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The Old Hall – written by Barbara hall

The old Hall stands peacefully, a sentinel of times gone by

If you sit and quietly listen, you can hear the walls sigh

Every knot and every crack, in these walls faded with age

Can tell a story, of long ago, if you sit and turn the page

It’s Saturday night and they’ve all come along

To drink, to dance and sing the odd song

They’ve come from the bush, both near and far

On foot or by horse – there’s no motor car

The piano is played by Mona Mc Nare

Ted sits there tapping on a drum and a snare

Mick’s there too with his sax in hand

And Manny on the trumpet finishes off the band

Women wait quietly, on chairs lining the hall

Some won’t be asked up, wall flowers they’re called

The blokes stand at the back, scuffing boots on the floor

The courage has gone and it’s out through the door

A bit of Dutch courage from a bottle out back

Then head off inside, the girls whisper “He’s back”

It’s the fair one he’s after, with the pretty pink dress

Once she’s up on the floor, he knows he’ll impress

The band has gone quiet, ‘cause supper is on

It’s off to the kitchen, for hot tea and a scone

In a dray or a wagon, or one on the back

The horses are claimed and it’s off up the track

As that era ended, the hall’s uses did too

It got moved to the village and life started anew

A different mob now, a new history page

We sing and play music, to walls dusty with age 

Lamps once filled with oil, hang on rafters bare

Surrounded by cobwebs, we leave them there

Watch out when it rains, cause the old roof leaks

Don’t bounce on the stage, the floor boards creak

Its cold in the winter and in summer fans beat

From dusty heights they whirl, little help in the heat

No one minds these things, cause our Hall we hold dear

In our hearts at Homestead and to all who gather here