Veg I’m Mad
The Band
I can hear the band playing,
The sound is very loud,
The drummer hits the cymbal,
And delights the watching crowd.
Sax and cello come in on que,
The drummer beats his drums,
Followed by the trumpet,
They are having lots of fun.
I wish I could play an instrument,
One of any kind,
For music means so much to me,
And I think to all mankind.
Swinging
At the playground – up then down.
I ride a breeze to reach the trees.
My rockets fire… higher… higher…
Hold on tight, the moon’s in sight.
Hear Us!
Bang! Crash!
Make a noise
Colour and sound
Hear our voice
It isn’t jazz or rock or swing
It’s the sound of today
That makes us sing.
Guitars! Drums!
Digital sound
Colour and rhythm
We stamp the ground
It isn’t to classics, we have our own beat
It’s the beat of today
That moves our feet.
Cymbals clash!
Today’s new start
Music moves us
Stirs our heart.
It’s the rhythm of life, the beat of today
And it’s the music that yells at us
“Have your say!”
When Music Makes a Sound
The times were tense in Austria,
On the cusp of the war,
When the Nazi’s began their invasion,
Changing times forever more.
Those that loved their country,
Refused to cooperate,
And looked at trying to escape,
Controlling their own fate.
The Von Trapps’ were such a family.
Respected in their town,
Who entered a local pageant,
With a plan that was profound.
Singing as the Trapp Family Singers,
They chose the perfect song,
Allowing them to leave the stage,
Each one by one by one.
They all escaped to a waiting car,
And then to a Nunnery,
Where they waited to escape on foot,
Across the mountains they planned to flee.
But the Nazis tried to foil their plan,
And followed them right there,
But the Nuns’ refused to help,
The Trapps’ presence they wouldn’t share.
And whilst the Nazis’ looked for them,
One Nun disabled their car,
Which prevented them from leaving,
Allowing the Von Trapps’ to flee afar.
As the Von Trapps’ climbed the mountain,
Each in single file,
They sang their songs with gusto,
As they embraced their self-exile.
The rat’s drum
A rat bought a drum,
A very nice drum,
And played it down in the drain.
Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat,
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
He played on that drum,
That very nice drum,
Until it started to rain.
Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat,
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
The drain filled up fast,
The water surged past,
And washed everything away.
That was the end, that was the end,
That was the end of the rat-a-tat-tat.
Australian Children’s Poetry 