ROBERT

All hail a great man: Robert Brown
A Sidha of global renown

Up over, down under
His work is a wonder

He wears an invisible crown

He’s worked with an interesting crew:
Brad, and the Brookses, and Sue—

The President’s Office—
With lights rarely off, it’s

Amazing the things that they do

His depth is the depth of an ocean
Which equals his depth of devotion

His silence in action
Creates such attraction

They’re calling it “Brownian Motion”

He’s been neither yellow nor blue,
Nor seen red, nor gone white, and that’s true

One thing’s for sure:
His color is pure—

He’s brilliantly Brown through and through

Robert looks young for his years
“Forty-WHAT? ” he constantly hears

Don’t stare, dumbfounded —
The reason’s well grounded:

There’s coherence between his two ears

No verse about Robert would do
Without making mention of Sue

They’re two of the greats
A pair of true mates

Browns — we’re big fans of you

Now Robert, in most things, is kosher
Except when he has to say “brosher”

His speech strewn with Strine
It’s no strain, it’s just fine —

May his pow-points soon balance his doshers

MIU Video Magazine —
He’s supervised scene after scene

Let the cameras be swung
Unsung heroes be sung:

Let Robert appear on the screen!

The handsomest head in this town
A face quite unable to frown

Great of heart, strong of hand
He enlightens our land

From the Red, White, and Blue: Welcome, Brown!

ROBBET

The phrases at first sounded alien
The speech recalled scenes from Pygmalion

But we Up Above
Soon fell in love

With this dapper and dashing Australian

From Down Under he journeyed Up Over
(He’s known as a bit of a rover)

But soon he sunk roots,
Began bearing fruits,

And now he’s quite rolling in clover

You wonder where Robert met Sue?
It’s true — it was Woolloomooloo

Then these two flew
To view MIU

And accrue a not-new Subaru

The language he spoke is called “Strine”
But this barrier could not confine

Robert, unwoeful,
Worked hard, passed the TOEFL,

And since then he’s doing just fine

He’s steady, and does a good job,
Along the way loves to hobnob

Quirks? Yes — for instance,
His constant insistence

That we all have an uncle named Bob —

A belief that he loves to declare
To anyone, anytime, anywhere

“Bob’s your uncle!” he’ll say,
Day after day,

Like it’s news too exciting to bear

Perhaps he was too long Outback
Where the heat can make riverbeds crack

But we nod and chime in —
“Bob’s your uncle!” we grin

And Robert comes right back on track

Irrepressible, this Aussie chappie
He enters the room, you get happy

Though sometimes outrageous,
His bliss is contagious —

Your own sense of humour grows snappy

§ § § § §

It’s obvious — no one need guess
At Robert’s Press Council success

A fact long concealed
Will now be revealed:

Robert once ran his own press!

Talent and drive? Clearly lots —
Everything gets his best shots

His goal is terrific
And most scientific:

Fill the world with books full of “chahts”

In Video, all would agree,
He’s flourished — spectacularly

Why, you might ask,
Was he given this task?

He simply loves watching TV

MIU Video Magazine:
It has to be seen to be seen

Place all your bets
On half-inch cassettes

When Robert enlightens the screen

As an artist whose language is stone,
He sculpts more than stoneworks alone

He sculpts knowledge on tape,
He sculpts rooms, changing shape,

He sculpts Heaven on Earth, as he’s shown

As a manager, Robert’s top gun
For big jobs and small, he’s the one

The man is a sprinter
At finding a printer

And anything else you need done

As a teacher, his gifts are unending
Keeping students alert, comprehending

But his teaching hits peak
With a certain technique —

He’s taught two thousand people transcending

He’s travelled to Russia to teach
And Latvia (close to the beach)

Thailand as well —
It’s easy to tell
He’s global in heart and in reach

(And noble in art and in speech)

§ § § § §

His feeling for nature runs strong
He often breaks free from the throng:

After the Dome
This jumbuck comes home

And sits by his own billabong

He planted small sticks in the ground
Put plenty of water around

Skeptics would tease —
But the sticks became trees!

