Auntie was too bossy; too
out-spoken
Always said her piece
My dad was stuck between
them
She was his older sister
I suppose she thought she
had the right
But her words were resented
Looked down upon; rejected
out of sight!
Mum was “Never good enough”
Felt “looked down upon!”
“Not up to the grade”
Couldn’t take those lectures
Didn’t like the interference
She needed a place of her
own!
She didn’t want to be
beholden
Didn’t want to be treated
like a slave
Used for work; not
appreciated
No matter she did!
So from under that thumb
they slid!
We had our own little place
Dad built our little home
With the toil of their hands
With the sweat of their
brows
We lived on our own land!
Mum and dad worked so hard
Picking fruit at
Harrington’s
Gil and Laura were so
wonderful
Helped out my mum and dad
I used to work there too!
Cutting those sweet ripe
apricots
Mr Harrington taught me how!
My childhood days went so
fast
At their property in Kingston-on-Murray
I saw my auntie in Barmera
At the big market there
She seemed so small and
shrunken
So different from my
memories
I guess it’s been over 30
years!
I’ve grown a bit, she’s
shrunk a bit but
I recognised her face
I said to mum “look its
auntie!”
Thinking she might stop and
chat
But I was wrong; she walked
on by
Just like auntie used to do
All those years ago!
I stopped and had a little
chat
To my old auntie
She said a few things that
Sounded like the things
she’d said
All those years ago!
“Your mum and dad smoked too
much!
Wasted their money
If only they’d listened then!
They’d be better off now!”
I thought a bit and realised
Mum would not be the first
To say something to old
auntie
They were both still hurting
Both still lost in that long
ago time
Neither was forgiving
Neither would be first
To cross over that street
Too much water had passed
Underneath that bridge!
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