Ronald Beswick Blogspot

 Celebrating Saint Patrick's Day (In Tullamore) It was a little after four When I arrived in Tullamore To celebrate Saint Patrick's Day Hear a fella tellin' tales In the middle of New South Wales A Leprechaun with plenty to say An audience wearin' green A very creative scene Orange with a tiny spot of grey There's Guinness in a jar Only served at the bar In the pub on Saint Patrick's Day There's plenty to laugh at Even a goat to pat Just for Rosemary, Thyme and Hay No Sage for the food Colonial Goose can be stewed So you won't starve on Saint Patrick's Day Having a good time Hearing words that rhyme On a magnificent Saint Patrick's Day There's dancing in the dust Where the lizards lust And the chooks just want to lay Like an owl that hoots Wearing the latest boots The old Jillaroo has plenty to say A fake accent To make no argument On a peaceful Saint Patrick's Day Even a Bogan is there A harmless lair Squatting in his cosy drey Not like ...

 I'm not sure what this is about, but it goes back to 2004 JOHNNY THE TURK Drunk as a skunk, he tries to beat up a punk In his combat uniform They call him Johnny War games are his hobby Hell bent for weather'n a storm Oh, Johnny the turk Pen pushing is his work The battle field is where he should lurk Johnny the Turk He switched of Othello to watch Abbot and Costello Morons from planet beauty They call him Johnny War games are his hobby Hell bent on tours of duty Oh, Johnny the turk Pen pushing is his work The battle field is where he should lurk Johnny the Turk He studied Karate, then went to this party In his combat uniform They call him Johnny War games are his hobby Hell bent for weather'n a storm Oh, Johnny the turk Pen pushing is his work The battle field is where he should lurk Johnny the Turk He had an idea, with a weapon to fear Organising trick or treat War games are his hobby Hell bent for weather'n a storm Oh, Johnny the turk Pen pushing is his work The bat...

 COMBAT SOLDIER I knew a combat soldier  That fought abroad in world war two He told many stories A cold lager was his brew A man of integrity That worked for his keep Always paid his way For a good night's sleep He'd seen a lot of action Blood, Shock and Trauma So hard to explain A horror to remember  He never talked much About his time in New Guinea 118 men had died It was gruesome place to be I did hear happy tales About the Queensland outback A much nicer place Than the Kokoda Track He'd seen a lot of action Blood, Shock and Trauma So hard to explain A horror to remember  When it was time to Muster He and many were absent A Lieutenant searched the scrub Before  becoming arrogant Found him in a rowdy bar Where he pleaded not guilty They gave him a discharge He was then happy and free He'd seen a lot of action Blood, Shock and Trauma So hard to explain A horror to remember  Many years later He got a war service loan Raised a family In a working class zone...

 Praying for rain was written back in 2002. I also wrote music for it and may have recorded it somewhere, but I don't remember. I located the words, and I made some small changes. PRAYIN FOR RAIN I never thought I'd ever see the sky so blue On the day i passed through Dunedoo I was in a big truck When I stopped for an ice cream The locals were praying for rain Praying for rain, Praying for rain I never thought I'd ever have hallucinations On the day I passed through Wellington I seen a parrot in a boot When I stopped for some fuel Attendant was praying for rain Praying for rain, Praying for rain I never thought I'd ever have some time alone On the day I passed through Gulargambone I was near the river bank And I needed to pee Campers were praying for rain Praying for rain, Praying for rain I never thought I'd see a rock wallaby On the day I stopped at Mudgee I applied for a job Then had a head on With a preacher who was praying for rain

 This was written back in 2009 and some 12 bar music may have been played with it but my memory is not clear. SHE LIKES THE BLUES I once knew this chick she lived near a stream I borrowed her pen and I wrote down a dream Before the sound her laughter gave me an idea I knew what to do because I done this before My guitar is tuned so I'll count to four Find me a stage 'cause I got nothing to fear I know she likes the blues Groovin', rootin', and shootin' blues We've got nothing to loose Because she likes the blues I danced under the stars just up from a billabong With a lass I didn't know but her message was strong But I had to leave in case the wife get the wrong idea Memories of the night will remain in my head For many centuries even after I'm dead I'll always hang even if there is a warm beer I know she likes the blues Groovin', rootin', and shootin' blues We've got nothing to loose Because she likes the blues © Ron Beswick 2009

This was originally written in 2006 and was inspired by a cousin that died at 34 years of age with Cirrhosis of the liver. I did change some spelling errors from the original verse.  EVERY MUM'S WORST NIGHTMARE Nathan was too young when he died For days all of his friends cried He drank heaps since he was a lad Cirrhosis of the liver was what he had He experimented with all kinds of stuff And it wasn't exactly powder puff The pain he suffered was felt everywhere He was every mums worst nightmare He was only young when his father died For many days his family cried It was no celebration on that day  Years later he washed his own soul away Now his remains rest in a cemetery Below a tombstone for the memory The pain he suffered was felt everywhere He was every mums worst nightmare Nathan told stories but never he lied Some so funny so often we cried I recall him telling me and my dad About the best time that he ever had But never again will he get that chance His fiancee still cr...