TOUR of TASMANIA, APRIL 2006

The choir has returned from its recent tour of the Northern end of Tasmania with successful concerts at St. Helens, Devenport, Burnie and Launceston. We also participated in a very moving ceremony at the Cenotaph in Burnie on Anzac Day.

We were very pleased to have again supported the Clifford Craig Medical Research Foundation with the proceeds from these concerts. Once again our poet Ed has written this not too short account of our tour. Please enjoy!

A REFRAINER OF TASMANIA

or

TASMANIA MANIA

By Ed Baillie

Toward the end of two thousand and five The AWMVC Considered that as they were now world renown Other places they’d like to see. “As our tour of Wales was so good” said Anne “And they liked us singing in Welsh,” “I think it’s time for another tour,” “We need to go somewhere else.”	Anne and the choir
A Tassie view	“Where can we go?” the committee did muse, “It has to be somewhere O S,” “Somewhere our new songs can be heard.” So where did they choose? – well you guess! Many suggestions were thrown into the hat, ‘Till John Cook said with a smile, “I know we’ve been there before once or twice,” “But let’s go to the great Apple Isle.”
The day came at last, and with bags again packed We climbed aboard Virgin Blue, Ed had come from New Zealand as well, He wanted to be part of it too. We were told before landing to declare any fruit, All that stuff we already knew. But took exception when the Stewardess announced, Any chocolates we had to give to the Crew.
So we put together a program, And tried very hard to perfect it. Except for the pitch in ‘Finlandia’ of course, We’ve never managed to correct it. We selected songs old and new, Songs we thought would please. Some we had difficulty getting right, Others we could sing with ease.
We were met when our feet again touched the ground By Neil with his gigantic bus Who ferried us ‘round from place to place Without complaining, or trouble, or fuss. He took us this day o’er country rugged and fair, Roads narrow, windy, and steep. We observed this diverse countryside, No way could we catch any sleep	Neil's big bus
At the end of the day, as the sun went down, We stopped where we would spend the night. Showered, dressed, and preened ourselves To look spick, clean, and bright. Our suites were pressed and looking like new, We didn’t want to look like melons. Our ties were well knotted, voices trim, We were about to woo St. Helens.
Thus dressed we first took a Hotel meal Of soup and sandwiches, and more. At the tables we sat, except for John Cook Who preferred to eat his off the floor. We rushed to his aid, put him the right way up, And sponged him from foot to head. He spent the rest of the night in a soaking wet shirt, With a face decidedly red.
As we set up our gear, the risers and flags, The legs of the piano weren’t there. They had missed their flight from Tullamarine, So the piano was legless and bare. So a shaky old table supported its keys, No one would take the blame. And with his legs ‘round his neck Simon just played on, And it sounded just the same.	Concert at St. Helens
Yola in concert	Our first gig went well, well so the audience said, They sang and they clapped and they cheered. They gave us a standing ovation, they did, Especially when Yola appeared. Spellbound they sat, in a musical trance, Indeed, she was their favorite choice. Again, she held them in the palm of her hand Bewitched by her beautiful voice.
Early next morning and ready to go, No one wanted to tarry. So let’s be off, - but hang on a mo’, Has any one here seen Garry ? So back we go to pick him up Retracing several streets. There on the corner he stood with his bags. He had just emerged from the sheets.	Gary is ready!
Anzac tree carvings	Back on the road again at last, To a memorial to Diggers of war. Their gift to humanity captured there By an artist with his skill and a saw. Trees that grew old, as they never could Remind us of our eternal debt, Now stand as a carved monument. Lest we forget.
Then on to the venue for our concert that night, To find how we sounded in the Hall. But when we assembled ourselves on the stage We couldn’t be heard at all. Except, that is, for a couple of Tenors, We won’t mention here by name. And microphones placed here and there Only amplified the blame.
Someone suggested we sang from the House And put the audience on stage instead. But the problem was solved by some bright spark Who was accustomed to using his head. We just joined the audience on their level, So now they could really hear us, And appreciate our harmony, Didn’t matter if they couldn’t see us.
The time this took made us rather late To find our beds for the night. While some were snug with their name on a pillow, Some faced a more uncertain plight. With just time for a meal and a change of clothes, In the Isle of the bus on the way. On stage they stood without shower or shave. But then, the show must go on they say.
