Remembering Mervyn Lawrence Webster
Posted: Mon Nov 29, 2010 6:08 pm
My dad was a great lover of bush poetry and a member of the ABPA. He first joined me on a trip out to Winton in around 1976 for The Australian Championships.
Over the years he joined Chris and I performing in our show on many occassions. He was also a member of the North Pine Bush Poets.
Sadly he passed away in 2006 and is sadly missed.
A LIFETIME FULL OF MEMORIES
My heart is rather heavy as I pen these words today;
I said goodbye to my dear dad; my mate … as some might say.
Those last few hours I shared with him rekindled in my mind
a warm parade of memories. They weren’t too hard to find.
The mellow little whistle that would echo down our street,
announcing it was Pay Day and dad had a little treat.
To just of lad of tender years it meant the world you see;
dad sharing snack block chocolate with my mum and Sal and me.
In fifty-six I do recall when dad was asked to run
a stretch with the Olympic flame and shared in all the fun.
He loved to do gymnastics and played hockey for a spell
and Refereed in Rugby League; I Ball-boyed too as well.
Dad joined us playing Rounders with the neigbour’s kids in Ayr
and loved his backyard cricket, though his stumpings were not fair.
“Your out!” he’d cry “I’ve stumped you!” but later on I found
he never had the ball in hand; he’d dropped it on the ground.
All children get their hand–me-downs and I would get one too;
old ‘Raddish’, dad’s free wheeler, but refurbished and bright blue.
It served me well that bike of mine for many years to come
and sure appreciated that beaut gift from dad and mum.
Then came those awkward teenage years where kids start reaching out
and seeking independence, that brings parents grief no doubt.
The long hair and the earring had my poor dad asking me
if I’d changed my manly habits and I now sat down to pee.
But when at times I found I’d lost my way down some rough road,
dad showed his understanding and he helped me share my load.
And even through my married years if things got rather grim
I always knew that dad was there, that I could turn to him.
In years of late we found the time to share a common path
our love of sharing rhyming verse and making people laugh.
Dad often joined both Chris and I, performing in our show
at Tamworth or at Camooweal, wherever we might go.
So thank you for a lifetime full of memories dear dad,
I‘ll treasure them forever; all those good times that we had.
So rest until the trumpet calls and then we‘ll share once more
the life that God intended, the one he has in store.
© Merv Webster Bush Poet and Balladeer.
Over the years he joined Chris and I performing in our show on many occassions. He was also a member of the North Pine Bush Poets.
Sadly he passed away in 2006 and is sadly missed.
A LIFETIME FULL OF MEMORIES
My heart is rather heavy as I pen these words today;
I said goodbye to my dear dad; my mate … as some might say.
Those last few hours I shared with him rekindled in my mind
a warm parade of memories. They weren’t too hard to find.
The mellow little whistle that would echo down our street,
announcing it was Pay Day and dad had a little treat.
To just of lad of tender years it meant the world you see;
dad sharing snack block chocolate with my mum and Sal and me.
In fifty-six I do recall when dad was asked to run
a stretch with the Olympic flame and shared in all the fun.
He loved to do gymnastics and played hockey for a spell
and Refereed in Rugby League; I Ball-boyed too as well.
Dad joined us playing Rounders with the neigbour’s kids in Ayr
and loved his backyard cricket, though his stumpings were not fair.
“Your out!” he’d cry “I’ve stumped you!” but later on I found
he never had the ball in hand; he’d dropped it on the ground.
All children get their hand–me-downs and I would get one too;
old ‘Raddish’, dad’s free wheeler, but refurbished and bright blue.
It served me well that bike of mine for many years to come
and sure appreciated that beaut gift from dad and mum.
Then came those awkward teenage years where kids start reaching out
and seeking independence, that brings parents grief no doubt.
The long hair and the earring had my poor dad asking me
if I’d changed my manly habits and I now sat down to pee.
But when at times I found I’d lost my way down some rough road,
dad showed his understanding and he helped me share my load.
And even through my married years if things got rather grim
I always knew that dad was there, that I could turn to him.
In years of late we found the time to share a common path
our love of sharing rhyming verse and making people laugh.
Dad often joined both Chris and I, performing in our show
at Tamworth or at Camooweal, wherever we might go.
So thank you for a lifetime full of memories dear dad,
I‘ll treasure them forever; all those good times that we had.
So rest until the trumpet calls and then we‘ll share once more
the life that God intended, the one he has in store.
© Merv Webster Bush Poet and Balladeer.
