The City of Wagga Wagga
Eisteddfod

17 YEARS & OVER
Farm Woman
Maurice Lindsay
She left the warmth of her body tucked round her man
before first light, for the byre, where mist and the moist
hot breath of the beasts half-hid the electric veins of the milking
machines. Later, she’d help to hoist
the heavy cans for the tractor to trundle down
to the farm-road end, while her raw hands scoured the dairy.
By seven o’clock, she’d have breakfast on the table,
her kitchen bright as her apron-pin, the whole house airy.
Her menfolk out in the fields, the children off to school,
she’d busy herself with house and the hens. No reasons
clouded the other side of the way she brought
to her man the generous amplitude of the seasons.
“Not much of a life,” they’d whisper at church soirees
as they watched her chat, her round face buttered with content,
unable to understand that for her, each moment
rubbed out the one before, so simply lent
nothing for words of theirs to touch to argument.

13 & 14 YEARS
On the Corner of my Street
Dulcie Meddows
On the corner of my street an industrious breeze
is rolling up the thin carpet of red blossom
fallen from the bottle brush
the tree’s roots hunch in the torn seams
of the black asphalt
the bust of a yellow-helmeted man appears –
a round peg moving loosely in a square hole
in the gutter an unregistered car
humiliated by neglect subsides on flat tyres
at the kerb where the power pole hums a fife tune
for white ants slow marching its demise
a dog marks its territory with a quick spray
a flourish of scratches
then rushes on to check the borders where
an orange geranium pokes its knotted fingers
through a decrepit paling fence
the geranium escapes onto the corner of my street.

15 & 16 YEARS
Drought
Kenneth MacKenzie
I drink to the bitterness of drought,
The drying pool, the dying tree,
The barren flower that cannot fruit,
The sun’s embracing anarchy.
Skeleton cattle stand like stone
in a stone landscape, where the shade
is whittled to a blackened bone
etching the fallow and the road.
Poor helpless life! The anarchist
has laid his hand upon my heart;
and yet beneath the griping fist
the soil, the land cannot be hurt.
All that dies will be renewed.
The leaf will spring as green as god.
The draught that bitter drought has brewed
will sweeten suddenly to good,
And I shall laugh and I shall sing
and bend my back above the soil
in praise of that new burgeoning,
quenched and made fair again by toil.

12 YEARS BOYS
A Marble
Elke Widerberg
The marble, stuck in the dirt of a gutter,
Bored into hibernation,
Lodged in a mud crack.
I picked it up,
rolling it from finger to thumb.
It had lain there in the gutter
rain washed
spit soaped
dust powdered, till I came.
I cleaned it, rubbed it,
And then looked into it.
It amazed me – Almost as if it were another whirling world, glassed in
By the round, hard, cold outside.
And inside,
Curling bits of colour; solid, cloudy, shiny; like us.
I pushed it into orbit of other reeling marble worlds,
Another universe where, when worlds clashed, they clicked:
A universe of other boys’ marble worlds…..
And we all looked into our marbles.
 

11 YEARS GIRLS
A Modern Ant
Dulcie Meddows
My dear industrious little ant,
Moving earth ‘neath tree and plant,
I wonder what your wishes are?
You labour long and journey far
Without the trappings humans find
Makes living easier, and kind.
Don’t you wish, when you get home,
That you owned a mobile phone
To order pizza or Chinese,
Or any dial-a-meal you please?
I’m sure your wife, who works as hard
Could get one on your credit card.
But why not spend up really big –
Get a bulldozer to help you dig,
And a big tip-truck to shift the dirt.
A little mechanisation wouldn’t hurt!
But you’re not listening, I can tell.
You’re onto something I can’t smell.
Your antenna’s up, away you go.
You don’t need my advice, I know.
A million years you’ve lived this way,
Same thing, same place, every day;
Moving earth ‘neath tree and plant.
What’s the message, little ant?

10 YEARS GIRLS
“Ponto”
Ida Scott
The little puppy from next door
Comes in to play with Ponto;
But Ponto’s very dignified,
And full of scornful doggie pride;
He couldn’t scamper if he tried,
Could Ponto.
He eyes the puppy with disdain,
And seems to say, as plain as plain,
“So there you are, young scatterbrain,
You’ve come to bother me again,
And what may you be wanting?”
The puppy barks, and races round,
And slips and slides along the ground;
Then, with a sudden joyous sound
He brings an ancient shoe he’s found,
And asks old Ponto, just for once,
To have a game.
But Ponto only blinks at him,
To show him what he thinks of him,
And settles down to sleep.

11 YEARS BOYS
The Waltzing Disease
Doug McLeod
My Auntie from Spain had a nasty complaint,
It made her feel dizzy and tired and faint,
She went to the doctor and said, “Cure me please!”
He said, “There’s no cure for this waltzing disease.”
As soon as he said it, my Aunt lost control
And waltzed herself into a telegraph pole,
The cables came down on my poor Auntie’s head
And every TV in the country went dead.
She waltzed over people who stood in her way
She waltzed in the bullring and shouted, “Ole!”
She waltzed round the bull as if in a trance,
And graciously showed him the steps of the dance.
The toreador cheered as they waltzed all about,
The matador chortled and almost passed out,
The people joined in till the bullring was full
Of mad waltzing couples, my Aunt and a bull.
My Auntie got married, I’m happy to say,
The wedding took place on St. Valentines Day,
And if you believe that my tale is untrue
My Uncle, the Bull, may go waltzing with you.

