Gin's Song for Tilba

                  GIN’S SONG OF TILBA

                                by

                        Virginia Gow

                           21/01/11   

Verse 1

He was born in a barn way down in Tilba

He was raised as a hippy making hay

But he came to the city

To look for someone pretty

And there he decided to stay

Chorus

He sang,

It’s cold in those hills

But I still miss the mountain

Raining all the time, so verdant green

People there were kind of square

With baggy clothes and lanky hair

Those Tilba rainbow lovers were never mean.

Verse 2

He married himself a fancy lady

Had a house, a car, a boat and a mortgagee

He didn’t mind at all

He was having such a ball

Interviewing illegal emigraees 

Chorus

He sang,

It’s cold in those hills

But I still miss the mountain

Raining all the time, so verdant green

People there were kind of square

With baggy clothes and lanky hair

Those Tilba rainbow lovers were never mean.

Verse 3

They buried him in a big, black box in Tilba

Took his body home to be beside the sea

Throughout his tempestuous life,

Wild adventures, some little strife,

He never lost sight of the memories.

Chorus:

He sang,

It’s cold in those hills

But I still miss the mountain

Raining all the time, so verdant green

People there were kind of square

With baggy clothes and lanky hair

Those Tilba rainbow lovers were never mean.

Rod's song for Slim

                Rod’s Song for Slim

                                 by

                Rod Gow and Virginia Gow.

Verse 1

I’ve been around the top end

For the better part of my life

I’ve often been in trouble

Sometimes I’ve been in strife

I soon found out what life’s about

Among the top end mob

They help you with your problems and

They get on with the job.

Chorus:

I like the top end way of life

The people are true blue

And  a place is just it’s people

Be it many, or few.

Verse 2

When I first arrived at the top end

With a prayer and a couple of bob

A smart young southern city bloke

Found myself with a newspaper job.

Setting type and spinning yarns

Loved to leave my mark on a story

Hidden in the type, a message clear

That was my kind of glory.

Chorus:

I like the top end way of life

The people are true blue

And a place is just it’s people

Be it many, or few.


Verse 3

I learnt to roll with folky mob

With my girl from Parramatta

Songbird sweethearts, melting hearts away

We quietened all the chatter

One dark night, on the way to a gig

My bike ran into a car

Now I sing up the sun through the morning’s mist

You see, I have traveled so far.

Chorus:

I like the top end way of life

The people are true blue

And a place is just it’s people

Be it many, or few.

                    

Manly Poets' Group 03/01/11

I sit
Sit on a post
Post is russet-red
Russet-red, like my couch.
Couch beckons today
Today cool-rain day
Day of my first co-ordination
Co-ordination, ordination of my time
Time to be with the Poets' Group
Group to see my reliability
Reliability is my Manly reputation
Reputation of doing a given task.
Task of turning up
Turning up, even though it's a public holiday.
Public holiday, and the Library is closed!
Closed, but my mind is open.
Open to the reality of a poem