can’t be beat I told them the story about a young man Who held freedom close in his heart He had a dream about people living free in this world That dream was what gave him his start So he followed that dream the only way he knew how And represented our Great Southern Land From grieving parents to son…with a now heavy heart You’ve “Graduated with Honour” young man
Going back to the original ANZAC era leads us to think about Gallipoli and the Nation of Turkey. I guess the one thing that I have tried to point out to my children apart from the tragic loss…is that WE invaded THEM. In the big picture that seems to get lost on our younger ones. We went to Turkey…attacked their country….got our backsides kicked….then they forgave us. Many Australian soldiers are still interred in Turkish soil. Their graves are, in general, well-tended and respected. The Australian and Turkish people today both seem to have an understanding that we should never let our two nations be put in that position again.
One thing that underpins that attitude for me, apart from the wise words of General Attaturk, is a photo that shows two soldiers. One is a wounded Turkish soldier laying, possibly dying, in a field. The other an Australian soldier tending to him and handing over a water bottle. I was asked my opinion of this photo. Here it is.
My Brother They sent us both to war You are my brother They told me I must kill you You are my brother They say we pray to different gods You are my brother Now you lay here mortally wounded You are my brother I will be here with you to the end You are my brother
When we look at all of the conflict around the world, recent history or current, one of the most poignant reminders are the memorials erected in cities and towns around the world. They are a place to reflect, pay tribute or merely contemplate what could have been. They are places of honour‌but also sadness. Seeing young children standing in silence is probably the saddest thing of all.
A Name Up On the Wall He stood by the memorial A tear upon his cheek I spied His finger it was tracing through A name up on the side I could see his small lips trembling As they read out this soldiers name A young man recalls the moment His life completely changed You see his Father was a hero A man worthy of his son’s pride
And remembers well that day they came To say ‘son, your Father died He died defending freedom Making safe for one and all So when you say his name now son Make sure you’re standing tall He was an Australian soldier And he was a loving Dad He’s a hero to a nation And his passing makes us sad We can only but remember him Carve his name in Australian stone In amongst a thousand heroes So he’ll never be alone So son when you come to visit him You stand with pride and you stand tall For this nation knows that he is more Than a name up on a wall Lest We Forget
Over the years I have joined a number of social media pages for our military and exmilitary. I primarily joined to show my support but gradually felt myself becoming absorbed in their stories. The more I read the more frustrated I become for them. So often the stories don’t end well and all that was asked was for some support. We have far too many vets with a range of mental illnesses that are forgotten by the country they served. Your opinion on the wars they fought in may be one of opposition, but that is no reason to dump them on the streets alone once they have completed their time in service to our country. Healthy in….Healthy out…..wasn’t that the government’s responsibility? Wasn’t it ours as well?
This next piece was written in response to the announcement of the death of a serviceman on one of the pages. I sat and cried along with his mates that he had served with. Having suffered through prolonged mental illness myself I understood what he’d done. It was not a momentary thing….suicide never is. It was the end of a process for which he saw no other logical conclusion. We failed him……and many others.
Stay With Me I don’t want you to go I need you to stay My life today is because of you I’m free because of what you did We have never met We may never meet But I am eternally grateful I have a family that I love I have friends that I share my life with You did this You made it possible You stood guard and ensured our freedom It cost you dearly We let you down Doing better is all we can offer But we need one more thing from you Stay with us Stay with me
About 10 days before Anzac Day 2015 I received a message from a friend of mine Colleen from South Australia. She asked if I had begun this year’s ANZAC tribute poem and could I release it early as it was the 100th Anniversary. I messaged back that I hadn’t but would make a beginning shortly. Having sent that message I got up to walk away and the title “He’s Gone 100 Years” popped into my head. I sat back down and opened a page with the title and got up to leave again. The first line popped into my head and I was away. It flowed out of me like golden syrup from a hot crumpet… and a few tears as well. Some 30 minutes later… this was the result.
He’s Been Gone 100 Years One hundred years ago he left us Gone off to fight the war He sailed away from Albany His last sighting of our shore A family left behind him Hearts swelling out with pride
Their freedom he’d be fighting for With good mates at his side His first fight was with the ocean Churning guts and gills of green When at last they made their landfall It seemed so calm…almost serene On the dusty shores of Egypt War still seemed so far away But the High Command was planning And he’d be the price they’d pay He was drilled and he was trained By hot morning and balmy night Then he was loaded on the ship again The time had come to fight The ships stood off Gallipoli The darkest hour before the dawn He knew not then, but at the sunrise A legend would be born The jagged cliffs and rugged shoreline Were still too dark to see But he had come here to defeat the Turk Wherever he may be The boats had almost landed When what broke loose was hell Shells came down and bullets whistled past And then the first man fell The water it was running red ANZAC blood was in the sand He kept moving forwards with his mates Hero’s…..to a man He ran across the Turkish sand Cover almost within his reach Then a bullet took him in the chest And he died upon the beach The fighting went on around him Many more men died that day
For him there were no final words As there wasn’t much to say They buried him between two others One from Sydney, one from Perth Now he lay’s eternally Beneath the Turkish earth His spirit made it home though And watches us still this day You see he paid a price for freedom He wants no one else to pay So now it’s been One Hundred years Since he last stepped upon our shore But this ANZACs spirit….it is vigilant So we can be free forever more Lest We Forget
I put that last poem online just minutes after writing it and it proved to be quite popular. Another mate of mine, Don from Queensland, is a bit of a computer wiz and located my wife’s Great Grandfathers WW1 photo and laid the poem over it and sent it to me. He passed a comment with it about Great Grandads eyes piercing you as he looked down the camera lens. That comment triggered another wave of emotion in me as I looked into those eyes… ten minutes later… I had this.
