Sometimes I Forget
by Merv Webster ~ Bargara, Queensland
As I peer into the gidyea coals before me
there are memories that drift back into mind.
Yes I see your laughing blue eyes oh so clearly
and your sweet smile surely was one of a kind.
I still feel my arms around you as we danced dear
too the time I kissed you out behind the hall.
But the time we both walked down the aisle together
is the memory I treasure most of all.
But then Annie when I turn to share those moments
how your absence leaves me sitting here upset.
As the fact you fell to cancer still slips by me.
and some times dear Annie � some times � I forget
Still the fire�s dancing sparks that rise before me
tend to bring to mind the children that we reared.
How you taught them right from wrong throughout their childhood
whilst your tender nurturing showed me you cared.
And the vision of you standing in the kitchen
with your fav�rite apron strapped around your waist.
Brings a tear as I recall the cakes and biscuits
that our family just couldn�t wait to taste.
But then Annie when I turn to share those moments
how your absence leaves me sitting here upset.
As the fact you fell to cancer still slips by me.
and some times dear Annie � some times � I forget
As my hands reach out to feel the glowing embers
it reminds me of the home we made our own.
Yes I know you found it hard when all the children
had to leave our nest as they were now full grown.
But together we would travel this great country
and would share the beauty of this bounteous land.
We would often share a fire like this together;
share a cuppa and would hold each other�s hand.
But then Annie when I turn to share those moments
how your absence leaves me sitting here upset.
As the fact you fell to cancer still slips by me.
and some times dear Annie � some times � I forget
�2009, Merv Webster
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Down On Dogs And Ducks
by Merv Webster ~ Bargara, Queensland
You ask me why I'm playing here in Tamworth's street today;
well simply put some best-laid plans can sadly go astray.
The box guitar I'd played for years was looking rather beat,
so thought I'd earn a dollar mate by singing in the street.
That's when I saw beside me this Lion's raffle being run;
a duck race worth a thousand bucks; a truly tidy sum.
Of course I bought a ticket, 'cause I had in mind a scheme
to win that race so I could buy my long awaited dream.
My plan was using a pet carp that I'd bought for a steal
and figured when those plastic ducks were let loose on the Peel
I'd give that fish the drum you see what number to seek out
and he would guide my floating friend to victory no doubt.
I had it in the bag for sure I simply couldn't lose,
so ducked down to the music shop and then began to choose.
I'd have to max my credit card, but what the heck I thought,
tomorrow's win will soon pay off this Taky that I bought.
The crowds were gathered long the Peel that balmy summers day
and then the starters gun went off; those ducks were on their way.
That's when I clued my pet carp up and let the old mate go
and prayed like mad he'd find my duck and take him undertow.
He found him straight away of course and took him to the lead
and ducked around the floating sticks and lots of slimy weed.
But then he hit a submerged log and things were looking grim
as ducks now in there hundreds were all closing in on him.
Then as they drew beside him he then nudged him free at last
and once again he took the lead and swam near twice as fast.
The crowds were cheering wildly but not as loud as me
just three more metres left to go and we had victory.
But from amidst the cheering crowd emerged this ball of fur,
that jumped into the flowing stream and then that mongrel curr,
he grabbed my little yellow duck and disappeared from sight
and suddenly I kissed my dream and win that day goodnight.
So that is why I'm playing in the street from morn to dark,
as paying off that credit card is looking rather stark.
Don't ask me though to sing a song about a dog or duck
'cause you've got Buckleys chance old son you're simply out of luck.
�2009, Merv Webster
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hard Hat Heroes
by Merv Webster ~ Bargara, Queensland
There's a breed of Aussie hero who has served this nation well
and they don a yellow uniform to face the fires of hell.
When day temperatures are soaring and the high winds blow a gust,
and our bushland is ignited it's in them we place our trust.
Yes, you're all somebody's daughter and you're all somebody's son,
you are mothers and you're fathers: hard-hat heroes everyone.
When their mates are in the hot seat and they need a helping hand,
they will volunteer their services from stations 'cross this land.
Whether country towns or cities or a rural fire brigade,
they will gladly throw their hats in and will offer their mates aide.
Yes, you're all somebody's daughter and you're all somebody's son,
you are mothers and you're fathers: hard-hat heroes everyone.
Do you owe your home or property, your very lives perhaps,
to the selfless, honest efforts of these bold fire-fighting chaps?
Or still sadly you lost everything, but proudly can attest
to their fierce determination as each brave soul did their best.
Yes, you're all somebody's daughter and you're all somebody's son,
you are mothers and you're fathers: hard-hat heroes everyone.
So I ask you all to join me as we stand and raise a glass
to the courage and the spirit of this fire-fighting class.
And I'm sure you'd love to join me as this message we impart,
"You're such true blue hard hat heroes and we thank you from the heart."
Yes, you're all somebody's daughter and you're all somebody's son,
you are mothers and you're fathers: hard-hat heroes everyone.
�2009, Merv Webster
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's Second Best To Heaven Mate
by Merv Webster ~ Bargara, Queensland
We enjoy the many places, �round this great big land we roam
and we love to share the laughter and the tears of this our home.
