I wonder does time heal scars?

[william williams]

you all know that I have trouble with rhyme rhythem and metre but this is what I have written trying to portray the feeling of this woman and an old swaggy who she vagely thinks she remembers
So what do you think

I wonder does time heal scars

I’m gunna do it tomorra, that’s what the old bloke said.
I’m gunna be a great man again, that’s what the dero said.
I’m gunna chop your wood, that’s what the old man said.
I’m gunna change me ways, that’s what that fella said.

My mother gave him clean clothes left over from my dad
She said, there kinda battered, but were the best that she had
The coppers in the back yard, there’s a tub behind the shed
So scrub up in the tub old chap, and then you will be fed

At the table we sat, mum, me sister and me made three, plus he.
Mutton from the night before, spuds an onions that’s for tea,
there was damper and treacle, along with a mug of billy tea.
but before we ate, he bowed his head, saying words that flowed free.

The meal was eaten and dishes done and he strode straight to the door
and grabbed the axe and to the wood heap he started on that chore
He split it up though slowly, stacking it neatly by the door
And he asked my mother politely, if he could sleep in the stable straw

He slept that night in the stable, with a horse in the other stall.
My mother sadly found him laying dead, in a blanket by the wall
The ambulance came and took him from that stall
Seems he was a soldier of great repute, a man who’d fought them all

My Mother thought him familiar, and a tear rolled down her cheek
when she found a battered picture laying on the ground
Oh she cried in tears of sorrow for she could hardly speak
‘twas a picture of her mother and a soldier who was her brother!
And now her brothers battle, has finally been won

Written by Bill Williams 27th December 2010 ©

[Maureen K Clifford]

Hi Bill

I think this should be a separate post as it doesn't appear to relate to Micks poem on Ellen Kelly

I like that it is a great yarn though I think the last verse does not do it justice because you loose the rhyme. Also in a couple of verses you have used the same word at the end of each line which I think you could have overcome with a little more thought

So had a fiddle and wondered instead of

My Mother stood in silence and a tear rolled down her cheek
when she found a battered picture laying on the ground
Oh she cried in tears of sorrow for she could hardly speak
‘twas a picture of her mother and a soldier who was her brother!
And her brothers battle, now, has finally been won.

would this work for you


We sat around the table and he joined Mum, Sis and me.
We fed on last nights mutton, spuds and onions happily,
for we also had fresh damper, treacle, strong black Billy tea
and before we ate, he bowed his head, saying words that flowed free.

The meal was eaten, dishes done, he strode straight to the door
and grabbed the axe, went to the wood heap starting on the chore
of wood splitting. He worked slowly, neatly, stacked it on the floor,
then asked my mother politely, could he sleep in the stable straw.

He slept that night in the stable, with a horse in the other stall.
My mother sadly found him dead, blanket wrapped by the wall.
The ambulance came and took him, we then discovered from their call
that he had been a young brave soldier man. One who had fought for us all.

My Mother stood in silence and tear rolled down her cheek
and she cried great tears of sorrow for she could hardly speak
for she'd found a battered picture cast aside upon the ground,
it was a picture of her Mother - seems her brother now she'd found.

Cheers

Maureen

[william williams]

thanks Maureen I suppose it is more a reciters poem (tale)

the last verse in particular I have tried to portray the chaps Demons that he had after the war and he drifted away from his family for many many years and not wanting them to know just what he had become and to come home to his sisters at last and die in piece

I’ve told that tale as though it was me telling it and in my voice I try to even give a bit of resentment when I say At the table we sat, mum, me sister and me made three, plus he.
Emphasizing Plus he as though you resent him which many bush kids did to strangers
and I did change the subject to does time heal scars

[Heather]

It's as though the old swaggie has "come home" at last. I wonder if he knew it was his sister?

I don't get the impression from the poem that the lady thinks he is familiar. Maybe you could add a little something in that regard.

It's a good yarn Bill and I like the story.

Heather

[william williams]

I've changed a little see what you think now Heather

Bill the old Battler

[Heather]

That gets the picture across Bill. I reckon, if I can stick my bib in here - that there is an opportunity here for you to rhyme ground in the last stanza with found - as in long lost brother found. What do you reckon Bill?

Heather