The Shot They took a simple photograph The day that he signed up That steely glare full of resolve Yet he was just a pup His uniform as yet unmarked His slouch hat sat askew A boy goes off to be a man He knows what he must do The call it came from up on high And they handed him a gun He knew he’d not see home again Until the job was done
When he returned they all rejoiced And plied him with their thanks The final salute, they called ‘at ease’ And dismissed him from the ranks Now when you see that photograph A story does it tell A young man who served his country And escaped the tolling of the bell But if you see that man today You cannot see inside You’ll still just see that photograph Not the things that he must hide The memories that all haunt him still Of mates that he has lost To make one man kill another man You cannot count the cost So when you see him marching past Medalled chest puffed out with pride Be assured he does not march alone But with those he left behind Lest We Forget
Australiana Mates, Mobs and Mayhem Mateship Bein’ mates, is as Aussie, as Bundy and Coke and the Drovers Dog. But is bein’ mates like it used to be, or has the mates wheel skipped a cog It’s time we had a ponder, about how we all get on, And are we proud to be Australian, or just here until we’re gone. We come here from all over, some were here when it began So, are we movin’ forward together? Are we doin’ what we can?
Next time you see your neighbour, will you wave or give a nod Would you help them out if they’re in a fix, or in a bit of a bog Have you ever had a blue with a mate, and never called ‘em back Today’s a good day to fix that up, it’s never too far down the track Good mates are always poppin’ up, at different times through your life, For a birthday, a wedding, or maybe a beer, or even when you’re in strife You might just meet a new mate today, Could be at work or down the street But will you let a new mate into your life, or is your world just too neat Ask yourself if it’s Aussie to judge someone by the way they look Fair enough, I could understand, if their Footy team was crook This Nation was built to greatness on hard work and fair play Would the mob that fought and died for us, recognise the place today? Let’s try and put aside Religions, forget about races, colour and creed Let’s build the Nation we all want, the Australia that we need We can all be mates in some way, while we’re doin’ our own thing Maybe we could make a start with a song we all can sing Matter of fact I’ll think you’ll find the job’s already done Cause “ I am, You are, we are Australian” Cheers Mate
As I stated earlier I have been lucky in the places I have grown up, lived and visited. Most of our cities are quite large now, to the point where some people never leave. Many are tied to work, sport and family commitments that leave little time for anything else. They may want for it, but it just can’t be their reality right now. If you are one of those poor buggers, or simply someone that hasn’t had time to venture out for a while….grab a coffee, tea or a beer and sit back. This one’s for you
Heart in the Bush…Soul in the Sea It starts as a feeling That’s hard to explain You feel kind of trapped Like you’re sort of in pain It’s a bursting desire A need to escape
From the City and Suburbs It’s time for a break But how do you get there You’ve a Family and Job You can’t go without ‘em They’d feel bloody robbed Well you know there’s an answer You’ve been there before Shut your eyes and smile Let your mind out the door You’ll soon be in places That you love to be Just send your Heart to the Bush And your Soul to the Sea When you arrive there You’ll see nothin’s changed The raw power of nature In its mightiest rage Be it Thunder and Lightning Or a wave crashing down Whether you walk on the beach Or through a small country town Swimming over a reef Or waist high in wheat It’s a feeling of freedom That just can’t be beat You’re lethargy is gone And your pulse beats a pace You suddenly remember That life ain’t a race It’s that jubilant feeling You and nature are one The waves and the sand The bush and the sun
Then a haze is upon you And it all seems a blur A shake of your head And you’re back where you were The humdrum crawls back And the pleasure recedes But you’ve had a day in a moment A moment of need And if once again The trap starts to close You know what to do It’s as close as your nose Just take a deep breath And set your mind free Send your heart to the bush And your soul to the sea
National pride is a funny thing as well. Many people simply follow the populist line of thinking because it is the line they are fed the most. Many others rail against populist thinking because…well…they don’t like populist thinking. Often they don’t realise that the opposing point of view they have taken….because it’s been fed to them…will be populist thinking if they sway enough people. It’s a bit like building your own prison. With the advent of social media sites we can now express our opinion from the comfort of home with all our uninformed rage freshly built up after reading a right or left wing news site. I really wish people could stop and think for themselves. Quite often, upon reflection people realise that the very bad thing that you are being told is so prevalent in your life doesn’t actually exist in your life at all….nor that of anyone you know. The ability to analyse has become a lost art form. Look for truth. Take responsibility. Get involved…..That used to be our way. Here’s my Australia.
Australia Day The spirit of Australia ain’t just found in our great flag It’s in dusty roads an’ country towns an’ those that sling a swag You’ll find it in a city slum or down on a white sand beach It’s a spirit you must be looking for…it’s not something you can teach Politician or policeman, farmer, miner or a cook The Spirit of Australia just can’t be written in a book
It’s in the things we say and do, Ya know… a nod’s as good as wink Givin’ a bloke a helping hand, then shoutin’ him a drink
A family loses everything…this spirit gives it back and more Ya know that mob that need a bed…well you open up your door A barbecue for thousands, let’s do it at my place Or shut down a bloody nation for a two minute horse race You say that there’s a fire…well let’s all go put it out A cyclone up the north coast….how ‘bout we stare the bugger down Lifesavers on our beaches or the guides at Uluru They are masters of the spirit that is part of me and you You know that spirit’s in you…you can feel it all around Sometimes it might just fade a bit, as others drag it down But that spirit can’t be beaten, it’ll never go away Because we revive that Aussie Spirit on each and every…Australia Day
One of the very best things about growing up in the suburb of Rossmoyne was the people that lived there. Down to earth hard working types that created things. They cleared the public spaces, they created the clubs, they worked as a team and taught this to the children of the area. Some of the kids in our area were considered locals but in actual fact were boarders going to private schools. These kids were from indigenous communities in the north of the state that didn’t have senior schools for them to attend. The Pallotine Mission housed them and they were….and still are, very much part of our community and lives. I’m proud to still call many of them mates….although not having seen some for years…but when you visit country you are made to feel welcome. They taught us much about our wonderful land….about family and bonds….and for me personally about storytelling and the value of the spoken word. For my mates living back in country, I owe it to them to tell their story and help keep their traditions and languages alive.
