Poems Written by Iris Hickman (Johnson)

Beside a Flowing Stream.
I sat beside a rippling stream,
The water gently flowing;
With everything so quiet and peaceful
And a breeze softly blowing.
I lay upon the bank so green,
And listened to the birdies singing,
Their voices seemed so soft and sweet,
As around me they were winging.
Willows dropped their slender leaves,
Into that water gleaming.
The lilies looked so dainty,
Across the water streaming.

An Attempt.
Oh, Cousin, to this Club,
I wish to add my name,
I'm not so bad at drawing,
But my poetry is tame.
I've read the Club so often,
And I know all the rules:
So I'd like to join up with you,
Until my ardour cools.
I simply can't make poetry,
And fiction I can't write;
Although I try, and rack my brain,
But still I gain no light.
So now my dear Cousin,
When you read my narration,
Just study these few verses,
And see if it's recitation.

Beside a Flowing Stream and An Attempt
Were both written by "Scallywag" Who is Iris Hickman (nee Johnson )
They were written during her early teens for the Girls Club,
Run and published by the Rockhampton Morning Bulletin.

Our Tram.
Rockhampton has a steam tram.
The last one of its kind.
But somewhere to run the Purrey thing
Seems difficult to find.
Some want it in the city,
Some want it further out,
Can't we get it settled?
It's becoming quite a bout.
At first, I thought it should run
From the bus stop to the zoo,
I walked that with my grandson.
His knees buckled, too.
Now of all the sights I've considered (so far )
I think this one hits the mark,
Right along the river bank

All the way to Victoria Park.   17-12-1988.

Plea  To Drive and Stay Alive. With Love.
Dear grandson, you are seventeen,
And plan to sit behind the "screen...
And drive.
Here's a few tips, as we want you alive.
Driving's a responsibility - the onus is on you,
To keep a wary eye on what other drivers do.
(Cyclists and pedestrians too).
Be prepared to change direction,
At a disputed intersection.
Do not maintain your "right"of way,
Concede, and live another day!
A little bit of bent pride,
Is better than to lose your hide.
Keep a civil tongue, if asked to pull over.
(Especially if you are not quite sober).
Which you should be, you know.
To give your brain a fair go.
Remember, they're are only doing their job.
So, don't get riled up, and call out the mob.
Think that's enough.
Don't mean to be rough.
So, happy motoring - safe arrival!
The reward for good driving,
Is everyone's survival! 17-9-1988.

Think before driving.   Not Me
He sat with elbows on the bar,
A cigarette in lips ajar.
His eyes were blurred,
His speech was slurred.
Then he said, "It's time to leave.²
Then he hopped in his car, would you believe!
He knew the "boys²were quite nearby,
With their little bags and 'lectronic eye,
But the alcoho's in his brain, you see.
"They might get you, but they won't get me,²
He chortled, quite merrily.
"If they do, they'll soon set me free.²
But there are no favours from the RBT.
The responsibility is all yours.
So, before you hit the road, pause.
If you simply must drive, abstain.
We others simply want to remain alive.
        21-1-1989.

She'll be sadly Missed.
To Sarah.
A tribute to Sarah, our Bowls Club Patroness,
When asked for a hand, she was sure to say "yes²!
Though she had much ill - health in the past year or so,
She never lost her smile, or her cherry 'hello'.
Admired and respected by, oh, so many-
"All those against?"No - not any!
A game of bowls she loved to play,
On Tuesday, our Ladies Day.
With flowers too, she had a way
Our tables looked so nice on a Trophy Day.
She could turn her hand to anything,
Whatever forth the day  might bring.
She helped so much at her parish church, too,
Always she found lots to do.
But now, she will be sadly missed,
For God put Sarah on his "list²,
And took her to eternal rest-
With honours Sarah passed life's test.
        18-2-1989.

