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| Michael Carman reading Gerry Connolly's tribute to the Gardens |
A Floral Tribute - The Bird's Eye View
Circling high o'er Blessington Street,
Midst his screeching, urgent cries,
The layout of the Gardens 'neath him,
A Sulphur-Crested Cocky spies.
There are avenues of Cypress pines,
Indian Acacia and Cherry trees,
Cedars of Lebanon and French Cork
A blowin' in the evening breeze.
A Swedish birch, a ring of palms,
As strong and straight as pillars,
Blackberry, Bilberry, the Flame Tree,
The mighty Macrophillars
Gliding down, the cockatoo -
Known to his friends as Bruce -
Dives and swoops upon the scene,
And settles on a Spruce.
What cocky thoughts does Bruce have,
Perching on his bower?
What juicy morsels does he spy,
As the layout he doth scour?
The rose-bed with its springy buds?
Is rhubarb to his taste?
Ah no, the wine palm beckons him:
His forebears pecked and chafed.
What other bird who nestles here
Cedes botanic seduction?
All fronds and seeds and shoots and leaves
Picked out for his destruction.
The Chestnut Teal, the Tawny Frogmouth,
Magpie, Myna, Mudlark,
The White-Browed Scrubwren and Grey Teal
Cause nothing like his bloodbath.
The mess he makes doth take us back
To Eighteen seventy-seven,
Wheny dunny carts would dump night-dirt
At a quarter past eleven.
Tiger Lily, Tiger Lily burning bright,
In the gardens late at night.
Oh, whose awful man's mind's eye
Would frame thee so unsanit'r?
But time doth fly, like cockatooes;
I'm sure his eyes would moisten.
With pride he'd stride along these paths:
I speak of Tilman Gloystein.
For on his axis north and south
His vision's come to pass:
Gazebo, pond, conservatory
Have sprung like greening grass.
Tilman's fate was tied to Bruce;
He was too fond of claret.
Indulged in it, quite lib'rally,
Got pished, just like the parrot.
His body to the booze succumbed,
He was one of life's great crazies.
A fecund mind, it's plain to see
He's pushed up more than daisies.
His end was not prestigous, true,
When he joined the Invisible Coral.
But with the Baron von Mueller too,
His legacy is floral.
Circling round us on the ground,
Tonight is quintessent-ial,
We gather midst this floral wreath
For our sesqui-centennial.
So bring nosegays, bring large bouquets,
From St Kilda's Spring display.
Old and young, let everyone
Shout out "Hip, Hip Hooray!"
Gerry Connolly, 15 November 2011