First Nation I get an urging in my blood That I’m from a distant land That feeling it soon dissipates With my toes in Aussie sand I close my eyes and hear the ocean And feel the dreaming in my mind
The first people of our nation A million stories left behind Stories passed from mouth to mind Or a picture left on stone It’s a history I’m now part of When in the bush, I’m not alone For more than 40,000 years They’ve been custodians of the land Now it’s time to stand together Face the future hand in hand For there will always be a dreaming And a part of it you are Whether your flag is an ochre sun Or a seven pointed star So I’m proud to be Australian And I love our wondrous land A sprig of wattle and a gum leaf Under the Southern Cross we stand I wish for all to be united To plan our future from our past So if you choose me as your brother I will be there…until the last
This next one is a little bit different. It came about due to a request from my brother to write something for his job. He was a radio advertising executive and one of the stations in their group was called spirit radio. I started out with good intentions…..but ended up somehow writing about Qantas…..so I kept at it. In some ways many of us are disillusioned with this airline now….not always for the right reasons. There was a time though when we regarded them as our favourite airline and spoke of them…and their story….with pride. (With a nod to “The Devil’s Coachmen”)
Spirit of Australia It started out when Cobb & Co First harnessed up a team They took Australian Spirit And they added in a dream They carried parcel, post and passenger On their ever increasing round And they helped to grow a Nation As they linked City up with Town Their dream began to falter though As machines became the norm But the true Australian Spirit Meant that something new was born They took those Master Coachmen And they put ‘em in the air And so the Spirit of Australia Became the Worlds to share The Livery of Red and White Took our Spirit ‘round the Globe And that Spirit shines its brightest When it touches down at Home It started in the top end It was born of me an’ you That’s the Spirit of Australia That’s our Flying Kangaroo
We speak often of heroes and sacrifice in this country. Some say the words are bandied around too freely and have lost some of their gloss. For me though, one group still deserves to be spoken of with pride…..our farmers. Without the people out in the wheat belts, cropping regions and outback stations in this country we’d be a far less prosperous nation. It takes hard work and sacrifice to live in some of these areas…often for little reward. They’ve got the best sense of humour in the country though…they bloody need it.
Here’s one for my mates that have an outback sheep station……the same principle applies for most farmers though I’d reckon.
The Chosen One The Woolyheads need water Or there’ll be no bloody wool So everyday, we gotta make sure That the tanks and troughs are full If the sheep don’t get good water There’ll be no clip this year No money ta spend on food and clothes Aw hell there’ll be no beer So each an’ every day the tanks and troughs they gotta be done It aint no easy job though, on a million acre run Well now the motorbikes are broken An’ the horses all are lame But the tanks and troughs have gotta be checked All the bloody same So there gotta be a choosing Someones gotta walk the track They have ta wander out, check the tanks an’ troughs An’ then ta wander back So we called a station meeting To proclaim a chosen one We sat around the homestead table Not much was said or done The chosen one though, knew it was them It always bloody was They slung a swag, grabbed a feed Gave a scowl and headed off Out the gate, whistled up a dog An’ marched stormily down the track Yeh, she’s a bloody good woman that Mrs o’mine Jeez I hope she makes it back
Warroora Station is a place that I love but can’t get to as often as I’d like. It has 250,000 hectares of outback grazing nestled up against 52 kilometres of Ningaloo Coastline. This is truly some of the best this great land has to offer. Leonie McLeod purchased the station back in the 90’s after extended consultation with the traditional owners. She brought her two boys there and began to transform the station into what is now one of the best wilderness camping experiences you can find. This is part of their story.
Warroora Dreaming The reef it is our Father Our Mother is the land Within the Warroora Dreaming They are walking hand in hand You can hear the ancient spirit song As they call their people back For the Thalanji Tribe are coming home They are walking up the track All of those that come to Warroora Are enchanted by its song Its warm and rugged beauty And the sense that they belong For the Concierge will greet them As they pass the Station gate With a friendly word and knowing smile He makes everyone his mate They all pump this font of knowledge For where to camp and where to fish Then he sends them off with a “Cheers Guy’s” As he fulfils their every wish They gather round the fire pit And many stories are regaled The truth is often far away As reputations are de-railed The Station Mistress oversees it all With great passion and iron will
She has brought her tribe to camp here And forever more they will She has wrought a new beginning By looking back to older ways For the Ningaloo flows through her As it has for all her days Now Warroora has a Princess And the future’s looking grand For the people that once roamed here Are returning to their land The reef it is our Father Our Mother is the land And throughout the Warroora Dreaming We will walk on hand in hand
As I became more passionate about writing I searched for things to write about. Sometimes….well, most of the time, it was something that triggered me to write then and there. The thing I had to find was a way to simply sit and write. I was chatting with my brother, a keen fisherman, one evening and asked him to give me six key words or phrases about game fishing. He rattled them off as I wrote them down and the conversation soon ended as my thoughts went to writing. Bear in mind….I’ve never set foot on a game fishing boat. This was my expansion from about twenty words he gave me. I reckon it came out alright. It’s a bit bloody long though. You’ll need the patience of a fisherman…or woman….to read it.