Sold to another Race.
Retrospect - The Dollar War.
Remember Australia? Once our country,
From the top of the ranges to way out in the sea,
Did you notice, my friend,
How that came to an end?
The mighty dollar reigned supreme over all,
Politicians to farmers heeded the call.
They sold out our country from under our feet,
Wherever one lives now, a Jap owns the street.
They own our beautiful coastline, for sure,
How did we all just sit there and endure?
They scooped up our shops, our mines and our beef,
While we just sat there in disbelief.
Why didn't we get up then and fight,
For our homeland, our birthright?
We could have fought by tongue and by pen,
To halt the flow of the powerful yen.
I am not filled with hate,
I'm too bemused by the rate,
The change took place,
When Australia was sold to another race,
Why did we go on, why didn't we cease?
We would still have our land - if we'd "sold"them a lease.
                                                11-2-1989.

Packed up in Boxes.
Farewell in Rocky.
We packed our home in boxes, in cartons and in bags,
We labelled and we marked them 'til we run out of tags.
We said farewell to Rocky - our home nigh 16 years -
We said farewell in silence - we were too spent for tears.
We headed south to Bundaberg, a more temperate clime-
We did not leave forever, we'll be back from time to time.
We left our friends in Rocky, we must make new friends here,
That should happen gradually; as days become a year.
But now a problem has appeared, we must shrink our bric-a-brac,
"Do we really want this object?"and "we have no room for that!²
You see, we have a smaller house, more suited to our needs,
Though it sure used a tidy sum, acquiring the 'deeds'.
We have good neighbours either side, a playing field behind,
What better place to settle down, could one hope to find?
The trauma of the moving, had at first begun to dim -
And the rooms within our home, are looking really trim.
Though to recover from the stress may take at least a year,
The thought of "old age²coming on, has lost some of its fear.
We're digging in -we feel at home-
We're settling in our groove,
This will be our final home we never more shall move.  July 1989

