Its just a simple street Cicadas drum their hindsticks The air, a furnace of eucylpytus perfumed heat Afternoon , summer ,Nineteen Fifty Six In the yard big men sit Beer,my dad, his mates Between their legs enormous plates A harvest of fresh........oysters Remembers, only nine years Since their defining time With life so morning real War days end in tears A mate was there this morning A friend with evening gone In a month his wife is mourning Since that day his loss they'v born