Gone Fishin’ There was just a hint of sunrise As we shoved off in the boat Another glorious day awaits us Out on Castle Australia’s moat We’ve had a bit of greasy bacon In a sanger with runny egg It’ll soon be up for berley With last night’s bourbon, beers an’ red It’s a feelin’ that we’ve had before One we’ll never be tradin’ in
See, with fishin’ an’ superstition Once ya break one… well that’s a sin The swell was slightly lumpy From a storm just two days past The kind of fishin’ weather Where ya could catch ‘em out your arse The skipper set the course by feel An’ got the engines purring sweet The ocean came up to greet us Through the deck beneath our feet There was no idle chatter There just wasn’t much to say See, we’re out here chasin’ beakies Don’t wanna jinx it in any way The gear was prime, the chair was set The sun now risen full With great anticipation We turned into the currents pull Skip’ he let the wheel go slack An’ let the ocean kiss his bow If we’re gonna find a big blue beaky Then this bloke would know how He touched his throttles up a notch Gave a wink and a nod of his head The deckies knew just what he meant It was time to set the spread Outriggers bending, teasers trailing Heart beating out your chest You’ve waited so bloody long for this It’s a fishermans greatest test The skipper eyes up you up and down And does the same to your scaly mates It was time to choose his order But for a moment he hesitates He has a slug of coffee Then runs his fingers through his hair
Then makes a firm decision Points at you an’ says “In the Chair” The moment you’ve been longing for Has arrived so sudden, so fast Your palms they go all sweaty An’ ya grip the chair with your arse Then ya hear the call you’ve dreamed of Skip yells “Fish in the spread” The deckies pull the teasers in Anticipation turns to dread A hand grips on my shoulder The decky speaks firmly in my ear ‘Just look the bastard in the eye And never show your fear’ Suddenly, all hell breaks loose And the line begins to peel It is the fishermans Lord’s Prayer Called “The Screaming of the Reel” The run, it went forever The reel it almost spooled But the skipper and the deckhands They would not be fooled They knew his run was ending But they played his little game If I can just get through this next bit My life’ll never be the same The boat she was at idle And a breather we all took The boss man said” Click ‘er into gear” “It’s time to set the hook” There was a moment’s hesitation I heard a murmuring behind Then a hand clapped on my shoulder I began to pump and wind
The skipper he worked with me Like a surgeon with knife The deckhands kept the reel damp The rod had its own life I could feel that big fish down there His life pulsing up the line He fought with all hells fury But I knew that he was mine I pumped and wound, he ran some more And I slowly got the edge If the bastard didn’t come up soon Then I would be the one that’s dead So I took a moment to myself And steeled myself to end it A single line down to the deep This next bit won’t be friendly It was just the fish and me now I got that buzz that you all know Man against the beast Skip and crew sat back to watch the show They had seen it all before And they knew their part was played It was up to me to make the calls Today would be my day Breathing deep, I puffed my chest Flexed my fingers and gave my all The power that we shared right then Made me feel ten bloody feet tall Well the Beaky, he was game And he gave it all his best But I matched him up for courage And I knew I’d stand the test I just pumped and wound and pumped some more ‘Till I knew that he was mine
The reel was almost steaming But I owned over half the line But the bastard had one run in ‘im And he danced upon his tail Like Michael Jackson and the Moonwalk But it was all to no avail The moment was spectacular As he held us in a trance But he knew that it was over That this was his last dance Then the fight……..it all went from him And I knew the game was done And suddenly he’s right there My game is nearly won I reeled him in alongside To show him my respects He gave a little flutter But there was just nothin’ left They held him at the gunwhale While I unclipped from the chair I had to touch this beaky Had to know that he was there I held his beak for a moment And studied the lines upon his face A roll of his eye, told me I’d won And then……I cut the trace
Greatest Australians Volunteers And Emergency Services Australia is the lucky country in so many ways. We have diversity in people, geography, weather….pretty much every part of our lives are blessed with many choices, plus the freedom to choose. Undoubtedly the best part of our country though….the people. We have so many wonderful people that step up when things need doing and problems need solving. These people are our volunteers and they make this country great. From our volunteer emergency services to sporting volunteers to those that give time to read to a child or tidy a pensioner’s yard. These are the truly great Australians.
The Vollie There’s a phenomenon in Australia Babies born with one hand up The midwives say ‘Here’s another Vollie’ Even before the cord is cut They come from varied and many backgrounds But they are born to a single task To help others in our great Nation We don’t even have to ask They’re there for every tragedy Or even just to lend a hand A lost child, a fire, a cyclone or flood It’s almost “Miracles on Demand” We watch them on our telly And wonder where they all come from They’re from your street and suburb Yep…you’ve known them all along So next time you see a Vollie Please shake them by the hand They’re not in it for thanks….It’s all for the love Of our Great Australian Land
Dedicated to all the wonderful volunteers that make this country great
Of Hearts and Hoses At first we smelt a smoky waft As it drifted on the breeze The sky became a fiery glow The choice, to stay or leave Our home holds all our memories We could not bear to lose But life is such a fleeting thing It’s now our time to choose We grabbed the few things we could hold The fire was moving fast The trees they were exploding Fuelled by long dry grass We pulled away from our beloved home Will it survive…nobody knows Then through the smoke there came a Hero Dragging a long fire hose He stood there looking carefully As if to stare the fire down Then he picked a spot and flicked the nozzle And the fire began to drown More heroes came out of the smoke They fought with all their hearts They split the fire around our home Like a barber combing a part The heroes chased the fire along Trying to bend it to their will They chased it up over the ridge I can hear them fighting still These heroes they had saved our lives And saved our family home Sadly… they don’t win every fight But they’ll never let you fight alone Dedicated to all the Volunteer and Professional Fire Fighters out there risking their lives to save others.
