Near Castlemaine
The Winter mostly cold and dry
And little rainfall in July
And not much water in the creek and drain
By the old Town of Castlemaine.
In central Victoria a Colonial Town
Of 'The Wild Colonial Boy' renown
One of a dubious sort of fame
A ballad glorifies his name.
The chill of Winter in the air
And in the paddocks brown and bare
The cattle bellowing for hay
Close to their feed barrier they stay.
The magpie's flute is ringing clear
Always a pleasant thing to hear
They build their nest of sticks as Spring draws near
Before blossoms on the fruit trees appear
In Castlemaine on a Winter's day
The sun doesn't shine through clouds of gray
Yet little water in the creek and drain
And the bone dry paddocks thirst for rain.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A Pleasant Day For July
In the cool sun of mid Winter a gentle northern breeze
Is whispering in the parkland on the gum and wattle trees
The leaves are quietly stirring as the branches gently sway
And the sparrows are chirping on a pleasant Winter's day.
Going by the weather forecast heavy rain is on the way
The calm before the storm as some are known to say
But we won't be complaining as we do need lots of rain
To add to the Town reservoir and bring life to the creek and drain.
A pleasant day for July in the Southern Winter of the year
The sweet flute of the magpie is a joyful thing to hear
The blackbirds in the garden gathering material for their nest
And Spring is not that distant the Season many love best.
A pleasant day for July with just a slight chill in the air
And even in the southern Winter days such as this are rare
The first of September the calendar Spring's first day
In time does not seem distant barely six weeks away.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Castlemaine
You've heard the song 'The wild colonial boy'
An oft sung ballad of decades gone by
His name was Jack Doolin from Castlemaine
Where now no trace of his existence remain.
The magpie's song tell Spring not far away
From Castlemaine on this bright August day
A sunny day with scarce a puff of breeze
And new leaves budding on deciduous trees.
In this Town in North West Victoria made famous by a song
The links to the pioneering days still strong
And though their's is Australia's oldest history
No traces of Aboriginal culture here I see.
So few acres ploughed for the growing of crops and grain
In the countryside around old Castlemaine
Few acres for the harvester to reap
This is a cattle country with some sheep.
Famed in a song as Jack Doolin's Hometown
Old Castlemaine of folklore and renown
And strong links to it's pioneering past remain
In the north west country Town of Castlemaine.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Wet Day In July
Such wild and chilly weather with heavy showers of sleety rain
That flood the spouting and the creek and the storm water drain
And the paddocks around the Powlett river seem like an inland sea
And water everywhere about as far as the eyes can see.
The old bloke Mick scratches his head as he looks up at the sky
Saying more rain clouds o'er the ocean 'twill make a wet
July
On either side of the highway from Bass into Wonthaggi there's water everywhere
The paddock by our house is waterlogged 'tis like a quagmire there.
In July in south west Gippsland the weather often wild and cold and wet
But according to Mick from Bass this one the wettest yet
In more than sixty years of life he has known big rainfall
But yesterday is the wettest day he ever can recall.
In the paddocks between Kilcunda and Dalyston water everywhere about
And the Powlett river is overflowing it's banks and it's surplus water is flooding out
Making the land look like an inland sea and cattle on the hill bellow for hay
And in the coastal lands of south west Gippsland another rainy July day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Cold Winter's Day
The weather cold and overcast in the middle of July
And cold jack frost blows with his chilly breath across the Winter sky
And in Kyneton, Trentham and Daylesford they have had a fall of snow
And the temperatures at zero and the weather glass is low
From Spring through Summer to late Fall the weather warm and dry
And for days on end the sun was burning in the clear blue sky
But the rain and snow is needed now and people pray for more
For the paddocks at this time of year never dry as this before
Yet today I saw a magpie despite the Wintery chill
Fly from the ground to a tall gum tree with a twig in his bill
For to build a nest an early sign of the approach of Spring
Of late in the darkness of the night I hear his kin bird sing
In parts of Central Victoria it is snowing, cattle bellowing for hay
And the cold breath of jack frost in the wind it has been a chilly day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An August Day In South West Gippsland
The weather rather chilly it is cold enough to snow
And the flat paddocks under water where the Powlett river overflow
And even in the distance one can hear the ocean roar
As the tide up the beach races and splash on rocks along the shore.
Yet the magpie he is fluting on this gray August day
He and his wife are nest building Spring cannot be far away
And though rain is in the forecast and in the freshening breeze
The wattlebirds are cackling on the flowering banksia trees.
