• The Rhymers Rhyme On They Are Born To Rhyme

    The literary critics may dismiss their work as of another time
    But the rhymers rhyme on they are born to rhyme
    And they will go on rhyming till their last night and day
    The rhymers could never give rhyming away... more »

  • The Rhymers They Are Always Rhyming

    The poets have their off days in poetry but the rhymers never run out of rhyme
    And this is how it always has been on going back the centuries of time
    For to write rhyme is always so easy as easy as easy can be
    To write it you need not be a highbrow one who has a literary degree... more »

  • The Rhymers They Never Do Run Out Of Rhyme

    They rhyme into old age long beyond their lives prime
    The rhymers they never do run out of rhyme
    Though their physical best years of life are long gone
    The rhymers love rhyming and they do rhyme on... more »

  • The Rhymes Come To Me

    I have written the rhymes of the far away hills
    And the babbling rivers and silver tongued rills
    That have inspired the makers of story and rhyme
    And have flowed through the old fields through centuries of time... more »

  • The Rhymes Do Come To Me

    The rhymes do come to me on notepaper i pen them down
    But not for financial gain or even local renown
    Some even tell me i waste far too much of my time
    On penning what to them is doggerel rhyme... more »

  • The Rhymes Do Come To Me And I Pen Them Down

    The rhymes do come to me and i pen them down
    But never for money or for literary renown
    Just one of those people who was born to rhyme
    I have been a rhymer for four decades of time... more »

  • The Rhymes Do Keep Coming

    I must be as lucky as lucky can be
    Since the rhymes every day do keep coming to me
    Though many years now past my physical prime
    I must be one blessed by the Goddess of Rhyme... more »

  • The Rhymes Do Keep Coming On Coming To Me

    My worth as a writer i always do doubt
    But i am never short of things for to write about
    And though more than three decades beyond my life's prime
    I never do seem for to run out of rhyme... more »

  • The Rhymes I Pen

    The rhymes I pen do seem a little rough
    As literary critics might say not good enough
    To be seen as poetry or worthy of note
    But then I never said I was a poet... more »

  • The Rhymes I Write

    The rhymes i write i found them in the river and in the valley and the the field and lake
    And i found them where the wind soughs in the tall trees and i found them in the bird song at daybreak
    And i found them in the lives of other people in their times of sorrow and their times of joy
    And i found them in the children of the playground the skipping girl and the running boy... more »

  • The Rhymes In My Soul

    Though nothing of importance I have for to say
    The rhymes in my soul they keep bubbling away
    And though they never will bring to me wealth and renown
    They keep coming to me and I pen them down... more »

  • The Rich Old Bloke's Squeeze

    One might say he rescued her from poverty
    He is seventy two and she is twenty three
    And though her he never could sexually please
    She is happy just to be the rich old bloke's squeeze.... more »

  • The Righteous One

    You tell me your God is the only God and that your God is great
    And against those who worship others Gods you discriminate
    And you condemn the non believing infidel
    To suffer with Satan forever in hell,... more »

  • The Rill From Claramore

    Babbling in the fields of Claraghatlea the Rill from Claramore
    At the beginning of it's journey to the far Atlantic shore
    By hedgerows and by ditches it babbles night and day
    On towards the bigger waterways it winds it downhill way... more »

  • The Rill From High Claramore

    In the flat fields of Claraghatlea from it's source by the hill
    It babbles towards the river the Claramore Rill
    A waterway that has inspired the writers of story and rhyme
    That will flow on forever through the centuries of time... more »

  • The Rill From The Foot Of The Mountain

    The rill from the foot of the mountain that joins the river to the sea
    It has babbled on downhill forever by hedgerows in the high
    It has witnessed the birth and death of millions of Seasons even before the first Human was born... more »

  • The Rill From The Valley

    From the little lake at the foot of the hill
    It ripples downland the clear sparkling rill
    Towards the ocean bound river many miles away
    It's tongue never silent by night or by day... more »

  • The Rill That Becomes The Big River

    The rill that flows down from the foothills along by the bracken and heath
    Grows into a wide and deep river before the ocean it does meet
    It babbles through groves and by hedgerows and receives waters of stream and drain
    In dry spells it flows in a trickle and it overflows in heavy rain.... more »

  • The Ringtail Possum

    The sun goes down beyond the western hill
    And darkness comes in with the evening chill
    And all day creatures gone to roost and rest
    And ringtail possum leaves her leafy nest.... more »

  • The River

    Down through bare fields and by many a hedgerow the streams from the high country flow
    Down to join and swell the big river that into a huge water-way grow
    On it's long journey to the ocean it babbles along night and day
    From it's birth-place in the high valley saltwater seems quite a long way,... more »

  • The River Forever To The Ocean Flow

    The river that flows from the hills far away
    Through wetlands and dry lands by night and by day
    As old as father time will journey forever more
    Through the flat coastal lands en route to the sea shore.... more »

  • The River From The High Country

    Through dry and brown paddocks and many a bush town
    The river from the high country babbles on down
    In the darkness of night and the bright lamp of day
    To the Pacific Ocean many miles away... more »

  • The River Grows Wider And Deeper

    The river grows wider and deeper as near to the ocean it flow
    It crawls onwards quietly at a snail's pace and a snail's pace it is very slow
    One can hear the surf waves in the distance as they crash against the cliff on the shore
    A sound that is as old as forever and that will be heard forever more... more »

  • The River Meets The Sea

    Sitting at a park table enjoying cake and tea
    Near where the river does meet the sea
    Such a lovely place for one to be
    Some of the best things in life they are free... more »

  • The River Of Pigeons

    A place to my thoughts that remains ever near
    The River of Pigeons so far north of here
    In fancy i can hear the nesting birds sing
    When the old fields are in their wildflowers of the Spring.... more »