A TRIBUTE TO BOB RICHO – on the occasion of his 60th Birthday

Wendy Corbett – (with apologies to Dr Seuss and David Williamson)


The truth about Bob is that nobody knows,

Why his presence commands from his head to his toes,

But it does, so let’s praise the forces that forced him

To start on the path to the courses that sourced him,

In the geophysical world of mystical voo-doo

The numbers, the constants, equations and hoodoo.


You’ve given us pleasure we cannot repay,

And that’s why we’re here to beg you today.

So down on your bellies and down on your knees,

And say to him, “Bob, you must hear our pleas,


Keep going, keep going, your sixty odd years

Are but a mere trifle, a changing of gears!”.


Remember the days of Barmedman, Collector


Bullseyes just go on forever and ever

Forget not Hylea, Kars and the rest

With Technical suc-cess, you often were blessed.

Remember Jabiru – fish and sixpacks of tubes,

And magnetic anomalies that look like big boobs.


The pollies dumbfounded with “Hanging a Fang”

Was it some coot’s idea of colloquial slang?

A field trip to Tennant, relief in the dark

Was that rain on my brain, or a new Richo lark?

You’re uniquely able – to stand on your head

And drink with good company, till all are near dead.


I’m sure there are moments you’d like to forget,

And people whose logic you fail to see yet,

There are many directors have earned your invective,

And critics – well let’s not malign the defective.

We know there are geos who’ve driven you spare,

We’d never name names, — while Nick’s over there.


Those magnetic anomalies come out of his ears


He just has the vision, been at it for years.

It’s never a hassel, one project a day

Money’s quite simple – get others to pay

For the hole that will get us a bloody big strike,

Soon now he’ll find one just stay on your bike!


But surely it’s true that your desk will stay sloppy,

Your wheels will keep turning, your mind will keep copy,

Your engine keep revving, your hard drive keep driving,

Your bollards keep firm and your ideas keep thriving,

Your rockets igniting, your circuits plugged in,

Your jazz drive ejecting, your mouse skills in trim.


So there’s no need to urge you to stick to your guns,

We’ll simply salute now your admirable runs,

And cheer for the friendship you’ve given us all

The good times, so precious, we’ve had such a ball.

So let’s hear it for Richo, sixty at last

Hip hip hooray, let’s give him a blast.


With Love


December 2001