Between Dalyston and Kilcunda flooded paddocks all around
And sheep and cattle from the flooding have moved to the higher ground
And though the weather not that pleasant Spring with every day draws near
And September is so lovely in the Southern Hemisphere.
An August day in South West Gippsland the air has a wintery chill
And a flooded Powlett river it flows bank high down the hill
And though the sky looks gray and gloomy and the rain in drizzle fall
The magpie he is singing and the spur winged plover call.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For July A Rare Sunny Day
For July a rare sunny day
The sun peep through the clouds of gray
And the nest building magpie does sing
Five weeks from the first day of Spring.
Tiny frogs sing in the watery drain
Swollen by recent heavy rain
And the song of the blackbird I hear
Familiar, melodious and clear.
Late Winter a nice time of year
One knows that the Spring it is near
The birds know it is time to breed
And the call of Nature they do heed.
Mild sunshine with a gentle breeze
And magpies piping on the gum trees
And the magpie larks calling pee wee
In the sunlit park by the sea.
The sun shining in the gray sky
Such a pleasant day for July
The birds sense the coming of Spring
Nature is such an amazing thing.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On This The Third Day Of Winter
On this the third day of Winter the sun it brightly shine
And the yellow tailed black cockatoos on the monterey pine
Grasp the pine cones with their powerful claws and shred them for the seed
And dropp the shredded cones to earth when they have had their feed.
On this the third day of Winter the white backed magpie sing
From branch high on the stringybark his flute like music ring
And on the lush grasses by the pond the dappled wood duck graze
Whilst others of their kin their feathers preen and in the sunshine laze.
On this the third day of Winter the butcherbird's song I hear
And did I not know what time of year it was I'd swear that Spring was here
Two days back the chilly gales blew fierce and the rain came lashing down
And now the sun is shining bright on the paddocks by the Town.
On this the third day of Winter the sun shines in clear sky
And myna with the scratchy song is singing as he fly
And a few days back it rained all day and the gums soughed in the wind
But as Shakespeare once wrote 'If Winter comes can Spring be far behind'
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Oh Sing Us Of Central Victoria
Oh sing us of central Victoria of places like Daylesford, Maryborough and Castlemaine
To that flat and open brown country that welcomes every dropp of rain
Where gold miners flocked to in their thousands a century and a half ago
And where some even amassed great fortunes in the goldfields of old Bendigo.
Oh sing us of Central Victoria the brown lands I fancy I see
Far Inland and away from suburbia some say it is God's own country
Where Indigenous black tribes once hunted in an ancient land as old as time
The ballad singers sing about it and the bards by it inspired to rhyme.
Oh sing us of Central Victoria of Maldon and Hepburn Springs
Where in the cool months of the Winter the dark bird the currawong sings,
The young man lives and works in the city but he often visualize
The beautiful song of the magpie away from the traffic and noise.
Oh sing us of Central Victoria if you feel like singing a song
Of those ancient brown lands of Victoria the God of the black tribes belong
Away from polluted suburbia where welcome swallow chirp and fly
And butcherbird's clear pleasant fluting echo to the still morning sky.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Thunder Cracks In The Gray Sky
The thunder cracks in the gray sky and the rain it is bucketing down
Above the high and dry and bare paddocks by the river that flows by the town
On those paddocks that need heaps of rain it has been awhile since they were green
This countryside is looking dry 'tis as dry as it ever has been
His feathers soaked wet from the rain the magpie flutes on the blackwood tree
From it's drenched leaves the rain drips and drips by the river that flows to the sea
To the river adown the bare hill the water in rivulets run
As soon as the rain will have stopped they will quickly dry out in the sun
The Summer has been warm and dry and the long range weather forecast is for a dry Fall
An hour of heavy thunder rain of little use though better than nothing at all
For months the farmers have been praying for rain their prayers in part answered today
But the sun shines across the brown hills and the rain clouds are clearing away
And the magpie shakes his feathers dry and no rain drops left to drip from the trees
And white butterflies flitting about in the sunshine and feshening breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Bright And Sunny Day
A bright and sunny day in the Winter it makes one happy to be alive
A nice day to go out the Country if one had a car for to drive
Or to have a walk in the parkland and enjoy the Winter sunshine
Last night it was windy and raining this sort of weather suits me fine,
It is said of Victoria's weather that you get four Seasons in a day
It rains and becomes chilly and windy and skies become clouded and gray
And then the sun burns through the cumulus making everywhere warm and bright
