AND IN THE MORNING THE CURRAWONGS SING
Posted: Fri Apr 22, 2011 6:04 pm
AND IN THE MORNING THE CURRAWONGS SING
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7O3uge2OTl8
He sat watching the morning sunrise, waving off clustering bush flies,
pulled a feathered lure and hook from his Akubras stained sweat band…………
He’d made his camp by the river in a green and grassy meadow
‘neath the boughs of casuarinas and the stately iron bark trees.
His blackened billy was boiling, with the steaming water roiling
and he threw in for added flavour a gum leaf with the tea.
There were mushrooms, bacon,‘taters, plenty left over for later,
if a quick snack was then fancied as the morning whiled away.
He could make a bacon sanger – even grill some extra bangers
with tomato sauce and crusty rolls - a feast, I hear you say.
‘Twas the long weekend of Easter – and this year it was a long one
for Anzac Day was in the mix, a day of national pride.
Old Diggers are heavy drinkers, but this one was using sinkers
on a line with bait attached and fishing out on the Callide.
In the west shire of Banana where Leith Hays – a local farmer
used an old dun coloured bullock to lure others to his side,
that was back in 1850 – a plan of action somewhat nifty.
The Bullock was called Banana, for the colour of his hide.
Old Jim the fishing digger – had his stubbies and a jigger
full of Bundy, that he planned to use to toast his long gone mates.
No longer a marching soldier, his old bones had got much older
Each year he honoured the fallen – saw no call to celebrate.
But he well recalled the summer,marching to a beating drummer
down the streets of Sydney to the quay. All the young men on parade
with all the other blokes departing, leaving home, their plans imparting.
Every house across the country had maps of fighting zones displayed.
So today he sat there fishing, recalling the dead and missing,
thinking of his Brother Toby a young bloke lost to his home,
and country and dear ones, one of Australia’s heroes unsung
who rested on foreign shores now , in a different countries loam.
Then he felt the hand line jerking, and soon old Jim was working
pretty hard to pull the line in from the Callide waters brown.
He had caught a Yellow Belly – his old legs had gone to jelly
and he whispered ‘ Toby this one’s yours’ - whilst his heart settled down.
He raised his glass and toasted – all the men long gone, and boasted
to a brother long departed ‘this sure beats the one you caught.
But I’d gladly pass up fishing ‘cause it’s you Mate that I’m missing
and I guess you’d know that when Mum got the news – she was distraught.
The old fellow threw the towel in – found him behind the shed howling
like a baby, Mate I tell you that sure came as a surprise.
For a bloke as tough as leather who always held it together.
Well it fair shook me up to see tears falling from his eyes.
I drink a toast here to my Brother and my Father and my Mother.
all of you were bloody heroes'; Jim saluted with his hand.
Maureen Clifford © 04/11
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7O3uge2OTl8
He sat watching the morning sunrise, waving off clustering bush flies,
pulled a feathered lure and hook from his Akubras stained sweat band…………
He’d made his camp by the river in a green and grassy meadow
‘neath the boughs of casuarinas and the stately iron bark trees.
His blackened billy was boiling, with the steaming water roiling
and he threw in for added flavour a gum leaf with the tea.
There were mushrooms, bacon,‘taters, plenty left over for later,
if a quick snack was then fancied as the morning whiled away.
He could make a bacon sanger – even grill some extra bangers
with tomato sauce and crusty rolls - a feast, I hear you say.
‘Twas the long weekend of Easter – and this year it was a long one
for Anzac Day was in the mix, a day of national pride.
Old Diggers are heavy drinkers, but this one was using sinkers
on a line with bait attached and fishing out on the Callide.
In the west shire of Banana where Leith Hays – a local farmer
used an old dun coloured bullock to lure others to his side,
that was back in 1850 – a plan of action somewhat nifty.
The Bullock was called Banana, for the colour of his hide.
Old Jim the fishing digger – had his stubbies and a jigger
full of Bundy, that he planned to use to toast his long gone mates.
No longer a marching soldier, his old bones had got much older
Each year he honoured the fallen – saw no call to celebrate.
But he well recalled the summer,marching to a beating drummer
down the streets of Sydney to the quay. All the young men on parade
with all the other blokes departing, leaving home, their plans imparting.
Every house across the country had maps of fighting zones displayed.
So today he sat there fishing, recalling the dead and missing,
thinking of his Brother Toby a young bloke lost to his home,
and country and dear ones, one of Australia’s heroes unsung
who rested on foreign shores now , in a different countries loam.
Then he felt the hand line jerking, and soon old Jim was working
pretty hard to pull the line in from the Callide waters brown.
He had caught a Yellow Belly – his old legs had gone to jelly
and he whispered ‘ Toby this one’s yours’ - whilst his heart settled down.
He raised his glass and toasted – all the men long gone, and boasted
to a brother long departed ‘this sure beats the one you caught.
But I’d gladly pass up fishing ‘cause it’s you Mate that I’m missing
and I guess you’d know that when Mum got the news – she was distraught.
The old fellow threw the towel in – found him behind the shed howling
like a baby, Mate I tell you that sure came as a surprise.
For a bloke as tough as leather who always held it together.
Well it fair shook me up to see tears falling from his eyes.
I drink a toast here to my Brother and my Father and my Mother.
all of you were bloody heroes'; Jim saluted with his hand.
Maureen Clifford © 04/11
and seems now more and more Australians think that our men should be bought home and hopefully the dogs of war as well - but don't get me started on that. 