Poems from Esther’s youth - “These are from my memory, so I hope they’re accurate”

Faith Hope and Effort

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That maybe it couldn’t, but he would be one,
That wouldn’t say so till he tried.
So he buckled right in, with a trace of a grin
On his face, if he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done…….
AND HE DID IT!!

Somebody scoffed “Oh you’ll never do that,
At least, no one ever has done it.”
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing he knew he’d begun it.
With a lift of his chin, and a bit of a grin
Without any doubting of quiddit.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done…….
AND HE DID IT!!

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one
The dangers that wait to assail you
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin
Then take off your coat and go for it.
Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing
That cannot be done..……
AND YOU’LL DO IT!!

‘It Couldn’t Be Done’ written by Edgar Albert Guest - 1881-1959. Remembered by Esther from her youth .

Timothy

Timothy took his time to school
Plenty of time he took.
But…..
Some he lost in the tadpole’s pool
Some by the stickle-back brook.
Some he lost on a linnet’s nest.
Some on the five barred gate.
Timothy took his time to school
But he lost it all, and was late!!

Mothers - a lullaby

To watch over you when a baby
To sing you to sleep in her arms.
To comfort and cheer you
To always be near you

To teach you the right from the wrong
To do all she can to make you a man
And over a million things more.
To sigh for you, cry for you.
Yes, even die for you.
That’s what God made mothers for.

Originated from a Sunday School Concert - before the war.

A Face

I know a face, a lovely face,
As full of beauty as of grace,
A face of pleasure, ever bright,
In utter darkness it gives light.
A face that is itself like joy ;
To have seen it I'm a lucky boy ;
But I've a joy that have few other,
This lovely woman is my MOTHER.

Written by Edward Wyndham (‘Bim’) Tennant as a child in the 1900s.

School Days

School days, school days
Dear old golden rule day
Reading and writing and ‘rithmetic
Taught to the tune of the hickory stick
You were my queen in calico
I was your bashful barefoot beau
And you wrote on my slate,”I love you, Joe”
When we were a couple of kids.

School days, school days
Dear old golden rule days
Reading and writing and ‘rithmetic
Taught to the tune of the hickory stick
You were my queen in calico
I was your bashful barefoot beau
And you wrote on my slate,”I love you, Joe”
When we were a couple of kids.

Written in 1907 by Americans, Will D.Cobb and Gus Edwards

Poems and Sayings that Nana Stewart told her children

Help the weak when they are strong
Help the old when you are young
Confess your faults when in the wrong
And when you’re angry, hold your tongue!!

The great thing in life is not winning the game,
But playing a bad hand well.

To those who talk and talk and talk
This proverb should appeal.
The steam that blows the whistle
Will never turn the wheel.


She tickled me chin
And made me grin.
She set me heart in a flutter
But when I tried to kiss her
She pushed me in the gutter.

Never stand on your dignity
As it’s the slipperiest thing on Earth.

Once I saw a little bird go hop, hop, hop.
And I said, “Little bird will you stop, stop, stop?”
I went to the window to say,
“How do you do?”
But he shook his little tail and away he flew.

Mum said it’s in me genes…..
And I’ve looked in all me pockets
And I don’t know what she means!!!

Do not throw upon the floor
The crusts you cannot eat.
As many a hungry little one
Would think it quite a treat.

Cherry Ripe
Come a riddle, come a riddle,
Come a rot-tot-tot;
A wee, wee man, in a reid, reid coat,
A staf in his han, an a bane in his throat;
Come a riddle, come a riddle,
Come a rot-tot-tot.

I’ve Got Sixpence
I’ve got sixpence
Jolly, jolly sixpence
I’ve got sixpence to last me all my life
I’ve got sixpence to spend
And sixpence to lend
And sixpence to send home to my wife.

Peter and Raewyn remember these last two songs/poems from the back seat of the Ford Prefect car when they were going on holiday. It was sung to them by their mother, Esther.

A poem that Grandpa Stewart told his children

“Give”, Said the Little Stream

“Give,” said the little stream,
“Give, oh! give, give, oh! give.”
“Give,” said the little stream,
As it hurried down the hill;
“I’m small, I know, but wherever I go
The fields grow greener still.”

Chorus
Singing, singing all the day,
“Give away, oh! give away.”
Singing, singing all the day,
“Give, oh! give away.”

“Give,” said the little rain,
“Give, oh! give, give, oh! give.”
“Give,” said the little rain,
As it fell upon the flow’rs;
“I’ll raise their drooping heads again,”
As it fell upon the flow’rs.

Give, then, as Jesus gives,
Give, oh! give, give, oh! give.
Give, then, as Jesus gives;
There is something all can give.
Do as the streams and blossoms do:
For God and others live.

“Give, Said the Little Stream"
Words: Fanny J. Crosby, 1820–1915
Music: William B. Bradbury, 1816–1868.

Poems written for Esther by her granddaughter, Andrea Tuohey/Whyte

Andrea wrote this poem about Christmas Day in Wellington, 1986

We’re all awake at the crack of day
A robot for Becka with which to play
For Anna some books and a teaset too
Santa’s been busy with topys all new
They wake us up to display their wares
And with a child in each arm we mount the stairs
The robot walks with a flashing light
The wee girls scream in sheer delight'.

Radio, journal and earrings for me
The 10 speed’s at home Already you see!
For Greg it’s Surfies and Dragon-Lance
We unwrap, while Beck and Anna dance
The van arrives with Peter inside
and with Bronwen and Olwen we go for a ride
down to Izard park to play and hit
the ball about a little bit.

Then back to Thomson’s for Christmas dinner
With meals like this we’re getting no thinner
Then surprise, surprise what comes through the doors
It’s Bronwen dressed up as Santa Claus!
”Nice Santa”, says Anna but stays close to Lizzie
Distributing presents keeps Santa so busy
In a Wellington summer it’s really quite hot
So we watch dear old Santa melt on the spot.

There’s turkey and taties, broad beans and peas
Pass over the gravy if you wouldn’t mind ‘Please’
We’re chatting away on this lovely date
Then turn to see Anna asleep on her plate
Our talk must be boring to send her to sleep
As the adults tip toe in to have a small peep
In the afternoon we troop off again
Down to the park to finish our game

Andrea wrote this poem/song to celebrate her Nana’s 70th birthday in 199???

We’d like to sing a song for you
About a birthday girl
Her name is Esther and this week
She’s seventy years old

She’s quite a lass with a real live spark
Although her hair is grey
You wouldn’t think that
She was born in 1921

Invercargill was the place
Where she first learnt to crawl
Although since then she’s moved about
To places large and small.

Hugh caught her eye and won her heart
By wearing stockings home
He’s been with her for all these years
And still comes back for more

Peter was the first to be born
With Raewyn coming next
Then after a pause and a late night out
Along came Elizabeth

This kept her young and in her prime
Trying to explain
Why at the age of 37
She had another babe

Now grandchildren of varied age
Seven kids in all
The apples of their Nana’s eyes
They range from short to tall

So Happy Birthday Esther dear
You’ve passed another year
We wish you many many more
And love from all us here

So she’s the real thing
A nana who’s grey
We all want to say
Happy Birthday dear.