And sparrows in the sunlit hedgerows are chirping in the Winter sunlight,
A bright and sunny day in the Winter and not a rain cloud in the sky
A typical Winter's day in Victoria what one might expect of July
The State of four Seasons in one day of chilly wind and of sunshine and rain
The magpie he pipes in all weather and the breeding frogs sing in the drain,
A bright and sunny day in the Winter and not a rain cloud in the sky
In the State of four Seasons in one day quite typical one might say for July.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Rainy Day In Early June
The gray sky clouded over the rain is drizzling down
And the golf course is deserted by the river near the town
An early June day in early Winter in the Southern Hemisphere
The sun in the rain clouds hidden it is that time of year
From once you hear him singing his voice with you remain
The magpie he is piping in defiance of the rain
The gray and brown red wattlebird with a hoarseness in his cry
Is calling on a flowering gum that drips of rain nearby
To the vast expanse of dark water that crawls slowly to the sea
And in the calm dampness of the drizzling rain come the song of the pee wee
On this rainy day in early Winter it seems a long way from the Spring
When most of Nature's wildborn birds will build their nests and chirp and sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
From Early To Mid Spring
The weather changeable from early to mid Spring
But so nice to hear the nesting songbirds sing
In the town park in the gray dawn of the day
Song in their breeding season to defend territory a huge part seems to play
Yesterday we had some heavy showers of rain
But today the sun shines in the sky again
The cooler weather of the Winter all but gone
And the days will become warmer as the Spring goes on
The parks and paddocks looking lush and green
And Nature at her very finest seen
In early Spring the white backed magpie he pipes day and night
And the blackbird can be heard at dawn's first light
And magpie larks build their cup shaped nest on branch of tree
And all day long sing out pee wee pee wee.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On Hearing A White Backed Magpie Singing In The Rain
The white backed magpie singing and skies so gloomy gray
And magpie does sound happy on such a gloomy day
But why is magpie happy what reason for his joy
All in the depths of Winter this morning in July? .
The rain come down in torrents and dark clouds o'er the hill
And freshening winds blow colder the breath of winter chill
The raindrops freely running adown the window pane
And still the magpie singing and whistling in the rain.
Why is the magpie singing what reason for his cheer
On this cold day in winter the wettest of the year?
The wettest day of Winter the wind blow cold and strong
And merry magpie singing his distinct happy song.
The white backed magpie piping his happy melody
On wettest day in Winter on rain soaked blackwood tree
And I ponder the question the simple question why?
The magpie feel so happy on wet day in July.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Little Country Town
The creek down to a trickle and the paddocks looking brown
And not much ever seems to happen in the Little Country Town
lived in by the descendants of the early settlers who settled here a century ago
Of the bigger World out there few of them wish to know.
At night the recent happenings discussed in the local pub
News of the local cricketers or the local football club
Where the personal lives of those they know to them never taboo
What is happenning in the town of late who is having sex with who?
The visual or the literary arts never discussed at all
It has to be a local scandal that or bowls cricket or football
In little country towns one might say that creative types are rare
They are looked on with suspicion the culturally aware.
The creek down to a trickle and bone dry every drain
And in the local church on sunday the Reverend prays for rain
In the Main Street all is so quiet and few cars pass up and down
And life goes on as usual in the Little Country Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
August The Thirtieth
The sky overcast the rain comes down in drizzle August the thirtieth the date of today
This time tomorrow yes this time tomorrow Spring will be just a few hours away
Some birds are nest building others on their eggs sitting male magpie is piping on the stringybark tree
At this time of year he attacks without warning even humans who venture near his territory.
The clock on the Winter is ticking and ticking time on anyone or anything does not wait
Fragile pink blossoms on the fruit trees in the garden such things of beauty that Nature create
Spring brings her youth to this Southern Country spreading her greenery everywhere she goes
Wildflowers by the creek are coming to bloom now pink on the buds amongst the thorns of the rose
August the thirtieth the Winter is dying Spring is a beautiful time of the year
White flowers in clusters amongst the pittosporums the flute of the butcherbird pleasant to hear
Everyday nearer to bloom and to sunshine the year one might say fast aproaching it's prime
Winter is dying the year's coldest Season Spring brings her green with her fresh and warm clime.