'I Enjoy the Show too.'
Ian Said.
This Sunday morn - here I sit all forlorn,
With my plate of flakes of corn -
For Ian Mac Namara said -
His 'Nibs' should just lie back in bed
And tune in the radio
To the Australia All Over  show.
Now I too, enjoy that show,
But I have things to do, and places to go.
As I move about the house,
Quiet as the proverbial mouse.
I marvel at the lucky male,
Lying in bed when he doesn't ail.
One day I'll learn to operate
The part of the player which makes a tape -
Then I, too will enjoy the show
At a time more suited to me - you know.
I hear snippets as I move around,
Keeping one ear close to the ground -
For if I should chance to hear the refrain
Which means there's cricket in Mum's back yard again.
I might go so far as to switch off the set,
Then fly for my life, on the very next jet.
Now, I've a problem, I'm longing to talk,
Oh heck! I'll go for a walk-
But wait! His nib's out of bed!
Ian Mac Namara must surely have said.
"That's all folks until next week².
Funny - Now I may,  I've no wish to speak?
The Turning Point.
The day dawned hot and sultry
With no movement in the air
The grazier sat on the verandah
His head bowed in despair.
Ther'd not been even an inch of rain
For well nigh most of the year,
The sheep were dying in hundreds,
He was beginning to not even care.
He sighed as he wondered why he fought on -
There was no one left, only he -
His wife had died just a year before
And he'd lost both sons in the war.
They had died in Changi Prison
After the fall of Singapore.
Life had taken its toll of him
No longer is he hearty and hale
So while he's still able to go his own way,
Thought he'd best put the place up for sale.
So he rang a  real estate agent
And notified of his intent.
The agent hurried out to assess it
As he had a buyer, hell - bent
On owning such a station
("But he'd hike up the price quite a bit...
This buyer is not short of a dollar _
This buyer, you know, is a Nip.)
The grazier saw red at that instant,
Sent the agent at once off to the Station
This little piece of Australia."he said,
"Will always stay part of Our Nation  !²
The encounter boosted his will power
To go herd his sheep yet again
And as if to encourage him further
Down came a torrent of rain.
Out of the Blue.
Out of the blue I received a letter
Which thrilled me right up to my ears
T'was from my cousin who'd gone to America
And we'd lost track of each other for years.
She married an American soldier
I married and Australian one, too.
Far apart we reared our families
For we did what we wanted to do.
And now after forty - eight years
We have come together again
We compare notes of our way of life now
And memories of the old days regain.
We still are very compatible
Nary a cross word do we use
Though whether we are best pals or  cousins
Some people it tends to confuse.
I was fraught with some trepidation
I dawdled around for some weeks,
'Til I said to myself "go now!²
Or she might think you don't want to play"speaks.²
So I booked a train seat to old Rocky
Where in the region we both lived long ago -
Now I must go back to Bundy
But we'll keep in touch this time, and how!
                                1995.
Verdon John Hickman.
This is your Life.
'Twas fifty years ago he first saw the light of day,
He eyed his doting parents and thought
"I'll make you blighters pay.²
He was a Bonnie babe, and flourished from the start,
He was very quick at learning, and soon became very smart,
He was entered in a baby show forty nine years ago -
He never took first prize - only Champion, you know!
>From the time he first put foot to ground,
He kept his parents on the run.
He was such a busy fellow
From dawn to set of sun.
We'll skip his early years - suffice he made the grade,
And took up an apprenticeship in the boiler making trade.
At fourteen, some mothers thought they'd teach the kids to dance,
They soon learned steps and twirls, their prowess to enhance,
'Twil one day, in disgust, he said
'They make us dance with girls!²
When he was seventeen, he bought his grandpop's ute-
He painted it all blossom pink -
Nearly made poor grand pop puke.
In mid twenties he became the Dad of Sons, Darren and Glen,
Now, after a few early hiccoughs, they're both fine stalwart men.
He moved down to the Sunshine Coast when his life fell all apart.
He got a job and some good friends, and made a whole new start.
He had some set backs none the less, but took them on the chin,
And came out on top because he had the will to win!
And now he is a grand-dad too looks quite the part
I think don't you
Also this very day, Margaret became his wife.
They'll be great mates together, and live a  long contented life.
So charge your glasses every one,
And raise them on high,
And drink a toast to the happiness
And health of this fantastic guy.   1995             

Brother's Ron's Say.
Well Mum you're had your say,
But now it's my turn -
I'm not real sure you were talking about Vern.
Look I guess he can't be all that  Smart
What he did to - day for a start.
No matter what you say.
We could talk about cars all day
But it was motor bikes
He couldn't keep up the right way
And don't forget his other likes
XXXX By the gallon, Okay,
Never mind those sissy litres.
And keep the pace I'll say
With a bac that'd kill the moskeeters.
The other fascination, I think I may ,
Leave to Marg and the imagination,
After all Mother, Dear Mother -
He's still my best little brother.

Written by Ron Hickman  in 1995.
For his brother Verns Fiftieth Birthday and also his wedding day 

They Agitate
There's an element among us
Who do no work or toil
But they just squat and agitate
Other's jobs to spoil.
They hide behind the Greenie name.
To them, that's the best part of the game.
As usual, it's the ones that know the least
Who have the loudest say.
And through sheer, dogged persistence
These people get their way.
They squat in the dirt and agitate.
We don't work, why do you mate?
Every time they have a win,
Hundreds more jobs are in the bin.
If they're existing on the dole.
Paid from the taxes on the jobs they "roll².
How will they live in the years ahead
When Australian economy is quite dead?
Do they not know a new tree will grow
If they bother to plant a seed?
So we can use the ones which are there
Yet provide for our future need,
If our bureaucrats and politicians
Succumb to them right now.
And they move on, "tickled pink²
'T'will not be long till they squat again,
And cause another job provider to sink.
The pseudo "Greenie"act of theirs
Is really just a lurk
To shield them from the real world
Where they may have to Work.