NaPM April 22 2014

[Mopkins]

a favorite of mine is The Lady Of Shallot by Tennyson


On either side the river lie
paddocks of sheep beset by flies,
the pebble-like dung it dries,
I hear the sheep’s baaing cries
in boring Boyup Brook.
Up and down the locals go
on Abel Street, the traffics slow,
trucks hauling their heavy loads
in boring Boyup Brook.

The brook it feeds into the river
where the eucalyptus shiver
in the wind, their leaves a’quiver
the reeds alongside dry and wither
in boring Boyup Brook.
One main road, one supermarket,
a cemetery for the departed,
several churches that have started
in boring Boyup Brook.

A petrol station for the cars,
a hotel with a public bar,
a small golf-course, nine par
The streets are wide and long and sparse
In boring Boyup Brook.
The shearers and shed hands
there outside the pub they stand
drinking from glasses or cans
In boring Boyup Brook

For twenty years I have dwelt here,
the brook across the road quite near,
to the locals it is dear
but in it I find little cheer,
in boring Boyup Brook.
For a new home I have hankered,
I wish that here I had not landed-
I’m altogether disenchanted
With boring Boyup Brook.