The country gathering
Sometimes the folk all got together
In the little country house
Now there was Tom the tiny tiger
Well, he could be a louse
But could he play that old guitar
Man! he made it speak
And when the folk did hear him play
He made their legs go weak.
There was Winifred the otter
How she did those drums
Her rhythm it could suck one in
If you were feeling glum
You’re legs would start to dancing
As you’d rise up to the sky
And all those troubles that you had
They’d fade away and die.
Now Mugly Minie, could she sing!!
She was the porcupine
She’d stand there with a glass of wine
And she’d just blow your mind
As Billie basset, the friendly bear
Would play that bass so cool
Now he was quiet, and very shy
But lord, he had it all.
People came from miles around
To hear those fellows play
They’d dance and sing Chicago blues
Their hearts alive and gay
They’re going to be a big time band
One day, they all know this
But all they really want to do
Is play, that’s how it is.
24 July 2013 @ 1150hrs.
Ballad of a hero.
There was a man, he had a dog
A Rotty, Broad and tall
With shiny fur and healthy eyes
Oh, he was beautiful
No matter where the good man went
The dog was sure to follow
They often went down to the river
And sat in a little hollow.
One day the man, he slipped and fell
He was swept off by the river
The poor man he had never swam
But the dog, he did decipher
That his master, he was drowning
He knew what he must do
He’d save the man he dearly loved
He jumped in the river too.
This dog called Bear, swam to the man
Who, was just about to drown
He grabbed the man’s coat in his jaws
As he was going down
With Dan, our man hugging his neck
Bear swam him back to shore
Then laid there tired, and panting too
Hero, was he, for sure.
Our Bear became a legend, then
Of this little country town
And everyone did make of him
A dog of much renown
They made up songs about the dog
Spoiled him in every way
So like a king, old Bear he lived
Until his dying day.
18 February 2014 @ 1440hrs.
There lived two pals in London Town
Who just hung out and roamed around
They called each other Tess and Boo
And folk said "what's it coming too
You cats and dogs are supposed to fight
And with each other get uptight"
The pair said "well we do know that
But we're not the normal dog and cat".
They were walking through the streets one day
When they saw this bird all pink and gray
The bird said "hullo both of you"
To the cat named Tess and the dog named Boo
As he looked them slowly up and down
And his face took on a puzzled frown
He said "now dogs and cat's they fight
And carry on and get uptight".
And so they told him how it was
They said "We don't fight because
We listen to our hearts do, we
Which keeps our minds all lose and free"
They Said "Now won't you join us bird
We'll be your friend you have our word"
And so the two became the three
And they were such good company.
Socrares Dec 2 2003.
In the mountains near the land of Nord
Their lived a fiery Dragon
He had such hot and fearsome breath
Yet he kept his tail a dragging
Because he knew he wasn't bad
He was shy and that was all
And if he looked too meek and mild
Then folk would treat him cruel.
He met this little lad from Kelt
One day whilst coasting round
With fire belching from his mouth
And roaring fearsome sounds
The little lad was terrified
When he saw this thunder brute
And the dragon he was hurt indeed
As this fear he did intuit.
He said "I'm sorry little boy
But I'd not do you harm
I rasp and roar like this you know
So folk will leave me calm
I really want to be your friend
It's so lonely being me
Then the two they walked off arm in arm
It was beautiful to see.
Socrares Dec 7 2003
For Carol Eastmans contest 'Children's Fable
The sport of kings
The great sport of kings
They call the race game
Where horse is mistreated
For money and fame
These greedy rich people
They don’t care at all
That this sport so respected
Is so bloody cruel.
They keep they each horse
To pine by itself
With no herd to run with
They rob him of health
He suffers from ulcers
From the stuff they, he feed
They call the horse wastage
When he don’t fill their need.
Each race causes bleeding
To the poor horses lungs
As they push him so hard
So the damage is done
It takes toll on his tendons
His joints, and his bones
Then maybe they’ll shoot him
Are their hearts made of stone?
When he’s no more use
He makes a good feed
He no longer is wanted
He don’t fill their need
So he ends up as pet food
That’s how much they care
They call us humane
Yet this is quite rare!!.
6 November 2013 @ 1210hrs.
Living my dream
I had one dream when I was young
To go to another land
In life I wasn’t satisfied
I wanted something grand
Lions, tigers. Kangaroos
And all those wild, wild beasts
Africa, South America
Or Australia at least.
