Richard Cecil Johnson

    Richard Cecil Johnson No 157, 5th Light Horse Regiment, he saw service in World War 1 at Gallipoli and in Palestine where he was wounded during the final advance at Amman in 1918.

     After being discharged from Rosemount Hospital in Brisbane, Cecil returned to Gracemere where he bought and cleared the property which he named “Tel - Manzar,” and which he developed into a flourishing pineapple farm. In 1921, at Alderley, Brisbane he married Grace Cecilia Thomson. Five children: Sylvia, John, Thelma, George and Pamela were born of this marriage, but Grace did not live to see her family grow. She died twelve years after her marriage.

     Cecil remarried in 1935, his bride being Doris Mary Duncan (nee Park) of Brisbane. One son of this union, David, joined the family. Early in the 1950’s Cecil retired from his farming to live at Zilzie, near Emu Park, but in 1955 he returned to Gracemere where he lived with Dorrie at “Green Gables”. He died on 26 th October, 1972.

     Cecil wrote a book of his poems entitled “His Poems”. In addition to his poetical works, Cecil was a great spinner of yarns to entertain the children, Particularly David, and later his grandchildren. Unfortunately these were not committed to paper. The stories concerned such characters as Pumpkin Head, Queen Coral and King Neptune, Goldy-eyed Frogs, Captain, Scallywag and Jumping Jerusalem and told in his inimitable fashion, they held the children enthralled.

     This was a poem Cecil wrote to his Brother Elmar in Brisbane 4-7-1920. Epistle to Bro. Elmar.
Dear Elmar, here’s to greet you, tho’ it’s time you wrote
And when this meets you, just send along a little note;
I’m weary waiting here for news that you should tell,
Tho’ I know it’s jolly clear that you wish me well;
So take your pen and ink, and write a word or two;
Of something try and think–just anything will do.
How’s the home a-keeping, and your bonsor wife?
Is the baby creeping and a-getting on in life?
If the weeds will keep a-growing and labour keeps increasing,
You must try and keep a-hoeing; never think of ceasing,
Sure it’s always true of life, one mustn’t sit or stop,
But keep foremost in the strife till they reach the top.
To keep our minds from straying from Excelsior, “the top,”
To keep our lips from saying, “Don’t hurry on, but stop.”
Ah! brother of mine ! our flesh is weak, and it almost sure to fail
Unless from time to time we mark our progress on our upward trail.
And here’s my word of parting, it’s a wish I send to-day:
“May you your crops be carting, and may they bring good pay.”