Froth of My Dinner Ale

 Froth of My Dinner Ale


I was having a brew

Near the Rocks at Barangaroo

When a gentleman told me a tale

He seemed that poor

I could not ignore

To share my delicious Braised Quail

He once steered ships

On exotic trips

And had slept through a force 10 gale

A legend of the sea

Then he had to flee

Because his vessel was about to sail


I found a spoon

To please King Neptune

Who worships the habits of a whale

It's a branch of my study

In parapsychology

That baffles the froth of my dinner ale


Bring on the myths

With a circle of fifths

In this place with a trendy life style

Eight hour day

For a fair decent pay

To remember the Hungry Mile

They once trapped Crabs

Not to feed scabs

But spare a bit for the rank and file

You should never forget

The Labourers Sweat

That made this place all worthwhile


I found a spoon

To please King Neptune

Who worships the habits of a whale

It's a branch of my study

In parapsychology

That baffles the froth of my dinner ale


I raise my glass

For the working class

Indigenous hunters and gatherers

They'll tie up the ferry

And sweep the jetty

Where seagulls tease time travellers

She lights up at night

And shines in daylight

You can't ignore the sky scrappers

Among the cement

Avoiding high rent

Are the ghosts of merchant mariners


I found a spoon

To please King Neptune

Who worships the habits of a whale

It's a branch of my study

In parapsychology

That baffles the froth of my dinner ale


                                                                       ©Ron Beswick 06/2026  



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