Garth Dutton

A Sign Of The Times (Parts 1-3) – A Poem

In November 2004, I went to Melbourne for an ‘alternative economics’ conference. I went by night bus from Adelaide, and arrived at 8.00 a.m. in the morning. The conference didn’t start till 7.30 p.m., so I had all day to do sightseeing by bus and train and I documented the day as poems.

The book was published in May 2005.

A Sign Of The Times (Part 1)
© 2004 Garth Dutton

At Frankston Shopping Centre
a sign of the times.
Three shops in a row…
A St. Vincent de Paul Centre
set between
a shop selling new & used surfboards
& another
marketing virtual reality.

A Sign Of The Times (Part 2)
© 2004 Garth Dutton

At Highett
on the Frankston line,
beyond a graffiti laden
back fence,
women in white
play lawn bowls
on immaculate greens.

A Sign Of The Times (Part 3)
© 2004 Garth Dutton

A sign on a wall says
“FIGHT POWER – NOT EACH OTHER.”
Another says
“BRITISH ARMY OUT OF IRELAND.”
Another says
“EDUCATION?”
Wonder what they mean by that?
All the rest are ‘tags.’
No… Hang on…
Some more slogans come into sight.
“MEAT IS MURDER”,
“MUTATE NOW – AVOID THE RUSH”,
“DESTROY THA SYSTEM”.
(Yes, it was spelled T H A.)
“WORK, CONSUME, BE SILENT, DIE”.
That’s It!
The rest are ‘tags’ like
EPIC…PNO…ZONA…POPS…
“In” messages for the initiated.

Tags: australia, garth dutton, melbourne, poems, poet, Poetry

The Relief Teacher (Part 2) – A Short Story

The Relief Teacher (Part 2)
© Garth Dutton 2008
   
A student in the middle of the class attracted Carol’s attention, so she asked her to speak. The student began… “I’m Ana, and I’m of Portuguese descent. In Portuguese we have a quite different word for the environment. It is called ‘o ambiente’. The word ‘ambient’ also exists in English. We came across it in Physics, when we discussed the ‘ambient temperature of the room.’ So in Portuguese, ‘o ambiente’, is something everyone is in all of the time. You can’t not be in it. ‘Environment’ is related to the French word ‘environs’. Mum and Dad have an “Adelaide and Environs” street directory in their car. The environs of Adelaide are places like Willunga, Gawler, Bridgewater, and so on. So in English the ‘environment’ is something that is ‘out there’. She pointed out of the classroom window to the hills. It’s a quite different conception of reality to ‘ambiente’. Also, in Portuguese, the term is masculine. Many people who speak English think of ‘the environment’ as being feminine.”
   
Carol thanked her. “You’ve certainly given us something to think about,” she said.

    John, who hadn’t said anything yet, put up his hand, and when given acknowledgment to speak, said. “I’m John, and last Christmas I went with Mum and Dad up to see my aunt and uncle in Queensland. On the way we drove through the Pilliga Forest in Northern New South Wales. Dad said that once it used to be all grassland, and isolated trees, but now it’s grown into a huge, tall, dense forest. The reason is that aboriginal people used to burn the land to keep it open kangaroo country, but once they were killed off or put in reserves, the trees took over.” He paused for effect. Then he continued. “So the forest has grown by people not doing something… burning. So is it therefore a ‘natural’ forest, or a man-made one?
“
There was a short silence, then Tan spoke, again in a rather tentative halting English. “I’m still thinking about Waikiki Beach,” she said. “It has to be a natural beach, because people didn’t create the sand. They only moved the sand from one place to another. Nature created the sand.”

Alan took up her point. “Supposing they only dumped the sand at one end of the bay, and let natural processes like waves, tides and wind spread it to make the beach. Would it be natural or man-made?”

Alice caught Carol’s attention, and said. “Miss, I object to the term, ‘man-made.’ Could we use ‘person-made’ instead. In third world countries plenty of women work on construction projects.”

Jenny interjected. “But sometimes some problems are ‘man-made’, like the extermination of whales. Of all the millions of them wiped out in the past 400 years, how many would have been killed by women… probably none…” Carol recalled seeing a Greenpeace sticker on Jenny’s bag when she entered the classroom. She realized the lesson would be running out of time shortly, so brought the class’ attention back to herself.