An Orange Angel They said a storm was coming We got ready as best we could When the rain and then the wind came We’d done everything we could We sat and waited quietly As nature’s fury began to build When she finally let us have it With terror our hearts were filled The windows began to rattle And the tiles began to sing My vision then exploded As the ceiling tumbled in We all began to panic It’s just wind and rain and noise I now huddled in the bathroom With the wife and my two boys We waited there for hours ‘Til the fury did abate But I sensed there’d still be danger So we settled in to wait Then we heard a big gruff voice yell ‘Is anybody here?’ And suddenly an Angel Dressed in orange did appear With a smile and then a knowing nod He said ‘please come with me’ We walked out of our front door Into an Orange sea The Angels they were everywhere With chainsaws and with tarps They handed us warm blankets And they truly stole our hearts They Angels they soon disappeared Another mission had their call
I knew that when they got there They’d give it their bloody all So if you know an Orange Angel Don’t forget to say ‘Cheers mate’ ‘Cause when trouble strikes, these Men and Women Will be standing at your gate
Dedicated to the Men and Women who volunteer in the State Emergency Services around Australia
The Fisherman’s Friend The call came on the radio ‘We’ve sighted a red flare’ His training took straight over As he made his team aware They left their homes, their jobs, their friends And raced down to the boat It was time for another rescue Out on the Great Australian Moat They’d trained for this scenario By weekend, day and night Confidence in each other to do the job And to set this problem right They steamed into a heavy sea Danger cresting with every wave But their thoughts could not be turned away From the people they must save Another flare burst up on high So their heading was now true They powered on in trepidation An upturned hull was soon in view Hopes and prayers took the very back seat Reality was their first order They realised now, that things were bad There were four men in the water
Drifting off, in a windswept swell One still clinging to the wreck
The skipper picked his order hard He wanted all four on his deck The one on board the upturned hull He pointed straight out to his mate So Skip broached him on the windward side And created a hells gate They had one shot, the water calmed If they missed him he’d be dead Once they got him on the boats back board Both their diesels got full revs They dropped in to a nasty trough Another two men were hull down But the rider knew where his mates were His screams brought the Skip around They soon had them both on their boat One more man, then they’re off home A lull became the open door The sea calmed to frothing foam So they nudged up to the upturned hull Moments from a perfect day Then Mother Nature gave her orders And a huge wave came to play The boat was crushed, their man was down They were sure that he was lost They’d tossed our last chips on the table Now his life may be the cost Then they saw a flash of colour A strong armed crewman tossed a line They needed him to grab it hard There wouldn’t be another time He lunged forward and got a good firm grip His free hand clenched up on high Moments later he was on the deck Some of his mates let out a cry
The skipper gave a knowing nod And the crew knew they weren’t done They had to steam back with a following sea And they were running out of sun They secured the deck, took the mob below And the skipper set his course He set his feet and kicked the diesels up Like a champion jockey on his favourite horse He could feel the sea and her every whim Through his feet and his hands on the wheel He flexed and rolled with his mighty boat His determination made of hardened steel The sea was worked by the Captain and crew Land soon was within their sight Just minutes away from safely tying her up In the cold of the full dark night Then he saw a quick flash as the cardinal said ‘Follow me now your jobs nearly done’ He relaxed just a tad, took one hand from the wheel They’d taken her on …and they’d won He dropped down the revs as they passed through the heads The rescued men they plied their thanks on his crew They soon were berthed up, a hot drink in their hands Followed quickly with a cold drink or two So… next time you head out, and think you’re fully prepared Just remember that it can soon turn to strife But you can rely on the Fisherman’s Friends To put it all on the line for your life
Dedicated to all Sea Rescue Volunteers, Water Police and Navy Rescue Teams
The Sporting Nation Sports are something that flow through our family on all sides and branches. We are quite passionate when we play or are supporting a team. Sportsmanship is a must for us though…..most of us anyway. One thing that drives many sporting people forward is achieving that which their heroes achieved and then trying to raise that bar. Many Australians have had their records surpassed by future generations…..but never lose their status as legends in their chosen field. Here’s just a few.
INSPIRING A NATION I guess it started off with Bradman He taught a Nation how to win He showed us strength and grace and humility And that pride was not always a sin Then we came upon our Dawn Through her our Ratbag streak was shown That no nonsense style and her all nonsense heart We’re proud to call her, our own We all took a spin with Benaud As he ripped one off the Turf Then we ran a lap with Herb He was the greatest Miler on earth Did you run those twenty five steps with Lillee Inhale as the leather scorched the grass Then hold your breath as he took the edge And it flew right through to Marsh Some things we find inspiring Defining moments in our life These are thoughts that we can turn to If we find that we’re in strife Do you remember not so long ago We nearly owned the Davis cup Wimbledon was owned by the Woodies And Rafter was only a Pup
The Marrickville Mauler slugged his heart out and said ‘I Luvs Yez all’ Then AB held that first World Cup aloft As a nation we stood tall We cranked up a few Olympic dreams Perkins passed his greatest test There was the hockeyroos with their Golden run With Pereira at her best Madam Butterfly, she wowed the world With her speed and then her smile Young Cathy brought a tear to many an eye When she won that Sydney quarter mile Remember a gentleman called Ealesy He held another great cup aloft Yeh, when it comes to showing heart and soul You could never call us soft So did it start with Bradman? Who taught a nation how to win Or does it start with you and I Now…. where do we begin?
