Sunday 22 December 2013

The Great Australian Freedom







The GREAT AUSTRALIAN FREEDOM

Our forebears came to this country many in convict ships and chains,
And backs showed the scars where the cat-o-nine tails had reined.
Australian culture has developed since the time of the first fleet,
It has never been an easy task to put this great country on her feet.

This country was founded on Christian principles, but we allow freedom of religion here,
And even if you pray to a different God, you won’t have to hide or live in fear
We have no national motto but `In Our Mate’s We Trust`,
Here everyone gets a fair go, because that’s an Australian must.

Australia is an English speaking country, and here we say thank you and please,
Our national language is not Italian, Arabic, Polish or Lebanese.
We are proud of our Flag, our sporting achievements, and proud of the Southern Cross?
And in settling this vast country many people suffered hardship and loss.

Australians have fought in many battles, sometimes incurring a huge loss of life,
Yet a true Aussie will always stand ready to help a mate, especially if he’s in strife.
Now that I’ve told you a few things about our history and heritage, perhaps you’ll begin to understand
Why Australians can be so parochial about this Great southern Land.
Like I said this is our country, our lifestyle, our land and our flag,
Yes, I’m bloody proud of it and on occasions it gives me cause to brag.
But strangers come here to live and then say they don’t like our regulations or our rules,
Their children often receive free education, but they don’t like what is taught in our schools.

They have come to this country to escape war, persecution and strife,
Yes, they say they left their homeland in search of a better way of life.
We’ll give them an equal opportunity and we’ll give them a fair go,
But don’t complain or start telling us how to run our show.

And if our national anthem offends you I suggest you live elsewhere,
But there is only one Australia, and our way of life is extremely rare.
No doubt some people will be offended because I speak my mind,
I’m only saying what many think; I don’t mean to be unkind.

But for people who are unhappy with their many freedom’s here,
Let me tell them something and I hope I make it crystal clear;
When they’ve finished whinging and wiping their tears on my sleeve;
Remember they can choose that other great Australian freedom;
`THE RIGHT TO BLOODY LEAVE`.


© Corin Linch 31/8/07 (Rewrite)

Friday 20 December 2013

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year



          HERE WE GO AGAIN CHRISTMAS 2013

You know for some unknown reason I really dislike this time of year,
And I find it awfully false when everyone is full of Christmas cheer.
The retail shops just moan and tell us about how little people spend,
Things don’t look good for shareholders, there may be no dividend.

There are these Christmas carol singers with their angelic voices,
And the flaming TV stations, with those same old movie choices.
And this political correctness rubbish, calling it the holiday season,
Its Christmas time to me calling it otherwise is tantamount to treason.

Here in Australia, thousands will head to the coast and the ocean,
Either fishing or burning their bodies, covered in suntan lotion.
Farmers most likely check their stock; make sure the water’s right,
Even though the tanks were full when checked the previous night.

Businesses may shut their doors but for animals it’s just another day,
They still need a drink of water and perhaps a bale or two of hay.
Once those things are attended to a farmer can maybe just sit and unwind,
For tomorrow there’ll be things to do as its back to the daily grind.

You know I kind of miss those day’s and doing the Christmas water run,
When I’d head off early in the morning before the rising of the sun.
And in later years when the kids opened gates and came to give me a hand,
`Hurry up Dad we want to open our presents!` was the often heard command.

Another year must be nearly over if Christmas has come round once again,
And it’s hard to raise a smile now there are no kids here now to entertain.
But Merry Christmas everyone and I hope you have a Prosperous New Year,
Don’t spend or eat too much on Christmas Day and hey, go easy on the beer.

                                                          © Corin Linch 19/12/2013

                   An AUSSIE CHRISTMAS

Santa Claus doesn’t use Reindeer when he visits the great Land Down Under,
When the Christmas time temperatures can be over 40c is it any wonder?
Reindeer like the winter cold and snow not this blistering summer heat,
So another mode of transport is required for Santa’s mission to be complete.

And don’t go thinking its six white boomers, that’s just a fantasy you know,
Just a song line someone wrote to get their record played on the radio.
No he needs something tough and reliable, something really beaut,
That’s why my friends he chooses the very best, a good old Holden ute.

He needs something for the city and something for that outback road,
Something that can carry all the presents, a huge gigantic load.
He’ll start off in south eastern states; gradually he’ll travel north,
Then head off down the Birdsville track moving back and forth.

Follow the Ghan on up to Darwin and deliver to the Northern Territory,
For every kid must receive a Christmas present for Santa its mandatory.
From Katherine down to Kununurra the old Holden ute rolls on,
Santa’s getting weary now from his Australian delivery marathon.

