Reflections Of A Day In Childhood
Posted: Thu Sep 20, 2012 7:31 am
Reflections Of A Day In Childhood
Story By John Cavanagh
Written by Bob Pacey ( C )
I remember those cold winter days and the noises of the night
by the fireplace bright and glowing dingoes howling out of sight.
Happy family times they were just telling yarns and giving cheek
we hear possums scurry on the roof and the roar of flooded Nulla creek.
Sweet fresh oranges we dined on with fireplace embers warm and bright
the dogs outside were growling as the roos thumped through the night.
Dads voice echoes as the day breaks, "Boys up and at them" was the call
milky tea and buttered toast sometimes fresh damper, best of all.
Running through the frosty dawn the cows we turn towards the shed
the warmth of fresh dropped cow pads on our bare feet, cold and red.
Each on their stumps out in the shed the feel of teats so soft like silk
tiny fingers squeeze and buckets fill with fresh and creamy milk.
With aching arms the churnings done the cream so white and thick
skim milk poured into the slop drums where pigs muzzle, grunt and lick.
Mum helps to clean the dairy we scrap the cowbails, oh such fun!
laughter mingles with the banter scraping , sweeping, till its done.
With the chores all done we settle down breakfast toast so brown and gold
a day of school looms up ahead what adventures it will hold.
Yes times were hard and tough but happy memories each and every day
the reflections of my childhood with me will always stay.
John is getting on now and occassionally we meet, He was one of my first bosses in the early supermarket days.
Hopefully he will share more memories with me in the future.
Story By John Cavanagh
Written by Bob Pacey ( C )
I remember those cold winter days and the noises of the night
by the fireplace bright and glowing dingoes howling out of sight.
Happy family times they were just telling yarns and giving cheek
we hear possums scurry on the roof and the roar of flooded Nulla creek.
Sweet fresh oranges we dined on with fireplace embers warm and bright
the dogs outside were growling as the roos thumped through the night.
Dads voice echoes as the day breaks, "Boys up and at them" was the call
milky tea and buttered toast sometimes fresh damper, best of all.
Running through the frosty dawn the cows we turn towards the shed
the warmth of fresh dropped cow pads on our bare feet, cold and red.
Each on their stumps out in the shed the feel of teats so soft like silk
tiny fingers squeeze and buckets fill with fresh and creamy milk.
With aching arms the churnings done the cream so white and thick
skim milk poured into the slop drums where pigs muzzle, grunt and lick.
Mum helps to clean the dairy we scrap the cowbails, oh such fun!
laughter mingles with the banter scraping , sweeping, till its done.
With the chores all done we settle down breakfast toast so brown and gold
a day of school looms up ahead what adventures it will hold.
Yes times were hard and tough but happy memories each and every day
the reflections of my childhood with me will always stay.
John is getting on now and occassionally we meet, He was one of my first bosses in the early supermarket days.
Hopefully he will share more memories with me in the future.