The Crocodiles are crying (as they always were)

Steve Irwin is dead. He's well missed. But some other points are also being well missed.

Here's a poem from popular poet Rupert McCall about the crocodile hunter.

Then I wrote a little something as an addendum.



THE CROCODILES ARE CRYING

Endless visions fill my head – this man – as large as life
And instantly my heart mourns for his angels and his wife
Because the way I see Steve Irwin – just put everything aside
It comes back to his family – it comes back to his pride

His animals inclusive – Crikey – light the place with love!
Shine his star with everything he fought to rise above
The crazy-man of Khaki from the day he left the pouch
Living out his dream and in that classic ‘Stevo’ crouch

Exploding forth with character and redefining cheek
It’s one thing to be honoured as a champion unique
It’s one thing to have microphones and spotlight cameras shoved
It’s another to be taken in and genuinely loved

But that was where he had it right – I guess he always knew
From his fathers’ modest reptile park and then Australia Zoo
We cringed at times and shook our heads – but true to natures call
There was something very Irwin in the make up of us all

Yes the more I care to think of it – the more he had it right
If you’re going to make a difference – make it big and make it bright!
Yes - he was a lunatic! Yes - he went head first!
But he made the world feel happy with his energetic burst

A world so large and loyal that it’s hard to comprehend
I doubt we truly count the warmth until life meets an end
To count it now I say a prayer with words of inspiration
May the spotlight shine forever on his dream for conservation

…My daughter broke the news to me – my six year old in tears
It was like she’d just turned old enough to show her honest fears
I tried to make some sense of it but whilst her Dad was trying
His little girl explained it best…she said “The crocodiles are crying”

Their best mate’s up in heaven now – the crocs up there are smiling!
And as sure as flowers, poems and cards and memories are piling
As sure as we’ll continue with the trademarks of his spiel
Of all the tributes worthy – he was rough…but he was real

As sure as ‘Crikey!’ fills the sky
I think we’ll miss ya Steve…goodbye

RUPERT McCALL 2006


THE CROCODILES ARE (still) SHITTING THEMSELVES

There’s a slate of sorrow here that sees him running after crocs,
There’s also one of admiration: I can’t run two blocks.
There’s thoughts toward his family. It always hurts to lose
A father or a friend, no matter what their views.

The way I see Steve Irwin, I can’t put everything aside,
Do we hide the wrongs of World War II just cos Germany had pride?
The treatment of his employees up at Australia Zoo,
Ask how hard he worked to put their pride in crocodile poo.

“May the spotlight shine forever on his dream for conservation”
I hope that spotlight fades away like forests ‘round the nation
If Irwin thinks that Little John is our history’s greatest leader
The crocs will die - wildlife needs every drop, each plain, each cedar.

Uranium, dams, reactors, and all things quite reviling
Are created around the country, no croc – anywhere – is smiling
Have you heard about big industry, the scourge of Yorta Yorta
You won’t see John at Barmah-Millewa. Heard of it? You oughta.

Natural resources for crocs, and fish and forests take the brunt
And are fast commodified by Free Trade – another of Johnny’s courageous stunts
Yes, if one regards our Johnny as the greatest, let me mention
That any call for “conservation” is probably just for attention.

Michael McMahon 2006