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Bundeena Ballad
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Now making out a Walks
Programme is very trying work,
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But them as does it every
time, their duties never shirk
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And me I takes me old ‘at
orf, to stalwarts such as these,
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(Except when they makes
out a walk like fifty-eight degrees.)
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The Party numbered seven
bods, (that’s counting Liz and all),
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And within a few minutes
we had left from Waterfall
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At speed we flashed past
hikers dressed in thongs and smart khakis,
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In tent upon our compass
course of fifty-eight degrees.
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The great green forest
welcomed us, but rest we would not dare,
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For those of us who tramp
the coast know of the leeches there.
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And though the thorny
scrub and bush tore at our painful knees,
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That Tony Burke still led
us on – at fifty-eight degrees.
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The day wore on as we wore
out, our feet they felt like lead,
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And some of us were
feeling sure we should have stayed in bed.
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But then a voice (so loud)
rang out, it echoed through the trees,
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“The
only way to get back home is fifty-eight degrees!”
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A terrifying storm arose
and came out from the Wcst
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Then Leader gave us all a
shock by calling for a rest.
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So we looked out past
Marley Head, out at the raging seas,
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Then (need I add?) we
carried on – at fifty-eight degrees.
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Now walkers all, both
young and old experienced or green,
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If you’ve a compass that’s
correct and you are feeling keen,
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And if you’re looking for
a walk that’s sure to be a breeze,
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Take my advice and keep
away, from fifty-eight degrees!
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Barry Dwyer
- “The
Waysider”
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September 1963
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