“I’ve thought of one,” Carol said. “Last year, I went up to the Flinders Ranges, and visited one of the National Parks up there. These types of Parks have been set up to preserve the ‘natural environment’. But suppose one ranger lives in the Park. It then has one human inhabitant, so isn’t it part of the ‘Human Environment’?”

Another thought came to her. “Suppose we agreed that no-one live there, and it remained a wilderness without people. But we became proud of what we had done by setting up such a Park, and it became part of our culture. Isn’t it then still a part of the ‘Human Environment.”

Con took up her point. “Mr. Smith showed us a video earlier in the year about the Amazon Rain Forest, and the Native American peoples living there. They live in villages scattered here and there throughout the forest. They are people, too, so by the definitions on the board it would have to be part of the ‘Human Environment,” he said.

Since raising the problem of the beach, Rob had said nothing, just listened to the discussion with a self-satisfied look on his face. He could see that they were running out of time for the lesson, so said. “The only term that has any meaning in this context is ‘Environment’, or ‘ambiente’ as you call it, Ana. If you use ‘Human and Natural’; or ‘Natural’ and ‘Man-made’; or ‘Natural and ‘Person-changed’; or whatever, it is…” He searched for a term and found it. “Logically unsustainable!” The class and the teacher agreed with him.

Rob continued. “The question is, Miss Jansen, what is going to happen to this information now we have arrived at this conclusion?”

Carol thought about that. She saw she would need to do something with the information. She decided to be quite honest with the class.

“I’ll certainly take it up with other teachers here at the school,” she said. On further consideration, she continued. “And the content of the lesson I can bring to the attention of the Geography Teachers’ Association. You could also write a class letter to Dr David Suzuki in Canada, or Sir David Attenborough in England, or both. I am a member of Friends of the David Suzuki Foundation, so I already have his address. You could write to the ABC, or the British High Commission in Canberra, to get an address for Sir David. Perhaps you could also send a class letter to the State and Federal Ministers for Environment.” The class seemed very satisfied by that.

“In the few minutes left, could you copy down the definitions etc. on the board,” said Carol. There was a murmur from the class. They did not seem too happy with the suggestion.

Jenny gave a sigh, and put up her hand. “Do we really need to copy down those things,” she said. “Now that we have seen it set out like that, it is self-evident… A single category, “Environment”, is the only one that makes any sense at all. Is there anyone in the class who can’t see that?”

There was silence in the room. The bell rang.

“Right,” said Carol. “Write your own summaries for homework. Thanks for a great lesson.” There was a murmur of assent from the class, and they began to pack up their books and bags.

Gina gave the chalk back to Carol. “Oh…also…” Gina said. “The Water Cycle… Evaporation from the sea, clouds, rain, run-off, rivers back to the sea…is self-evident, too, once you have seen the diagram once, and worked your way through it. Yet each year, it is taught as if it is a very difficult concept to grasp.” She smiled, and then said confidentially
“Actually Mr. Smith is quite a good teacher. We are seen as a very ‘mixed-ability’ class. Rob, Alan and Jenny pick up everything first go. The rest of us have to work on it. Some have a poor command of written work, or English. Mr. Smith has a problem, in that, if he keeps on giving extra work to those three, who always finish first, then they will get further and further ahead of the rest of the class. But if he doesn’t, they get bored and start doing stupid things.”

“I know the problem,” said Carol.

Gina continued. “Lately, he’s taken to getting those three to help others who haven’t grasped the concept concerned. At first, they considered others slower than themselves as ‘thick’, and didn’t like doing so. Now they are getting used to helping. I think we will all pass this subject this year.” She said this last sentence with emphasis. Then she went to get her bag and books. “Bye” she said.

“Thanks very much for being my scribe!” called out Carol as Gina left the room.

Rob had been writing something on the board while Carol was involved speaking to Gina. He had written ‘Please Leave” at the top, and underlined it several times. Underneath the details, he had written. “This concept, ‘beach’, makes the dual categories logically unsustainable”

“We might need it next Geography lesson,” he said with a smirk, and was gone.

