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The Balmain song

I remember when Balmain was my town

before the money moved in and they pulled all the old joints down.

Dawn Fraser was a star,

in the pool or behind the bar

I remember when Balmain was my town

I remember when a guy was a bloke

and I remember when a fag was a smoke

when “hi” was g’day, we used to say, g’day mate how ya going alright

We used to catch a tram out to Bondi

get on in Darling street with no goodbye

we’d change at railway square,sometimes we’d pay the fare

we used to catch a tram out to Bondi

I remember when the Tigers used to roar

we would’t let South Sydney in to score

in 1969 the rabbits could’t cross our line

I remember when the Tigers used to roar

I remember when Balmain was my town

before the money moved in and they pulled all the old joints down

we had the arse out of our pants………that was our circumstance,

I remember when Balmain was my town

The beast within

I am lying on my narrow bed, well it’s a metal slab really,

covered with a simple double folded cotton sheet

There is a is a large metallic disc, hovering over my body,

getting ready to invade my internal organs and kill the fiery beast within me.

I have a small army of foot soldiers to assist me,

they will re-position my metal slab  several times before agreeing

on the optimum angle to attack the beast,

they draw strange hieroglyphics on my skin

so that the beam recognizes the most strategic point of assault

then, satisfied that I am suitably prepared, they leave me

to my private thoughts and imaginations.

They dare not stay in the same room as me, it is much too dangerous

to remain anywhere close to me and “the machine”

They retreat thirty metres away to the relative safety of the control room.

I can not see or hear them. “the machine” begins a sinister humming noise,

It circles around me, it is investigating and metaphorically probing my innermost tissues,

searching for the monster who is lurking there deep inside me.

I must remain perfectly immobile,  if the beam misses the target.

then my healthy organs may be damaged and

that would be another battle that I am loathed to fight.

Thirty-one times over the past two months we have attacked the beast within.

Now, only seven more battles to rage and……………… it will be done

Pakington street

Pakington street was the place we’d meet

when I was a younger man,

there used to be a rope factory, but now they call it The Strand.

not very far from Corio bay on the western side of town

the sky was blue and the wind was soft and the leaves were turning brown.

She was the girl with the honey blonde hair

with eyes so crystal bright,

I met her there on Pakington street on an April autumn night,

not very far from the place I lived on the western side of town,

when the sky was blue and the wind was soft

and the leaves were turning brown.

We used to share a drink or two and dance to the local bands,

She was my love, she was my life, she was my friend in hand

In my heart, I still feel the beat, I still see her dancing feet,

in the place where we would meet, somewhere down on Pakington street.

Suddenly she went away, to go I know not where,

but the Autumn leaves have left the trees

and Pakington street is bare.

She was the girl with the honey blonde hair

with eyes so crystal bright

I lost her there on Pakington street on a cold dark winter’s night.

Not very far from Corio bay on the western side of town

the sky was grey and the wind was hard

and Pakington street fell down

 

 

Terrybalmain

Michael.

He was restless he was young, his name was Michael

Through the night you could see the single eye, of his motorcycle.

A lonely rider on a lonely road, a travelling man

with a wandering soul

He was big and he was mean, but he was sighing

He left a girl in Arkansas, he left her dying.

Now fifteen men were on his trail, fifteen angry men

with a vengeance to pay.

She was only seventeen, she was having his baby,

he took her to a cheap hotel, the doctor was shady,

He cut her with a dirty knife, now she lay back in Arkansas

fighting for her life.

Her father was the local law, he saw Michael running

He gathered up some deputies, and they came gunning.

Now fifteen men were on his trail, fifteen angry men

with a vengeance to pay

Listen to the rhythm of the turning of the wheels

carrying half a ton of chrome and steel

look at him riding through the night

bending down low over the bike

he was hanging on the bars like an eagle in the sky

he had fear in his gut, he had the wind in his eye’s

he hoped that girl in Arkansas wouldn’t  die.

Michael saw their headlights coming fast

he knew they were gaining, his bike was old and falling apart,

and their bullets were raining.

The last thing that Michael ever saw.

was the vision of a sweet young face…back in Arkansas

Listen to the rhythm of the turning of the wheels

carrying half a ton of chrome and steel

look at him riding through the night

bending down low over the bike

He was hanging on the bars like an eagle in the sky

he had fear in his gut he, he had the wind in his eye

He hoped that girl in Arkansas wouldn’t die

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Terrybalmain

A curious morning

Tis mid morning, there is a pale half moon in the sky,

There is a huge black crow sitting high atop the stink pipe in the yard next door.

George is very quiet, George is never quiet when that crow sits up there,

George hates anything that flies, birds, insects even planes and helicopters, very curious.

There is no traffic noise in the street, the teasing breeze has stopped its voyage

the whispering trees have drawn into their silent conspiracy.

Ominous clouds of dying winter are cloaking over George and me,

“GEORGE,” I yell but he is heedless, still and staring at that old black crow.

Gently I rest my hand on his shoulder and offer a soothing word.

Ever so slowly he turns his noble head towards me

Suddenly the wind rises, the crow flaps and flies away.

George pulls violently away from my reassuring hand chases after the crow.

Barking and yapping, hackles rising down his back

The crow is gone, the world is at peace again. a curious morning indeed

 

 

 

ALL OUR OWN WORK

All our own work

The road leading home, was there for the weary, and some us nearly

found where it led, but most stayed in bed.

The light in the sky, was there for us to follow, but the call sounded hollow

and somewhere along the way, man lost his way.

You can’t blame the river for running dry, you can’t blame the sun cause it didn’t shine.

Because it’s all our own work, yes it’s all our own work.

I turned to my friend, asked where are we going, which way the wind is blowing.

She shook her befuddled head and went back to our bed.

You can’t blame the river for running dry, you can’t blame the sun cause it didn’t shine.

Because it’s all our own work, yes it’s all our own work

 

 

 

 

 

 

GOOD DAY. Hello to you Mr.Day, have you got something to say? Then why don’t you say it with sunshine, why don’t you say it today? Hello to you Mr. Green, have you ever seen, a day that was so lazy, he didn’t even feed you today. Gooday, Gooday, everybody’s happy on a Gooday. Hello to you Mr Grey, have you got something to say? then why don’t you say it with experience, why don’t you say it today? Good morning to you ah what can you do? can you sing a song, can you sing along?