7 YEARS BOYS
“Lollypops”
Katherine Blowen
I like lollypops, do you?
Lime and lemon and fizzy ones too.
Crunchy ones, munchy ones
Sticky and sweet,
I do like lollypops to eat.
All sorts of lollies,
Round, long and square.
Lollypops shaped like a lion
Or a bear!
This one I always like to lick,
A striped pink and white candy stick!

9 YEARS GIRLS
Wanted – A Witch’s Cat
Shelagh McGee
Wanted – a witch’s cat.
Must have vigour and spite,
Be expert at hissing,
And good in a fight,
And have balance and poise
On a broomstick at night.
Wanted – a witch’s cat.
Must have hypnotic eyes
To tantalize victims
And mesmerize spies,
And be an adept
At scanning the skies.
Wanted – a witch’s cat,
With a sly, cunning smile,
A knowledge of spells
And a good deal of guile,
With a fairly hot temper
And plenty of bile.
Wanted – a witch’s cat,
Who’s not afraid to fly,
For a cat with strong nerves
The salary’s high
Wanted – a witch’s cat;
Only the best need apply.

10 YEARS BOYS
Arithmetic
Jane Pitchford
Decimals – Ugh!
Division and subtraction!
Multiply and fractions!
Those ugly round figures
stare me in the face.
Sometimes it is easy
but other times
it gives me nightmares.
The figure nine,
like a black devil.
The figure two,
like a bent old witch
cackling at me when I can’t do a sum.
One and seven like straight backed
soldiers ready to shoot at the
slightest mistake.
Do you divide, or do you multiply?
My face turns sour,
My stomach turns a somersault
like a ball bouncing across the yard.
We take out our arithmetic books.
Horrible
Ugly
Arithmetic.

9 YEARS BOYS
Billy Dreamer’s Fantastic Friends
Brian Patten
The Incredible Hulk came to tea,
Robin was with him too,
Batman stayed at home that night
Because his bat had flu.
Superman called to say hello
And Spiderman spun us a joke.
Dynamite Sue was supposed to come
But she went up in smoke.
The Invisible Man might have called,
But as I wasn’t sure,
I left an empty chair and bun
Beside the kitchen door.
They signed my autograph book,
But I dropped it in the fire.
Now whenever I tell my friends
They say I ‘m a terrible liar.
But incredible people do call round
(‘Specially when I’m alone),
and if they don’t, and I get bored,
I call them on the phone.

8 YEARS GIRLS
Hot Day
Jacqueline Hamer
It was too hot to play,
So I lay down.
I listened to the crickets,
Lazing on a stone,
The lizard lay basking
Motionless, without a wink
Of an eye;
His skin shining
Like a diamond.
Slowly the cows moved
As they grazed;
A sudden breeze
Rippled the grass.
The daisy’s eye
Stared up,
To where its golden eye
Met the golden eye
Of the sun.

6 YEARS AND UNDER GIRLS
After A Bath
Aileen Fisher
After my bath
I try, try, try
to wipe myself
till I’m dry, dry, dry.
Hands to wipe
and fingers and toes
and two wet legs
and a shiny nose.
Just think how much
less time I’d take
if I were a dog
and could shake, shake, shake.

7 YEARS GIRLS
The Cow
I’m very sorry for
A cow;
Its clothes seem fashioned
Anyhow;
They never look as if they
Fit;
I wonder what is wrong
With it?
And if a cow should need
A patch
It never chooses one
To match,
But makes the oddest pieces
Do,
I think it’s rather sad;
Don’t you?

8 YEARS BOYS
Counting Sheep
Wes Magee
They said,
‘If you can’t get to sleep
try counting sheep.’
I tried.
It didn’t work.
They said,
‘Still awake? Count rabbits, dogs
Or leaping frogs.’
I tried.
It didn’t work.
They said,
‘It’s VERY late. Count rats,
or red-eyed bats!’
I tried.
It didn’t work.
They said,
‘Stop counting stupid sheep!
EYES CLOSED! DON’T PEEP!’
I tried
and fell asleep.

CHORAL SPEECH KINDERGARTEN
or K/1 COMPOSITE CLASS
The Dustman
Clive Sansom
Every Thursday morning,
Before you’re quite awake,
Without the slightest warning
The house begins to shake
With a Biff! Bang!
Biff! Bang! Bash!
It’s the Dustman who begins
(Bang! Crash!)
To empty both the bins
Of their rubbish and their ash,
With a Biff! Bang!
Biff! Bang! Bash!