Clive, the teacher of English, walked into the classroom. He scanned the material on the board, and said. “Fascinating stuff! Mind if I use it as part of my lesson. The problem of accurately defining things in English! A good example!” His students started to arrive.

“Seems like you had a good lesson,” he said.

Carol agreed, as she packed up her books and papers. She had her only free lesson for the day next, and needed a cup of coffee. “I’m a relief teacher, and they didn’t give me a hard time!” she said with a smile.

“Then it has to have been a good lesson, whether they learned anything or not,” said Clive. He looked at the blackboard again, and said, “I think they probably did. Have you got another class now?”

She shook her head. “The class I should have is on a full morning’s science excursion,” she replied.

“Would you like to sit in on the whole, or part of, an English class,” he asked. “You could explain a few more details about this.” He indicated towards the information on the board.

The prospect of a cup of coffee receded. “Fine,” Carol replied. She hadn’t yet taken an English class for relief teaching. It would be good experience to sit in on one.

Clive settled down his class, and said. “We have a visitor today… Miss Jansen… And we have a surprise. We are going to begin today’s English lesson by talking about the beach.”

Tags: author, Environment, garth dutton, geography, Prose, short story, teacher

The Relief Teacher (Part 1) – A Short Story

This is a short story on an environmental theme in two parts. It is called “The Relief Teacher” and it is based on a geography class that went exceptionally well when I was an adult student teacher doing teaching practice as part of my Graduate Diploma of Education in the 1990′s.

Part two will be published tomorrow

The Relief Teacher (Part 1)
© Garth Dutton 2008

Carol approached the classroom where she would be teaching, and it was noisy. Most students were still standing up talking. She walked in, then she said, “Would you all please take your seats, please!”

    “Who are you?” called out one student. “Where’s Mr. Smith?” asked another.

    Carol picked up a piece of chalk, and wrote ‘Miss Jansen’ on the blackboard. She then gestured for the students to be silent. “I am Miss Jansen. I am a relief teacher. You usual teacher, Mr.Smith, is away sick today, so you are having me for your geography lesson today instead. He may be back tomorrow, so I hope you’ll all be well-behaved and co-operative for me. We have a lot to get through in one lesson.”

    A murmur went through the class, and mixed with it, Carol distinctly heard the phrase, “She expects us to work!” She noted the sentiment, but did not visibly respond to it. Instead she said, “Right! Now I believe you have just done a section on the Sahel region of Africa and desertification. Am I correct? A brief description of what you have done, please…”

    Alan, who sat at the right hand side front of the class, at a desk by himself, put up his hand. Carol indicated for him to answer. He said, “I’m Alan,” and he gave a brief, but very good summary, of what had been done. She thanked him.
   
Carol found that she was starting to get the feel of this class. She perceived that Alan might be the type of student who picked up ideas and concepts very quickly, but there were quite a few other students in the class who appeared to not want to be there at all.

Jenny and Alice, who sat a few desks further back from Alan, were busily engaged in whispering to each other.

Carol motioned for them to stop. “If you have anything to say about the topic, please say it to the class. If it is just gossip left over from recess time, leave it until lunch-time!”

Jenny gave a pained smile, and said with a touch of sarcasm. “That topic Alan described gave us all compassion fatigue.”

The students’ attention instantly focused on Carol. How would the relief teacher respond to a remark like that?

Carol replied. “Environmental problems of that scale do cause some people to lose heart. That is why, instead of going straight on with environmental problems in first world countries, we are going to look at our conceptions of the environment generally, in this lesson.” The news did not go down all that well with the class.

One student put up his hand. “Hi, I’m Rob,” he said. “Please Miss Jansen, some of us have done “The Environment” every year since Year 1. This is year 10… And every time it is done, it is done as if we have never heard of the topic before. We’ve had it up to here!” He put his hand under his chin. “Boring!” he remarked, and left it at that.

Carol saw an opening that might make this lesson quite worthwhile. She decided to take a chance with this class. She smiled and said. “Very well, then… How do you think the topic of ‘Environment’ should be taught at Year 10 level?”

