|
2009
CELTIC
SPIRITUALITY
&
MUSIC
TOUR
POEM
This
Irish
Paddy
said
to
me,
"It's
really
quite
bazaar.
You
Aussies
travel
all
this
way.,
it
seems
too
bloomin'
far.
For
Ireland
from
Australia
is
a
full
days
flight
away,
just
why
yah
make
this
awesome
flight,
I'd
like
to
hear
yah
say."
Well
some
have
come
to
learn
more
of
the
history
of
this
land,
While
others
seek
the
scenery,
green
hills
and
cliffs
so
grand.
But
most
have
got
a
flame
inside
that
former
kin
have
lit
of
culture
and
of
heritage,
of
hardships
never
writ.
For
coming
back
and
walking
in
these
footprints
from
afar
helps
keep
alive
our
origins
that
made
us
who
we
are.
And
though
the
scenes
and
history
impacted
on
our
eye,
the
people
on
this
trip
provided
gems
you'd
never
buy.
Like
Neil,
our
comic,
was
a
gem
a
real
live
scally‐wag,
Thank
God
his
team
Geelong
got
up
to
win
the
honoured
flag.
His
Captain
Bligh
grey
beard
brought
much
joy
to
all
the
clan,
and
everyone
copped
banter
from
Geelong's
most
favoured
fan.
Janette
could
well
be
canonized
for
putting
up
with
Neil.
No
saint
would
be
more
tolerant,
more
patient,
more
genteel.
But
she
did
get
a
promise
from
her
Neil
that
he
would
build
a
stone
shed
like
Gallerum
for
with
rocks
he's
very
skilled.
And
what
about
our
Wallace
with
mouth
organ
playing
skill.
His
singing
of
that,
"Needing
Time"
gave
everyone
a
thrill.
And
when
he
bought
that
coloured
cap
that
fitted
him
so
grand,
It's
Ireland's
chequered
hills
he'll
wear
back
home
to
Aussie
land.
Our
Burns
met
every
challenge
that
the
Irish
hillside
set,
His
climb
up
to
Dunangus
Fort
did
hardly
raise
a
sweat.
The
Cliffs
of
Mohr
he
scaled
with
skill
and
Tara's
Hill
a
breeze,
Except
for
cloud
he
would
have
climbed
Craig
Patrick's
Hill
with
ease.
Our
youngest
member
Kristy
showed
great
talent
with
the
flute,
Her
classical
renditions
were
delightful,
really
beaut.
And
not
just
with
her
music
did
she
entertain
at
night,
But
Kristy's
Irish
dancing
steps
were
just
a
sheer
delight.
For
camera
shots
'twas
David
who
excelled
with
photo
skills,
If
someone
got
in
camera
trouble
David
solved
their
ills.
He
tracked
our
trip
on
travel
map
and
shared
this
with
us
all
and
details
of
the
cars
that
passed
he
knew
their
where‐with‐all.
Now
Rod
our
dairy
farmer
was
the
thinker
of
the
group,
Content
to
listen
and
applaud
the
comics
of
the
troupe.
He'd
chuckle
at
the
humour,
was
a
part
of
all
that's
on
and
tried
to
find
out
where
on
earth
those
Donohues
had
gone.
And
Cath
gave
us
romantic
scenes
with
Dave
in
movie
shows,
With
cheek
to
cheek
this
Juliet
embraced
her
Romeo.
Her
Nightingale
renditions
were
delightful
to
behold
With
clear
enunciations
of
the
stories
being
told.
Our
Trish
was
on
the
lookout
for
some
handsome
rich
young
man.
Despite
our
efforts
to
assist
things
didn't
go
to
plan.
Though
Trish
did
get,
"Potential"
from
one
Phil
at
Dingle
Bay;
his
bank
account
did
not
add
up,
so
Trish
went
on
her
way.
In
Brisbane
Joan
would
sing
among
the
Tara
Singings'
Group
but
here
she
joined
the
Nightingales,
our
Celtic
Touring
Troupe.
She
never
missed
a
photo
shot
of
every
scene
we
saw,
and
loved
that
white‐head
Guinness
drop
that
Irish
pubs
can
pour.
When
shopping
we
thought
Annie's
glasses
had
gone
walk‐about,
but
deep
within
her
carry
bag
those
vagabonds
jumped
out.
And
what
about
that
bell‐church
with
her
name
as
partisan.
No
Bells
of
old
St.
Mary's
rang
but
bells
of
our
St.
Ann.
Irene
the
organizer
of
the
Nightingale
Sextet,
worked
wonders
with
her
colleagues
in
this
female
singing
set.
And
Irene
gave
renditions
with
her
Wallace
as
they
sang,
those
beautiful
old
songs
we
knew
that
down
the
ages
rang.
And
Noel
whose
poems
had
us
laugh
with
school
time
stories
told.
How
Granny
with
the
wringer
got
her
boobs
caught
up
and
rolled.
And
John
O'Brien's,
"Hanrahan"
whose
pessimistic
ways
recalled
those
Aussie
pioneers
of
early
farming
days.
And
Tom
our
Effin
driver
helped
to
bring
the
scenes
alive,
for
he
is
steeped
in
Irish
past
which
he
shared
as
he'd
drive.
We
learnt
more
of
the
famine
and
the
griefs
those
hardships
brought.
We
saw
the
ruins
of
cottages,
rock‐built
like
some
wee
fort.
The
hate
for
cruel
Cromwell's
more
alive
though
he
is
dead,
his
bigotry
and
hatred
left
a
legacy
of
dread.
And
"Jesus,
Mary,
Joseph",
Tom
so
often
called
upon
you'd
think
they
were
co‐drivers
of
this
touring
trip
we're
on.
Expletives
like,
"Your
Igits"
from
our
Tom
were
often
rife,
while,
"Don't
Give
Up
Till
It's
Over"
will
stay
with
us
for
life.
Unflappable
Maria
did
keep
everyone
serene,
and
took
us
places
other
tourists
never
would
have
been.
Maria's
songs
would
complement
the
places
that
we
saw.
She
had
us
see
things
through
the
heart,
not
just
through
coach's
door.
The
pathos
in
her
lyrics
came
alive
as
we
did
roam.
Her
songs
meant
so
much
more
when
sung
in
this
her
other
home.
And
surely
Eddie
Rice,
like
us,
enjoyed
her
concert
night
as
in
his
chapel
her
performance
was
a
sheer
delight.
"My
Beautiful
Roisin",
became
the
favourite
of
us
all.
That
agent,
in
the
pub
that
night,
she
really
did
enthral.
It's
true
you
can't
remember
all
the
places
you
have
seen.
For
me
it's
more
an
extract
of
emotions
that
have
been.
Like
peacefulness,
serenity
from
all
the
lakes
and
bays,
Compassion
and
endurance
from
those
folk
in
famine
days.
The
black‐faced
sheep
so
agile
as
they
scaled
the
mountain
peak
Suggest
that
we,
like
them
can
scale
the
lofty
goals
we
seek.
And
patchwork
texture
of
the
hills
crisscrossed
by
walls
of
rocks
Reflects
rich
different
characters
you
meet
in
human
flocks.
So
thanks
to
you
Maria
dear
and
Tom
our
thanks
to
you,
and
to
our
thirteen
touring
mates
we
need
to
thank
you
too.
For
each
has
made
a
contribution
to
the
fun
domain.
Let's
hope
that
we
can
make
a
time
when
all
will
meet
again.
Noel
Stallard
October
2009
|
|
