Marsden Bay Camp Song

Marsden Bay Camp Song- written and performed by the parents at the 2012 senior camp

We drove to Marsden Bay Camp

Cool wind in our hair

Some managed to get lost

At least the food truck got here

The bags were heavy

And the mood was light

Soon it grew dark

And we settled in for the night.

There he stood in the doorway

We heard his whistle blow

We were thinking to ourselves

Was that Steel Thunder

Or something else?

Then along came Mrs Salt

She had to put her foot down

There were voices in the cabins

And she said, “Quieten down!”

Welcome to the Marsden BC Camp

Such a slidy place

A flying foxy place

There’s plenty of fun at the Marsden BC Camp

Any time of year

You can find it here

Kirsty made her debut

In the kitchen for the first time

She made an apple crumble

Of her own design

Despite missing a few ingredients

It tasted rather floury

And it was F_ _ _ _ ine!

Then we called to Sir Greg

Cook all the breakfasts

And he said “I wann Ambrosia Yeah!

We have it every year!”

And still those voices were calling

From every room

Wake you up in the middle of the night

And that’s just Anton snoring!

Welcome to the Marsden BC Camp

Such a kayaky place

Such a broken arrow place

Plenty of fun at the Marsden BC Camp

Any time of year

If we’re allowed back here

Microwave Mike nuked the butter

He made a butter bomb

And he swept up the broken plate

Better than any mum

Tracy forget her toiletries

But offered then to Donna as a friend

She started charging for blankets

She didn’t need ten in the end

Leanne brought her horse truck

And all her dress up clothes

She brought a bum, a wig and hats

But forgot the clown’s nose

“Relax,” said Steffania

There’s plenty of veg

As she admired Vanessa’s baby cow photos,  

On her mobile phone

Rebecca ditched the walk

And helped make chocolate pud

That needed mathematical calculations

But still tasted really good

Cathryn turned up late

So did Vanessa, Peg and Pete

Don’t they know camp starts on a Monday,  

Not later in the week

“That’s fine,” said Jeanette

I’ll write a funny play

That makes you all look like idiots

And then I won’t stay.

But Tracy wouldn’t be Katy

She’d rather be the bum

So Rebecca had to put on the blue wig

She thought it might be fun

Welcome to the Marsden BC Camp

Such a damper place

A cooking damper place

Plenty of fun at the Marsden BC Camp

Any time of year

Can we find our way outta here?

Lamb chops

Our car slowly creeps down the bumpy driveway.  We look out the windows at Crusader's paddock.  We can usually spot him wandering around munching on what's left of the crispy dry grass.  But today the cheerful horse is not in his paddock.  Clip, clop, clip, clop. The sound of hooves on hard ground startles me.  I look to my right and see Crusader's wet nose poking out over the fence.  He watches our car come to a stop before the big red door of our Nana's barn.

I leap out of the car and run up the crumbling steps towards the ranch slider.  I push open the door, step inside and kick off my boots.  I explore the house and soon find the only one home is Tiger, my Nana's pesky cat.  "Out of the way", I say as I ran across the midnight blue carpet towards the back door.  I shrivel up my nose at the smell of fresh dog poo.  "Jimmy", I say as I dodge a pile of steaming poo.

I go back around the house, grab my shoes and run down to the gate that leads to the main paddock.  I look through the hole in the gate.  Boque, Crusader's crazy girlfriend is standing beside a black and white blob that looks about the size of a small car.  The blob makes the most annoying mooing sound possible and looks in my direction.  "Moo to you too you stupid cow", I say.

I leap over the gate not bothering to try and open the latch that is far too complicated for me.  I squeeze along the fence so the cow won't spot me.  A soft fluffy forehead that I believe belongs to Crusader brushes against my back.  "Crusader you are lovely company", I say as I push him away.  "But I don't want a cow charging me right now." I sneak the rest of the way to the shed not wanting to blow my cover.  I look over the wall and spot an inside out sheep lying on the concrete.

I drag my brother and sister to the barn and show them the sheep.  "Maybe Nana was going to eat it," said my blood thirsty brother.  "Nah" says Rebecca, "That's a little too out of date."  Rebecca, Sean and Mum soon get bored and look for something to make a model for the technology challenge.  I scramble over the wall to get a closer look at the the sheep and trip over something that feels like a sticking hurt my knee.  I look behind me and see that it's not a stick it's a cut off sheep leg.  I look back around and find I'm face to face with a second sheep.  But what makes it even more gross is it's brown shriveled up tongue is hanging out.
I walk back up to the house and sit in my poppa's chair.  Finally the day is over.

