ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

This is the first poem of Dad's that I remember reading, he has always been a Banjo and Henry fan and we often had poetry readings at night as kids, but like most of us I suppose he kept his own stuff to himself for a long time, I always have thought this a great piece of poetry, and yes, it showed to me as a kid a softer side of a hard working ol' bushie!


“Our Last Meeting.”

© Earle Magnay 16/7/06

It was but a few months since I saw him,
he was well and as fit as could be,
he was my pal and companion,
and just like a brother to me.

He insisted we spend a night with him,
my wife our two sons and I,
we did and thank God for the memory
of that night when our spirits were high.

We talked of old friends and of places,
of people that both of us knew,
we talked of the bright sunny future,
and the things that we both hoped to do.

Yes we chatted on into the evening
enjoying each moment we spent,
‘til actually more of a habit,
said “Goodnight” and to bed we all went.

Then early the very next morning
as we were preparing to go,
said Eric, “Come let’s all go fishing,
it’s years since we’ve seen you, you know.”

So after a little persuasion
we consented to go for the day,
and the women made up a basket,
and we headed down to the bay.

We fished and we talked and we picnicked,
we really had such a nice day.
And now we say thanks for the memory,
of a pal who’s been taken away.

For that was the last time I saw him,
And sadly I have to relate,
that since then my pal and companion,
has fallen a victim of fate.

For I recently got a sad letter,
it gave me a terrible shock,
to learn that my pal had departed,
how I wish I could turn back the clock.


I just couldn’t believe that the cobber
I’d recently stayed with had died,
and so unashamed and unheeded,
for more than an hour I cried.

And where he’s gone is really a problem,
there are none of us really quite sure,
but we know that if there’s a Heaven,
that Eric is there with the pure.

And now that his troubles are over,
and he’s gone to a far better life.
I can’t help but think of his widow,
yes my sympathy’s all with his wife.

Now how did we come to bypass this one???? Beautiful words written by Earl Magnay - that points out in a subtle way the importance of keeping in touch with valued friends and family...so easy to relegate them to the back burner with all the pressures we seem to put on our time these days - thank you Ross for sharing your Dad's words with us. I wonder if Poetry is a genetic thing???

Maureen I do think there can be something genetic - in writing in general. I had a great great uncle who wrote novels under the name of John Wallace (his real surname was McQuinn but he legally changed his name). I never met him. My mother also has a talent for writing. My eldest daughter also has an (unused) talent, my youngest daughter is very advanced for her age in her writing skills and my middle daughter has written some poetry. I expect my youngest may take a career in journalism or some similar path. Perhaps it is the genes but maybe it is a combination of genes and the way we are brought up. I read a lot as a child and teenager and I read to my kids from when they were tiny babies. I suppose if you were in a musical family the same would happen.

Heather

Agree Heather my mob are the same..a Great Grandfather and a Grandfather who both wrote poetry, my youngest niece who can and has but doesn't or at least not the moment, and my son I am now seeing has a literary turn of phrase from the emails he is sending from Vietnam, wonderfully descriptive pieces with little video clips to go with them...the first time he has ever written at any length to his Mum. My Mum always says - good genes will out.

Makes you wonder how much good poetry is hidden away in attics doesn't it.

....does that mean I might be able to write one day?... ....I used to play drums in a country rock band...does that count as music?

If you practice hard Ross anything is possible.

Of course drums counts as music Ross as for country rock band , hmmmm

Great poem of your Dad's , Ross. I've lost two friends this year, I know what he means.

To get back to the poem !!! Gees I sound like Neville too now Marty.

A really nice read Ross and you must be as proud of him as i sure he is of you.

Thanks Mate.


Bob

Hello Ross,

Thank you for sharing your Dad

Poetry is treasure that is stored in a time capsule of a page.
Every family has there own way of filling the Treasure chest.

Thank you for sharing your treasure,


Eliza

Yes Marty, I have put at least one of Dads poems up before, I quizzed him about working horses....plough type that is, and when I told him I was writing a poem he decided he might too!... bit unfair I thought given that he used to work them and I was only going on his stories!

Actually Bob...he still is proud of his sons....all four of us, though we lost my younger brother a couple of months ago....I reckon he is still pretty proud of us...and so is Mum just by the way....we come from a line of long livers...livvers..survivors....

Thank you all for your kind comments!