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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408786" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Bulletin Hotel</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was drifting in the drizzle past the Cecil in the Strand—<br>Which, I’m told, is very tony—and its front looks very grand;<br>And I somehow fell a-thinking of a pub I know so well,<br>Of a palace in Australia called The Bulletin Hotel. <br>Just a little six-room’d shanty built of corrugated tin,<br>And all round a blazing desert—land of camels, thirst and sin;<br>And the landlord is ‘the Spider’— Western diggers know him well—<br>Charlie Webb!—Ah, there you have it!—of the Bulletin Hotel. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">’Tis a big soft-hearted spider in a land where life is grim,<br>And a web of great good-nature that brings worn-out flies to him:<br>’Tis the club of many lost souls in the wide Westralian hell,<br>And the stage of many Mitchells is the Bulletin Hotel. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the swagman, on his uppers, pulls an undertaker’s mug,<br>And he leans across the counter and he breathes in Charlie’s lug—<br>Tale of thirst and of misfortune. Charlie knows it, and—ah, well!<br>But it’s very bad for business at the Bulletin Hotel. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘What’s a drink or two?’ says Charlie, ‘and you can’t refuse a feed;’<br>But there’s many a drink unpaid for, many sticks of ‘borrowed’ weed;<br>And the poor old spineless bummer and the broken-hearted swell<br>Know that they are sure of tucker at the Bulletin Hotel. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There’s the liquor and the license and the ‘carriage’ and the rent,<br>And the sea or grave ’twixt Charlie and the fivers he has lent;<br>And I’m forced to think in sorrow, for I know the country well,<br>That the end will be the bailiff in the Bulletin Hotel. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But he’ll pack up in a hurry and he’ll seek a cooler clime,<br>If I make a rise in England and I get out there in time.<br>For a mate o’ mine is Charlie and I stayed there for a spell,<br>And I owe more than a jingle to the Bulletin Hotel. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But there’s lots of graft between us, there are many miles of sea,<br>So, if you should drop on Charlie, just shake hands with him for me;<br>Say I think the Bush less lonely than the great town where I dwell,<br>And—a grander than the Cecil is the Bulletin Hotel.</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=408786" data-title="The Bulletin Hotel de Henry Lawson" data-description="I was drifting in the drizzle past the Cecil in the Strand—
Which, I’m told, is very tony—and its front looks very grand;
And I somehow fell a-thinking of a pub I know so well,
Of a palace in Australia called The Bulletin Hotel. 
Just a litt..."></div>
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