I can't believe you're 60 Jim, those years now in our past,
Still memories made, will never fade but last.
I remember when we were kids, out on the farm with Dad,
Both young and free, a lot so see we had.
Our Collie dog his name was Bob, we loved to play with him,
His coat so lush we'd pat and brush. Do you remember Jim?
It must be said up in the shed, that old green door we'd read,
Those words all pencilled, sketches stencilled, history now indeed.
And how we fed those poddy calves, and pigs all in their sty,
I recollect the eggs we'd get, then make the chickens fly.
The mushies out we'd scream and shout, and run fast down the hill,
To pick the lot for nana's pot, so we could eat our fill.
And in the spring at harvest time, we'd watch as dad bailed hay,
That green band tight, those bails took flight, he'd stack them up all day.
Then back we'd go coz we would know, our nan would have a spread,
A good cook she we'd have our tea, before we went to bed.
At times upon our grandpa's knee, we'd sit while he did sing
The songs he'd know, like 'Old Black Joe', forgetting not a thing.
When blackie's grew we picked a few, our billy's overflowed,
Then juicy pie for you and I, our bellies overload.
The visitors they came and went, our family, friends we had,
But one named Ray, just couldn't say, his words he stuttered bad.
I remember we would grin with glee, while hiding out of sight,
We laughed at him, yes guilty Jim, not sorry for his plight.
We'd roam the paddocks far and wide, the dam we'd have a swim,
Picked daffodils oh what thrills, for you and I dear Jim.
There is much more for I am sure, those memories bring me back,
To another time when yours and mine, good times we did not lack.
I still can hear that chainsaw roar, when dad he'd cut the wood,
The splinters flew, the sawdust grew, we thought it really good.
But at the well to us did tell, away or you'll fall in,
We never dared just stood and stared, so this was not a sin.
Remember when a storm would come, and make our nana frown,
With lightening blue, and thunder too, she'd pull the old blinds down.
Then by firelight and lamps at night, that old green wireless on,
'Blue Hill' brought sobs, not 'Mrs Obbs', those old shows now are gone.
And sometimes we would walk a mile, or two across the land,
Down to the creek twas gold we'd seek, just panning with our hand.
Or down the cave or to the grave, 'Black Death' her awful fate,
But not alone we had no phone, just Bob our faithful mate.
What about in winter time, the muddy roads were fun
With gumboots on we'd skid along, behind the tractor run.
Those old stone walls at times had falls, but over we would go.
Adventures ours while herding cows, do you remember so.
How quickly do the years go by, we're both now middle aged,
With families too for me and you, so much we have engaged.
Another one for you will come, a grandpa, soon you'll be,
No greater joy, a girl or boy, a great aunt that makes me.
This next milestone now in your life, today a special one,
Blow candles out, dance and shout, eat cake have lots of fun.
I'll finish now but do allow, me to send you this,
Hip, Hip, Hooray, Happy 60th birthday, much love your sister Chris
Christine 14/3/2015
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Author Notes
I wrote this poem for my brothers 60th birthday this year, looking back to when we were little kids out on my grandfathers farm, where my Dad,Jim and me lived ( my mum died when I was 3, she was only 29) despite her loss I remember a very happy childhood out on this beautiful dairy farm called Elevated Plains, in Victoria near Mount Franklin. We had the run of the place and has a beautiful collie dog called Bob who would look after us also.
mushies are Mushrooms
Blackies are blackberries ( nothing better than a blackie pie and cream fresh from the cow)
Blue Hills and Mrs Obbs were shows broadcast over the wireless in the 50s
In the shed was an old green door that had lots of writing, poems, and drawings put on by my father and his sibling when they were kids and we along with my cousins loved reading it.
A spread is a meal, often a feast
Down near the cave in the bush was a grave ( reported to be of a young woman who die of the Plague ' black death' and we would sometimes go and see it alway a bit scared though.
Thank you to VMarguarite for her lovel image. I thought it complemented this poem nicely
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