Category: Music

Emu Park is a small town south of Yeppoon on the Central Queensland coast.

In May 1770, Captain James Cook sailed into the bay off the coast of this area, and named it Keppel Bay. It’s a stunning area dotted with coral reefs, idyllic tropical islands, and long wide beaches to the south.

“The Singing Ship” was erected in 1970 to honour the bicentenary of Cook’s voyage.

It is a magnificent sculpture which captures the essence of a sailing ship, with a small difference.

It sings.

Cleverly constructed tubes descend from “sail” to the “deck” of the structure. The prevailing winds pass through strategically placed holes in those tubes, causing them to resonate like a huge pipe organ. Or perhaps like the wind in the shrouds of a sailing ship.

The result is a gentle pleasant musical chord that rings out over the water.

I think this is wonderful work of art which aptly honours the memory of the great navigator, James Cook. It’s large and bright, with huge sweeping sail shape that gives an impression of motion. The musical tones add to that feeling. As you stand at its base, its not difficult to imagine that you’re on the deck of fantastic sailing ship, ploughing the waters of Keppel Bay.

This is public art as it should be – creatively capturing people’s imagination, engaging the senses, and reminding us of the great lives that have preceded us.

This song by Merle Travis is a great inspiration to not spend too much time in the office!

A great thought for a Friday afternoon.

DARK AS THE DUNGEON (Merle Travis)

Come all you young fellers so young and so fine
And seek not your fortune in the dark, dreary mine
It will form as a habit and seep in your soul
‘Til the blood of your veins runs as black as the coal

Chorus:

Where it’s dark as the dungeon and damp as the dew
Where the dangers are many and the pleasures are few
Where the rain never falls and the sun never shines
It’s dark as the dungeon way down in the mines

It’s many a man I have seen in my day
Who lived just to labor his whole life away
Like a fiend with his dope or a drunkard his wine
A man must have lust for the lure of the mine

I hope when I’m gone and the ages do roll
My body will blacken and form into coal
Then I’ll look down from the door of my Heavenly home
And pity the miner a-digging my bones

The midnight, the morning, the breaking of day
Are the same to the miner who labors away.
Where the demons of death often come by surprise,
One slip of the slate and you’re buried alive.