by Oliver Thomas
Saturday, May 26, 2007
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The era is the late 1940s, the scene is the Australian bush. The family had recently arrived from urban England and they became pioneers
Life on the farm when we were kids
Was harder than today.
We'd work from dawn 'til twilight fell
Mum and dad and the kids as well
With little time for play.
We'd collect the eggs from a thousand chooks
And milk the two house cows,
Then chop the wood for the old wood fire.
Our parents never seemed to tire.
And they'd seldom cause for rows.
We didn't have electric lights,
Our water came from wells.
We'd have a swim in the local creek
And have a bath just once a week
But we didn't mind the smells.
There was no TV; just a radio,
And we'd listen every night
With looks intent on every face
As we thrilled to Journey into Space
And fantasies took flight.
The ice man cometh twice a week,
To bring us blocks of ice.
We'd put it in the old ice chest ;
To keep things cold we did our best
And failed just once or twice.
We had a vegie garden then
And what we ate we grew.
Dad sometimes would catch a hare,
Which gave us variable fare
From kangaroo tail stew.
'Twas five miles to the nearest shop
And twice a month we'd walk,
Then come back laden with supplies,
Like flour to make Mum's apple pies,
And slabs of salted pork.
'Twas quite an arduous trip we took
Down unsealed dusty tracks.
We walked three miles to school each day
And gathered kids along the way,
Our school bags on our backs.
Once a month we'd go to town
And see a picture show.
At interval we'd buy our treats.
The theatres then had canvas seats
Which oft were awfully low.
Yes, things were very different then,
Like many of our ways.
Nowadays we scarcely walk
And yet we sit around and talk
About the 'good old days'.
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|Reviewed by Connie Faust
|You hit the nail on the head--easy to sit and talk about the good old days, not so easy to immitate them.
Another good poem you've written and by the way, I often take note of whether the grammar, rhythm, etc. are good. Yours are, of course, and I appreciate that in any poem.
I enjoyed your story of the "good old days."