An Airy End

Thundering above.

Both were spoiling for a fight,

With lots of push and shove.

He came at her, stiff and proud,

Fierce face quite absurd,

He flashed down from a cloud,

Yes, he was a bird!

She stood her ground, looking mean,

Sharpened claws ready,

He failed to brake or lean – or

Even steady.

Down, down he came, careless freak.

Heedless of his fate,

He opened wide his beak

And, oh, dear, mate!

Because he was just a sparrow,

Even though all heart,

Through the  lion, like an arrow

Out as a little…!

Richard was a man

With a nasty trick:

He lived by a nasty plan - to

Make people sick.

He also was extremely capable

Of seeing quite a-far.

Sadly, this was not debatable -

He really was the star.

How he did it, nobody knows,

People got ill in dozens and scores.

Aunties and cousins and folks without toes

Fell to his baleful, distance-ignoring, sickening blows.

While nobody twigged that he was the cause.

So, did this all mean

That people, as such, would end,

No matter if they were enemy or friend?

Would it just take time

Before all would be gone,

That there would be no one left on Earth

For me to befriend?

Well, no! Of course not!

That could never, ever be the decree.

Though we know there’s coming 

A getting-the-wind-up squall that’ll

Envelope us all - the ubiquitous CGP.

But, as you can see

I am here, quite well, and indefinitely me.

About Richard? And his sickness attack?

Did he achieve, for long, his horrible murderous spree?

No, he did not, his ailful glare in fact

Encircled the globe

And stabbed him in the back,

Just behind his temporal lobe. 

Too late he’d learned

What’s known by 

Even the lowliest worms -

And certainly by Old Nick -

Never dismiss such archaic terms as

Alas and alack!

And try your very best -

Whether God-fearing or ag-nos-tic -

To pass the gold litmus test -

And never be a Clever Dick.

Never be a Clever Dick.

3/12/23

Excitement was high, adrenalin flowing,

All around the faces were glowing.

Dozens - scores - hundreds streamed in

To the place, making a terrible din.

From Perth and Sydney, Brisbane, Adelaide, too,

And, I wouldn’t be surprised, from Woolloomooloo.

There they all were, some fat some thinner,

And Geoffrey was there to kiss the winner

Inside the building there was hubbub and noise,

Bevies of girls and plenty of boys.

Colour - sound - smells getting strong -

Everyone hoped it’d start before long!

Michael and Jenny, Geoff, Ruth, Ian and Sue

Made their way graciously to a reserved pew.

There they all were, some fat some thinner,

And Geoffrey was there to kiss the winner

The music began as our regal guests sat down,

On each head an invisible crown.

Seniors, Adults, Juveniles

Swept around and around with miles of smiles.

High up in their box the guests nodded and tapped,

Their expressions showing they were totally rapt.

There they all were, some fat some thinner,

And Geoffrey was there to kiss the winner

Out on the floor the place was coming alive,

Fox trot, rhumba, tango, waltz, jive.

Prancing, flouncing, spinning, arch,

Even a dramatic military march.

Lovely people, silken dresses and tresses,

Giving each other erotic caresses.

There they all were, some fat some thinner,

And Geoffrey was there to kiss the winner

Geoffrey was there to kiss the winner -

Poor Geoff.

But, as they say

Back in the day:

‘All winners are grinners,

‘Whether saints or sinners.’

(As long as the task - 

We shouldn’t have to ask -

Is succeeded by 

The very best of

Dinners!

…I want to

Put a cat among the pigeons

A flea in someone's ear,

Engage in a flight of fancy,

To sink some really small beer!

I want to sail across the seas

And plumb the ocean deep;

To do exactly as I please,

And have my beauty sleep!

Yes, I know these are all hackneyed phrases,

You know, the proverbial whatsisname,

But, no matter what you say, come what may,

It's OK by me, thanks all the same!

'Cos I want to

Fight the good fight, all ends up,

And have an axe to grind,

Know just how many beans make five,

To say, 'How terribly kind!'

