Another example of an older poem. Recollections of a time when I lived in the Bega Valley. I hope some readers get a little enjoyment from it.
Off, off, we go, to Candelo!
Where the creek runs through the hills.
Where the wombats run and foxes dodge the gun,
And the dairies take their fills.
Where folks milk their cows,
And fatten their sows,
Where sheep take leave of their fleece.
Where Mount Myrtle stands tall,
And the Candelo Hall,
Bears generations of stories in its walls.
Where hockey and bowls
Give young and old some roles,
To play for their local team.
And the Pub and the Club
Keep serving the grub
And a schooner or two in between.
Where they’re proud of their show
And their markets you know
And the milk that is topped off with cream.
Then open your eyes to the snakes and fish,
The creek carries down in its stream.
So, come back! Come back!
Along Candelo track,
Where the folks make you feel at home.
You remember a while, the Candelo style,
No matter how far you roam.
Simon C.J. Falk 25 October 2008