Many years ago my younger brother played football with the West Coast Eagles. When selection day came around the entire extended family was nervous until that week’s team was announced. When it came to finals the nervousness went through the roof. So…how do you think he felt if that was us. Fast forward to 2003 and AFL Grand Final day was here. The Brisbane Lions were aiming for a threepeat……and legend status in the game. We were getting ready for our yearly Grand Final shed party where about 100 or so people would join us in a darkened shed with a huge screen, bench seating, white picket fence……even hot dogs and pies at half time. The Brisbane Lions and Collingwood football clubs had both made selection surprises picking a player each that had less than ten games experience. Both players were products of the East Fremantle Football Clubs much vaunted junior program. Everyone with a connection was justifiably proud….and nervous. So how did these young men feel?
I was mowing the lawn outside the shed about four hours before bounce down, when this idea fell into my noggin to write it from the young players perspective. Dad said he wandered out to a still running mower on its own in the yard. Twenty minutes later….I had this.
Rookies Reward It’s that one day in September That could make this boy a man I’ve shown the coach me best this year I hope he’ll let me show the Fans Hard work and skill have got me here Now I need an ounce of luck I’ll take any spot he’s got for me Hell, I’ll even take the ruck The pre-season was a hard one And the years been bloody long It’ll all be bloody worth it though If we win a flag and sing our song Now the selectors are selectin’ Geez I hope I get a game Sometimes I think those blokes in there Must forget my bloody name A Grand final at the MCG Would complete a lifelong dream I don’t wanna be a Champion Player I wanna play in a Champion Team Now the Coach is walkin’ towards me Should I laugh or cry or grin He just said three little words to change my life Cause the Coach said ’Son…You’re in’
Sports have always played a big part in my family’s life. From footy and cricket on the street to swimming, fishing and boating. There was always something …and it was always competitive. Sometimes overly so.
Football and Cricket were the two major sports growing up with basketball not far behind. Summer always brought the thrill of cricket and with the advent of World Series Cricket in the seventies there was so much more to look forward to. The greatest part of cricket for most young Aussies was a simple piece of headwear. The Baggy Green. This one item came with an esteem that was envied by other sports in this country. It meant that you’d played Test Cricket for your country. There was no other way to get one. You were forever part of’ The Australian Cricket Team’.
The Baggy Green In Aussie there’s an honour That’s part of our greatest dream It comes only from hard work And by working with the team. As rewards go it’s our finest Of the many we could choose Once you’ve got one you’re a winner Match result win, draw or lose. It’s not Australian of the Year The AFL or Melbourne Cups But its something we’re taught to cherish From the time that we are pups. It’s no order of Australia, But they get orders from us all And when Eleven come together As Australians we stand tall. We’ll elect our Nation’s leaders And stand by our choice for years But opinions about this honour Can be changed over a few beers. It’s the symbol of our Nation When around the World it’s seen And we salute you all the wearer’s Of our Beloved Baggy Green.
Being West Australian, Rugby was not a major part of my life growing up. It was played in private colleges and schools but wasn’t really mainstream. When I met and married a young Kiwi lass that had done her high schooling in Sydney things changed. I was finding myself watching the Parramatta Eels and The Wallabies Vs The All Blacks. My beautiful bride was a passionate Australian citizen when barracking for almost all sports….all except one. When The All Blacks and Wallabies played she would pull on her Kiwi Guernsey and turn her citizenship certificate to face the wall for a few hours. It was a torrid time in our household. Through the nineties I was able to puff my chest out a fair bit. It’s been a bit lean of late though. Still proud of all of our boys though.
Wallabies I wanna be a Wallaby I wanna wear the Green and Gold I wanna stand tall on the front row With my cobbers in my hold I wanna go the big drive When the boss says ‘pause, engage’ I wanna hold aloft the World Cup And be every Oz front page I wanna be respected like Campese When people speak my name I wanna handle like George Gregan When I play Gods favourite game I wanna make the crowds all tingle Like when they hear ‘here comes Joe Roff’ I wanna show the poise of Ealesy As he sees all comers off I wanna win a Bledisloe It would make my ol’ man proud I wanna play in the Tri-Nations And sing my anthem loud Yep, I wanna be a Wallaby I wanna wear the Green and Gold It would be a kind of immortality ‘Cause legends don’t grow old
Moments In Time The Light and Dark within us all I’ve called this chapter Moments in Time for a good reason. Each of these was written whilst I was in very poor places in my life. I wrote them trying to express myself to those loved ones that wanted to help….but didn’t understand what was happening or what they could do. In all honesty I’m not sure that it helped them understand any better….but it did help me to know that I could get the thoughts out of my head…even if only for a short time. Rather than write about how each one came about I will let them stand alone for you to decipher. There will be people who see where I was straight away. Generally those that have been there. If you’ve not been to these places in your mind….be thankful…but also be aware of those around you that may be suffering. These may help you understand…..Take your time
A New Dream Dreams of a distant past Happiness teases like a shadow behind me I look behind and the happiness is gone You cannot see a memory, only feel it, dream it A new dream awaits me A step forward into a new light True happiness needs no memory True happiness throws no shadow