There was a momentary silence in the classroom, then a loud murmuring amongst the students.

“Right!” said Carol. “You can have four minutes to discuss it amongst yourselves, but at working level of noise only, please.”

She suddenly thought to herself. “Whoops, I haven’t marked the student roll yet.” The roll book was on her desk, so she opened it.

“Who isn’t here today that is supposed to be?” she asked the class. Most of them ignored the question. Alan, however, scanned the classroom. Then he called out to Alice and Jenny. “Where’s Samantha, and Rita?”

“At the Interschool Basketball Competition, of course,” said Alice to Alan, rather than the teacher. “Don’t you know we are in the quarter-final.”

“Is that all who are away,” said Carol, finding Samantha’s and Rita’s names on the roll, and marking them accordingly.

“Yes!” said Alan, leaning back on his chair. Carol glared at him momentarily. He got the message, and sat properly at his desk.

When the four minutes were up, Carol said. “Right, let’s start the discussion. Who is going to make the first contribution?” There was complete silence in the classroom.

Then Rob spoke, without putting his hand up first. “How can we answer it? We don’t know you well enough to know what kind of answers you expect.”

Carol considered, then wrote at the top of the blackboard,

A murmur went around the class for they really didn’t know how to take what she had written. They lapsed into silence wondering what to do next.

    One student, Tan, who sat at the back of the class, looked like she might have something to say. Carol looked expectantly at her, and said with a smile. “Yes! Did you have something to say to start the discussion?”

    The students’ eyes turned to Tan, who then said hesitatingly. “My name is Tan. People here see all the problems as coming from the Human Environment, not the Natural Environment. But in parts of Asia people have been growing rice for thousands of years. It’s the big timber companies that are clearing the hill and mountain forests, not farmers. It is the loggers’ actions that are causing erosion and damage to farmers’ fields by seasonal droughts and floods in the lowlands.”

    Carol gave her a smile, as well as verbal thanks, and erased the categories OWN ANSWERS – EXPECTED ANSWERS from the board. She replaced those titles with,

Under the first category she wrote ‘forests’ and under the second category she wrote ‘farming land’. Then she said to Tan. “Do you agree with putting them in those categories?” Tan nodded agreement. Carol said. “The particular issue you mentioned will be discussed in considerable detail in term four.”

    Gina, who sat right at the front of the class, near the teacher’s desk, raised her hand a little. Carol indicated for her to speak, and half turned to the board in anticipation of what she was about to say.

The student said, “My name is Gina, and please Miss Jansen, can I be your scribe? So you don’t have to keep turning your back on the class to write on the board.”

    Carol was quite surprised. She was not quite sure what to do. She was relatively new to relief teaching, and had never had that kind of offer of help before.

    “Certainly,” she replied, and handed the chalk to Gina as she came to the blackboard. Then Carol said. “Would you like to tell the class your contribution, Gina, before writing it on the board?”

    “Could I just write it on the board, please, Miss Jansen?”  Carol nodded agreement, and Gina wrote ‘lakes’ under Natural Environment, and ‘dams’ under Human Environment.

    Other students then made their contributions until there was quite a list for each category. All the students now followed Alan’s, Rob’s, Tan’s, and Gina’s lead and introduced themselves by name first, even though they knew that Carol could not hope to learn 24 names in one or two lessons. Carol tried hard to make sure as many students as possible had something to say.

    During this time, Rob had assumed an air of complete detachment from the discussion. Now he leaned back on his chair, put his hands behind his head, and said. “Miss, I’ve got a problem!” The class burst into laughter.

    Carol gestured for them to be quiet, but three or four girls continued whispering and giggling. Carol glared at them, and waited for them to stop. She thought to herself how glad she was that sex education was not one of the topics she taught. She gestured for Rob to continue, but told him to sit properly on his chair.

    Rob said theatrically. “The problem is, of course, with the topic, not my personal life.” He brought his chair down to level again with a bang, gave one loud thump of his fist on the desk, and said loudly. “I give you the problem of… the beach!”

He then assumed an air of complete self-satisfaction, for having thrown a conceptual ‘spanner in the works’.

