ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

John is a good friend from the days when I worked at a real job in the Supermarkets and is getting on a bit and wanted a poem to reflect on his childhood.

Reflections Of A Day In Childhood
Story By John Cavanagh

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 would 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 slops 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.

Bob Pacey ( C )

Good stuff, Bob. As a child, my early morning 'milk memories' are very different. The milkman's cart was pulled by an old Clydesdale, and I often woke to his clip-clopping on the cement street.

We lived on a steep hill which ran down to a T-intersection, and on two occasions the horse and cart crashed through the brick fence on the opposite side of the street.

By the way, just wondering, could you build a dairy industry on kangaroo milk?

I'm sorry Stephen but in that venture I'm afraid you would not be a BOUNDING success



bill w

been there and done that as a kid, we didn't have a dairy but we milked cows for our own use. The seventh stanza has me a bit confused though. I am wondering if the milk is being separated or the cream is being churned. The difference being, separating is when the cream and milk go through a separator and comes out skim through one pipe and the cream through the other, the churn on the other hand is turning cream into butter....both would make your arms ache if done manually. In later years when we got power, we had a motor on the separator but before that we used to have to wind the handle. Mum used to churn the butter in a Kenwood mixer!

Not sure about that verse Ross but John just gave me a jumbled lot of notes and I sort of put them into what I thought they related to ? he read the poem and has his copy and is happy with the result and is going to get it framed as a keepsake.


Job Done.

Bob

It's not that important Bob and I reckon you have done a pretty good job. If your mate is happy, I'm happy...

Yeah Ross that's the main thing, He is getting on now and has had a pretty varied life and just wanted to get some of his memories down in print I think .


This to me is sometimes more gratifying then getting a gong for a comp.

Cheers Bob