Australian Bush Poetry, Verse & Music

The Old Home

This verse is for this old home pictured above which I found out near Lake Eppalock in Victoria. Situated on an old farm, it is a veritable treasure trove of old machinery, buildings and history. If only walls could talk!!

There are so many old places which were once the home to families, our history and our heritage. This poem is dedicated to them all.

Alone I stand neglected now
The wind howls through my door
I've served my time, I've done my job
In days now gone before

No more the children's laughter
As they danced across the board
Just termites and insects now
That infest my rotting floor

The memory of John and Mary
As on my verandah they'd sit
Both racked with the pain of a long days work
Which neither would admit

And I sheltered them when weather turned
I kept them dry and warm
I cared for their sick for that was my role
For I was a place called home

But now I'm left a deserted wreck
Won't somebody shed a tear
For I am part of your history
I have stories you need to hear

Treasure my past, cherish the stories
Record them that others may know
The service I gave in building this land
And the families I helped to grow

For I am your past, your heritage
But my time is over now
So I'll take my place in time
With the horse and the old wooden plough.

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