In his yard Robert Brown is renowned

Robert loves tending things growing
In his garden, his “forest,” he’s glowing

When summer arrives
Samhita thrives —

Of mower, mown, process of mowing

§ § § § §

He dresses himself somewhat sportily —
With style, yet dignified, orderly

So very well kept
It looks like he stepped

From the pages of Gentleman’s Quarterly

From Italy, his coat’s warm when icy
His suits all look French — and quite pricey

But Robert is partial
To neckties from Marshall’s —

And it works — it has never seemed dicey

He’s charming, urbane, debonair
Such sang-froid, panache, savoir-faire

It’s very well known
He sculpts lines on stone —

But inside him, all lines are on air

He’s ideal, we know and believe —
We wear how we feel on our sleeve

An ideal big brother,
Unlike any other —

He’s Wally — and we’re each the Beav

He lights up our lives every day
And our futures as well, we must say:

We rise through the years
Without any fears

When Robert is blazing the way

Some may experience fright
Imagining themselves at that height

But Robert, invincible,
Displays a new principle —

He shines with a quiet, brilliant light

We scan the great heights that he’s braving
The path that he’s practically paving

We search that high place. . .
And look! There’s his face!

And look again! Robert is waving!

At 50 some think of survival
Others turn downright archival

But Robert, unbounded,
Shows fears are unfounded —

Fifty brings Ram Raj’s arrival

We’re still a fair distance behind him
But certain we know where to find him

Just look for his grin
To find your way in

To that region where nothing can bind him

Fifty years old! The dear man
Has lived them as few people can

He’s risen so high
Beyond even the sky —

He clearly reflects divine plan

With typical vim, verve, and pep
He took a significant step:

Perceiving the need,
Then taking the lead,

He founded, then joined, Peer Group Prep

The man is amazing, forsooth
He’s truly a fountain of youth

His bliss effervesces
Scintillates, blesses,

For what alone triumphs is truth

Robert’s middle name is Enjoy
This man who is still quite the boy

With praises we heap him —
And vow we shall keep him —

We’ll use any ruse, any ploy

One meets him and knows from the start
His life is a work of fine art

Gentle, genteel,
To repeat: quite ideal —

A very cool head and warm heart

He does all he does with aplomb
Outer big waves, inner calm

We locate the cause
In Nature’s deep laws —

Deep in his heart we find Raam

His action is that of devotion
His power is that of the ocean

In the Self he’s collected,
Protected, perfected —

The man is pure Brownian motion

And so we wish Robert “G’Day”
And more than words ever can say

By virtue of Robert,
With bliss we’ve been clobbered

Transforming our work into play

§ § § § §

So mike im a semmitch, dear Sue
Robbet is ow uncle — it’s true

Keep ’is rise-up lides shop
Minetine ’im tip-top

Ezzit gives you gripe layzha t’do

Robbet Bran an Sue Bran, by an by
Yer baoth stewnce again naow, thy sigh

When ’e sez, “Wezzme books?”
Daon’t give ’im looks —

Zarf trawl, ’e egg jelly does try

Praps ill come aom — gunga din
Plaise, nao sag ripes — it’s nao sin

Fitwer smeeide be griteful
An serve ’im a pliteful

An thynk the good Lowd furris grin

At aom, at yo tible en chez
Cant aony blaissins, not kez

Bran, man, ’e’s grite —
Zen ice of a mite —

Praishy-ite ole thetty sez

E nayva will pice uppandan
An nayva will fiva a fran

E’s a sote of a hobbit
Ow gryshus deah Robbet —

Ow gryshus and deah Robbet Bran

Praps more optoontees fo’ ott
Toox prace the grite genius aze got —

But daon’t ’it the eye-wye
The a-pote, the rye-wye —

MIU nades emma lot

The dye’s scummin glerser — betoid
Sanders lape, easa wike dape insoid

We’ll onna the beth
Of Aven on Eth

An see Robbet onnid weldwoid

An oi sigh naow to you, laze an jem
Shou ole yo prizes on them

On Robbet and Sue
Who grice MIU
Robbet and Sue
From Woolloomooloo
Aich of them’s truly a gem —

(And wot ayva thy want tadoo — lem!)

January 22, 1993