I want a fair crack of the whip,

Come home on the pig's back;

Go on that fabulous trip -

But, of course, on the right track!

Yes, I know these are all hackneyed phrases,

You know, the proverbial whatsisname,

But, no matter what you say, come what may,

It's OK by me, thanks all the same!

…'Cos I want to

Burn the candle at both ends

And go from bad to worse,

Never 'be there always for my friends' -

Know it all, chapter and verse!

I want to drown the impossible dream

And never have enough,

Ford the deepest bloody stream

And to never give a stuff!

Yes, I know these are all hackneyed phrases,

You know, the proverbial whatsisname,

But, no matter what you say, come what may,

It's OK by me, thanks all the same!

…'Cos I want to!

Thanks, mate!

Macleod had a crowd

Of dogs one day,

Running here and there.

They’d done what wasn’t allowed –

Got out to play,

Owners unaware.

Ross came back 

No Cob, no Joe!

Alas!  Alack!

Oh woe, oh woe!

Up and down the streets he went,

Garbled prayers to heaven sent!

Language, no doubt, hell bent!

But he, like the dogs, on the scent!

Ross came back 

No Cob, no Joe!

Alas!  Alack!

Oh woe, oh woe!

First he found the younger pup,

Happy as a lark,

Playing with a buttercup (?) and

Puzzled at a tree’s rough bark.

Ross came back 

No Cob, just Joe!

Alas!  Alack!

Some woe, oh woe!

Then word came of number one –

Our story nears its climax –

Cobby was spotted on the run

Down at the barracks.

Ross came back 

Soon Cob? Still Joe!

Alas!  Alack!

Some woe, less woe!

There she was, with the troops,

Marching up and down,

Dropping stuff that needed scoops,

But now a dog of renown!

Ross came back 

Now Cobby and Joe!

Too much, too slack!

No woe to show!

And so it ends, this tale of tails,

Which I’ve had to relate,

If you don’t want any wails then

Lock that bloody gate!

Lock the gate, my son,

Lock the gate.

Lock the gate -

Don’t let them run.

Lock the gate,

Wherever you are,

Coz being dogless

Just ain’t fun.

No, being dogless

Just ain’t fun.

It just ain’t fun!

Oh, we are such lovely girls

We always want to please.

We always do our best

To help our families.

At home or up the street

We’re mother’s little helper,

And if baby gives a bleat

Most certainly we will whelp her.

Someone’s calling, calling to me.

Someone’s calling, but I’m deaf you see!

My Mummy is very sweet,

Very sweet to me. (Someone’s calling!)

She gives me all I want,

I’m happy as can be. (Someone’s calling!)

I’m just a little child,

Tender and a blessing.

Sometimes just a little wild –

Dispensing salad dressing!

Someone’s calling, calling to me.

Someone’s calling, but I’m deaf you see!

My Daddy is very old,

Just like eternity. (Someone’s calling!)

He cannot take a joke,

He’s going to murder me. (Someone’s calling!)

I found some funny sticks,

Covered them with mud;

Used them to play little tricks

And coloured them like blood.

Someone’s calling, calling to me.

Someone’s calling, but I’m deaf you see!

My brother is such a brat

He drives me quite insane. (Someone’s calling!)

I’ve tried so many times

To lose him down a drain. (Someone’s calling!)

I often baby sit

With my baby brother,

And I would not care a bit

If he should start to smother.

Someone’s calling, calling to me.

Someone’s calling, but I’m deaf you see!

My Granddad is very strange –

He dines on warm honey. (Someone’s calling!)

I told him that I thought

He must have been a bee. (Someone’s calling!)

He turned a shade of red,

Just like our tomatoes,

Then he grabbed me by my head

And played some obligatos.

Someone’s calling, calling to me.

Someone’s calling, but I’m deaf you see!

My sister is very thin

And has such knobbly knees. (Someone’s calling!)