CHORAL SPEECH YEARS 1 & 2
Land of the Bumbley Boo
Spike Milligan
In the land of the Bumbley Boo
The people are red white and blue,
They never blow noses,
Or ever wear closes,
What a sensible thing to do!
In the land of the Bumbley Boo
You can buy Lemon Pie at the zoo,
They give away foxes
In little Pink Boxes
And bottles of Dandelion Stew.
Oh, the Bumbley Boo! The Bumbley Boo!
That’s the place for me and you!
So hurry! Let’s run!
The train leaves at one!
For the Land of the Bumbley Boo!
The wonderful Bumbley Boo-Boo-boo!
The wonderful Bumbley BOO!!

6 YEARS AND UNDER BOYS
I Don’t Want To Go Up To Bed
John Kitching
I don’t want to go up to bed.
I want to watch TV instead.
It’s true, as you say,
That it’s been a long day,
But I just don’t feel tired in my head.
I know that I’ve cried and I’ve cried,
But now I am really wide-eyed.
It’s true, as you say,
That it’s been a long day,
But I just don’t feel tired inside.

CHORAL SPEECH YEARS 7,8,9
The Fox And The Grapes
Joseph Lauren
One summer’s day a Fox was passing through
an orchard; faint he was and hungry, too.
When suddenly his keen eye chanced to fell
Upon a bunch of grapes above the well,
“Ha! Just the thing!” he said. “Who could resist it!”
He eyed the purple cluster – jumped – and missed it.
“Ahem!” he coughed. “I’ll take more careful aim”
And sprang again. Results were much the same,
Although his leaps were desperate and high.
At length he paused to wipe a tearful eye,
And shrug a shoulder. “I am not so dry,
And lunch is bound to come within the hour…
Besides,” he said, “I’m sure those grapes are sour.”
THE MORAL IS: We somehow want the peach
That always dangles just beyond our reach;
Until we learn never to be upset
With what we find too difficult to get.

CHORAL SPEECH YEARS 5 & 6
The Red Witch
Elizabeth Fleming
Sailing down the wind came a small red witch,
She was dressed in scarlet, every stitch.
She flew with a “woo-oo” right into my room
And fat black pussy cat sat upon her broom.
“Little girl” said she, “you will come along with me,
I’ll show you the magic of sky and sea.”
Then she uttered a word I had never heard,
And there I was beside her flying like a bird.
Out through the window and over the trees,
Into the sky where the white clouds freeze,
Where the moon’s a world, and the world’s a moon,
And fat black pussy cat calls the tune…
“Up witches all,” was her howling call.
“I have brought you a mortal, fair and small,
And when she has danced at the Witches Ball,
She’ll be a witch like you-oo, miew, miew, miew!”

CHORAL SPEECH YRS 10,11,12
T U F F
Annette Kosseris
I’m tough!
Mighty tough!
T-U-DOUBLE F
See!
Good word ‘tough’ –
Strong! Rough!
Good enough
for me,
see!
Don’t need anyone,
not me;
see!
Nobody loves me.
Love! Huh!
Who needs it!
L-U-V.
Silly word, love…
They say “I love you”
then they leave.
Empty words –
just deceive.
I get by.
Don’t cry,
not me.
Got enough;
I’m tough.
See!
Plenty friends
on the street;
plenty places we can meet;
plenty food
for us to eat;
don’t need shoes on our feet;
we’re tough!
T-U-DOUBLE F!
See!
Friends are mates,
there for me.
Special mates;
they care for me.
See!
Is that love?...
Could be…
We’ll see…
we’ll see…
we’ll see.

CHORAL SPEECH YEARS 3 & 4
All For An Ice-Cream
Karen Jackson
‘Mum, can I have an ice-cream?’
‘Go ask your dad.’
‘Dad, can I have an ice-cream?’
‘Go ask your mum.’
‘But I’ve just asked her and she told me to ask you.’
‘Well tell her that I’ve told you to ask her.’
‘Mum, dad’s just told me to tell you that you’ve got to
tell me if I can have an ice-cream.’
‘Oh well I suppose you can but go ask your dad for 10c.’
‘Right.’
‘Dad, can I have 10c for an ice-cream?’
‘I haven’t got 10c.’
‘Oh come on dad you haven’t looked yet and oh hurry the
van’ll go soon.’
‘Let’s have a look then, ah, there you are.’
‘Thanks dad, Ohh!’
‘What’s the matter now?’
‘The van’s gone.’

CHORAL SPEECH 1 & 2 TEACHER SCHOOLS
The Circus
Annette Kosseris
Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!
I just heard my dad say
He’ll take me to the circus!
Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!
I love to go to circuses,
They’re such a lot of fun!
I sit on the edge of my seat
When the music has begun –
For I know it won’t be long now
Until we all will see,
The lions, and the horses,
And the clowns! That’s for me!
Oh, when I watch the acrobats
High up in the air,
I really think my heart will burst!
They’re so brave… I wouldn’t dare!
Oh Saturday, come quickly,
Please hurry! Don’t delay!
My dad’s taking me to the circus!
Hooray! Hooray! HOORAY!