By Claire

The Singing Competition

Tingle, tingle went my tummy as Ty, Molly, Tobin and I steadily stumbled up the stairs at the singing competition.  I got more nervous as I sat down and I felt like I was going to explode like a bomb!  I took a quick peek at the timetable book and I was second to sing in the whole competition.  Thousands of things were going through my mind, just breathing was something I couldn't possibly do.

Behind the curtains I was hiding with the pianist waiting patiently for my turn to shine. (Ring Ling) I heard a bell.  It was time for my turn.  I walked in a suitable pace to where I stood in a graceful manner to sing.  I gave a little nod to the pianist to tell her I'm ready and she started playing. (Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?)  Half way through the song my butterflies slowly flew away and by the end of the song I was a silver star.

The applause was amazing and I grew a gentle smile and bowed to show my gratitude to the audience  and the pianist.  I then scurried off the stage to where I got lots of high fives and well dones from family and friends.  Now I know it's not so scary once I'd tried it.

Nothing at all worried me after my first song, only probably when Ty went up I was scared for her but she did really well with her singing.   I now feel very proud of myself of what I did and I can't wait till next year.

By Danni

Holiday Poems

Our learning intention was to include descriptive words to describe the places we had visited or the events we had participated in during the holidays.

 

My Holiday at my poppas

The lime green grassy hills roll like waves over the peaceful farm.

The smell of sweet mildew melts like butter into the frozen air.

I hear the crunch, crunch, crunch of crispy grass under the hooves of sheep as they watch my every move.

I taste the fruity sweet Skittles that are clutched tightly in my hand.

I feel Sugars fluffy wet wool as she brushes past my leg.

School Holidays

By Claire

Cape Reinga

Tall, white, beautiful lighthouse

Waves crashing and smashing together

Squawking, shouting seagulls singing their songs

Oily fish and greasy chips on a Sunday night

Wet, cold morning grass

The top of New Zealand

By Rhianna

Hot pools

Clear water sparkling in the sun light

 Potent chlorine filling the air

Screams of people zooming down the slippery slides

Yummy snacks filling my tummy

Popping bubbles tickling my skin

Hot pools

By Darcie

Sunny holiday!!!

Well groomed ponies cantering through the waves.

Bait as smelly as rotten fish wafting through the air.

Squawking seagulls all around us.

Salty sea waterspluttering from our mouths.

Nipping crabs biting.

Beach fun!!!

By Saffy

Speed Date an Author Competion Entries

The following three pieces of writing were submitted for the above competition:

The Sheep and the Turkey

Early one foggy morning on a rough tussocky hill a little bored sheep lay in the grass. He wanted to do something fun and exciting rather than eat all day.

There was a lonely pine on top of the hill, and he had always wanted to explore it but his mother said it was too dangerous and too far away.
He was so fed up he didn’t care, so he set off to the pine tree.
He waded through boggy mud and scratchy grass up the hill until finally he stood in front of the tallest pine tree he had ever seen.
“What do you think you’re doing” came a voice from above, he looked up in surprise and nervously asked “w-w-what are you?”
“I’m a turkey,” replied the turkey, fluffing up his feathers importantly.
“I’ve never seen a turkey before. You must have an exciting life.”
The sheep thought the turkey was so full of colour and out-of-the-ordinary, with his long wobbly thing that came down from his throat, the amazing tail feathers, the weird gobbling noise that he made, and even that the turkey could fly intrigued him.
 As he trudged back down the hill, something caught his eye, a red rubber glove. “This looks like the dangly thing that the turkey has on his throat” he said aloud.
“Could I become a turkey?” he wondered.
The sheep set out for the pine tree very early the next morning with the red glove tied to his neck. On the way he collected feathers and made his own impressive tail fan. When he got there he asked the turkey, “Can I be a turkey with you?”
“No sorry, you don’t sound or act like a turkey” replied the turkey rudely.
So the sheep leant back against the pine tree thinking of how else he might become a turkey. “I could practice my gobbling,” he said to himself  “gobble, gobble, gobble!”
“No sorry, you still don’t act like one” the turkey said now with a tone of anger in his voice.
The sheep thought long and hard about how turkeys act. “Well they can fly, and they sleep high up in trees.” So he decided to try and sleep up in the tree.
He had trouble at first climbing up the coarse bark but after an agonising struggle he made it up just before sunset. Perched on a branch with all the other turkeys staring at him the sheep felt like he didn’t fit in. “I guess that will all change tomorrow when I fly,” he thought to himself.
The next morning when all the turkeys had flapped down from the tree, the sheep was precariously perched on the branch preparing to jump. He launched himself into the air. “I’m flying!” he shouted, then realised he wasn’t.
He woke up, sprawled on the ground, to the sound of raucous, laughing turkeys. He carefully picked himself up, staggered sheepishly down the hill, tripped over, and buried his face in grass. Sweet delicious grass!

