My eldest sister's son wrote this when he was about 16. he's 22 now... I had lost it for a while and just came accross it...its his version of one of the many Christmases he spent with us. Means a lot to us and some of it only makes sense to us...but a wonderful thing for a kid to write...can't have been all that bad to be here.
Port Macquarie- 2000/2001
Every year, we gather here,
To create memories and relive them.
To see faces and places, and we should be gracious
And savour with patience
The times and the dimes we spend in line – just for a pie.
Or the tedious nights, prone to fights,
Where plates must be washed before tempers are lost.
But it’s all in good fun, because after are run
Archives of Dougal and Ted, talking in bed,
And Jack out of wack, with his face turning red to his neck,
Shouting “Drink, Girls, Nickers and Feck!”
Is it the people that make Port all that?
Therese… Don… the cat… the ghost in the flat?
Maybe the green Volkswagon van,
With its wheelchair ramp and sliding door slam.
Or the essence of Christmas/New Year still in the air,
But more precious to share than any of its flare.
Added to, by the fine vintage wine the adults use,
To better the time, and damage their minds,
But that’s okay, ‘cause they’re old anyway,
And maybe only living on borrowed time.
Now lets take a moment to remember,
Those too unfortunate to be present,
Like the ones at Palmer Cresent,
And although not here physically,
They are here through their spirit,
Which lives on through the memories of their latest visit.
It’s been ten years since we’ve been here for Christmas.
Its been a while and we missed ya’s.
But for New Year’s we’ve always come,
For the sun and the sand and the fun
On the Town green, smuggling drinks,
Exploiting the chinks in the Security’s armour;
Then the fireworks, could have been done by a farmer,
But they’re still a charmer for us, fool!
Because they’re done in Port and Port’s real cool.
Because Port is very Veronica, blatantly Barry, absolutely Andrew,
Delectably Don, Totally Therese, Mostly Melissa, a lot of Alison, A bit of Ben, a shake of Sharley,
A rasher of Rodney. A flash’a Natasha,
A cafuffle of Corgi and a thicket of Thorn.
And nothing this morn,
While I write these last words,
Could make me deny that Port is anything less,
Than simply the best!
Andrew Burt - 2/1/01 - 16yrs.