Elizabeth's Poetry Haven

This page is created to record poems I have in my possession written by some of my ancestors.

 

The following poem was written by my grandfather, Robert WT Forster

A WANDERER'S LAST THOUGHTS

How hard it must be to the wanderers aboard
When sickness dost them overtake
And they see to the end of the journey they've come
No matter the struggle they make
And how hard it must be when a stranger must soothe
His feverish temples and brow
And a stranger to comfort his few failing hours
Ah! where's all those loving ones now?

How hard it must be when his thoughts wander back
To his home, far away o'er the sea
To the home of his childhood - the first and the best
"Oh! why did I leave it?" cries he
To the place where he wasted his sweet boyhood days
Birds nesting, or chasing the bees
Not a scene is forgotten, he lives it again
Every tree, bank or stream now he sees

He sees the old graveyard with its ivyclad Church
Where often he's strayed years ago
And carelessly read all the names on the stones
O'er the graves of the ones fate laid low
Ah! 'twas little he thought as he passed these last homes
Of this world's weary travellers at peace
In that quiet old Churchyard neath the shade of the trees
As to where he would find his release

Oh would I were back to that old village home
If only it were to be laid
At rest, in the soil of the land that I love
Beneath that old Yew tree's cool shade
For here in the graveyard is all burning sand
Not a tree, no, nor one blade of grass
To shelter the last resting place on this earth
Of this poor weary wanderer; alas !!

Naught to shelter his tomb from the fierce burning sun
Nor at night from the Luna's clear rays
And with just a rude stone to mark where he's laid
With not even a last word of praise
And never a loved one will be there to see
Where he sleeps in this hot foreign soil
But strangers will pass and with scarce but a thought
Of him who's been freed from earth's toil.

 

Written by:Robert William Thomas FORSTER while at Perim Island, April 27th 1903

NB: Perim Island is a volcanic island in the Strait of Mandeb on the south-western coast of Yemen. These straits divide the Red Sea from the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Peninsula from Africa. The distance across is about 20 miles.

My grandfather, Robt. WT Forster, was a light-house keeper on Perim Island at the time he wrote this poem. In such isolation, so far away from his beloved Isle of Wight on the south coast of England, he must have had much time for reflection and contemplation of his past and his present, surrounded by the burning hot sandy deserts of  Arabia and Africa. Robert Forster is the Robert who married Alice in the poem "Ancestral Roaming" above, which can be read on the "Family History Journey" page on this site.

 

DADDY

Daddy lives in Hamilton
Across the big blue sea
He hasn't got no babies now
But he's waiting patiently - Poor Daddy

He's waiting for their mummy too
Who took them all away
I wonder if she loves their Dad?
Not very big, they say - Ah Mummy

Moya says she doesn't mind
If she don't see her Dad
She loves to play with English girls
Oh dear ! it is so sad - Ah Moya

Frankie, he says "Come on Mum
Let us again go back
I'd rather be in Daddie's house
and not with Uncle Jack" - nice Frankie

Dad's Annie with her curly curls
And in her riding hood
Said "Mummie, Daddie wants me now"
As on the steps she stood - Sweet Annie

"I lubs my fader werry big"
Said little 'Peter Tot'
Come back a time to Daddie's house
He wants to see the lot - mine Vena

So Mummie says "Come babies come,
Let's all go home to Dad
Away across the big, big sea
And won't he just be glad" - Good Mummie

Written by my grandfather, Robert William Thomas FORSTER c.1920 on the occasion when Alice Mary FORSTER (nee CREETH), his wife, took the four children home to England from New Zealand for a year in 1919/1920. Robert (Bob) remained in New Zealand, hence the melancholy nature of the poem. 

Robert and Alice are mentioned in the poem, "Ancestral Roaming"  as well as the children.  Moya and Frankie with Annie (my mother), being Nan, as she was always known to me and "Peter Tot"/Vena, always known as Tot.  Lorna was born after Alice and children returned to New Zealand.

Hamilton is the town, now city, in New Zealand where the family was born and brought up.

 

GRANNY'S POEM

Granny's got no babies now
Mam's taked then all back to Dad
I think she must have loved him very big
To leave poor old Gran so lone and sad

There's no curly heads on the pillows
To cheer the long dark nights
No loving arms and kisses
To brighten old Gran's life

No little feet come hurrying
To help Gran turnoff the tap
But Mother says its only Silly Billies
Who cry for things like that

The big ship goes sailing onward
The steamer has rushed away
And taken all my darlings
Far away, far away

I long for one loving voice
That has gone to rest
But God spared my Soldier Boy
So I ought to think I am blest

So you must try to be happy Gran
And only pause and stop to think
Whatever should we all do
Without our Bob and Rob

The lovelyest rose has got a thorn
So I must just try the trick
To gather all the blossoms
And never mind the pricks

Note 1: The above poem was written in 1920 just after Alice (Creeth) Forster departed England  with her four children to return to her husband, Bob (RWT Forster), in New Zealand at the end of a year's visit "home". By comparison with a known sample of Mary (Ord) Forster's handwriting, the unsigned poem is believed to have been written by Mary who was the children's
Forster granny. The "loving voice..gone to rest" refers to her son, Robson Cameron Forster who died in 1919 from wounds received in WW1 and the "Soldier Boy" refers to her other fighting son, Martin Lee (Frank) Forster who was also wounded
but recovered to return home to England.
(Notes by Kaye (Forster) Hodson, New Zealand, Sept 2005)

Note 2: Mary (Ord) Forster is my great-grandmother, born Hexham, Northumberland England 1849, died Isle of Wight, England in 1939, and of course the mother of Robert WT Forster, author of the above two poems.

