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Duncan Williams

of

Tamworth, NSW, Australia

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The Rodeo Rider

by

Duncan Williams

They come from all the stations,which are near and far between,
and towns to seek their glory, for the best where ever seen.
They know what is their challenge, maybe first or second place,
and the champions of riders, with a type of sour face.

From the novice to the open, they all seem to be good mates,
and the bucking bulls and horses, that go wild from out the gates.
the time is round eight seconds, that they ride or either fall,
but the love of what their doing, is the answer to it all.

Behind a chute it's calm and patient, as each rider waits their turn,
and they'll give advise and courage, to the ones that have to learn.
The clowns are there in action, to help the riders through,
cause the bulls get mighty fiery, for a slendid job they do.

and the crowd you'll hear them cheering, as each rider as each rider spurs it out,
to gain the points thats needed, is what its all about.
There hats are shaped to suit them, these young riders in their prime,
with wrangler jeans all dusty, and their buckles with a shine.

and when they finish riding, to whatever pub they choose,
you'll mostly see them drinking, bundy rum and plenty boose.
well to me they are great hero's, and i quess you'd say a star,
The true blue aussie bushman, would be really what they are.


Victoria"s Garden State

by

Duncan Williams

yes in the south of Australia, the Victorian state,
from the big river Murray, a pleasure is great.
paddle steamers they paddle, house boats as well,
cause we hold to the memories, the stories they tell.

In the home of Ned Kelly, Glenrowans its name,
where he rode in full armour, real daring and game.
The stature of the Bush-Ranger, stands tall in the street,
In the town of Glenrowan, for visitors to meet.

And the fruit land of Shepparton, tomatoes and pears,
that we pick in the seasons, without worry or cares.
green pastures well irrigated, top country you know,
And they hold a special concert, at kyabram Rodeo.

In those hills around Ballarat, and old Sovereign Hill,
step back to our history, where time remains still.
read the gold rush stories, relic of Eureka Stockade,
Blood upon the southern cross, the original barracade.

And back towards Mildura, through Mallee country fine,
Vineyards run in endless acres, producing fruit and wine.
yes in the south of Australia, the great old garden state,
from that big river Murray, a pleasure you'll find great.

G. M. Skinner

by

Duncan Williams

Gertrude Skinner is the writer of larrikin verse and pun,
As a bushman's wife she battled, before her poet days begun.
On properties in the outback, those depression years and wars,
With loneliness and hardship, long daily household chores.

No essential modern comforts, she learnt to sew and mend,
Cooked for gangs of shearers, as a highly respected freind.
Was made a full life member for supporting Mungindi show,
The find display of products and produce crops she'd grow.

She moved from Yarrawa station, on the Gilgil creek out west,
Gertrude decided on retirement and to enjoy a well-earned rest.
With her talented gift of writing traditional bush ballad ways,
The poems are true experiences from those early bygong days.

At eighty she still entertains, and recites her works of art,
Performed on Kookaburra Music Label filmed on video she took part,
So next time your in Tamworth at the festival held each year,
Go and visit Gertrude Skinner, top bush yarns you're bound to hear!

The 1991 Test

by

Duncan Williams

It's an honour to Australia, the Rugby League today,
The Aussie's showed the Kiwi's their quick and skilful way,
I have never been a player, but learned to understand,
The rules and regulations about football in this land.

Ettinghausen, Mal Meninga, Alan Langer made the breaks,
He sets the try scores up, to give it what it takes,
Martin Bella answered critics and proved them how it's done,
Roy Masters called it victory, when Australia had them won.

It appeared they dropped Wal Lewis, the Gold Coast five eight king,
Replaced the part with Jackson who seemed the next best thing,
Gary Freeman gave his best shot, and spent time in the bin,
We saw that in the first test, that seen the kiwi's win.

Yes, Australia beat New Zealand, from forty four to zero,
And I'm sure that Alan Langer is a great Australian hero,
When the action happens next year, they'll all be at their best,
And be proud to be Australian, as they were in the last test.

A Tribute To Our Pioneers

by

Duncan Williams

A tribute to our pioneers,
From the days gone by.
A tribute to our pioneers,
Not far from Gundagai.

Down near the Murrumbidgee,
You'll see this monument stone.
The dog upon the Tuckerbox,
He sits proudly there alone.

Yes and also at Snake Gully,
Is Dad and Dave's sculpture too.
It's nice to keep our heritage,
And it's there for me and you.

A tribute to our pioneers,
From the days gone by.
A tribute to our pioneers,
Not far from Gundagai.

The Drugs Of Crime

by

Duncan Williams

The addicts of all backgrounds,
Who live the life of crime?
Robbing people who are helpless,
In the frantic bid for time.

Leaving needles where they use them,
In the spots where ever so,
Destroying lives of other people,
Who they rob, but never know.

Hatred fights because of problems,
Broken families so they say,
Fractured bones and cuts and bruises,
In the gutters where they lay.

Will drug pushers know the addicts?
Do they really play the game?
Selling drugs that cause the trouble,
Do they have a sense of shame?

For I'd like to ask some questions,
Is this the life they choose?
Destroying minds and healthy bodies,
From the deadly drugs they use?

And will these addicts have a future,
Can their future be the end?
In this world of drugs and addicts,
Of the so-called modern trend.

