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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408624" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Gettin Back</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When we've arrived by boat or rail, and feeling pretty well,<br>And humped our heavy gladstones to the Great Norsouth Hotel;<br>And when we've had a wash and brush and changed biled rags for soft —<br>And ate a hearty country meal — our spirits go aloft!<br>(Damn the city!)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When we've walked out a mile and back along the old bush track,<br>And dropped into the letter-box our last damned letters back;<br>When we've turned in and slept half through the soft white beds all night<br>To start, at daylight toy the coach — we're getting back all right.<br>(Damn the city!)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When we have crossed the nearer heights through box and stringy-bark,<br>And traced the newer tree-marked track above the gullies dark;<br>When we begin to ask how far it is to tucker yet — <br>Where clear streams whet our appetites — we're getting back, don't fret.<br>(Damn the city!)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We try to draw the driver out (a 'case' as like as not),<br>For we don't know how much he knows, or how much we've forgot.<br>And we make bloomers, and the seats seem narrow slippery shelves —<br>Until we find he's just a liar, like ourselves.<br>(Damn the city!)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When we can take an interest in all and everything,<br>When we begin to drop the 'g' in words that end in 'ing',<br>When good old oaths come 'back again, and we can sleep at night,<br>And eat our fish with knives and forks — we're gettin' back all right.<br>(Damn the city!)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm staying at a lake-side home, down here at Nevermind,<br>The small hand 'separator' is the only change I find,<br>And there's a girl with kind grey eyes and hair of reddish gold,<br>And she's read somewhere in a book that poets don't grow old.<br>(Damn the city!)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She's twenty-two, I'm forty-three; but, ere the week is done,<br>She's only in her eighteenth year, and I am twenty-one!<br>I'm younger than the younger men, who can't be young — or won't —<br>She heard that poets don't grow old — and now she knows they don't.<br>(DAMN THE CITY!)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The dandy tourists wonder how the old town had got in —<br>The straight young bushmen wonder how that poet bloke could win.<br>But the grand old bush life backed me up, when they were hard to rouse,<br>And I turned out at six o'clock and helped her milk the cows!<br>(DAMN THE CITY!)</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=408624" data-title="Gettin Back de Henry Lawson" data-description="When we've arrived by boat or rail, and feeling pretty well,
And humped our heavy gladstones to the Great Norsouth Hotel;
And when we've had a wash and brush and changed biled rags for soft —
And ate a hearty country meal — our spirits go alof..."></div>
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