Ode to the Bear

Photo Michelle Tomo

A knock about bloke from Annandale, who'd treat his brother on the square;

the seafaring son of an S.P bookie, was the blue eyed, red haired Bear;

and as we come alongside in Freo town, on a morning still and fair;

when from the cab of the crane, I saw the "old man" cringe,

as up the gangway strode the Bear;

for this was to be his final voyage, 'though with no celebration or fanfare;

as we set sail across the Indian Ocean, to a land of want and care;

and upon landing on Sth African soil, with a minute not to spare;

with stubbie and form guide in tow, to the races went the Bear;

Mother Russia won the Queen's Plate that day, a bonny Cape Town mare;

with arms waving amongst the cheering throng, was a 6 foot, roaring Bear;

men like he are rare these days, the bold men who dare;

and there are laws in place throughout this land, for the protection of such Bears;

when seafarers strike and organise and rightfully demand their share;

among the leaders of the union push, was the 6 foot, militant Bear;

so, as we bid and say our final adieu, please don't pity or despair;

for beneath this flag draped casket lies, the spirit of Comrade Bear.