We were joined by children from local schools, Their impressive talent shone through. On piano, guitar, and cazooka. And the little ones sung sweetly on cue. With enthusiasm and spunk they performed. If they want they could really go far. So watch out in artistic circles for Each one here this night was a star.
On the way to our concert the very next day We stopped at a café for lunch. Soup and pies and sausage rolls, And things you could chew and munch. We were told by Neil our coach driver, (And they say he never tells lies), This place is well known around these parts For its pastries, and pasties, and pies.
May George was seen struggling with sauce, Those things with your fingers you squeeze, Gallant Dominic asked “do you want any help?” To which May replied, “Oh, yes please.” “All over ?” he asked, as he aimed at the plate, May meant only the pie to smother, But everyone ‘round wore tomato sauce From one end of the table to the other.
Noel's special day	Now this very day was special it seemed To someone within our party. He had finally reached that big SIX O ‘Though he still looks young and hearty. Christine and family flew over from home To be with him as he reached that goal. So we gathered around and shook his hand, And sang “Happy Birthday” to dear old Noel.
Neil and Christine had Grand Daughter in tow, I presume to give her a treat. Nine year old Bethany came along for the ride. Now I’m sure they think she’s sweet. But with her cheeky smile and impish ways No one was really safe. But she did look cute dressed in the clothes Of a traditional wee Welsh waif.	Joan and Bethany
On leaving the hotel at Burnie Everyone submitted their key. But the count revealed one key too many, Its label said ‘Argosy’ Someone had brought it from Devonport, The Wolstenholmes admitted their theft, And it’s likely the staff in their kitchen that day Wondered what silver they had left.
Then Phil O’Mara ashamedly Put his hand up also to tell He and Sandra were trying to make off With the key to their room as well. Perhaps they were smitten with Burnie And planned to return here one day. So Neil’s wooden dummy was awarded To these couples to wear for the day.
Getting ready for Anzac Service, Burnie	Today was the 25th of April, A significant day for us all. The day we remember the Anzacs, A day that is dear to us all. We thought it an honour and privilege With Veterans and Soldiers at our side, At the Burnie Cenotaph Gardens We sang at their Civic service, with pride.
Two young ladies who follow us ‘round, Rather than stay at home watching soapies. We have called them D one and D two, They call themselves Choir Groapies. Every concert they’re there, our keenest fan club, And they clap and cheer without shame. If the rest of the audience forgot to turn up We’d sing just to them, all the same.	choir 'groopies' Dorothy & Dot
Some traveling single were put in twin share, So no one was left in the cold. And the stories that went ‘round about Ivan and Mike Are best not repeated, I’m told. A party that started early one night Finished at a quarter to three, They were heard at that hour wandering the place Like crickets disturbed in a tree.
Yola and Anne had a room of their own, And when it came to paying the bill, Their’s was the only room in our group Who owed money at the reception Till. The mini-bar it appears got a flogging one night, Couldn’t contain their hunger blues. We all know what makes Anne weak at the knees, So Yola, was it the nuts, or the chocolate, or the booze ?
Now what can we say about Dennis ? Our spokesman, our jokesman, our clown. If he tells his dog joke one more time We’ll take a cable tow and tie him down. It’s obvious he wanted the dummy When he left his boots behind. We’ll make him tip-toe bare-foot through tulips, Or perhaps that was already on his mind.
The duet of Anne and Yola’s Is always a hit it is true. Even Phil and Neil in Shaw-sh-low-za, Deserves a brief mention here too. And Kristian’s rendition of ‘Bring Him Home’ Will always steal the show, Whether on stage at a concert, Or in a pub at an after-glow.
Our last three concerts at Launceston Were again a howling success. Two with the local RSL Band, And our photos appeared in the press. All credit to Neil Cooley, Our coach driver, organizer, and friend. Even made himself useful back-stage, His talents forever extend.
Phil Baker can now take a deep breath, His hard work will allow him to see The Clifford Craig Medical Research Trust A little bit richer will be. And our reward in this project Was to watch our audiences shine. If they enjoyed our singing as they say they did, We’ll come back here any old time.
So our tour of Tassie has ended, And we wend our way back home. We leave behind our trade-mark. We hope we’ve made Tassie gloam. Another book full of memories, Another notch in our belt. Another experience together Of fun, and friendship heartfelt
We’ll hurry home to practice, And start all over again, To prepare for our next tour of concerts, Some how, some where, and when. We’ll put together some new songs, And practice diligently. So watch out Aotearoa, Here comes the AWMC.	Simon our terrific accompanist