Boney Bonny Dames and Old Money Games

Written by: Mathieu de Casanove


Until I've seen, Melbourne days
	was not just emptiness in play
I know I'll see
What I didn't see,
the September soaked symphony
	of Vivaldi vines climbing,
jacaranda booms,
tremolo spilling eaves

Until you know this suburban kid's righted the wrong
I'll verse on my way, you as the bridges in my song
Making choruses of dreams that could soon belong

And urban princes and their Porsches
Lost in winters, cold in summers
They adore to ornate you, over muskwood and glassy silvers
But can they look up to the night,
And know wonder in the sight?
In that blue-hued veiled Van Gogh I see your stars

These hardened hands carrying letters I send
	will wear me down to some sorry end
And this I know
But I'll go knowing
the Chapel charade was the pretty noise
	of sonnets chasing sunsets,
drunk Welsh poets
tearing tails for London wisps

Until it comes, a northern boy without southerly blues
The swaying Yarrans, sparkling flutes, Victorian flues
Keeps Flinders Station stepping full of over-priced shoes

And boney bonny dames, old money games
Skirts for winters, surgeons for gains
They climb to lower you, for fifteen lights upon their names 
But can they look up to the night,
And know wonder in the sight?
In that blue-hued veiled Van Gogh I see your stars