She wears a miniskirt,

I’m sure her knee-caps freeze. (Someone’s calling!)

I don’t like her at all,

I can’t stand all her airs.

When next time she goes to a ball

We’ll see what else she bares!

Someone’s calling, calling to me.

Someone’s calling, but I’m deaf you see!

Oh we are such lovely girls

We always try to please. (Someone’s calling!)

We’ve always done our best

To help our families. (Someone’s calling!)

When we grow up like you,

Have children of our own,

We’ll lock them up in the zoo

And throw them each a bone.

Someone’s calling,

Calling me to tea.

Someone’s calling,

And I’m so hungry!

 Music by Ian Burns 

A kangaroo and a kiwi

Sat down to dinner one day.

Said the kiwi to the kangaroo,

‘Before we eat we pray.’

They sat there, the national pair,

The kiwi and the ’roo,

Replied the latter to the former,

‘Well, then, go on, cockle-doodle-do!’

But just then up flew a kooka,

Who landed in a tree,

And promptly said to the prior two,

‘How about a prayer, and some food, for me?!’

Well, one and two looked up at him

Perching near the sky,

And said, together, huffily, ‘If you must,

‘But wouldn’t you rather fly?!’

Before an answer came from the leaves

Other voices joined in:

Echidnas, parrots,  wombats and frogs!

Clamouring a dinner din.

Birds and beasts and creeping things

Came from near and far.

Even a flock of barrister birds

Looking for a muesli Bar!

Overhead the sky was dark

With more and more arriving,

Our ’roo and kiwi began to kark - 

There was now no chance of surviving!

Yes, pretty soon we were all over there,

Shrieking our culinary wishes,

Hundreds, thousands, millions of fable,

Seated, raucously, at kiwi’roo table -

Thank God for loaves and fishes!!

2004

All of us Highborns, 

Live above the rest,

We love to look down on them 

Because we are the best.

What gives us Highborns 

A life with little rest?

Tradition and good fortune,

From east to far off west.

It’s true that all are born, 

Though not all born on high.

Enlightenment entitlement

Enables us to fly.

Where each of us is equal

Among our family others - 

And procreate our sequels 

With fathers making mothers.

It’s true that here on Earth

One’s worth is not measured

By one’s girth, 

Nor the colour of one’s eyes,

But we’re to be pleasured 

And should be treasured 

From depths to boundless skies.

Everyone is born 

Though not all born on high.

Some attempt to trumpet our horn

Forgetting that pigs don’t fly.

So how do you join our illustrious clan,

To ride with our privileged elite

On the correct side of the street?

Be a von, not a van! 

And all the others 

Have the grace to 

Know their place: 

Making it all complete.

Oh my god, what’s that?

Looks like blood upon the mat!

Here comes more, and more –

Covering, pardon, the bloody floor!

What shall I do, I’ve got a bloody bum?

Yes, that’s it, call my Mum!

Mum! It’s me! Blood’s all the go!

I’d better ring triple bloody O!

Before they came, a bloody groan,

But, thank goodness, it was Joan!

She lives quite near, not really far

But still she scratched her bloody car!

Never mind, knocks at the door – ambulance men –

One, two, three…and four!!

There, there, sweetheart, we’re not too late…

Just tell us your bloody weight!

What’s that? Seventy-nine?

I think you’re spinning us a bloody line!

Never mind, get in the van,

He’s obviously coming, your latest bloody fan!

Oh, dear, I’m getting thinner while

Bloody Geoff’s out to bloody dinner!

Never mind, it’ll be all right,

Tonight’s gonna be the bloody night!

Let him sit on the bloody sofa

Like all men a bloody loafa!

Like all women I bear the pain –

Here I go a-bloody-gain!

Not for me this time a bloody birth,

A knife across my bloody girth!

Not much more than a bloody nick –

Then out he came, bloody quick!

The moral of all this, I confess, is that

Life’s a bloody, lovely, mess!