Alone Alone Alone in a room Alone in a room full of strangers Strangers that you know so well They do not see you They do not hear you They look at you but see through you You speak but they hear no sound Tears They dry before they touch the ground Pain Your heart is trying to leave you It has no use here It seeks happiness A heart cannot live alone Alone in a room full of strangers Strangers that you know so well
Dreams Cocooned like a butterfly Desperate to break free Wings looking to burst into the sunlight And taste the wind Hunting for the sweet nectar Of the flower of happiness Driven by the force of nature To pursue your birthright And then, in a single moment Achieving your dream It is time to hunt again A new dream awaits
The Light Drowning in the depths of frustration Looking inside your soul and seeing only darkness The light of a child flashes past and you desperately try to grab hold To re-ignite the flame If only there was a way back Back to where you burned so bright Hobbled inside a broken body Burdened with a broken mind A thousand new doors in front of you All with busted handles or rusted hinges The only way out The hole in the floor, or the stairway through the ceiling Choose to stand still No worse, No better Another child light approaches The light reaches in and grabs hold There is hope
Two Paths Divergent paths leading to different suns Drawn to a different light Hearts torn in two Wounds that will never heal Pushing the paths back together Leaves only a road too wide A road leading nowhere No sun, no light, no warmth The beginning of the road Lost back in the passage of time
The Box of Broken Dreams A smile…a realisation You’ve found it That one thing is within your grasp The dream…..soon to be reality Everything you’ve ever wanted Laid out before you Destiny Then a spoken word Doubt rendered upon you Your dream, your truth Suddenly wavering……gone The box of broken dreams overflows a little more
This next one does need a few words. As parents of nine children we feel we are very lucky. Our kids are all reasonably happy and healthy with the goals and aspirations that any parent would hope for their kids to have. I feel for those that for many and varied reasons were unable to have children of their own and especially those that tried…thought they had succeeded…then lost their baby early. This happened to my wife and I on two occasions. It was the most heart
wrenching time of our lives. We already had lots of happy kids in our lives and one more would have been a much loved addition. We hadn’t announced the pregnancy as people were at the eye rolling stage with us when we did. When Rae came to me in tears to tell me that we had lost a little one we just held each other and cried for hours. The hardest part was having to be brave in front of the other kids who had no idea about the pregnancy either. I sat that night alone in my grief my wife sleeping and sobbing close by. I needed to express myself and wrote this for our lost little one. When we experienced it again months later the devastation was no less. Twelve months after the second time‌..my wife gave birth to twins. They came home.
A Wandering Soul To our little lost soul Thank you for the joy you gave us knowing that you had chosen us This joy is only matched by the sadness of your moving on The excitement and anticipation we felt when you revealed your choice Are dampened by our crushing grief Your need to settle where you feel most loved Is the same as our need to love you more given another chance We hope that you find who you are looking for We hope they love you as we did We want the chance, one day, as we walk hand in hand down the street To glimpse you as you play happily in your Destiny We hope, we pray, that just for a fleeting moment You might just remember us, and we you Fly on little Soul Choose well, Live well
Mum and Dad
Tales of Bali Bali……loved or hated….people seem to have no in between. Myself, I’ve loved it since my teens. First going there in the early eighties with my brother and a mate, I have made in excess of eighty trips there since. Not all were just for a hotel holiday though. I’ve spent time all over the island…even lived in a mountain village with the wife and kids for a couple of months. This gave us all a much better perspective of the island, the people and the spirituality of them both. Like all Australians…the two bombings left us shattered. I have met survivors….and family and friends of those that didn’t. These events marked us all in some way.
Island of my Heart Island of my Heart Reviver of my Soul They tried to break your spirit The day they took that dreaded toll My heart it cries eternal But I’m yours forever more You draw me back towards you I’ll come home soon, please be sure I smell you and I feel you each morning when I wake The time we are apart, not much longer can I take Those that live within you and draw your every breath Are content with every moment from their birth until their death Island of my Soul People of my heart You cannot know the pain I feel In the time we are apart The feeling that goes through us all When we know Mt. Agung is there
The life force that flows from it Can be tasted on the air The smiles, the touch, the graciousness You bring into my life The laughter, tears and spirituality When giving happiness, you run rife Bali, oh my Bali, Let us mend your wounded soul Together we will once again, Take Paradise and make it whole ----------------------
If you have been a few times and have regular bars that you visit or a favourite spot on the beach…..You’ll understand this next one.
Springing the Trap It starts as a whisper You’ve found yourself, by your own doing, in what seems to be a mad mad world that goes at a frenetic pace but still has an almost relaxed feel to each and every part of it. It doesn’t take long before that whisper settles quietly in the back of your mind, as gently as a butterfly on a flower filled with sweet nectar. The trap is sprung. Bali has you now and forever. You will still go at the same wild pace as before. You’ve not yet realised your affliction. Shopping, eating, drinking, partying then doing it all over again. Having a great time is so easy here. Contemplation will come later. Why?
