Banjoesque
Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2016 5:02 pm
Banjoesque
I’ve never owned a horse or swag or waltzed a muddy track,
I’ve never milked a cow or shorn a sheep
I’ve never sent a son to war to fret for his return
I’ve never ploughed a field or fished the deep.
I’ve never lost a home to flood or watched its timbers burn,
I’ve never faced an arrow, gun or spear.
I’ve never been the victim of a bully’s rants and taunts,
I’ve never huddled trembling in fear.
So where can inspiration grow to write an Aussie tale,
(I’m really not much into woe and strife)
I know no dogs on master’s grave that pine away to death,
or flooded creeks that took a luckless life.
I’d rather chat of things I’ve seen within the world I know,
the way that our great Banjo did so well.
He drew from life around him and the way it was ‘back then’
and made us want to go back there to dwell.
In Banjo’s ilk I’ll scribble down the things of everyday,
and note well unexpected turn and twist,
I’ll tweak the mundane to engage some interest in my tale
to entertain the reader is my gist.
There’ll be a touch of sadness which will make my hero strong,
a moral message subtly conveyed,
with wit and Aussie idioms I’ll draw the reader in -
my poetry in tidy rows arrayed.
Banjo’s passion centred ‘round the bushman and his stock
and even though I do hale from the bush,
my life today is desk and screen and deadlines quite unfair
and sipping coffee on a spreading ‘toosh’!
And so I must as fits my life just draw on what I see,
I look around at people where I work
Maybe a tale will show itself quite unexpectedly
an incident or funny office quirk.
My pen will fly across the page – Oh yes! I have the start…
Office Mayhem
“Stop the shredder!” came the cry
as Hilda flew in panic o’re the desk,
I’ve never owned a horse or swag or waltzed a muddy track,
I’ve never milked a cow or shorn a sheep
I’ve never sent a son to war to fret for his return
I’ve never ploughed a field or fished the deep.
I’ve never lost a home to flood or watched its timbers burn,
I’ve never faced an arrow, gun or spear.
I’ve never been the victim of a bully’s rants and taunts,
I’ve never huddled trembling in fear.
So where can inspiration grow to write an Aussie tale,
(I’m really not much into woe and strife)
I know no dogs on master’s grave that pine away to death,
or flooded creeks that took a luckless life.
I’d rather chat of things I’ve seen within the world I know,
the way that our great Banjo did so well.
He drew from life around him and the way it was ‘back then’
and made us want to go back there to dwell.
In Banjo’s ilk I’ll scribble down the things of everyday,
and note well unexpected turn and twist,
I’ll tweak the mundane to engage some interest in my tale
to entertain the reader is my gist.
There’ll be a touch of sadness which will make my hero strong,
a moral message subtly conveyed,
with wit and Aussie idioms I’ll draw the reader in -
my poetry in tidy rows arrayed.
Banjo’s passion centred ‘round the bushman and his stock
and even though I do hale from the bush,
my life today is desk and screen and deadlines quite unfair
and sipping coffee on a spreading ‘toosh’!
And so I must as fits my life just draw on what I see,
I look around at people where I work
Maybe a tale will show itself quite unexpectedly
an incident or funny office quirk.
My pen will fly across the page – Oh yes! I have the start…
Office Mayhem
“Stop the shredder!” came the cry
as Hilda flew in panic o’re the desk,