Now quite a well known artist his fame known far and wide
And to the people of Millstreet and Duhallow his success a sense of pride
The likeable Bertie Buckley people like him are rare
His knowledge of art and his gifts with other people he is prepared to share.
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For most the writing of verse is a hungry belly game
And far easier journeys to wealth and to fame
Than penning stuff you cannot give away never mind sell
And ignored by the literary critics as mere doggerel.
...
What i dislike in others in my own self i do see
The darkness that envelopes them is enveloping me
The most of us flawed the near perfect seem rare
And so few like Mother Therese who for others truly care
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A shell of the man that he once used to be
His wife is his full time carer and without her he
Would be in a home for those who need ongoing care
His health it would seem it is beyond repair.
...
The youth of some Countries their justice system them fail
We hear such sad stories of children in jail
The Governments who allow this to happen must know of their shame
Though they of course never would take any blame
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Old Birdsland to my thoughts it is ever near
And in flights of fancy i fancy i hear
The shrike thrush whistling on a wattle tree
His beautiful notes are familiar to me
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For the problems i have i have myself to blame
But if you do not like me do not injure my name
For remember i too have to live in this town
And i am not one for to drag others down,
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Mt Rouse you were here long before people came
In the dinosaur age you were one without a name
You were very old even in the Dreamtime
And you inspired writers to story and rhyme,
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The girls of my boyhood in my thoughts remain
And in my flights of fancy i see them again
Walking in the town with the wind in their hair
In the bloom of youth and unburdened by care
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I really do not want to believe when i hear
That some C E O's are paid eight millions dollars a year
In a World where there is so much poverty
That does seem ridiculous would you not agree?
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