Uncle Roy

by

Duncan Williams

He lived with us at Tamworth,
When I was just a boy,
A real old-time War Veteran,
We called him Uncle Roy.

He slept out on the verandah,
His smokes and Resches beer,
He kept mainly to himself,
And he never showed much fear.

He spent some time in Sydney,
And Havelock street Mayfield,
Loved to play a game of cards,
Could shuffle or could deal.

A joke we had with Uncle Roy,
With a dose of Epsom salts,
And when the salts had taken cause,
Roy jumps up and bolts.

Now Uncle Roy is now at rest,
And he smoked up to the last,
The cancer took old uncles life,
Was a gentleman of the past.

Yes, often times i think of him,
He was liked by everyone,
If Uncle Roy was still around,
There would be some fun.

The Horseman And The Bronc

by

Duncan Williams

He marked his reputation, he was known through the west,
A thick set stock-horse colt, who had bucked his very best,
And the stockman on the station, who tried to ride the colt,
Feared only for their safety, from his vicious strike and bolt.

So the stockman told the manager about the vices in the horse,
The way he bucked in mid-air, and how he bolted round with force.
So they put their heads together, and decided what to do,
To bring in the buck-jump rider, who would see the contract through.

Well they heard about the horseman, who was known far and wide,
His legs were bowed and bandy, you could tell that he could ride.
He wore a small brimmed stetson, and the high heeled riding boots,
And his face was hard and weathered, from a life behind the chutes.

So he signed up for the contract, to educate this vicious colt,
Which was bred out on the station, that could buck and kick and bolt.
He stood there by the stockyard, and the colt he pawed the ground,
Then he got the rope around him, and he choked the outlaw down.

When the outlaw came to senses, with the bag he rubbed him round,
And lunged him in the stockyard, then the outlaw came quite sound.
He slowly girthed the colt up, he had brought the colt to sense,
Kept upon the horse's guard, and lunged him up and down the fence.

When he knew the colt was ready, he rode him out along the track,
For a while he worked with cattle, with the horseman on his back.
The manager seemed quite happy, that the outlaw now was sound,
yes it's the story of a horseman, who had tamed a bronco down.

The Country Out There

by

Duncan Williams

Yes I still wander back,
To an old western track,
In the bush I feel like a guest.

On the plains i did ramble,
Out to Bourke or Coonamble,
In the bush my mind is at rest.

Yes I've lived on those plains,
And I've seen the big rains,
Floods and the droughts I've seen too.

And pushed stock on a horse,
From the old watercause,
And lots of good drovers I knew.

But don't class me a fool,
I've seen the hard school,
That country I've seen scorched and bare.

Yes I still wander back,
to the old western track,
Along the old darling river out there.

Mary Gilmore

by

Duncan Williams

You were up with leading writers,
When our country was just young,
The teamsters yoked their bullocks,
When the good old days were sung.

Yes Mary Gilmore was a teacher,
In a tiny outback town,
And she gathered much material,
In the verses she wrote down.

She helped fellowships for poets,
In the old time life she led,
"No Foe Shall Gather Our Harvest"
Is a poem that I have read.

She seen this country first hand,
In the western land outback,
Before the highways were developed,
On a lonely dusty track.

For she seen the great beginnings,
In a life she lived back then,
And she told so many stories,
Through the wisdom of a pen.

She was engaged to Henry Lawson,
A great writer from the past,
But remained good freinds together,
For although it didn't last.

But Mary lived into her nineties,
Very proudly she had been,
In her country and her moral,
Where our poetry is seen.

So here's to poet Mary Gilmore,
And the poetry she wrote,
Now we honor this great lady,
On a plastic dollar note.

Paddy's River Falls

by

Duncan Williams

Some Australian bushland beauty,
Has been captured through my eyes,
To the south by Tumbarumba,
Under Snowy mountain skys.
Where tall stringy-barks are standing,
And the bush birds charming calls,
Along a tranquil mountain valley,
The peace'ful Paddy's river falls.

Seen the vastness of the outback,
And the many stars at night,
Rolled my swag on western rivers,
To the glow of morning light.
Where the kangaroo's go bounding,
In big mobs across the plains,
When the outback land is greener,
At the end of season rains.

Thoughts are now here in the snowy's,
Relaxing closely by the falls,
Listening to the rippling water,
To the chirp of bush bird calls.
My resting time at paddy's river,
Australia's unique bushland scene,
The crystal waters of the snowy,
Where the hills rise high between.

Drew

by

Duncan Williams

I met him at the showgrounds,
In around october ninty five,
Akubra hat and wrangler jeans,
Looked so fit and well alive.
Spoke about life in the top end,
Where he worked on a kimberley run,
The men an life in stockcamps,
And bull ridin that he'd done.
The down to earth life of a stockman,
The vision of the far distant track,
He reminded me only of myself,
Myself in the distant outback.
My hero's have always been cowboys,
Was the song that drew played to me,
We camped near the shute yards at orange,
Singin songs, tellin bush poetry.

The Powers Of The Sea.

by

Duncan Williams

As Tsunami waves came crashing,
To homes above the shore,
And family lives were broken,
Like nothing seen before.
On that day of devastation,
By the oceans rising tide,
Many people were left homeless,
Well as many thousands died.
The shock of what had happened,
In the future, left to be,
When nations come together,
In,"the powers of the sea".!