ode to sidney p.

are gathered on this solemn day
To say farewell to Sid
And to celebrate a life full lived
Ever since he was a kid.
Six years was all the time I shared
Though I think it could be said
From the many times we shared a tale
I learned of the life he led.

 Rose Cottage, was his childhood home
Often homeward he would limp
Cause he loved to roam the Sussex Downs
And the place he netted shrimp.
The Air Force was a lure to him
And he might have told a fib
To enlist at such an early age
He must have been quite glib.

His postings, that I heard recount
Around the sub-continent
Found him out behind the lines
Path-finding he was sent.
Sid never made a claim to fame
For the exploits that he met
But if those stories could be told
What a mighty testament!


 When war passed and he found at last
Life back on 'Civy Street'
He moved abroad, explored the world
Of working artists he would greet.
This life for some, was not all fun
And to commerce, Sidney turned
A career he made, in the fabric trade
And this industry he learned.

 In Canada, at this point in life
A pretty lady came along
And Eileen soon became his wife
The attraction was that strong.
This verse reflects their private time
But for Sidney, she was the one
And to these shores, thirty years or more
He still called her his 'Bunn'.

  Many years, they called Australia home
To Sydney, they first went
And very quickly settled down
On a North Shore settlement.
Later then, by David Jones
To Adelaide, Sid was sent
And at that time, our paths first crossed
By fate, or accident

 I was a youthful audit clerk
He had not met before
And with a team and ink of green
We descended on that store.
Later, Sid to me confessed
Auditor's were held in some awe
But in truth, it was the office girls
We young guys noticed more.


 Brisbane, was the town Sid picked
To branch out on his own
Here he settled at The Gap
Where he chose to make his home.
It must have been a childhood urge
That brought Sid back to the sea
And Scarborough was the special place

For his final destiny.

  Our Sid never liked to rest
Excitement he would seek
He loved to kayak all alone
Or climb the highest peak
But he also liked to share
Good company he would keep
And should you ever need a hand
To help you, he would leap.

 And this of course, was the Sid we knew
Who lived life to the brink
To every task he'd step right in
From no challenge would he shrink.
He had a youthful zest for life
And a bent for practical jokes
That kept him on his toes at times
When played by other blokes.

  When Sid Joined the Art Club here
Our Eleanor, will attest
He worked a theme, we had not seen
So we put him to the test.
Now although his drafting skills, I know
Were not like all the rest
He had a flair for light and air
And his colours were the best.


 So when his works went on display
For all of us to share
I was not surprised these works became
The toast of Scarborough Fair.
For years he lent a selfless hand
His enthusiasm great!
It was not just all the help he gave
That Sid became my

  On this day his life has passed
And for now we all might weep
But for the memories he's left behind
What a legacy! we'll keep
And when in turn the time shall come
To reflect on things I did
I only hope my life compiles
As half as well, as Sid.

Rodd Sherwin  ©


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