The Second Tuesday Band

I woke up one morning and this song just started falling to place in my brain. The words are definitely mine, but I can't vouch for the tune (which seems strangely familiar to me, although I can't peg it down - it's a bit of a shame, really, because I think the tune is better than the words). Thus the words are all I shall present here:

The Second Tuesday Band

There is a town in North-West Tasmania
That has a cape that sits beside the bay
Behind the football club are some buildings
That you might wander to some day

There is a brass band beside the pipe band
And there's a concert band just down the way
And every second Tuesday in April
They get together and they play

And they play "God Save the Queen"
(The grandest dame you've ever seen)
And they play "Nearer God to Thee"
And then they play "Amazing Grace"
Until they're all blue in the face
And they play "Lover Come Back to Me"

They play the standards from the past
The kind of songs that always last
So long as someone holds a horn
And when the drums begin to roll
It starts a stirring in your soul
That makes you glad that you were born

And they play "Sally" (still down our alley)
And "Sally Gardens" can fill you with joy
And they play "Onward You Christian Soldiers"
And then the pipes play "Danny Boy"

It makes you feel good – It makes you feel great
'Cause it's so absolutely grand!
You'll never find a better ensemble
Than in the Second Tuesday Band

You'll never find a better ensemble
Than in the Second Tuesday Band

Hey! for the Ovens! (Oven Boy Shanty)

Okay, a second shot at the Oven boy shanty. This time, it's actually in a shanty format:

Hey! for the Ovens

When I was still a shy young lad
Hey! for the ovens! Ho! for the bread!
I left my home and Mum and Dad.
I’d rather be back home in bed!

A woman in a bakery
Hey! for the ovens! Ho! for the bread!
Said she might have a job for me
I’d rather be back home in bed!

Oh the oven boy works at the crack of dawn
Hey! for the ovens! Ho! for the bread!
With the heat of the ovens in the early morn
I’d rather be back home in bed!

I lift the bread and cakes and pies
Hey! for the ovens! Ho! for the bread!
While the sweat gets in my eyes
I’d rather be back home in bed!

The trays are heavy in my arms
Hey! for the ovens! Ho! for the bread!
Why did I ever leave the farm?
I’d rather be back home in bed!

Oh the oven boy works at the crack of dawn
Hey! for the ovens! Ho! for the bread!
With the heat of the ovens in the early morn
I’d rather be back home in bed!

I get a pie or cake each day
Hey! for the ovens! Ho! for the bread!
And cash to keep the bills at bay
I’d rather be back home in bed!

But still, I miss my little bed
Hey! for the ovens! Ho! for the bread!
And, surely, I am sick of bread.
I’d rather be back home in bed!

Oh the oven boy works at the crack of dawn
Hey! for the ovens! Ho! for the bread!
With the heat of the ovens in the early morn
I’d rather be back home in bed!

The Oven Boy (Not a Shanty)

This is all Helen's fault:

The Oven Boy

When I was just a young lad
My fortunes I did seek
And left my home and family
To see what I would meet.
I traveled many long miles
Until I reached the sea
And there I found a busy town
Which had a bakery.

And it's hey! Ho! High! For the ovens
It's hey! Ho! High! For the bread.
For the cakes and pies are made by the baker
And the sweat on the oven boy's head.

I tried to find a good job
To keep me off the streets
The bakery could offer me
Some work to earn my keep.
The work was hard but simple
With early morning starts
And I worked as an oven boy
With music in my heart.

And it's hey! Ho! High! For the ovens
It's hey! Ho! High! For the bread.
For the cakes and pies are made by the baker
And the sweat on the oven boy's head.

The ovens made me swelter
The bread it broke my back
The early mornings made me tired
From all the sleep I lacked.
But now I am the baker
And baking gives me joy
And now I'm grateful for the days
I was an oven boy.

And it's hey! Ho! High! For the ovens
It's hey! Ho! High! For the bread.
For the cakes and pies are made by the baker
And the sweat on the oven boy's head.

Prayer for the Print Media

Lord, grant us Editors
Who understand that "journalism"
should have honour, and not just an audience.
Who have the courage to stand for quality
and not sacrifice what is "good"
for what will sell.
Who will know that the truth
is more important than deadlines.
Who understand the importance of copy editors.
Who know that there are such things as "standards",
and standards should always be high.

Lord, grant us Copy Editors
who know their job and know it well.
Who believe that it does matter
if a sentence is well written.
Who believe that someone will notice
- will care -
if a word is spelt incorrectly,
And who will encourage our journalists
to believe it as well.
Who understand and appreciate
the value of being right,
and encourage our journalists
to appreciate it and understand it as well.
Who know that there are such things as "standards",
and standards should always be high.

Lord, grant us Journalists
Who take pride in their work
and strive to create work they can take pride in.
Who believe that the news
should serve a higher purpose than gossip.
Who long for rewards for a job well done,
and so do their jobs well.
Who seek correction and confirmation.
Who strive for truth and justice.
Who believe they are accountable for what they write.
Who respect their readers,
and assume the highest and best about their
intelligence, attention spans and tastes.
Who know that there are such things as "standards",
and standards should always be high.

Lord, grant us Readers
Who have enough respect for their own intelligence
to demand their media show respect as well.
Who know the difference between news and gossip
and insist on different outlets for each.
Who will reward journalists and newspapers
for making the effort to get things right,
and punish them if they do not.
Who will realise that "quality" starts at home,
and they must demand it from themselves
before they can expect it from their media.
Who care about their own language enough
to insist that others use it well.
Who know that there are such things as "standards",
and standards should always be high.

Clutter

"I've enough of useless clutter
Kept in boxes, long forgotten,
Filling space that needs no filling
In the corners of my world!"

So I set my hand to purging
Set aside some time for culling -
Loosing things that need no keeping
From the corners of my world.

Like books on bookshelves - never read
Or never to be read again.
Lib'ries are for keeping these things,
Not the corners of my world.

Or magazines I've kept for years
For articles I once enjoyed -
Do I really need to keep them
In the corners of my world?

And then there are the gifts from friends
I had forgotten that I had.
Do I keep them for the givers,
Tucked in corners of my world?

Things I barely want and don't need
Save for mem'ries I'd forgotten,
Things I wouldn't miss if lost from
Little corners of my world.

In my past I courted clutter
Saved things for the mem'ries in them
All my past seems held in items
Kept in corners of my world.

Now I'm dreaming of a future
Free from boxes filled with clutter -
Open space and room for breathing
In the corners of my world.

Many things I thought I'd cherish
Now belong to other lifetimes
And it's time the me(s) I once was
Left the corners of my world.

So I purge and I de-clutter
Striving to be strong and steadfast
Sweeping old dreams and past futures
From the corners of my world.

Things I'd kept for lives I won't lead
Work I'd laid in place for nothing
Things I'd kept with hope and promise
Stowed in corners of my world.

And when they're gone, will I miss them?
Will I remember them at all?
Or were they just passing time there,
In the corners of my world?

And the things I choose to keep now
(Far, far too much, if truth be told) -
How long will they get to stay there,
In the corners of my world?

S.B.