August the thirtieth the second last day of the Winter rain fall in drizzle from an overcast sky
Pink flowers are fading upon the camellias blooms of the Winter in early Spring die
The Goddess of Spring she is quickly approaching over the cliffs of the southern bay
On this time tomorrow from this Southern Country she will be only a few hours away.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On The Fourth Day Of March
The pleasant aroma of the peppercorn trees
That come wafting to me in the evening breeze
And on the nearby pond the shy moorhen call
On the fourth day of March and the southern Fall.
A white backed magpie pipes on a nearby gum tree
A bird one so often does hear and does see
And though early Autumn the deciduous trees in the park of the town
Their leaves still quite green and not showing any brown.
The weather quite cool compared to yesterday
But the temperatures perfect for me anyway
Today a cool high of twenty two degrees
From the recent warm weather we do need some ease.
The brown and bare paddocks could do with some rain
And the farmers are feeling the financial strain
Of months of dry weather they feel burdened by care
And their financial cross for them heavy to bear.
There is not one rain cloud in the clear blue sky
And the thistledown flying in the breeze through the sky
And the dark moorhen call in the brown pond nearby
And the paddocks are looking so bare, brown and dry.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Pleasant Day In Gippsland In July
The breeding frogs in the shallow pools are croaking
But they fall silent as near you walk by
Elusive creatures their secrets of survival
Is that they are small and hard to see and shy.
The day is pleasant if a little chilly
Even though the sun is shining in the sky
Still one could easily find a climate more unpleasant
Than South Gippsland in mid Winter in July.
A time of year when growth is all but dormant
Yet every day is one day nearer Spring
And even in the pale weak Winter sunlight
The magpie on a gum tree briefly sing.
It is a pleasant day to walk in Nature
White fronted chats from ground to fence line fly
On Winter months in small flocks they assemble
In rank coastal paddocks where the ground is dry.
On pleasant days in Gippsland in the winter
There's things of natural beauty for to see
And it is nice to walk the gravelly pathway
When the yellow blooms are on the wattle tree.
South Gippsland in Victoria in mid winter
A pleasant day with a slight freshening breeze
And it's not warm although the sun is shining
And the temperatures around fourteen degrees.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Victoria's Weather
On fifth day of September five days into the Spring
The currawongs the birds of rain on the high gum trees sing
And weather back to Winter change and chill the breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
In latter days of Winter the weather nice and fine
And morning paddocks gray with frost that melted in sunshine
And temperatures rose through the day to near twenty degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze.
Victoria's weather changes quick it's always been that way
And a heavy shower of cold Spring hail has left the garden gray
A high of five a low of two that's what the forecast say
In the only place that you will get four Seasons in one day.
The currawongs the birds of rain sing on the tall gum trees
On this the coldest day of Spring it's only five degrees
And through the wood on Selby hill the chilly breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Wintery Day
The sun hidden in dark gray clouds Winter wears her shroud of gloom
But on the camellias and the magnolias the pink and white flowers bloom
And though the wind with a damp cold chill is blowing from north to south
Even in the depths of Winter Nature's beauty is about
The soft chirpings of the crimson rosellas so pleasant for to hear
Their notes do not seem to vary at any time of year
And the flute like notes of the magpie in the wooded hillside ring
In this their breeding Season at night his kind does sing
The harsh calls of the white sulphur crested cockatoos one never could mistake
One does often hear them in the wood at nightfall and daybreak
And the bubbling song of the grey butcherbird melodious and clear
Brings to the gloomy Winter's day the joy of Nature's cheer
The rain it falls in drizzles and the breeze has a cool chill
And the dampness of the Winter hangs around the wooded hill.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Evening The Farmer Is happy
The corellas on the tall gums are calling as darkness is cloaking the sky
The evening is calm though 'tis raining and we need rain the ground is so dry
This evening the farmer is happy his water tanks filling in the rain
Nice to hear the spluttering of rain water down the guttering to the storm water drain
Yes the farmer with the rain is happy with the warmer days of Summer ahead
The long spells of droughts and of bushfires of such things he does live in dread
In these times of climate change and global warming we do get some weather extremes
For our polluting of our natural environment our price to pay it will be huge it seems
With farm dams and smaller waterways drying out less water birds for to be seen
The countryside dry and brown looking as brown as it ever has been
The rain has never been more welcome the happy farmer has cause to smile
In the Winter and Spring little rainfall we have not seen heavy rain for some-while
The sound of the rain on the galvanize roofs is a pleasant sound for to hear
And the farmer he is looking happier at the end for him of a hard year.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!