It’s not a question you will ask until you have ended your first trip and find yourself back at your desk, at work, dreaming. You’ll catch yourself breaking into uncontrollable smiles, much to the consternation of your boss and co-workers, who are yet to visit the Lair of Happiness that you have just returned from. As you wander the streets of your Paradise little things will start to dawn upon you. Yes, that was a smile, yes it was meant for you. You return it with great delight and soon find that you are returning smiles so often that you don’t bother to stop smiling. The whisper has become a gentle hum in the distance Small things start to take your notice. When was it that you started feeling so comfortable with someone holding your hand, like an old friend, as you negotiate to buy something that caught your fancy? Now you feel snubbed if they don’t. Do you remember when that hawker stopped trying to sell you watches and just simply said ‘good morning’? Do you remember how you treated him the first few days? He has forgiven you. Don’t worry, further on in your life journey with Bali you will learn how he forgave you so easily and take it home with you. Something to treasure forever. The gentle hum is now a deafening roar, just around the next bend. Sitting on the beach, you are surrounded by the same group of people that have joined you every day at this time. They giggle at the colour of your skin and the bits you are prepared to show. They chat like they have known you all your life Then it hits you You have told them everything about yourself…and they cared They have, in their own way, told you everything about themselves as well. It was just up to you to see it and hear it. The last thing you feel and hear as you doze off into a massage induced sleep, is a light tap on your shoulder ‘You come visit my home before you leave’ The deafening roar is now a powerful raging waterfall. As you spill over the edge, you smile. The maelstrom that is Bali swallows you forever. And you couldn’t be happier Then….reality bites. You’ve gotta go home.
Drifting Drifting Drifting…. Each day as you awaken you, as do I, begin to process the many things that the day holds. Work, school for kids, traffic, unfinished chores and so much more. But how long does it take you before you begin to drift with your thoughts? For some it will be as you put the kettle on, others stay focused until the kids leave for school, even more will be at work for an hour or two before the inevitable moment. But it strikes us all. When does Paradise enter your day?
For me it varies. Sometimes the stress of the coming day keeps it at bay for hours, sometimes it is that stress that takes me there. Fleeting thoughts of wonderful moments spent in a place that I love, followed by visions of my next visit. I dream of sitting in markets laughing and sharing time with the locals, of holding hands with my children as we cross a busy street. I dream of sunsets shared with newfound friends and Sundays on the beach watching the locals at rest. I recall tentative handshakes as I meet the staff at a hotel for the first time, then warm hugs and heartfelt goodbyes as we leave weeks later, not knowing when we’ll return. My thoughts often drift to the street vendors that work so hard for our attention, then, after a few days, accept that we will just say hello as we pass by. Laying back on a lounge around the pool brings different sensations again. From that warm comfortable feeling of just simply being there, to the wonderous drowsy moments where the sounds of languages melting together, along with the happiness of travellers from near and far blend to sooth away your now forgotten stresses. In the short moments when you open your eyes you spy jet streams far into the sky as kindred spirits follow their own dreams traversing the globe. Closer to you, the noise of a turboprop aircraft fades through on its island hopping route, impossibly missing the massive kite that seems to have been hanging so high in the sky since soon after dawn. All too soon you are fully awake. Work and home are a world away and your tummy has decided to partake in what Bali has to offer. Hmmm, pool service or hit the streets? “Nasi Goreng, Gado Gado, Sate Ayam, a Bintang and a cocktail list please” “ ‘Ma kasih Mate” We can hit the streets tonight ;-) As you amble out that evening you find that all is as it should be. Hawkers touting for business, transport teams working every line they can on you, Ibu looking to catch your eye and make her last sale for the day…and all they seem to get back is that lazy smile that tells them you have been before…and would not miss this part for the world. Yet, still they will try ;-)
A restaurant catches your eye. An old favourite or recently opened? It doesn’t matter. You aren’t that hungry, just in need of a drink maybe? Before you know it though you’ve ordered a main course each and the cocktails are being mixed just a few metres away. Oh well, your resistance is fading fast. But who cares? Some hours later you resume your walk, wondering all the while what to do with your new CD collection that you have just purchased. More importantly, will you remember to pick up the bracelets you ordered and paid for between your Dessert and Coffee? Last trip you said you wouldn’t do that again!!!!! The gentle stroll after your meal leaves you happy, tired, ready to turn in. As you walk past the small shops and Warungs, many of which are now closed, you notice the small laneways between them. A new Bali appears in your mind. What happens down those little laneways between the shops and Warungs on the main streets. Who is down there? Should I go down and say hello? Only you can answer that. Strolling through reception you find your key being handed to you without asking. The staff already knows your room number and you mumble your grateful thanks through a stifled yawn. A turn of the key, a gentle push and the crisp cool air washes over you as you step through your door to an awaiting slumber. Drifting off, you recall all the nights that you fell asleep and dreamed of being right where you are now. Tonight you can have a dreamless sleep. Unless of course………this was all just another dream!!!!!!
My Final Poem for this book is a very deserving tribute. A wonderful man named Barrie (Smudge) Smith who was a tireless worker for the children of the village of Munti Gunung in northeast Bali. Smudge was a retired British prison guard that moved to Bali to live the dream and found a new passion saving the children of this village from poverty. He worked to raise funds for schooling costs, medical costs…. even teaching them to swim. It’s impossible to describe here the work that he did. I did get the opportunity to go to the village and see his work and was amazed by the achievements he and his team had made.
A Hero for our Time On an island filled with beauty There are problems tucked away But as long as they’re not mentioned Then a problem they will stay But there are some that seek to tell us How these problems can be fixed And they give every waking moment To fixing the problems of these kids Hero’s they don’t wish to be They just know what’s right from wrong The people pray and offer to their gods For these hero’s to come along They come in all shapes and sizes Come from all around the globe I’ve met one called Barrie On this island he calls home He’s not sure how it started He just knows it has to be done He walked straight into the battle Not knowing if it could be won He’s slowly making ground now But we could give him a little nudge So let’s all throw our weight behind A Hero we call Smudge R.I.P. mate…..we all miss you
Well….there it is. That’s a bit of my story….a bit of my Australia. I hope you’ve enjoyed it and I look forward to writing and telling more stories in the near future. In the mean time C.B.E. (Cheers Big Ears)
Cracker Cracker---The Suburban Bush Poet