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For more years than I care to remember the sign of spring came to me in the shape of a Shield. It was from the tribe of JJ Giltinam, that the seeds of spring would come. Many springs have passed and the memory of our trusted ancestor fades. His place diminished by another trophy forged from dark times when the one tribe split into two. Thousands now seek this new trophy and have stopped at nothing to secure the prize and all the treasures which come to the victor. Many tribes from many places have tasted the sweet taste of success. A Rooster, Rabbit, Shark, Cowboy…ah the list goes on.
Now I sit on the Palm Beach road, I am filled with the fruits of summer wine and my crazy eyes look out to sea. I turn to see what is making a thunderous sound. It is a massive chariot, the like I have never seen. The Sherriff arrives and must rule the game fairly. The main Sherriff from the past had a whistle and he dressed in yellow. All tribe’s bar one liked the Sherriff. The tribe from where the northern land meets the sea hated the Sherriff named Harrigan. King Bozo said I shall run him over until there is no breath in him to blow that whistle. Many tribes talk about the current Sheriffs and how they do not understand the tribe’s rules. They blow whistles and talk to another Sherriff who no one sees but all hear. That voice keeps saying No Try. It is a false god. The tribes say begone all you unseen Sheriffs. Leave the rulings to the man with the whistle.
I have a vision. I see icebergs floating near Bondi. There is deep water everywhere. Some are caught up in its tow, some are in over their head. They are always the last to know. Now I hear a blast from an ancient horn - the Viking tribe rides from the south. Green in colour, they ride forward. With great purpose they conquer a raging Storm, then fight off a Shark. They can see the trophy but come back looking like ghosts. Not this year Vikings, you need more time to reach the wonderland. Only one team will hold the trophy up and it will be a mighty battle. But the Rooster who also comes from place near the sea will prevail. The Bondi icebergs reign again. Many tears will flow…for the prophet Cronk it is his last ceremony. The number one will be acclaimed and the medal of the great prophet Churchill will hang around his neck. His leader holds aloft the treasured trophy. May the followers of the Oracle be blessed in Spring and seek the truth.
Now I sit on the Palm Beach road, I am filled with the fruits of summer wine and my crazy eyes look out to sea. I turn to see what is making a thunderous sound. It is a massive chariot, the like I have never seen. The Sherriff arrives and must rule the game fairly. The main Sherriff from the past had a whistle and he dressed in yellow. All tribe’s bar one liked the Sherriff. The tribe from where the northern land meets the sea hated the Sherriff named Harrigan. King Bozo said I shall run him over until there is no breath in him to blow that whistle. Many tribes talk about the current Sheriffs and how they do not understand the tribe’s rules. They blow whistles and talk to another Sherriff who no one sees but all hear. That voice keeps saying No Try. It is a false god. The tribes say begone all you unseen Sheriffs. Leave the rulings to the man with the whistle.
I have a vision. I see icebergs floating near Bondi. There is deep water everywhere. Some are caught up in its tow, some are in over their head. They are always the last to know. Now I hear a blast from an ancient horn - the Viking tribe rides from the south. Green in colour, they ride forward. With great purpose they conquer a raging Storm, then fight off a Shark. They can see the trophy but come back looking like ghosts. Not this year Vikings, you need more time to reach the wonderland. Only one team will hold the trophy up and it will be a mighty battle. But the Rooster who also comes from place near the sea will prevail. The Bondi icebergs reign again. Many tears will flow…for the prophet Cronk it is his last ceremony. The number one will be acclaimed and the medal of the great prophet Churchill will hang around his neck. His leader holds aloft the treasured trophy. May the followers of the Oracle be blessed in Spring and seek the truth.
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