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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408673" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Macleay Street and Red Rock Lane</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Macleay Street looks to Mosman,<br>Across the other side,<br>With brave asphalted pavements<br>And roadway clean and wide.<br>Macleay Street hath its mansions,<br>Its grounds and greenery;<br>Macleay Street hath its terraces<br>As terraces should be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Red Rock Lane looks to nowhere,<br>With pockets into hell;<br>Red Rock Lane is a horror<br>Of heat and dirt and smell.<br>Red Rock Lane hath its brothels,<br>Of houses one in three;<br>Red Rock Lane hath its corner pubs<br>As fourth-rate pubs should be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Macleay Street, cool and quiet,<br>Is marked off from the town,<br>And standing in the centre<br>The tall arc lamps look down.<br>The jealous closed cabs vanish<br>That stole from out the row,<br>Fair women stroll bareheaded,<br>And theatre parties go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Red Rock Lane, hot with riot,<br>Hides things that none should know;<br>The furtive couples vanish<br>Through doorways dark and low.<br>Lust, thievery, drink and madness<br>In one infernal stew—<br>And Mrs Johnson, raving,<br>Walks out—bareheaded too.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Macleay Street hath its swindles,<br>But on a public scale;<br>Macleay Street hath its razzles<br>Until the night grows pale.<br>Macleay Street hath its scandals,<br>But—only this is plain,<br>That nothing is a scandal<br>Down there in Red Rock Lane.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Macleay Street looks to Mosman<br>In morning’s rosy glow,<br>And freshly to the city<br>The summer-suited go<br>While wild-eyed, foul and shaking,<br>Red Rock Lane wakes again.<br>This morning at the Central<br>They’re fining Red Rock Lane.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Central says “the risin’”,<br>“Seven days”, or what you will;<br>Macleay Street says, “Drive slowly”<br>When any one is ill.<br>The law sends Black Maria<br>When Red Rock Lane is dead.<br>But doctors come in motor cars<br>When Macleay Street’s got a head.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The grey-faced, weedy parents<br>Sunk in Red Rock Lane holes—<br>They worry, pinch, and perish<br>To save their children’s souls.<br>The fairy of Macleay Street<br>Shall never soil her hands—<br>Her Pa is independent,<br>Or high up in “the Lands”.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And—well, there seems no moral,<br>And nothing more to tell,<br>But because of that fierce sympathy<br>Of souls to souls in hell;<br>And because of that wild kindness<br>To souls in sordid pain,<br>My soul I’d rather venture<br>With some in Red Rock Lane.</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=408673" data-title="Macleay Street and Red Rock Lane de Henry Lawson" data-description="Macleay Street looks to Mosman,
Across the other side,
With brave asphalted pavements
And roadway clean and wide.
Macleay Street hath its mansions,
Its grounds and greenery;
Macleay Street hath its terraces
As terraces should be.

Red Rock Lane lo..."></div>
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