This poem was for a lovely man who has served his community very faithfully for a long, long, time. Keith Kent, of Riddell’s Creek in Victoria. He was retiring as Master of the Masonic Lodge and it was his retirement dinner. His friends asked me to write this poem and gave me the key points. I recited it to him at the banquet and it was very meaningful to everyone there.

In Honour of a Special Man - Keith Kent

Carol Reffold © May 2003

Living on a hillside in a town called Riddell's Creek
Dwells the man we’re here to honour –I’ll give him some cheek
I have some fond mem’ries of the happy times we’ve spent
With the King of Gisborne’s Gases – that man called Mr. Kent

We first met Keith in seventy-five when we moved up there
Of course, we have all changed a lot – some had much more hair!
But some things are ever constant, some things stay the same
One thing which will never change is how Keith plays the Game.

He always was dependable, loyal and true blue
And you could bet he’d do the things he said that he’d do.
Out of gas at five to five? - and tell him of your plight
He’d deliver gas to you, on his way home that night.

He’d see a problem in the town, some horses need a feed –
He saw we had a paddock full, and met those horse’s need.
Of course some things never change, they’re still the same today
Some nosey neighbour’s interfered - rang RSPCA

Then there was the time I’d bought a dinner set of glass
I was told it couldn’t break – it was ‘superior class”?
Keith arrived, I showed it off, and dropped it on the floor
It shattered to a million bits – you should’ve heard him roar!!

Yes, go back down that time tunnel, some things still don’t change
You won’t find a better bloke either side of the range
Now you’ll find he’s passed a year as leader of this mob
I don’t think that anyone could’ve done a better job

Sandringham to Carisbrook and places in between
I guess there aren’t too many towns that you have not been
With past and future Masters, in new or real old car,
Travelling in New Zealand, my word, you have been far!

Let us now turn our attention to your sporting skill
We believe in miracles – to prove it you’re here still
Hang gliding off the hay shed roof was one of your feats,
Skiing down-hill on a beam - another of life’s treats.

Cross country driving, it is said, clearly quite unique
You use trees to stop I’m told, (I said I’d give you cheek!)
On the farm when power goes out, it’s said you use a candle
I’ve been asked to ask you if you need a shovel handle?

Keith Kent, you remind me - of the whip upon the wall,
A solid core, with many chords, running round it all,
A much-blessed man, a special friend, as each path you’ve trod ,
But like the whip upon the wall, the handle’s held by God

I’d like to close this poem – and let’s all stand and cheer
The reason for this evening, the reason we’re all here
Salute a quiet achiever, a humble man, unique,
We say a ‘real big Thank you’ - Keith Kent of Riddell’s Creek!

 

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