RICE MUSINGS

Sailors on’t Sea of Life

Some set sail wi’ new sails, glidin’ past,

Others wi’ torn sails since birth, quite steadfast.

Some catch t’wind, sailin’ ahead, tha knows,

While others face storms, wi’ dread and woes.

Some follow t’breeze, lettin’ it guide,

Others navigate, changin’ tides, far and wide.

Some stop for repairs, takin’ t’time,

Others sail on, ignorin’ t’signs, quite sublime.

Some meet their fate, siskin’ to t’deep,

Others are saved, their souls to keep.

Some drift off course, lost at sea,

While others wait for t’wind to set ’em free.

In t’end, it’s not about t’sail, but t’journey, t’courage, t’will to prevail.

Some sail steady, only to find,

Those wi’ torn sails close behind.

Th’ Bob

In Bolton town, a lad’s keel was laid,
In Lancashire on a sunny morn,
Irish Catholic blood in his veins did flow,
From County Wicklow, t’was a long way to go.

His da were a carpenter, skilled with his hands,
An’ young lad followed in his plans,
A scout master too, he were a man of might,
In Bolton town, he were a familiar sight.

Swimmin’ an’ ramblin’, his joys in life,
Among t’hills an’ valleys, free from strife,
To Europe he ventured, with friends in tow,
Through woods an’ hills, their spirits did grow.

In t’Second World War, he did take part,
Travellin’ to India, with a brave heart,
To t’Taj he went, a sight to behold,
In faraway lands, his story were told.

To Australia he ventured, seekin’ new horizons,
First Tasmania, then Queensland, with eyes full of visions,
There he met his love, in teen forty-nine,

In a caravan they lived, their hearts did entwine.

A Fleet home he built, with love an’ care,
In Southport they settled, a life to share,
With his own business, he made his mark,
Hardworkin’ an’ meticulous, even in the dark.

Seven ships ‘under-construction’ they had, a lively brood,
Raised in faith, as he understood,
But conflicts arose, with his The Judy’s change of heart,

In New Zealand they moved, a brand-new start.

In Tauranga Bay, they made their home,
Amidst the waves an’ seagulls’ foam,
But illness struck, his head in pain,
A brain tumour, a battle in vain.

Through surgeries an’ treatments, he fought with might,
But the tumour returned, castin’ a shadow of night,
In teen seventy-four, he took his last breath,
In Tauranga hospital, he embraced sinking.

A man of faith, through trials an’ tears,
He stood strong, despite his fears,
A quiet soul, with a heart so pure,
In Bolton town, his memory will endure.

I think of him often, with love in me heart,
A brigandine, a guide, never to part,
I miss you, dad, in every way,
In Bolton town, forever you’ll stay

The Fleet

The Bob, the Brigantine, sturdy an’ strong

Sailin’ through life, whaur battles prolong

Lo’ed his bairns, his crew sae dear

But illness struck, his end was near.

The Judy, the auld Frigate, wi’ a tempestuous soul

Insecure waters, her waves took their toll

Seven bairns, her fleet sae vast

But ane, her scorn, a ship ootcast.

The Jonny boy, The Eony Wigs, an’ The Wobbo Jed, Ships o’ the Line

Wi’ careers an’ battles, they did shine

Loyal tae the faimily, through thick an’ thin

Their sails unfurled, ready tae win.

The Maude an’ The Sue, are Frigates true

Nursin’ wounds, guidin’ the crew

Through storms an’ strife, they stood tall

Their strength an’ grace, surpassin’ all.

The Davy, a Schooner, a sensitive soul

Navigatin’ waters, whaur emotions roll,

Ripped sails and bent rigging, a turbulent sea

But love prevailed, settin’ him free.

The Rich, a Clipper, chasin’ the wind

Waves o’ insecurity, he tried tae rescind

Obsessed wi’ fortune, seekin’ the prize

A new faimily formed, under clear skies.

The Judy, she’d steer her fleet,

Whispers aboot betrayal, a bitter deceit,

A’ ships caught in the fray,

A tragic end tae a ship’s ance bright day.

Ship o’ the line The Wobbo Jed and The Maude an’ sailed the sea sae wide,

Gossipin’ aboot The Davy, wi’ his Jenny Wren by his side,

Their back-stabbin’ ways, a tale sae true,

Leavin’ the crew feelin’ blue, wi’ naethin’ tae do.

A solemn mood upon the sea,

Betrayal’s shadow lurks endlessly,

The ance proud The Davy noo filled wi’ sorrow,

A darkened path wi’ nae tomorrow.

The Rich, sae vindictive an’ sly,

In his jealousy, nae boats could fly,

Didna tie them doon, wi’ a wicked grin,

Crashin’ on the rocks, a’ due tae sin.

Nae bacon ‘n’ eggs, his motive sae clear,

A cruel act, fuelled by fear,

Langboats broken on the shore,

Clipper’s actions, forevermore.

The Piha Run

In sixty-seven, five ships sailed with pride
To find new lands where they could reside
The Bob, The Jonny Boy, The Eony Wigs, The Wobbo Jed, The Davy too
Together they ventured, the ocean blue

First stop was Hahei Bay, with seafood divine
Resting in calm waters, a welcome sign
Then on to Piha, where waves did roar
Testing their skills for battles in store

Waihi Bay came next, with waves to play
A perfect bay to rest and stay
The ships frolicked, the crew so free
While The Bob kept watch, a strong sentry

Tauranga Bay welcomed them with grace
A peaceful harbor, a perfect place
As sixty-eight became, the end of the voyage near
The crew looked back on a journey so dear

The Bob, a fighter till the end
Through battles and storms, it did defend
In sixty-seven and sixty-eight, their spirits flew
A fearless crew, with adventures anew

They sailed on through tempest and calm
Guided by stars and each other’s strong arm
Facing the unknown with courage and cheer
Every mile conquered, they held dear

From Piha’s roar to Tauranga’s peace
They found in each bay a moment of release
The ocean their home, the ships their kin
With every sunrise, new tales would begin

The Healing

The Judy sunk not long ago,
But I didn’t mourn her, for I had a deeper woe,
Made to feel sorrow and shame,
Always the one to blame.