Possessive Mother was my curse
How could I get away?
Every time I mentioned it
She had so much to say
And made me feel so guilty
Really cramped my style
And then one day there came along
Something to make me smile
I’d just turned my nineteenth year
When this great girl came along
She hailed from West Australia
And filled my heart with song
So we got married, had some kids
And here we are in Oz
Been here for half a century
And I came here all because
It was my fate to find this girl
She was my destiny
There’s be a whisper in the skies
That knows how things will be
It takes one’s soul, and leads it on
So growth, it might occur
And I know that west Australia
My heart, it sure does stir.
4 August 2013 @ 1440hrs.
Farewell, then, AUKN boss,
The next this year makes three.
By the time they find a substitute,
Slovenes will be at sea.
He tried to cover his behind;
AUKN boss of bosses,
As every week, balances grew bleak:
He weighed merits and losses.
With all this he'd no time to eat,
And round and round he flew.
And now he's split in a hissy-fit;
So helmsman, too-de-loo!
Day after day, day after day,
He drifted on the ocean;
Guano-vernment rained on his ship
Their suggestions for promotion.
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Corporate boards crosslink;
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Let's take you for a drink.
Accountants talking rot: O Christ!
Missions, visions - oh please!
Yea, slimy characters need legs
And slimy policies.
So has he done an hellish thing?
Not hired who? We dunno:
Was it absurd, to have a separate curd
From the whey Slovenia owes?
This wretch won't play, after 60 days;
Pissflaps, he'll have to go!
God help ya, gospod Bencina
From the fiends, that plague us thus! -
It's time to go — shot like cross-bow,
The AUKN boss.
Ah! walk-out day! what evil looks
Had I from Ernst and Young!
Who's at a loss? AUKN's boss
Wouldn't take a bung?
"You'll be" quoth one, "abolished - no
Stigma to double-cross."
He chose to go - why? We don't know:
Harmless AUKN boss.
Re-reading the original gave me a great idea for dinner until I realised all the storks have all flapped off to Africa for the winter. Pity, as I have some ancient marinade from Tuš. Like the subject of the poem, I didn't have the stamina for a Coleridge-length effort.
The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand interprets important Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world. www.maria.si
Hills Where I wander.
In the beautiful hills where I wander
With the velvet grass so lush and oh, so green.
They take me into depths in which I ponder
As I’m stunned by all this beauty here that’s seen.
As I walk along I hear the sound of thunder
Of the river as it crashes down those hills.
And as I walk, and as I listen and I wonder
I am stoned by every moment that I feel.
How that Kookaburra laughs so high above me
As he loudly gives his thanks for each new day.
And my troubles take a rest my burdens lifted
And I’m drunk with life and everything’s okay.
Those hills they be alive with magic moments
As the sun it paints them every kind of hue.
It’s perfection, and could never need improvement
As all around the sky be pristine blue.
Here be I, and there’s the hills so soft and silent
And this feeling it does fill my heart with joy
And the peace within a mind which had been violent
Be such a thing that cannot be destroyed.
Oh thank you Lord for giving me this morning
That never it will die within my being.
For this beauty that has got my mind a reeling
I know it be the truth that I be seeing.
I saw a man once on TV
He was hunting grizzly bear
Then bear, he got the upper hand
And blood was everywhere
That man was in an awful state
But I lacked in sympathy
You live by sword, you die by sword
That’s just the way it be.
I knew a man, a fisherman
He hunted for big fish
But when his boat did over turn
He never got his wish
Cause big shark came and took his life
And Karma, it was done
It seems that this time hunter lost
And mother nature won.
It seems some folk are low on soul
And only live to kill
I have no sympathy for these
And nor I ever will
When the game gets turned around
They’ve only they to blame
Because they gained their pleasure from
This heartless killing game.
Playing with fire
What is it with these morons?
What is this fierce desire?
What is it that makes them tick?
Why do they play with fire?
They wander round from place to place
With lighters in their hand
And start these fires haphazardly
I do not understand.
What gets into their foolish heads?
To make them do these things
They call these people arsonists
Such destruction these fools bring
Houses they go up in flames
As the fires go raging by
And animals, and often people
Amidst these flames they die.
Have these folk no compassion?
Do they not care at all?
About the damage they create
Why are these folk so cruel?
It seems to me they be insane
What else could they be?
Lock them up is what I say
And throw away the key.
25 November 2013 @ 1609hrs.