I don’t know where this comes from but it found it’s way into my head in response to Helen’s Song Lyric Sunday suggestion of #goodbye/farewell and her touching story of her grandmother’s last night.
I don’t really know what appeals to me about these few lines. Possibly the simplicity.
Maybe we’ll meet again some sunny day
Hi Ho you never know your luck
‘till then goodbye, so long
I must mosey along
And, in the same vein, here’s a retelling of an old Oz farewell song
This for #lyricalfictionfriday
It doesn’t follow the rules which are explained here but it is Friday and it does feature lyrics.
And being Friday January 26 it is also Australia Day and, for better or worse, a significant day down here.
And if I’m trying to “erase you from my mind” then what better way to do it than erase your entire history?
Whether or not you agree with the indigenous peoples of this country that the date itself is highly offensive (and, let’s face it, you’d have to be an idiot not to understand why they find it offensive) I think it reasonable just to take their word for it and move it to one of the other 364 days available (how about the stupid day when we celebrate the birthday of the Queen of England – even though it’s not actually her birthday?)
But this old song has nothing to do with all that stuff. It’s primary sentiment is within the chorus and that is a sentiment that I would urge people to act upon regardless of the date.
Don’t waste time. These are the best years of our lives.
******************
Oh, Michael, all the lines are down. It’s Australia Day again
Everytime the wheel slows down I think of all my friends
Whatever happened to the days way back when the Bondi Lifesaver
was always raging?
I’m standing here in Oxford Street and the ghosts are howling
and geez it’s raining
Don’t waste time. These are the best years of our lives.
I said, don’t waste time. These are the best years of our lives.
I wish I had been around when the Bondi Icebergs reigned
Sometimes I sit and think of it and I dream of better days
Whatever happened to the days way back in the nineteen thirties
All those endless parties?
I’m still too young to understand how it was back then
When the party ends
Don’t waste time. These are the best years of our lives.
I said, don’t waste time. These are the best years of our lives
They say the circle turns around. There’ll be better days
And I don’t mind waiting
I wish time had stopped ten years ago
But I’m learning slowly life is always changing.
Don’t waste time. These are the best years of our lives.
I said, don’t waste time. These are the best years of our lives
I got a letter from Doctor Pepper it was ten thousand words to the page
He was talking about Gurdjieff, and I dozed off about half way
Whatever happened to the days way back, when the world was safe
And seemed worth saving?
We search for leaders on our hands and knees
But don’t ask David, because he’s still crazy
*********************
But ….. while I’m on the subject
Here’s another
I’m living in the land of Oz
I’m living here because
My folks lived here
They brung me up
And their folks lived here too.
(If you’re white you can come alright
But if you’re black you better get back)
Another SOC challenge from Linda
Today’s odd prompt was not a word or words. It was 2 letters. ‘O’and’C’.
This is a true story. It really happened. I swear. If you don’t believe me then go see for yourself. I think it happens every day.
I was staying at Newport beach a little while ago with some time on my hands and I wanted to investigate a new Bose sound system and pretend that I could afford to buy it. Newport Beach is located in Orange County, California, within the United States of America.
Orange County. The OC.
I wandered across the road from where I was staying to a smallish ( by Californian standards) shopping mall to investigate. The shopping mall was called Fashion Island. That name alone should have alerted me to the fact that I was venturing into foreign territory.
As I entered I discovered a large sign upon which was a list of the various shops within the complex together with grid-referenced information so that one could then discover the location of any shop relative to the position of the sign.
I couldn’t find the Bose store but as I was scanning the sign I noticed beside me an attractive middle-aged woman who was in similar difficulty. The two of us must have looked like a couple of aliens from different sides of the galaxy who had arrived simultaneously at the same bus depot and were wondering what to do next.
Just then a police officer appeared beside us. “Can I do anything for either of you lovely people?” he asked.
It was not the sort of question that I am accustomed to hearing from officers of the law and I was a little taken back, but the opportunity was there for me to allow the woman to speak first. So I did.
“Ah, yes,” she murmured, “Can you direct me to Victoria’s Secret?”.
I know it is juvenile, but any mention of shops entirely dedicated to women’s underwear bring upon me feelings mixed with mysterious excitement and embarrassment. I avoided eye contact with her. Why, I wondered, amongst all these shops, on this day, standing beside me, did she have to ask about that one? But then I glanced over to sneak a look at her and realised that, in this strange new universe, she was preordained to ask for that very shop.. Nevertheless I wondered if the two of them may have been speaking in code.
The police officer smiled and took one step forward to where he could point directly at the lingerie displayed in a nearby window. “Why, ma’am”, he announced triumphantly, “it’s just there.”
She turned her head and looked at it. “Ahhh,”she said, “yes,” and then pointed in the opposite direction, “but my car is over there.”
“In the car park?”
“Yes. In the car park.”
“Well,” the police officer continued helpfully, “you could walk over to Victoria’s Secret, get what you need and then walk back to your car.”
“Yes, but my car is over there.”
“And Victoria’s Secret”, he pointed again, “Is over there, fifty feet away.”
“Can you drive there?”
If the police officer was frustrated at all then he wasn’t showing it. He thought about her question. “Well,” he offered, “you could go back to your car, drive out of the car park, turn right, join the highway, keep following it till you see a 7-Eleven where you turn right again, and that will bring you into another car park around behind us here and if you go right over to the west side of that car park and go as far forward as you can then you should be able to see the back of Victoria’s Secret. Which, as I say, is just over ….”
“Good,” she said, “thank you. I think I’ll drive.” And she was gone.
When he turned to me I expected us to share a moment of misogynistic mirth, but his face was unchanged. I wondered, for a moment, if I may have been in the company of an android.
“And what can I do for you, Sir?” he smiled.
“I’m looking for the Bose shop.”
“Well, Sir. That’s a bit trickier. It’s on a different level altogether and I think it might be best if we take the escalator just over here to our left. I’ll walk you there.”
And he did.
As we were nearing our destination I turned to him. “Let me get this straight,” I said, “you’re a police officer, right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“With a gun.”
“Yes, Sir. A generation 4 .45 caliber Glock 21.”
“Don’t you have anything more important to do than guide silly old men around shopping malls?”
He smiled at me again. “Sir,” he explained, “this is the OC. This is Orange County. If we see a car on the road here that’s more than 4 years old we pull it over. Apart from that it’s quiet. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
Richmond Road 