He zigzags his way south from the desert to the coast,
Dressed in shorts and T-shirt, he is as silent as a ghost.
Then it’s on to other countries for really his work is far from done,
And the transport that he chooses keeps him ahead of the rising sun.

So I think Santa is pretty happy that Christmas only comes but once a year,
But he loves that Holden ute when he speeds across Australia’s vast frontier.
So Merry Christmas everyone and have a safe and a prosperous New Year,
Go easy on your spending and eating and don’t forget to toast Santa with a beer.

© Corin Linch 19/12/2013

Tuesday 3 December 2013

Old Jim (Jimmy Gardiner)


Jimmy Gardiner was a man I worked with for a while at Camden Park Menangle south of Sydney in the late 60's .... I have another poem that I wrote about Jim called Ã’ld Jim and the Moon Landing` which I hope to put up at a later date once I get the audio back.  Jim was a good cattle man and had great working dogs.

OLD JIM

Since the age of ten, he’d been droving in the sun and the rain,
semi-retired now and the stock routes would not see him again.
He was a hard man on his working dogs, but they sure respected him,
and he told me not to call him Mister “Son, my name is Jim.”

I was not long out of school and seeking my future direction,
and my interest in cattle and horses gave us a tenuous connection.
In some ways he was my hero; I would listen to his droving tales,
and once a week he’d head into town for the local cattle sales.

When the sale was over he would drink his fair share of beer,
but I never saw him angry; this man was always full of cheer.
Every weekend I’d see him walk down to this heavily wooded creek,
no matter what the weather even when it was wet and bleak.

This pilgrimage to the scrubby creek really fascinated me,
From his house, it was a good seven hundred yards you see.
One day he called in for a cup of tea and we began to talk,
and I figured this was my chance to ask about his weekly walk.

I said “Jim, I have to ask you something, and I don’t mean to pry,
but this weekend, sojourn to the creek, could you please tell me why?
He then told me the reason and I guess I had this look of surprise,
“I go down there for a crap.” old Jim said with a twinkle in his eyes.

I didn’t know what to say and for a while I was lost for a word,
This reason for his weekly walk to me seemed quite absurd
But I have an odd sense of humour and I thought this rather funny,
So I said “What’s the matter mate, do you have a buggered dunny?”

“No, it’s just that when I have the need to give me bowels a push,
For years I’ve always been far more comfortable doing it in the bush.”
“You see I suppose I’m claustrophobic, I don’t like feeling shut in,
Besides that porcelain dunny,
Well, I don’t like backing up to the bloody thing.”

© Corin Linch 11/8/09

Sunday 1 December 2013

For Chip Chip`` a Mate











                            

FOR ‘CHIP-CHIP’ A MATE

No more the bronco harness, or the collar and the hames,
Now we have a cradle and a crush, nothing stays the same.
What are these monstrosities, where once a bronco panel stood?
Railway line and pipe, is nothing made of wood?
We had twisted wire cables, big snappy gum posts,
Oh so many memories, oh so many ghosts.


The bronco panel's busted and almost fallen down,
You'd never know it used to see, a thousand calves a round.
At Hughie Spring on the black soil plain where you couldn't see for dust,
The bronco yard has gone and the new one's, full of rust.
And often when we killed, you know we'd keep the hide
Cut out a strand, and twist a bronco rope with pride.



But where once we'd use a green hide rope, a welder's all you need.
The old days have all gone, and it's nothing to do with speed.
We'd do better than a calf a minute, with good men on the rope,
Brand, ear-mark, castrate, dehorn and never let ‘em choke,
Leg ropes front and back up against the panel tight,
Slack the call, pull 'em down, come on do it bloody right.



It was great in the early morning to see them branding irons glow,
Burnt into the hides forever, was the mighty ONE TEE OH.
Calves, bulls, mickeys and even cleanskin cows.
The old ways are all gone, look how they do it now.
I don't deny they get the job done, I don't deny they raise a sweat,
But of bronco panels and green hide ropes, old ringers dream I bet.


Pedro and old Alan, Chip-Chip the mighty mule,
Gee she'd pull her heart out, it was almost cruel.
The Rat, Toby, Euclid, Clancy and many more,
Chip-Chip was the best, though some call her a whore.
I've seen her snap a bronco rope, I've seen her on her knees,
I guess by now she's dead, but Lord I ask you please,
All those bronco horses, those titans of the past,
Give them green pasture, for they've earned peace at last.


 
Today they're branding calves with crush, cradle and all the rest,
I'm not real happy, for I remember ways I thought were best.
They say I'm yesterday's man, born a hundred years too late,
But the fact I've lived the past was a simple twist of fate.
So no more the bronco harness or the collar and the hames,
Time waits for no man; I guess nothing stays the same.
© Corin Linch