VOLUNTEER DRILL FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN

"Fall in"        :-  Love with some good industrious young lady

"Attention" :-   Pay to her faithfully and respectfully

"Right-Face":- In popping the question like a man

"Quick March" :-  To her parents and ask their consent

"File Right" :-  With her to the Church and go through the source of matrimony

"Halt"  :-  And reflect seriously upon the new duties which you have assumed

"Right-About Face" :-  From the haunts which you frequented and prefer your own home

"Advance Arms" :-  To your young wife when out walking and never leave her to (trail)

"Trail" :-  behind

"Break Off"  :-  Staying out late at nights and other bad habits, it you wish to have a happy home.

Frank Forster
Puckaster (Isle of Wight, England ?)
December 8th 1911

 

Note: Frank Forster, author of these words, is Martin Lee Forster, the Soldier Boy in "Granny's Poem"  above. He went to New Zealand and enlisted with the NZ Forces for WW1. He was injured but later returned to England, married and had one son who now lives in Scotland.

 

ROBSON'S GOODBYE

{March 3 1912 (date of departure from England?)}

Well Well! and so the time has come
For me to say goodbye!
That won't take long my "pretty boys"
Nor cost me scarce a sigh
I've had some pleasures I'll admit
These long years I've been here
But not unmixed for me "old bird"
Sometimes things have gone queer
Well! So-long Madam, so-long Snow
And So-long Darkie too.
Full many a weary hour I've had
To win my bread from you
I'm sure of all the rotten jobs
That milking takes the cake
You don't believe it? Well young man
Just try it, for my sake
I'd ten times rather clean out pigs
Tho they han't got much sense:-
But drive them to the other end
And sling it o'er the fence!
You fetch the cows home wringing wet
And smothered o'er in "clarts"
They'll swish their tails across your face
Untill your eyeball smarts
Of course I know, I've had some fun
Whils't stripping out the cream
I've give Loch Lomond such full lip
It fairly shook the beam
I have been told my lungs are weak
And of them to take care;
But not by anyone who lives
Within a mile or mair!
So-long old sow and little pigs
I'd like to "wring" the nose
Of every blooming one of you
To make a fitting close
To all those years of slushy work
That I've been forced to spend
Down here, amongst you slobbering brutes
Hurrah! I see the end.
Well, "Jimmie" lad the time has come
For you and I to part
You were my one best pleasure here,
I tell you from my heart
But changes come to all of us:-
I hope they'll treat you kind
When over there across the sea
I've left you far behind
It's no use worrying o'er it now
I saw it had to be,
So "fare thee well" my trusty friend
I'll often think of thee
I'd better get a move on mate
Or else I'll miss the bus
So here's across to Wheeler's now
To make a bit of fuss
What cheer! old bird, how's things today?
Them clods don't look so bad!
I'll bet when "Hug" has his first go
At you, he will feel sad.
Now Wheelers just take this from me
For pity 'tis, 'tis true
My back and joints, when digging here
Have near been broke in two
You've surely been a stubborn "friend"
As ever one could meet,
To drive a spade down in your soil
You'd really need two feet!
But still I've had some pleasures too,
Whilst hoeing down my row
In telling yarns to Mont or Pete,
Or an occasional throw.
I've tried my very level best
To put one in the sea
From here, but never did succeed:-
For me, 'twas not to be.
I've manned one up across Longfield,
Across Long garden too,
But that was just about as far
As ever I could do.
Well I must "see about it now"
So-long, old bird, so-long,
Down to the "fern rick" I must go
And bring along that "prong"
I left down there six months ago,
I wonder if its lost?
The times I've done that silly trick!
Regardless of the cost
To say goodbye once more
To our old home amongst the trees,
Then out at the Blue door
I wonder if the copper's filled
And if the "Fuzz" is dry?
How many trips have I had there?
To count I will not try.
These jobs are finished now for me
Let others have a turn
But what the future holds, as yet
I cannot well discern
Well now, here's off.  Goodbye old home
I'm sorry too, to leave
But as I know its for the best,
My heart it will not grieve
I promise you when I come back
To come along this way
At present 'tis my business to
Bid you one last Good-day.

Written by my grandfather, Robert WT Forster in
Hamilton, New Zealand on Boxing Day, 1911 depicting
the life of his younger brother Robson who, with
another brother Martin Lee (Frank) Forster, was due to leave
Puckaster,the family home at Niton, Isle of Wight,
England, for New Zealand, in March 1912.

Note 1: Robson Forster joined the NZ Expeditionary Forces
while in NZ and served with the ANZACs at Gallipoli where he was injured and repatriated to New Zealand. He died in Hamilton,New Zealand in 1919 of his war wounds and was never
to return to see his old family home in Niton, Isle of Wight.
Robson is the "one loving voice .......gone to rest" referred to in "Granny's Poem" above.

Note 2:  A comment on the above poem, written by another
brother, John Ord Forster (who never went to New Zealand)
"A most amusing piece to all who know the circumstances,
cleverly depicting Robson's life and ways at our old home
Puckaster, Niton, Isle of Wight"  J.O.F.

Note 3: Transcribed (as written) by Idina Hastings of Cheshire,
England, in August, 1993. Idina is grand daughter of John Ord
Forster. Idina's transcription was then shared among the
family in England and New Zealand.