The class considered in silence. Then Gina spoke. “Surely I’d have to put it in both categories, wouldn’t I, Miss Jansen?”

    Gina looked across at Alan, who took up her point. “Hmmm,” said Alan, with a look that suggested that he was giving the matter deep consideration. Then in a Sherlock Holmes-type voice, he said. “Obviously, a beach is part of the Human Environment during the day when there are people there, and goes back to being part of the Natural Environment at night when everyone has gone home.”

    Con, who had not made any contribution to the discussion so far, said, “In Greece, there are some beaches that are crowded with thousands of tourists in summer, but deserted in winter when it is very cold. So surely, the beach is part of the Human Environment in one season, summer, and goes back to being part of the Natural Environment in winter… oh, and I’m Con, by the way.”

    Jenny was waving her hand in the air, so Carol acknowledged. “I’m called Jenny!” she said. “My brother Rick and I stay with our Dad during school holidays. Last year Dad took us to Disneyland, and on the way back we stopped over for two days in Honolulu. Waikiki Beach there is a man-made beach. It used to be a mangrove swamp, and all the sand was carted there from somewhere else on the island.”
   
“Good point,” said Carol thoughtfully, and then she asked the class. “Could it ever be part of the Natural Environment if it was a man-made feature like that?”

    Alan laughed. “What about a man-made desert then? Try telling a sand dune it can never be a part of the Natural Environment.”

    “I think I’ve got a solution,” Miss Jansen, said Gina. She had written ‘beach’ between the two categories. Carol considered, and borrowed the chalk. Above the word ‘beach’ she wrote the single word ‘Environment’. “Does that solve the problem?” she asked the class.

    “Yes”, said Gina, and others. Carol thanked her.

Tags: author, Environment, garth dutton, geography, Prose, story

I’d Like To Think There Could Be Peace – A Song

This is my peace song. Every songwriter should have at least one peace song in their repertoire.

I’d Like To Think There Could Be Peace
© Garth Dutton 2005

I’d like to think there could be peace
and an end to war.
The soldiers will have all gone home
and leave their families no more.

And women and children would have rights
like those enjoyed by men.
Religious differences be put aside,
not divide the world again.

I’d like to think there could be peace
all over the world.
And countries have good governments
and resources that were shared.

And world poverty be tackled
and be quickly swept away,
so we might all look forward to
a better future day.

I’d like to think there could be peace
and an end to war.
The soldiers will have all gone home
and leave their families no more,
and leave their families no more.

Tags: garth dutton, Lyrics, Music, peace, song, songwriter, songwriting

Nineteen Forty Five – A Song

This song “Nineteen Forty Five” was written for the 50th Anniversary of the ending of World War 2, but I ran into problems with the music for it. The verses were in 6/4 time. (Fleetwood Mac’s song ‘Go Your Own Way’ is also in 6/4.) But I couldn’t find a related time signature for the ‘bridge’ about the TV program, so missed the occasion.

Some years later, I tried singing the verses in 4/4 time and I immediately found that 12/8 time suited the bridge perfectly. (The Beatles song ‘You’ve got to hide your love away’ is in 12/8 time.) But unfortunately the song proved unsuitable for the 60th Anniversary in 2005, because all the main celebrations were held in Moscow.

Oh well. I recorded the song on my 2006 CD “Long Weekend 2″ which I will write about some other day.

Nineteen Forty Five
© Garth Dutton 1995
    
The British Empire was over and done,           
but its image lingered on.
Some people thought it was still alive,
in Nineteen Forty-five.
In Nineteen Forty-five.

Hitler died on April’s last day.
to avoid the 1st of May.
His Thousand Year Reich in ruins lies,
in Nineteen Forty-five.
In Nineteen Forty-five.

But in Europe’s east, there was no dawn,       
though Hitler’s armies had all now gone.
For victory, such a price to pay.
It now was Stalin’s day.
It now was Stalin’s day.

It was a TV program about  ‘Civilization’.       
Sir Peter Ustinov did the narration.
Europe in chaos, destruction, despair…
Images so real I felt I was there.

