33 replies to this topic

[di on the wallaby]

Climbed a hill to look down on our beautiful town. If you look closely, you may be able to make out our lovely old church!

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[Mystic]

Nice shot Di, but where is that beautiful, run down sportsground? has to be the best sportsground in Tassie. I like it anyway.

[Shane V]

You certainly do live in a gorgeous spot Di. Very nice shot

[dave]

Hmm! methinks you have a couple more trees than I have, I'm jealous, whats the name of the town?

[Shane V]

It's called Derby, Dave

[dave]

thanks Shane, pretty spot!!

[Shane V]

No probs Dave. It is a gorgeous little place, I have been through there a couple of times.

[dave]

well duh!! to me I should have read the post topic!!! I think it must be a wee Tipple time! it's been a Looooooonnngggg!! day!

[exislegirl]

di on the wallaby, on 28 April 2010 - 01:51 PM, said:

Climbed a hill to look down on our beautiful town. If you look closely, you may be able to make out our lovely old church!

Lovely shot Di, but I might need a few more clues to find your 'lovely old church'... there seem to be a few places in the shot that could qualify.

Natalie

[dave]

I can see two buildings that may qualify, is it a red or brown roof!

[di on the wallaby]

dave, on 29 April 2010 - 12:58 PM, said:

I can see two buildings that may qualify, is it a red or brown roof!

Hi Natalie, look sort of centre left. It's cream with a steep pitched red roof.

Anna, I've got a shot of that sportsground. I'll go hunt for it and come straight back!

[di on the wallaby]

di on the wallaby, on 29 April 2010 - 03:17 PM, said:

Hi Natalie, look sort of centre left. It's cream with a steep pitched red roof.

Anna, I've got a shot of that sportsground. I'll go hunt for it and come straight back!

Dave, pour one for me!

[di on the wallaby]

di on the wallaby, on 29 April 2010 - 03:17 PM, said:

Dave, pour one for me!

Anna I've actually given you the link to the sportsground shot I put on Flickr cos I want you to scroll down and read the comment by a very creative contact of mine, called Debbi Long. Her comment caused me to roll around laughing, as any country cricket lover would. Enjoy!!!

http://www.flickr.co...arg/4385500797/

[dave]

I see him, he's got a pretty spiffy window!

[Mystic]

di on the wallaby, on 29 April 2010 - 03:20 PM, said:

Anna I've actually given you the link to the sportsground shot I put on Flickr cos I want you to scroll down and read the comment by a very creative contact of mine, called Debbi Long. Her comment caused me to roll around laughing, as any country cricket lover would. Enjoy!!!

http://www.flickr.co...arg/4385500797/

Thanks Di, love the comment on that pic. Actually that ground always reminds me of a poem I loved as a kid, no idea why, as I have never been one for cricket, but the poem called "Hoe M'Dougall Topped The Score" by Thomas E Spencer has always stuck in my mind. Perhaps this poen would offer an alternative explanation for the half wicket recorded for posterity on the scoreboard

Quote

A peaceful spot is Piper's Flat. The folk that live around -
They keep themselves by keeping sheep and turning up the ground;
But the climate is erratic, and the consequences are
The struggle with the elements is everlasting war.
We plough, and sow, and harrow - then sit down and pray for rain;
And then we get all flooded out and have to start again.
But the folk are now rejoicing as they ne'er rejoiced before,
For we've played Molongo cricket, and M'Dougal topped the score!


Molongo had a head on it, and challenged us to play
A single-innings match for lunch - the losing team to pay.
We were not great guns at cricket, but we couldn't well say, "No!"
So we all began to practise, and we let the reaping go.
We scoured the Flat for ten miles round to muster up our men,
But when the list was totalled we could only number ten.
Then up spoke big Tim Brady: he was always slow to speak,
And he said - "What price M'Dougal, who lives down at Cooper's Creek?"


So we sent for old M'Dougal, and he stated in reply
That he'd never played at cricket, but he'd half a mind to try.
He couldn't come to practise - he was getting in his hay,
But he guessed he'd show the beggars from Molongo how to play.
Now, M'Dougal was a Scotchman, and a canny one at that,
So he started in to practise with a pailing for a bat.
He got Mrs Mac. to bowl him, but she couldn't run at all,
So he trained is sheep-dog, Pincher, how to scout and fetch the ball.


Now, Pincher was no puppy; he was old, and worn, and grey;
But he understood M'Dougal, and - accustomed to obey -
When M'Dougal cried out "Fetch it!" he would fetch it in a trice,
But, until the word was "Drop it!" he would grip it like a vice.
And each succeeding night they played until the light grew dim:
Sometimes M'Dougal struck the ball - and sometimes the ball struck him!
Each time he struck, the ball would plough a furrow in the ground,
And when he missed the impetus would turn him three times round.


The fatal day at length arrived - the day that was to see
Molongo bite the dust, or Piper's Flat knocked up a tree!
Molongo's captain won the toss, and sent his men to bat,
And they gave some leather-hunting to the men from Piper's Flat.
When the ball sped where M'Dougal stood, firm planted in his track,
He shut his eyes, and turned him round, and stopped it - with his back!
The highest score was twenty-two, the total sixty-six,
When Brady sent a yorker down which scattered Johnson's sticks.


