Bill Harney ... Poetic tribute to J K Moir.
Posted: Sat Nov 05, 2016 6:06 pm
No doubt everybody would be familiar with the late Bill Harney. And maybe have a story or two to relate?
I have scanned two of his books taken from my library by way of illustration.
The following poem is Bill Harney's poetic tribute to J K Moir.
"474" refers to 474 Bridge Road Richmond where J K bought a disused pub and lived with his remarkable book and document collection until admitted to a private hospital.
Visitors were always welcomed with a beer and cheese.
Like most folk here, if I had been around in those wonderful days I would have spent many happy hours at 474 I am sure.
Amidst the tomes of bygone days I tread on a wooden floor,
Outside the trams go trundling by with a dull metallic roar,
But who can heed when he lives once more with the books of 474
A thousand books and a myriad dreams, with a City's noise outside,
I rub the cast of a poet's hand and a swagman's voice replied,
And a hundred ghosts came trooping in from “the days when the world was wide”.
Books all signed by their author's hand, weaving an old time spell,
Plaque and picture and inscribed jug ‘midst spears and an old horse bell
That maybe jangled bushland tunes by a now abandoned well……
Australia's past goes by me as I stand on a sacred floor.
And dream of the Central dry lands, when a knock comes on the door
And guests of the night come trooping in to a friendly 474.
Then J. K. smiles a greeting as they enter at the door.
Amidst good cheer with cheese and beer and ever rising roar
Dim hosts of ghosts join with us in the rooms of 474,
And mateships grow, and may it flow from here to evermore.
W.E (Bill) Harney
cheers, Gary
I have scanned two of his books taken from my library by way of illustration.
The following poem is Bill Harney's poetic tribute to J K Moir.
"474" refers to 474 Bridge Road Richmond where J K bought a disused pub and lived with his remarkable book and document collection until admitted to a private hospital.
Visitors were always welcomed with a beer and cheese.
Like most folk here, if I had been around in those wonderful days I would have spent many happy hours at 474 I am sure.
Amidst the tomes of bygone days I tread on a wooden floor,
Outside the trams go trundling by with a dull metallic roar,
But who can heed when he lives once more with the books of 474
A thousand books and a myriad dreams, with a City's noise outside,
I rub the cast of a poet's hand and a swagman's voice replied,
And a hundred ghosts came trooping in from “the days when the world was wide”.
Books all signed by their author's hand, weaving an old time spell,
Plaque and picture and inscribed jug ‘midst spears and an old horse bell
That maybe jangled bushland tunes by a now abandoned well……
Australia's past goes by me as I stand on a sacred floor.
And dream of the Central dry lands, when a knock comes on the door
And guests of the night come trooping in to a friendly 474.
Then J. K. smiles a greeting as they enter at the door.
Amidst good cheer with cheese and beer and ever rising roar
Dim hosts of ghosts join with us in the rooms of 474,
And mateships grow, and may it flow from here to evermore.
W.E (Bill) Harney
cheers, Gary