Amongst the homeless refugees       
and the cast-out expellees,
I too thank God to have even survived
in Nineteen Forty-five.
In Nineteen Forty-five,

The winter snows turn the ruins white         
and the bombed-out cities come back to life,
while America and Russia the world divide,
in Nineteen Forty-five.
In Nineteen Forty-five.
In Nineteen Forty-five.
In Nineteen Forty-five.

Tags: garth dutton, Lyrics, Music, songwriter, songwriting, ww2

The Apricot Tree – A Poem

This poem is called “The Apricot Tree”, the title of my book of poems that came out in 2008. It’s about Mary, who was the love of my life at the time but I lost her because I uttered one disastrous sentence…

The Apricot Tree
© Garth Dutton 2005

Mary
used to live on a hobby farm
in the Adelaide Hills.
She was my lover for three-and-a-half years
in the early 1990’s.

Whenever her ex-husband had their 3 children
for the weekend,
she would come down to the city to stay with me.
On other weekends I’d go to the farm to stay with her,
including taking my two children with me,
when I had them for the weekend.
Then we’d take all 5 children out on Saturday night
for a pizza or a Chinese meal
in nearby country towns.
My children really loved
going to the country for those weekends.
It was a good arrangement,
but an apricot tree changed all that…

One Saturday in spring one year,
I called to see her.
She was cooking lunch, and said to me,
“Would you like to have a look at my apricot tree?
Something’s gone wrong with it.
Instead of flowering this year,
it has put out dozens of suckers
all through my flower gardens.
I just don’t understand.
Usually it’s so productive.”
I recalled her shelves full of bottled apricots.
Then she said,
“Your Angolan Portuguese friend in Cape Town
taught you all about trees and the environment.
See if you can figure it out…”

So I went out to see the apricot tree,
and circumstances were just as she had described.
There was not a single small fruit on the tree,
and apricot suckers were all through her flower gardens.
It took me about half-a-minute to find an answer.
The tree had gone over
to an alternative means of reproduction.

But why?
I thought again of the rows of bottled apricots,
and a logical reason suddenly came to me.
I went back inside and said,
“The problem is the tree has no descendants,
so it has gone over
to an alternative means of reproduction.”
She repeated slowly, “The tree has no descendants…”
I said, “Of all of its fruit you’ve eaten, given to friends,
or bottled over the years,
how many of its stones would you ever have planted?”
She shrugged, and said, “None! This tree is so productive,
I don’t need another.
I just wrap the stones up in newspaper
and throw them away with the fortnightly garbage.
I also pick up any windfalls and throw them away as well,
in case they cause disease.”

Then she said angrily, “Here! Stir the soup!
I’m going out to look for myself…”
And muttered as she went,
“The tree has no descendants… Indeed!”
Five minutes later she was back, and looking shaken.
“There is no denying the logic of what you say,” she announced.
Then, “Shall we have lunch?”
So she called her children, and we had lunch.

But as the afternoon wore on,
she became increasingly broken-hearted
at the way she had treated her favourite tree.
“What was it you told me that white people from Angola believe?”
she asked.
She answered the question herself.
“That trees are living creatures.
They have a primitive diffuse awareness
of what goes on around them.
They have never needed to develop senses any further,
as they are not mobile.”
I said, “That’s it!” and she replied,
“Sometimes I think you live in a world that’s so alien
to the one I live in,
perhaps we should discontinue this relationship.”
I disagreed, so we left the matter at that.

But within a few weeks,
she had decided to sell her hobby farm
and move into a township.
She bought a house,
with a quite large piece of land
on which she intended to develop
a country-town Permaculture system.
As far as I know, she is still going well with it.
She now works in a plant nursery.

If I was to look for a turning point in our relationship,
I think I would still pick the incident of the apricot tree,
for I feared that I had put her through
an awful culture shock.
In fact, the same sort of culture shock
I had been through myself in Cape Town.
It is a one way trip…
Once you start seeing and experiencing trees
as living creatures,
there is no way back to seeing them as inanimate.
The world is a scarier place for a start,
but once you get used to it,
everything is just so much more alive
than it ever was before.

