I wrote this poem about my Dad way back… about 1980 I think.
Dad passed away Jan. 20 2002, but will live in our hearts forever.
The story I’m going to tell you
Might come with a bit of a jolt,
The tale of one mans good fortune
The story of one, Mervyn Holt.
Whether through luck or good judgement
No matter through thick or thin
Didn’t matter much what he tried next
The cash just kept rolling in.
When everyone else had a battle
To keep their old bombs on the track,
Merv just bought them and sold them
In a little used car yard out back.
Then if it’s spare parts you’re after
Easy Merv won’t see you go wrong
After he has all your money
He’ll sell you the parts for a song.
Years back he moved up to
Even there he made lots of dough,
Now he says its god’s country
But we know it belongs to Joh.
Of all of the things he has tried
Things to which he’s turned his hand
I reckon he’d have to rate best
A coalmine upon his land.
Sit back and tally the royalties
Without having to chance his luck
The more that goes out the richer he gets
The dollars roll in with each truck.
There’s a bloody big hole in the paddock
Where heavy equipment digs deep
But Merv sits back and enjoys it
Says it helps him to get restful sleep.
He still has a few slow racehorses
Doesn’t bother with training today
Leases them out to another
Lets somebody else buy the hay.
But if perchance one should get up
And win a cup for the shelf
The thrill of a win still excites him
You’d reckon he rode it himself.
After years as a bit of a battler
He reckons that he’s found the lurk
Now he sits back in style
And drives to the track in his Merc.
Now if you should chance to visit
And on the pool table you dare
To lay a challenge before him
He’ll wipe the floor with you there.
Must be a sign of the times
A miss-spent youth you might say
While sleeping at night under bridges
Somewhere he learnt how to play.
He’s had a couple of close calls
And fought his way back to health
He says when you think you are dying
What’s the good of all of your wealth?
All he needs now for contentment
The very last thing he would seek
Is for Hawkey to agree to send him
A pension cheque every week.
Time for a little update
As the years keep flying past
As Merv approaches ninety
He’s sold the farm at last.
It’s fair to say he’s slowing down
There’s no Merc. to drive today
But it really doesn’t matter
He’s not driving anyway.
Now living in retirement
In a unit at the coast
Watching boats and playing pokies
Are the things he likes the most.