Then Piper's Flat went in to bat, for glory and renown,
But, like the grass before the scythe, our wickets tumbled down.
"Nine wickets down for seventeen, with fifty more to win!"
Our captain heaved a heavy sigh, and sent M'Dougal in.
"Ten pounds to one you'll lose it!" cried a barracker from town;
But M'Dougal said "I'll tak' it mon!" and planked the money down.
Then he girded up his moleskins in a self-reliant style,
Threw off his hat and boots, and faced the bowler with a smile.


He held the bat the wrong side out, and Johnson with a grin
Stepped lightly to the bowling crease, and sent a "wobbler" in;
M'Dougal spooned it softly back, and Johnson waited there,
But M'Dougal, crying "Fetch it!" started running like a hare.
Molongo shouted "Victory! He's out as sure as eggs,"
When Pinched started through the crowd, and ran through Johnson's legs.
He seized the ball like lightning; then he ran behind a log,
An M'Dougal kept on running, while Molongo chased the dog!


They chased him up, they chased him down, they chased him round, and then
He darted through a slip-rail as the scorer shouted "Ten!"
M'Dougal puffed; Molongo swore; excitement was intense;
As the scorer marked down twenty, Pincher cleared a barbed-wire fence.
"Let us head him!" shrieked Molongo. "Brain the mongrel with a bat!"
"Run it out! Good old M'Dougal!" yelled the men of Piper's Flat.
And M'Dougal kept on jogging, and then Pincher doubled back,
And the scorer counted "Forty" as they raced across the track.


M'Dougal's legs were going fast, Molongo's breath was gone -
But still Molongo chased the dog - M'Dougal struggled on.
When the scorer shouted "Fifty" then they knew the chase would cease;
And M'Dougal gasped out "Drop it!" as he dropped within his crease.
Then Pincher dropped the ball, and as instinctively he knew
Discretion was the wiser plan, he disappeared from view;
And as Molongo's beaten men exhausted lay around
We raised M'Dougal shoulder high, and bore him from the ground.


We bore him to M'Ginniss's, where lunch was ready laid,
And filled him up with whisky-punch, for which Molongo paid.
We drank his health in bumpers, and we cheered him three times three,
And when Molongo got its breath, Molongo joined the spree.
And the critics say they never saw a cricket match like that,
When M'Dougal broke the record in the game at Piper's Flat;
And the folks were jubilating as they never did before;
For we played Molongo cricket - and M'Dougal topped the score!

[Cascade]

That is brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

I hung off every word and I felt as if I was there on the sidelines and wanted to cheer M'Dougal and Pincher on.

[dave]

top stuff! I was cheering internally! reminded me very much of "mulga Bill's Bike"

for those not familiar, here 'tis, for those of us who do, here's a memory,


MULGA BILL'S BICYCLE by A.B. "Banjo" Paterson
'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;He turned away the good old horse that served him many days;He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen;He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine;And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride,The grinning shop assistant said, "Excuse me, can you ride?"
"See here, young man," said Mulga Bill, "from Walgett to the sea,From Conroy's Gap to Castlereagh, there's none can ride like me.I'm good all round at everything as everybody knows,Although I'm not the one to talk - I hate a man that blows.But riding is my special gift, my chiefest, sole delight;Just ask a wild duck can it swim, a wildcat can it fight.There's nothing clothed in hair or hide, or built of flesh or steel,There's nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof, or wheel,But what I'll sit, while hide will hold and girths and straps are tight:I'll ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight."
'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode,That perched above Dead Man's Creek, beside the mountain road.He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray,But 'ere he'd gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away.It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver steak,It whistled down the awful slope towards the Dead Man's Creek.
It shaved a stump by half an inch, it dodged a big white-box:The very wallaroos in fright went scrambling up the rocks,The wombats hiding in their caves dug deeper underground,As Mulga Bill, as white as chalk, sat tight to every bound.It struck a stone and gave a spring that cleared a fallen tree,It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be;And then as Mulga Bill let out one last despairing shriekIt made a leap of twenty feet into the Dean Man's Creek.
'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that slowly swam ashore:He said, "I've had some narrer shaves and lively rides before;I've rode a wild bull round a yard to win a five-pound bet,But this was the most awful ride that I've encountered yet.I'll give that two-wheeled outlaw best; it's shaken all my nerveTo feel it whistle through the air and plunge and buck and swerve.It's safe at rest in Dead Man's Creek, we'll leave it lying still;A horse's back is good enough henceforth for Mulga Bill."

[Cascade]

Yup... thats an old favourite of mine as well Dave. Thanks.

[Mystic]

Glad you liked the poem, as I said before, a favourite of mine since I was small. Thanks Dave, think I may have read that before, but if so, not in a very long time. A great little tale indeed

[Shane V]

Both very cool poems. Thanks for shring Mystic and Dave :-)