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Long Line

"Coat Hanger" Sydney Harbor Bridge

Hickson's Run

XMAS lights

Bowlers Arm



Mountain Devils

Fathers Day

Glorean Castle

Magnetic Minds

Bad ankle ALF
 
Bad ankle, ALF!  Read the Xmas card last year.
Was this a play on words?
He was 82’    it did not matter.
As we all know, he is not the mad hatter.
 
Rather a man of true wit.
Some say he was full of it.
T’is June 97 and ALF is in heaven?
It’s afternoon as we gather for a farewell to this gentleman.
 
He was born in 1914, While Australia was at war.
His Aussie spirit he always wore.
Eventually it was fate that he was alone.
At nineteen to make it on his own.
Too early to Wynn his bride.
 
A man for all seasons. So he was to farm.
At sales he learnt how to yarn.
But a salesman’s lot is to fill in forms.
Wynn knew from the start a partners art.
I’ll do the forms, straight from the heart.
 
After a while the family grew.  
So with three sons in tow.
Off to Sydney they would go.
To settle in Guilford, no farm to tend.
ALF was off to James Hardie to lend a hand.
Not the same as tilling the land.
 
Tis, my time to remember, was it spring.
Young son Doug was no mug!
Up to his knees all covered in bees’.
 
Wynn’s job was to refine the honey,
While ALF was to stir,
 Wynn did not think he was funny.
 
When at dinner, ALF was a grinner.
Lounge clock would say grace.
It was no disgrace as ALF Played along,
With knife and fork.
To play the plates, was his way to relate.
Not just in kin, to ALF this was not a sin.
He wasn’t the type to give in!
 
At Eastwood the boys are now men.
Wynn’s garden is overflowing
,
Noah’s ark, with two of each botanical plants growing.
Wynn’s treasured plants, Have ALF in a dance.
A visit to Wynn down at the shops.
A horticultural nursery, top of the shos.
 
ALF the old salt, has by now grown hair as white as a colt.
Pack up Wynn im retiring from shipping, lets bolt.
 
To Binnaway and bush.
We’ll join our clan, in an agricultural plan.
Weather in drought & Wynn has since passed.
This travel to Gunnedah cannot last.
They moved to the “EMERALD”,   “HILL” not city.
On a farm called “Biwondah” not far from cotton city.
 
We say farewell to ALF, who lived life so well.
To each he offered a rhetorical thought,
A provoking “Wry” mind,
Surely he was one of a kind.  
Kind regards his nephew
 
 
COLIN  --  3/6/97





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Bad ankle ALF


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