|
|
| |
|
Dad - When he was Young
|
| |
In memory of my father.
Murray Herbert Rodger
November 1929 - December 2007
I was born in this town and grew up to seek
a view of the mountains o'er Flodden's Creek
Times were so good and the Rodger name
meant seeing our cousins so many we claim
Dinners at home 'round big table with all
uncles and aunts; Dad and Alan were both tall
then there was Linda and Ony and Lulu
plus all of the cousins we must count them too
Our lives were just simple and busy you see
growing up fast doing chores were the key
in learning to plough, sow and to shear
sheep farming we did with lots of good care
Bob, John and me with sisters Flo and Noni
we'd all get atop of the wagon with pony
now off to Tap' to the schoolyard we'd be
learn to read books and write more you see
But come the end of day with pony to ride
we'd pick up the bread but had to just hide
the loaves in the drains on the way home
'cause a chore just meant someone would moan
Of course mum would go mad, we'd run for the hill
come supper she'd get her revenge more then still
we thought it was funny until Pop walked right in
and knew by his look we'd committed a sin
The cow paddock was one place where we were sent
to cut down the thistles and nothing more spent
just Bob and me with sickle in hand
but I let mine go swiftly and where should it land?
It hit poor Bob on his neck I could see
he yelled at me hard "I think you've killed me!"
like brothers we got into our share of fights
but over the years we didn't loose sight
One day in our wisdom we dreamt up a scheme
to Aussie by plane and check out the scene
but Pop said to us wait until ploughing is done
then off you can go but we never found the sun
I went to the city and learned a good trade
Bob went to the works for the money he made
John stayed on the farm for a while more
and the girls went off to learn lots galore
There once was a time and Oreti's the place
down on a bike to watch the Indian race
but on the way back we near met our fate
for a car pulled out on the Milton straight
my days are all numbered I had quite a scare
but South Island Motors was home and soon near
Then Noni needed a house for her budgie one day
I locked them all out of the workshop to stay
with hammer and nails I made it a cage
nothing flash but she loved it, now lets turn the page
I've made a sledge for the snow out of mums good chair
and filled myself silly with cherry plums to be fair
took a hospital bed to see me get right
even later when falling from pony with fright
Broke my arm back then but nothing like this
its time to take leave and issue a kiss
for here I will sleep and rest bones of old
so cherish my life into loves kind hold.
|
|
|