I have contacted her once or twice
since we broke up,
but it was clear to me that there was no second chance.
So I wrote a song called, “The Bells of Christmas”,
one of the most popular in my repertoire.
It was about the sense of loss I still felt for her
that first Christmas we were apart.
Writing the song got it out of my system.
Or perhaps it didn’t quite,
for this poem has been difficult to write.

Tags: garth dutton, poem, poet, Poetry

Winter Rain – A Poem

We have a problem in this State of South Australia with soursobs and Salvation Jane.

A lot of locals regard them as wild flowers and hate them. Most tourists, however regard them as wildflowers and come here in droves to see them in flower.

I am not sure if the S.A. Tourist Bureau describes them with one word or two in their brochures and literature. Perhaps I should send them a copy of the poem and ask them.

Winter Rain
© Garth Dutton 2004

Listen to the rain, the winter rain,
as it falls on the iron roof.
It’s been a week now
and it has only occasionally stopped.
Farm dams are full
and creeks are overflowing.
Listen to the rain, the winter rain.

Listen to the rain, the winter rain.
Hens scurry for shelter from a heavier shower
and retreat to the dryness of the henhouse.
Listen to the rain, the winter rain.

Listen to the rain, the winter rain.
and think of fields
all yellow with soursobs,
and semi-desert hills
all purple with Salvation Jane.
Not beauty in the eyes of many,
but weeds of the ploughed land and pasture.
Wild flowers,
not yet wildflowers.
Listen to the rain, the winter rain.

Tags: adelaide, garth dutton, poem, poet, Poetry, salvation jane, soursobs

Goyder’s Line – A Song

George Goyder was Surveyor General in the S.A. Government in the late nineteenth century. He drew his ‘line’ at a natural boundary where mallee scrub ended and saltbush plains began.

Until the fiasco of the advance beyond Goyder’s Line the population of South Australia’s coutryside had been steadily increasing. The retreat from it started a process of movement from the countryside to Adelaide that continues today.

About “Goyder’s Line” as a song. I don’t think anyone has ever worked out by ear how to play an accompaniment to the song version of ‘Goyder’s Line’. This is not surprising as it is ‘atonal’. The main verse riff of the verses goes from F to A. F has a Bflat in its key signature, and A has three sharps, so that effectively cancels out key signature altogether.

Anyway, enjoy…

Goyder’s Line
© Garth Dutton 2000

They had no gold like the Eastern States,
but the layout of land and sea
meant ships could sail up into the heart
of good land for growing wheat.
But a rush further north was on in earnest
in the Eighteen-seventies.
They said that rain would follow the plough
and went onwards without heed.

Goyder had warned, and drawn his Line.
He’d seen the north in normal years.
But when the rains came early
and the rains came well,
the whole desert was in bloom.
It was said the growth of desert flowers
was a sign of fertility,
so they followed the vision of a golden north
full of fields of wheat.

Some held on, though all hope had gone,
through winters with little rain.
With ground bone dry and frosts that were hard,
they cursed the saltbush plains.
And one by one they were forced back south,
somehow to start again…
In the north leaving only heartbreak,
not golden fields of grain.

Now across South Australia’s northern plains
the lonely ruins stand.
Reminders that men once came
to plough and sow this land.

Tags: adelaide, garth dutton, george goyder, lyricist, Lyrics, Music, south australia

Kruger – A Poem

Kruger
© Garth Dutton 2004

It’s said Paul Kruger suffered
a crisis of Faith
as the game herds dwindled
and rare plants became rarer.
Players here since
the Dreamtime of Creation
were leaving the stage
one by one.
Unable to contemplate
a bare stage, an empty land,
Kruger left two legacies.
One was the great Park
that today bears his name,
the other a fear
that extinction might happen
to peoples as well.
It took Nelson Mandela
to allay that fear,
and so enable
Apartheid to be abandoned.

Tags: apartheid, garth dutton, kruger, poet, Poetry, south africa

The Non-Green Blues – A Song

Here is a song I wrote a few years ago called “The Non-Green Blues”.

It sums up my feeling on development and the urban sprawl that’s happening in Adelaide at the moment perfectly.

Tags: adelaide, garth dutton, lyricist, Lyrics, Music, poet