Homwork (take two) 'The lastGoodbye'
Posted: Tue Dec 11, 2018 11:09 pm
The Last Goodbye
Now it’s faded memories we cling to at the old bush halls,
for the silent tread of long brave dead still echo through their walls.
Gone is the dawn of our golden youth and gone are small towns too,
swept away by hopeless, wasteful war - the life that we once knew.
Never more the strains of an old bush band will lift this pall of gloom,
though the aged gas lamps are hanging still from walls of each ballroom,
where the young ones danced the night away on waxed rough jarrah floors;
now it’s only hollow silence, that awaits beyond these doors.
There are ghostly streets in countless towns where seldom footsteps pass,
And the empty shops stare eerily through dust smeared panes of glass.
Like a last goodbye to those young men who sailed away to war,
monuments in every town - record the pain this county bore.
©T.E. Piggott
Now it’s faded memories we cling to at the old bush halls,
for the silent tread of long brave dead still echo through their walls.
Gone is the dawn of our golden youth and gone are small towns too,
swept away by hopeless, wasteful war - the life that we once knew.
Never more the strains of an old bush band will lift this pall of gloom,
though the aged gas lamps are hanging still from walls of each ballroom,
where the young ones danced the night away on waxed rough jarrah floors;
now it’s only hollow silence, that awaits beyond these doors.
There are ghostly streets in countless towns where seldom footsteps pass,
And the empty shops stare eerily through dust smeared panes of glass.
Like a last goodbye to those young men who sailed away to war,
monuments in every town - record the pain this county bore.
©T.E. Piggott