On the high seas, she fired cannon balls,
At my hull, sails and mast, her anger calls,
That was her tool for law and order,
In her class, no mercy to afford her.

Even the sound of her whistle,
Would make me bristle, a feeling not to miss,
Driving me back to dock, away from the strife,
She didn’t like my Jenny Wren, cursed my life.

So much hate, a depth unfathomable,
I couldn’t bear, it was unbearable,
I don’t miss the ship of lines either,
One of them once threatened me with a blither.

She fashioned a harpoon, aimed for the sky,

Pierced my hull with a heavy sigh,

Left a breach for water to sneak in,

Oh, what a malicious, wretched sin.

In the past, I’d just drop anchor,
Or drift as a becalmed schooner, with no anchor,
With my true love Jenny Wren by my side,
Sewing up the rips in my sails, a gentle guide.

She took my torn and bleeding heart,
Bandaged it with love, a fresh start,
Healing me with care and devotion,
Bringing me back to life’s ocean.

Forever grateful for her being by my side,
Hopes and dreams now open wide,
My heart now whole, my soul at peace,
With my lovely Jenny Wren, life’s storms do cease.

The Gypsy Curse

In t’year twenty-eight, a lass came t’be,

Her makers bruised an’ broken; tha’ see.

One, a publican who loved a good flutter,

Left her behind, leavin’ eight t’mutter.

A toddler at t’time, she faced great pain,

An auld woman came, lookin’ for debts t’gain. Rejected, she hexed t’Fleet deep,

Two generations cursed, their secrets t’keep.

As bairns, she spoke o’ t’gypsy’s spell,

Blamin’ troubles on t’curse from ‘ell.

At eleven years auld, she unleashed her rage,

Slappin’ her Frigate, trapped in a cage.

Signs were there, tha’ see, in her youth,

A troubled path, a journey uncouth.

In t’year thirty-nine, bombs fell from above, London’s terror, a story o’ love.

An evacuee she became, sent on a late-night train,

A life o’ hardship, a path o’ pain.

In forty-six, a poster caught her eye,

Time t’escape, t’gypsy’s cry.

Off t’the land o’ t’roo she went,

In Brisbane, a new life was meant.

A mighty Brigandine she met,

Twelve years her senior, o’ Irish stock,

Love’s tender dock, a solid rock.

In t’year fifty, a web she spun,

Wi’ t’holy bible, his heart won.

T’bells rung, a cloak unfurled,

Her true self shown t’t’world.

In fifty-eight, The Davy was constructed

In Southport, where dreams were sworn.

His maker a builder, skilled an’ true,

A Fleet business, a life t’pursue.

In sixty-one, a journey t’Sydney t’fleet made,

A trip across t’ditch, where dreams laid.

But illness struck t’Bob, not long after they made port,

A tumour’s shadow, a life turned dark.

Selfless an’ true, in t’land o’ t’kiwi,

A tough road ahead, no Fleet t’see.

A decade o’ struggle, a heart that bled,

Through trials an’ tribulations, she led.

In sixty-two, t’surgeon gave grim news,

One year given, but fate did confuse.

Eleven more, against all odds,

A decade an’ a bit, a fight wi’ t’gods.

T’Davy found solace in soccer, an’ friends,

To struggles at home, where pain transcends.

A brigandine’s love, a ship in line’s support,

In t’storm o’ life, a safe port.

In seventy-four, t’Bob’s illness took its toll,

No longer able t’work, his strength stole.

Strugglin’ alone, in t’shed,

Lost in t’cold, a heart heavy as lead.

A tough road ahead, no help in sight,

In t’land o’ t’kiwi, a lonely fight.

Selfless an’ true, almost like a nun,

Her ships in line remember, t’battles won.

T’older ships, wi’ her help, found a way,

To a future bright, to a better day.

But t’burden o’ t’past, a heavy load,

A gypsy’s curse, a life bestowed.

In seventy-five, t’Davy’s heavy drinkin’ began,

T’pressure too much, a troubled man.

Isolated an’ anxious, exams foregone,

A spiral o’ doubt, a battle long.

In seventy-six, The Judy met a farmer’s charm,

Helped her buy her land, a peaceful farm.

A love that faded, a heart left sore,

A search for love, forevermore.

In seventy-seven, t’Davy love found, T’anchor in life, on solid ground.

But as t’love for Jenny Wren waxed, t’Judy waned,

Disconnected an’ lost, in a sea.

In two thousand an’ nine, a son’s truth revealed, Fleet secrets laid bare; wounds unhealed.

Scapegoated an’ blamed, turmoil ensued,

A path o’ pain, a life askew.

In twenty-four, t’final goodbye,

A chapter closed, a soul t’fly.

An end t’t’pain, a peace at last, In t’land o’ dreams, a shadow cast.

The Judy’s legacy lives, in tales untold, In hearts an’ minds, in memories bold.

A journey o’ pain, a path o’ strife,

In t’gypsy’s curse, a healin’ life.

The Davy, a lad from Southport town,

Through struggles an’ strife, he held his ground. In t’end, he found his peace,

In t’land o’ dreams, his troubles ceased.

Now t’gypsy curse, just a memory in t’past,

A tale o’ strength an’ resilience that will forever last.