Cat

Now thats nice coming from an abo!

 

Yup.. I just go blacker

 

Dale and William,
Our sincerest condolences on the loss of your belove wife and
mother and a good mate to many of us. One cannot think of Kitty
without the thought of CSC wench and ankle kicker coming to mind. Cat
will be missed by all. I can't help but feel that the Saturday night
BBQ's at PI will never be the same.


Les (Johno) and Jackie.

 

Dale my condolences to you and your family , even tho we have
never met but I did meet a plucky redhead a few years ago an her
1st bike on a Penninsula ride along with Dave Cooper , yep it was
Cat .
I as all of us will miss her quick chirpy replies on this forum
and in life.
RIP CAT

 

Dale, you have my sincerest condolences.

Brett

 

Some sort of memorial service, perhaps?

 

but those paper ones are so flimsy!

 

Blackout!

 

There's always plastic plates ;-)


G-S

 

I just went off for a while on holiday, and I don't think I'll ever do
it again ...

Boky and Cat! The campfire will be quieter! Sincere sympathy to Dale
Wills, and those left behind ...

Henry lawson didn't know much about bikes, but I like this, and Cat
would appreciate the intent.


The Glass on the Bar

Three bushmen one morning rode up to an inn,
And one of them called for the drinks with a grin;
They'd only returned from a trip to the North,
And, eager to greet them, the landlord came forth.
He absently poured out a glass of Three Star.
And set down that drink with the rest on the bar.

`There, that is for Harry,' he said, `and it's queer,
'Tis the very same glass that he drank from last year;
His name's on the glass, you can read it like print,
He scratched it himself with an old piece of flint;
I remember his drink -- it was always Three Star' --
And the landlord looked out through the door of the bar.

He looked at the horses, and counted but three:
`You were always together -- where's Harry?' cried he.
Oh, sadly they looked at the glass as they said,
`You may put it away, for our old mate is dead;'
But one, gazing out o'er the ridges afar,
Said, `We owe him a shout -- leave the glass on the bar.'

They thought of the far-away grave on the plain,
They thought of the comrade who came not again,
They lifted their glasses, and sadly they said:
`We drink to the name of the mate who is dead.'
And the sunlight streamed in, and a light like a star
Seemed to glow in the depth of the glass on the bar.

And still in that shanty a tumbler is seen,
It stands by the clock, ever polished and clean;
And often the strangers will read as they pass
The name of a bushman engraved on the glass;
And though on the shelf but a dozen there are,
That glass never stands with the rest on the bar.

For all the CSC's I'll never drink ...

Cheers
Goaty

 

Just remember to smile then...

Johno

Coopers Mate?

 

Cheers

TB
Pie floater moite?

 

Goaty

Thanks for posting, great poem.
Stuart

 

Found out about this yesterday. To say I'm shocked is an understatement. I
really have nothing I can say that is worthy. She will be missed by all.

RIP

Z...

 

All I can say is I'm bloody sorry.

Postman Pat

 

No body said anything about wogs and abos...
Gawd, I thought this was a civilized party? <--- Noting the wink
of humour.

Me.

 

sounds like a plan.. But drop in where?

 

They fail everyone, and expecting on about this too.

 

Are you allowed to say Black anymore in this politically correct
world?

PS.
What do you call Dick Van Dyke in a politically Correct world?