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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408597" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Coomera</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THERE’S a pretty little story with a touch of moonlit glory<br>Comes from Beenleigh on the Logan, but we don’t know if it’s true;<br>For we scarcely dare to credit ev’rything they say who edit<br>Those unhappy country papers ’twixt the ocean and Barcoo.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">’Twas the man who owned the wherry at the first Coomera ferry<br>Who was sitting cold and lonely while he counted out his tin;<br>When the cloudy curtain lifting let the moonlight on a drifting<br>Boat, that floated down the river with a pallid form therein.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And they say that Sergeant Carey (with the man who ran the ferry),<br>Started down to save the body from the cruel heartless sea,<br>And in spite of wind and water, soon they reached the barque and caught her;<br>And they tied the boat behind them while they wondered “who was he?”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O the moon shone bright as ever as they towed him up the river,<br>And they found within the pocket that was nearest to his breast—<br>Just an antidote for sorrow, that would tide him o’er the morrow—<br>(Flask of Brandy); but we’d better draw the curtain o’er the rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, in case the point’s too finely drawn (we know we joke divinely),<br>And the reader fails to see it with a magnifying glass,<br>We will say the man who floated, while the moonlight o’er him gloated,<br>Was not dead and gone to heaven—he was only drunk, alas!THERE’S a pretty little story with a touch of moonlit glory<br>Comes from Beenleigh on the Logan, but we don’t know if it’s true;<br>For we scarcely dare to credit ev’rything they say who edit<br>Those unhappy country papers ’twixt the ocean and Barcoo.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">’Twas the man who owned the wherry at the first Coomera ferry<br>Who was sitting cold and lonely while he counted out his tin;<br>When the cloudy curtain lifting let the moonlight on a drifting<br>Boat, that floated down the river with a pallid form therein.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And they say that Sergeant Carey (with the man who ran the ferry),<br>Started down to save the body from the cruel heartless sea,<br>And in spite of wind and water, soon they reached the barque and caught her;<br>And they tied the boat behind them while they wondered “who was he?”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O the moon shone bright as ever as they towed him up the river,<br>And they found within the pocket that was nearest to his breast—<br>Just an antidote for sorrow, that would tide him o’er the morrow—<br>(Flask of Brandy); but we’d better draw the curtain o’er the rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, in case the point’s too finely drawn (we know we joke divinely),<br>And the reader fails to see it with a magnifying glass,<br>We will say the man who floated, while the moonlight o’er him gloated,<br>Was not dead and gone to heaven—he was only drunk, alas!<br>For we scarcely dare to credit ev’rything they say who edit<br>Those unhappy country papers ’twixt the ocean and Barcoo.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">’Twas the man who owned the wherry at the first Coomera ferry<br>Who was sitting cold and lonely while he counted out his tin;<br>When the cloudy curtain lifting let the moonlight on a drifting<br>Boat, that floated down the river with a pallid form therein.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And they say that Sergeant Carey (with the man who ran the ferry),<br>Started down to save the body from the cruel heartless sea,<br>And in spite of wind and water, soon they reached the barque and caught her;<br>And they tied the boat behind them while they wondered “who was he?”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O the moon shone bright as ever as they towed him up the river,<br>And they found within the pocket that was nearest to his breast—<br>Just an antidote for sorrow, that would tide him o’er the morrow—<br>(Flask of Brandy); but we’d better draw the curtain o’er the rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, in case the point’s too finely drawn (we know we joke divinely),<br>And the reader fails to see it with a magnifying glass,<br>We will say the man who floated, while the moonlight o’er him gloated,<br>Was not dead and gone to heaven—he was only drunk, alas!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408597" data-title="Coomera de Henry Lawson" data-description="THERE’S a pretty little story with a touch of moonlit glory
Comes from Beenleigh on the Logan, but we don’t know if it’s true;
For we scarcely dare to credit ev’rything they say who edit
Those unhappy country papers ’twixt the ocean and ..."></div>
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