Our Mate Dave

[Zondrae]

It is always difficult to write a poem about someone you have known. I understand that I knew only one side of David and even then, it was such a small part of his world. I sincerely hope that those who knew him better than I did, will approve of this humble scribble. In memory of David Myers.

Our Mate Dave
© Zondrae King (Corrimal) 04/11

He was known for his bushy ginger moustache and his easy laconic way.
His departure was so very sudden there were no goodbys to say.
Just when and where I first met Dave I can’t make the pieces fit
but I know I heard him reciting with his laid back, Aussie wit.

Most probably he was MC-ing he was always landed with that.
He was never afraid of the spotlight, and mostly he wore his hat.
He was a willing to offer a helping hand with problems that arose.
His talents included singing, writing poetry, history and prose.

As I was leaving the stage one day, this memory is very clear,
Dave commented, over the microphone, how my poem had brought a tear.
“He listened”, I thought and it touched me. I know that not all MCs do.
This gave me a sense of belonging and a bit of encouragement too.

Another time I when was alone, he came and sat in the next seat.
He said “G’day” with a casual smile, then a wait, ‘til the act was complete.
He asked “That poem you did today, is it one you usually do?”
I asked him what he thought of it and told him that it was new.

You could see that he was considerate cause he paused before he spoke.
He looked at the ground for a moment then he gently cleared his throat.
“Went well.” he said, “You’ll do OK, if you keep on writing like that.”
As he rose to return to his partner, he gave my shoulder a pat.

I never did get to say thank you or tell him what that meant to me.
How he’d made me feel some acceptance in the festival ‘fraternity.’
So from then on at any occasion, when I saw his smiling face
I knew that his wit and his welcome would make me feel part of the place.

Quite often, I’d hear Dave in concert, when he struck his favourite pose,
recite that poem by Col Wilson of a vet pill and dog it should dose.
With his typical perfect timing, he’d deliver each line with ease
and he’d have the crowd in stitches. And they’re not that easy to please.

His talents and his intelligence were concealed by a modest smile
He played guitar and he sang a bit, this too, in his own special style.
He wrote history books and satire for those Shiny Bum Singer folk
and all I can say is - the David I knew, well - he was a bonzer bloke.

(I hope to be able to read this at the memorial at the National.)

[Neville Briggs]

Excellent Zondrae. Giving those little " snapshot " examples ( vignettes ) was the perfect choice to make a tribute. I hope you do get to read it out, it deserves to be read.

[worddancer]

Hi Zondrae,

These verses, so full of admiration and not just for a man, but also his generosity of spirit.
Thank you for sharing with someone who is only starting on the pathway.
Your spirit reflects his, in your own generosity to others.
Thank you

Worddancer

[Zondrae]

Thanks wroddancer, and Neville,

I have been able to read this poem at memorial concerts that have been given for David. At Laggan, Cobargo Folk Festival (I think) and The National Folk Festival. There was a lady at Laggan who is collecting, as much as she can of, not only David 's poems (There has been a book of his work already collectd and printed and it has sold like crazy) but also anything written in his memory. I was able to give her a copy to add to the pile. I believe this is going to the Queanbeyan Bush Poets archive.