She was born in Dunedoo in 1926, A time of ice boxes, phonographs and silent flicks, Her father was Archie, Margaret her mother, In Mendooran, along came Roy, her brother.
The Great Depression young Phyllis lived through, Food and jobs were scarce, many ate rabbit stew, Fast forward to the forties, the world in war, Soldiers leaving and some returning she saw.
In 1945, she met a man called Keven, That Kevin with an ‘en’, he’s now in heaven, They danced in synch well into the night, The swing waltz, quickstep, holding tight.
In 1948, Phyllis and Keven were wed, At hot Gilgandra their vows were said, They moved to ‘Bunyarrah’ near Coolabah, The distance to towns and cities so far.
At ‘Bunyarrah’ Jennifer and Ann were born, They moved to Wellington, no sheep to be shorn, Now, to four Phyllis is the loving grandmother And to nine she is loving great grandmother.
Nimble with the thimble, dexterous with the thread, She made many garments – white, black and red, Her eye for perfection made her in great demand Like a master pianist playing on a grand.
Memories flood back on this day of celebrations, So, raise your glasses all her friends and relations, It is time to applaud a life so well led, Congratulations Phyllis, you have reached one hundred.
I was a virgin, no not even a river cruise,
Untouched, it was my very first time,
A cheap little one, how could I refuse?
My mother assured me it will be fine.
At the dock, the ship stood in all her splendour:
Sleek lines, sheer beauty, nothing to phase her,
Me in my Hawaiian shirt so ready to board
And then I read, her name was ‘Funtasia’.
I boarded Funtasia with a sizeable throng:
Young and old, small and tall, filled with glee,
The nearby couple had broken into a song
Then they muttered, 'not much is for free!'
I found my room, a cabin with no view,
Where was the food? I looked for the way,
'Follow the crowd,’ suggested one of the ship’s crew,
Like to Mecca, all converged on a place called 'The Buffet’.
It was a feeding frenzy like gulls to a fry,
I joined the jostle to be the first to the eat,
I gorged myself on all that I could try
For vegans, veggies, and those who like meat.
Just as I finished the ship started swaying,
The horizon moved; my gut sloshed around,
Nausea took hold and I started praying,
I yearned to return to feel solid ground.
As I was retching, I felt a tap on my shoulder,
'Son, you look poorly and kinda green
Don't cave in, you just gotta be bolder
You're obviously new to this cruisin' scene!’
Startled, I turned and in front was an old man:
Wizened, bearded, wearing a captain's hat,
Emblazoned on his shirt was 'I'm a Cruising Fan',
On his forearm I noticed an anchor tatt.
'Are you the captain?’ I said holding back the puke,
‘No son, but I have certainly earned this cap,
My knowledge of the oceans is no fluke,
I even have my own cruise advice app!
‘Call me Salty Ole' Dog or SOD for short,
I will give you some cruise advice for free:
Choose your excursions wisely in every port,
Go hard at the fun whilst you're out at sea.
‘Mingle with other singles, whatever your persuasion,
Karaoke, bingo, casinos, try them all,
Dress up at night for whatever the occasion,
With one or two drinks you will have a ball!’
‘Thank you, Captain SOD!’ my vomit subsided,
He had vanished in front of my very eyes,
I was so indebted for the advice he had provided,
A cruise muse had changed me to my surprise.
With that epiphany, I started my fun foray:
‘Another drink,’ ‘More chips,’ ‘Spin the wheel,'
Day turned to night, the night into day,
I tried my hand at trivia, Deal or No Deal.
My head started spinning, I was feeling faint,
The ship was listing; water was coming in,
Funtasia it was sinking; SOD was no saint!
Engulfed in the water, circling round was a fin.
'Sir, wake up, you are almost at the port.’
Opening my eyes a man resplendent in white,
'No, I am drowning,’ I then uttered my retort,
'Sir, you had a nightmare, you had a big fright!’
I then staggered back to pack my belongings,
Thought of Funtasia, advice of old mate SOD,
What came over me was the weirdest of longings,
I felt accepted on this ship, was this so odd?
Then as I was leaving, my heart it was heaving,
To go home or stay cruising, how to choose?
Funtasia was now home, this I was believing,
So, staying on board, I booked a world cruise.
Glory be to God for all fried things -
For well-done patties full of whatever;
For savs encased in thick, crusted batter;
Oily fish and chips; chicken wings;
Chiko rolls – folded, aromatic, full of flavour;
And other beauties, how can they make you fatter?
All fried things crisp, ooey, gooey, strange;
Whatever raises cholesterol (who knows how?)
With ingredients that must keep you trim;
Let’s buy another scallop with the change:
Praise him.
(Author’s note: Apologies to Gerard Manley Hopkins for the take on ‘Pied Beauty’)
DAWN
first light.
inchoate purple rays
stipple across the blackened bay.
a pelican lands like a bomber returning from a night sortie.
light progresses with élan; mauves, pinks play across placid waters.
the golden orb finally rises above the misty shoreline: denouement of dawn.
cackling gulls wheel overhead en route to roost: harbinger of the dying day.
flaccid waters mirror crimson clouds in an effete light show;
the moon rises through mist like an ethereal spotlight;
wan sunlight pales to moon glow
signalling nightfall.
calm closure.
SUNSET
Neil Dufty's stories and poems 