We have told our tales in hotels and in tourist parks each night
and at many Music Musters, where it�s been a sheer delight.
But the thing that we love most of all, between the gigs we do,
is relaxing by a waterhole, with nature in full view,
Then pulling out the fishing gear; our fav�rite chair as well.
Hey, it�s second best to Heaven mate; as far as I can tell.
Yes it�s second best to Heaven mate as far as I can tell
and to have the missus by your side is special too as well.
Even if she lands the most, with me that too is fine,
I�m just happy for the chance old son to stop and wet a line.
Like old Coster we�ve caught yellowbelly in the old Barcoo
and the Moonie River near St George supplied a jew or two.
We�ve pulled fish from out the Darling down at Tilpa and at Louth
and at Wentworth where it fin�lly joins the Murray further South.
We have grilled them on the open fire or fried them in a pan
like the pioneers of old have done since settlement began.
There is nothing like a feed of fish; a tinny too as well.
Hey, it�s second best to Heaven mate; as far as I can tell.
Yes it�s second best to Heaven mate as far as I can tell
and to have the missus by your side is special too as well.
Even if she lands the most, with me that too is fine,
I�m just happy for the chance old son to stop and wet a line.
�2009, Merv Webster
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Today It Isn't So
by Merv Webster ~ Bargara, Queensland
The children clustered 'round him drawn like bees to nectarines,
For pleasant were his stories and they felt so much at ease;
His mates though thought them nuisances and should be chased away;
The stranger stated, "Leave us and become like them I say."
I guess you know the man who uttered these words years ago;
That stranger loved the children, but today it isn't so.
He saw in them an innocence, a trust, a shining light,
Though sadly, sick, sadistic, souls today betray that right.
You hear it on the tele and the tabloids break the news,
Another child has vanished and they're searching now for clues.
"I only sent her to the shop, 'twas stupid now I know,
'Twas always safe in my day, but today it isn't so.
So sick'ning is the spectacle and senseless, quite depraved;
The bruised and battered bodies etched, within my mind engraved.
Their loving is so natural and made to share around,
Then some mad mind betrays them for its chemistry's unsound.
We built our parks and playgrounds so we'd have somewhere to go
And share their joy and laughter, but today it isn't so.
"Don't say hello to strangers dear and hold onto my hand,
Refuse the sweets, refuse the rides, now do you understand?
'Cause bad folk they will hurt you dear, so walk with me to school
And I will pick you up at three, remember that's a rule."
"But mummy can I walk to school. Oh mummy don't say no!"
"In my day you might do that, but today it isn't so."
You see a child approaching near and go to say hello,
Then fear engulfs your feelings as you just don't really know,
If you may somehow undermine the things their parents said
And pass on by with a wry smile or simply nod your head.
Oh how it tears at heartstrings, for you only wish to show
That all mankind should love them, but today it isn't so.
They say within his stories, how the stranger did express,
His purpose was to change things and this earth would more or less
Be one day just like paradise where mankind would not prey
Upon defenseless offspring and that time was on its way.
Where if a child is questioned, "Are you frightened." They say "No!
We once had fear of strangers, but today it isn't so!"
�2007, Merv Webster
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A True Blue Homegrown Love Tale
by Merv Webster ~ Bargara, Queensland
I remember old Bill Shakespeare wrote a story years ago
about a girl called Juliet who loved this Romeo.
It would seem their getting married was opposed by one and all
and ended rather tragically I somehow do recall.
But Downunder we�ve a legend that I�d like to share with you
a tender lover�s story and what�s more folk it is true.
It was �round the nineteen thirties when two sweethearts took a stand
against the tribal customs of the people of their land.
Yes this tale is one of courage and survival at its best
where love wins out against all odds, survives each stringent test.
It�s a true blue homegrown love tale that will surely touch your sole,
about these two young people who lives get to play this role.
In the Gibson Desert Country of the Mandildjara tribe
dwelt Warri and Yatungka and these two you would describe
as truly star-crossed lovers, though by law their skin was wrong.
But these two tribal youngsters found their love was far too strong.
They would flee into the Desert to escape from tribal law
and live in isolation for some forty years or more.
And despite the harsh survival they raised children in that place,
But let them wander back in time to folk of their own race.
Yes this tale is one of courage and survival at its best
where love wins out against all odds, survives each stringent test.
It�s a true blue homegrown love tale that will surely touch your sole,
about these two young people who lives get to play this role.
But for Warri and Yatungka they could not go back again
for fear of being punished; so they stayed in that domain.
But the drought back in the seventies caused others now to send
a search party to seek them out; led by a childhood friend.
They would fin�lly find the couple, just in time too so they say,
and after reassuring them no harm would come their way.
They�d go back �mongst their people, where they both lived out their lives
and now within our Nation this amazing story thrives.
Yes this tale is one of courage and survival at its best
where love wins out against all odds, survives each stringent test.
It�s a true blue homegrown love tale that will surely touch your sole,
about these two young people who lives get to play this role.
�Merv Webster
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~