Umina Bowling Club

There’s nothing that’s finer when you are in Umina
Than bowling right up to the friendly bowling club
There’s nothing that’s finer when you are in Umina
Than dropping in for just a drink or some good grub.

Behind the bar you’ll find our Suzy, Linda and Michelle
When you come in you’ll get a welcome and a smile as well
And if the mood should ever take you to the pokie room
There’s all the games that might just make your fortune very soon.

There’s nothing that’s finer when you are in Umina
Than bowling right up to the friendly bowling club
There’s nothing that’s finer when you are in Umina
Than dropping in for just a drink or some good grub

On Thursday nights the club is packed when bingo starts at four
And Friday concerts – there’s no extra charges at the door
Our raffles too, they need an extra special mention
Its your happiness that’s our intention.

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poem by David Keig
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Now You're Here

No, we don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here
No, we don’t care where you come from
Have a beer
We don’t care if you are black or white or
Of another hue
Now you’re here in Western Sydney
Now you’re part of Western Sydney
Now all over Western Sydney
We love you.

We are very proud of our diversity
Out on the streets it’s very clear to see
We don’t care if you’re a Christian or a Jew
Or a Bhuddist or Islamic or Hindu
‘Cos we don’t care where you come from
We don’t care where you come from
We don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here.

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poem by David Keig
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God Works Late

He sat down late one star-lit night
And tried to make his plans
God's schedule was demanding
I hope you'll understand
He'd made a promise to himself
One he had to keep
And that was quite ambitious
A world within one week
He'd done lots of calculations
He had a master plan
And the winner in his contest
Was this strangest thing called man
But man was very complex
And he couldn't get him right
He puzzled and he puzzled
Long into that night
Ahah said God triumphant
With a look for once deranged
I won't put him on the earth perfect
I'll give him time to change

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poem by David Keig
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My Fellow Americans

My fellow americans
far be it from me to sow the seeds of despair
'bout enemies that won't play fair
what we always said was always right
america, i tell you, will not shirk that fight
we shall be exercise our mighty might
and, yes goddam it, win by right
my speechmakers - they know their rhymes
my speeches always here on time
my words with meaning fully filled
my thoughts as bright as daffodils
not by idle words that simply seek
to seek false morals in being meek
no! i tell you now america
this land so blessed and so free
that a kinder gentler time won't be
if we avoid those bigger issues
like to the arabs selling tissues
now, i hope you like my little joke
i am - in truth - a simple bloke

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poem by David Keig
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So Heavy Was The Air That Day

So heavy was the air that day
So heavy was the air
So hot was everywhere that day
So hot was everywhere.

A breeze
Not yet a cooling breeze
But one straight
Fresh baked from nature’s oven.

Standing
Looking
‘Cross the bay
And high upon the hillsides
A haze
A hot heat haze
Flies slept
Palms paused
No goannas to be seen
And the birds

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poem by David Keig
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The Marlboro Olympics

We all know of the Olympics
For athletes who are fit
What if we organised new games
And changed the rules a bit?

The tournament - its now unfair
Only the best compete
And all those who're less able
Could never win a heat.

So let our new rules equalise
The young 'n old and slow 'n fast
And let's introduce some new sports
In which the fittest may come last.

We will all compete on equal terms
In worldwide competition
No - this is not an empty dream
But a new Olympic vision.

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poem by David Keig
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Act of God?

A coin when dropped will
In one second, fall sixteen feet
In two, sixty four
In three, one hundred and forty four.

They were driving back from Sydney
Mum and Dad and their two kids
The freeway was a nightmare
So they took the old road that they did.

The old road’s quite an old road
Been there for many years
The rain was slanting sideways
Being late home was their fear.

It was night and many lights were out
The road was dark and quite awash
Water running everywhere
The kids shrieked with every splash.

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poem by David Keig
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Fools Gold

I met a man the other day
With grey and mournful eyes
His parchment skin was wrinkled
And all his hair was white.

I asked of him why was he so
Why did he seem so frail
He looked at me with deadened sight
And it was then he told his tale.

I am, Sir, he said quiety
I am one of the undead
Who walk this earth continually
With slow and painful tread.

The problem, sir, he said to me
Was not valuing my life
Nor anything that came to me
I was not happy being alive.

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poem by David Keig
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The Consultation

‘How are you feeling in general? ’ he asked.

‘Pretty good most of the time then I get these occasional black periods when nothing makes sense and I fear the worst’ I replied.

‘Hmm, any suicidal thoughts? ’ he asked thoughtfully as if embarrassed to ask the question.

I thought for a moment.

‘Well, not really. No, not really’ was all I could say.

He made some notes at this point.

‘And those times of feeling good’ he asked ‘what are they like? ’

‘Like the sun is shining and I feel on top of the world’.

‘But there’s no real reason for that? ’ he asked ‘you just feel good and that’s it? ’

‘Yeah’ I replied.

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poem by David Keig
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Rabbit Proof Fence

There are two Australian fences I'd like to talk about
One runs from the north down to the south to keep the rabbits out
The other is invisible - it's in Australian's minds
It’s a blinkered view of what it is to be part of humankind.

When Australia was first was colonised some two hundred years ago
The colonists they formed a view so that they could go
And claim each piece of land they found and make it for their own
Paying no respect or honour to those who had in this country grown
They stole this land directly from the Aborigines
Regarding them as savages without any dignity
Their currency was alcohol, diseased blankets and the gun
And they cleared this whole damn country fast once this clearing had begun.

They called it Terra Nullis to justify their gains
And they then gave Aborigines European sounding names
They would take all of their children and put them into homes
Of good god fearing people who would take them as their own
The aim of this was clearly born of a harsh philosophy
You cannot steal from people who have no identity

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poem by David Keig
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