Oskar

Samuel

Chunks of black fly everywhere. Explosions ring out again and again. I can’t see anything. Shrapnel clouds my vision. A large hunk of flying metal hits me square in the chest and I fall to the ground. I have the sense to crawl forward just as another giant piece of bomb remnant hits the spot where I was only a moment before. I crawl through the tattered undergrowth and land face first in the dirt. I fumble around in the earth and find a latch. What was it? Someone’s basement maybe? But of course anyone with my luck will know it will probably be locked. I tug the handle upwards with the little strength I have left and manage to drag myself inside the metal chamber. This is the luckiest day of my life. I have found a bomb shelter. The last things I am aware of are a group of faces surrounding me and the sound of the hatch grinding shut before everything goes black.

My eyes fling open and I sit bolt upright grabbing for my gun. I can’t find it. It should be there on my belt with my knife and my water. My water. It’s not there either. At least I still have my knife. It calms me a little to know I at least have one thing. Then it hits me. No one else is here. I specifically remember seeing a bunch of people. I stand up knife in hand then put my other hand on the wall to steady myself as a wave of dizziness hits me full force. I stumble around and finally find the hatch again. How long have I been out? I don’t know. It could be anywhere between one minute and one week. I am suddenly aware that my throat is as dry as a desert and reach for the flask I no longer have. I knew my luck wouldn’t last. So they strip me of my provisions and take off. What nice people. My arm drops and I plop onto the floor. I reach into my back pocket and take out a drawing. A green and brown bug is sitting in complete blackness while a red one is in an oval of light eating all the black. My son drew it. I smile shakily as tears start to roll down my ashen face. I will make it through this war. Whether it’s for my country or my family it doesn’t matter. I stand up again and push open the hatch. I jump out of the hole with newly found energy and look around. I was in a camp. My team had made base. I run to the commander’s tent and proudly bring my hand to my forehead to salute my officer. “Reporting for duty Sir” I say. “Who the hell are you?” This is the wrong base. I’m in the tent of my enemy. “I am Samuel Jhones. Remember me? I’m your killer” I say before slitting his throat.

Tamsyn

Luke's Story

“Are you sure we should do this?” asked Ryan, “I feel bad lying to Mum and Dad.”

“Trust me,” whispered Josh, “We’ll be fine. Mum and Dad think we’re at the park, they’ll never find out we came here. C’mon! If we find the emeralds we can move out of the shack we live in, and into a proper home.”
“I suppose,” sighed Ryan, “But we have to be quick.”
The two boys crept across the stony beach, to where the shipwreck of the old freight ship lay in the shallow water, not far from the shore. Its hull, once painted black, was now a dirty shade of rust.
“I doubt we’ll find anything,” muttered Ryan through chattering teeth as they waded through the freezing water. “I mean, how many people have searched this ship and came up with nothing?”
“I know,” Josh said, “But the legend says that on board this ship was a chest full of emeralds; however it ran into these rocks and none of the crew members were ever heard of again. If nobody has found the emeralds yet, they’re probably still on board the boat.”
The two boys clambered onto the front of the ship.
“C’mon,” urged Josh, “Let’s check the cabin first.”
The boys strode across the deck of the ship and stepped through the doorframe of the rusted cabin. After searching their surroundings for about forty five minutes the boys stopped for a rest.
“It’s hopeless” sighed Josh, “We’ve searched everywhere and there isn’t even a trace of anything valuable.”
The pair sat in silence and stared at the grimy painting on the wall opposite them. It must have been beautiful once, but was now faded and peeling.
“Wait a minute...” mumbled Ryan, walking over to the painting, “Does this look like an emerald to you?”  
“Yeah” replied Josh, “But it’s obviously painted on, it’s not like it’s real.” 
“I suppose,” murmured Ryan, tracing his finger over the emerald, “But could it mean anything?”
“Of course not,” scoffed Josh, “I don’t know why you get your hopes up over something so insignif-”
He was cut off by a loud rumbling noise. The wall with the painting on it began to part, revealing a hallway. At the end, the boys could see a wooden chest.
“Okay,” Josh said, “Maybe that emerald does do something.”
The two boys walked forward and gingerly opened the lid on the chest. Inside were dozens of glimmering emeralds.
Eagerly, Josh reached in and grabbed one.
The ship began to rumble again.
 “Run!” yelled Josh.
They both grabbed a fistful of emeralds and sprinted down the hallway, and onto the ship’s deck. They reached the railing and leaped over the side, just as the ship crumbled and disappeared into the violent waters below.
Josh opened the door to find their parents waiting for him.
“How was your evening at the park?” asked their Mum.
“Eventful,” laughed Ryan, “In fact, can we come inside? We have something to show you...”