My parents named me Edward, but most folks just call me Ned,
I write these thoughts from in my cell before they lay me dead.
So if you’ll mind to take the time, I’d like to reminisce,
And tell you of life’s simple things, the things I’ll truly miss.
I’ll miss my mother’s caring arms, loud laughter through the room,
From brothers, sisters, friends and all, forever lost too soon.
And even though he’s long been gone, my father I shall keep,
Deep in my heart fond memories throughout death’s endless sleep.
I’ll miss the fresh sweet smell of dawn that filled the Greta air,
And the violent reds of sunset ‘cross the sky in awe I’d stare.
The freedom of the wild ride across those sun drenched plains,
To the Riverina shearing, to mate’s laughter and the pain.
I’ll miss the dust and cursing as we whipped the horses forth,
All borrowed from the local gents, but now they’re heading north.
Down gully and through hidden track, deep in the tangled bush,
Towards the mighty Murray and to sale all onwards push.
I’ll miss the old Strathbogie’s covered cloak of greenish grey,
Midst the Stringybark and Eucalypts, near fire’s light we’d lay.
With tales of bold adventures turned to rhyme by dear old Joe,
Foul noises from young Dan and Steve no soul would care to know.
I’ll even miss a smoke or two, and drinking with the boys,
Of Christmas’s with those I love, the children and their toys.
I’ll miss the smell of roasting meat, all family gathered near,
But times so few are now but lost, and held in sheltered tears.
I’ll miss the heart so dear to me for all that might have been,
A true love held forever more, not death could come between.
I’ll miss her touch, the warm embrace, sweet smile of tender care,
I pray, at some place far from here, in peace will see me there.
Hush! The warder’s steps are closing, and my time here nearly done,
There’ll be no march to stirring pipes, or beating from a drum.
So I thank you for your precious time to help me reminisce,
Please remember me, forever more, and all those things I’ll miss.