The Mate’s Story
‘I’ve often wondered how it is, at times
Good people do what are as bad as crimes.
A common person would have been ashamed
To do what once a family far-famed
For their religious ways was known to do.
Small harm befell, small thanks to them were due.
They from abroad, perhaps it cost them less,
Had brought a young French girl as governess,
A pretty, youthful thing as e’er you saw;
She taught the children how to play and draw,
Of course, the language of her native land;
English she scarcely learnt to understand.
After a time they wanted her no more;
She must go home, but how to send her o’er,
Far in the south of France she lived, and they
In Ireland there was more than they could say.
A monthly steamer, as they chanced to know,
From Liverpool went over to Bordeaux,
And would, they thought, exactly meet the case.
They wrote and got a friend to take a place;
And from her salary paid her money down.
A trading steamer from the sea-port town
Near which they lived, across the Channel plied,
And this, they said, a passage would provide.
With pigs, and with the Irish reaping horde,
This pretty tender girl was put on board;
And a rough time of it, no doubt, had she,
Tossing about upon the Irish Sea.
Arrived at last and set ashore, she found
The steamer gone for which she had been bound.
The pious people, in their careless way,
Had made some loose mistake about the day.
She stood; the passengers with whom she crossed
Went off, and she remained as one that ’s lost.
Think of the hapless creature standing here
Alone, beside her boxes on the pier.
Whither to turn, and where to try and go,
She knew not; nay, the language did not know.
So young a girl, so pretty too, set down
Here, in the midst of a great sea-port town,
What might have happened one may sadly guess,
Had not the captain, seeing her distress,
Made out the cause, and told her she could stay
On board the vessel till the following day.
Next day, he said the steamer to Bordeaux
Was gone no doubt, next month the next would go;
For this her passage-money she had paid,
But some arrangement could, he thought, be made,
If only she could manage to afford
To wait a month and pay for bed and board.
She sadly shook her head well, after all,
’Twas a bad town, and mischief might befall,
Would she go back? Indeed ’twas but a shame,
To take her back to those from whom she came.
‘There’s one thing, Miss,’ said he, ‘that you can do,
It’s speaking somewhat sudden-like, it’s true,
But if you’ll marry me, I’ll marry you.
May be you won’t, but if you will you can.’
This captain was a young and decent man,
And I suppose she saw no better way;
Marry they did, and married live this day.
Another friend, these previous nights away,
An officer of engineers, and round
By Halifax to far Bermuda bound,
Joined us this night; a rover he had been.
Many strange sights and many climes had seen,
And much of various life; his comment was, ’twas well
There was no further incident to tell.
He’d been afraid that ere the tale was o’er,
’Twould prove the captain had a wife before.
The poor French girl was luckier than she knew;
Soldiers and sailors had so often two.
And it was something, too, for men who went
From port to port to be with two content.
In every place the marriage rite supplied
A decent spouse to whom you were not tied.
Of course the women would at times suspect,
But felt their reputations were not wrecked.
One after night we took ourselves to task
For our neglect who had forborne to ask
The clergyman, who told his tale so well,.
Another tale for our behalf to tell.
He to a second had himself confessed,
Now, when to hear it eagerly we pressed,
He put us off; but, ere the night was done,
Told us his second, and his sadder one.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough from Mari Magno or Tales on Board
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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An Excursion Steamer Sunk in the Tay
'Twas in the year of 1888, and on July the 14th day,
That an alarming accident occurred in the River Tay.
Which resulted in the sinking of the Tay Ferries' Steamer "Dundee,"
Which was a most painful and sickening sight to see.
The Steamer was engaged by the Independent Order of Rechabites,
And all were resolved to see some rural sights;
And the place they selected was the village of Newburgh;
While each heart was happy and free from sorrow.
And the weather was sunny, and really very fine,
And 900 souls had agreed to while away the time;
And they left the Craig Pier at half-past two o'clock,
Never thinking they would meet with an accidental shock.
And after passing underneath the Bridge of Tay,
Then they took the Channel on the south side without dismay;
And Captain Methven stood on the Steamer's bridge, I do declare,
And for the passengers he seemed to have very great care.
And all went well on board for some time,
And the silvery Tay shone beautiful in the sunshine;
And the passengers' hearts felt light and gay,
While they gazed on the bonnie banks of the silvery Tay.
To do justice to the passengers, they were a goodly band,
For their behaviour, 'tis said, was truly grand;
But to the eastward of Newburgh, the Steamer was too close inshore,
And on passing a boatman, he warningly to them did roar,-
Warning them not to come inshore so near,
But his warning voice the helmsman didn't hear;
Neither the Captain or passengers his warning dreads,
Until the Steamer struck a number of boulders, known as The Heads.
And close to the point where the Pow falls into the Tay,
Which the people that escaped drowning will remember for many a day,
Because many of the passengers were thrown off their balance;
But, most fortunately, they were all saved merely by chance.
And owing to the suddenness of the shock, many women fainted away,
Which filled the rest of the passengers' hearts with dismay;
But they soon regained their composure when close to the land,
Especially when they saw that succour was near at hand.
The engines were kept going at full speed,
And God helped His people in time of need;
And in a short time Newburgh was reached,
While many women wept bitterly, and loudly screeched.
Because by this time the forehold was nearly filled with water,
Which caused the passengers' teeth with fear to chatter;
Because the Steamer was settling down forward,
While to land the passengers safe Captain Methven struggled hard.
But before one-half of them had got ashore,
The women and children were in a state of uproar,
Because the forepart of the Steamer was submerged in the Tay,
Which filled the passengers' hearts with dismay.
But, thanks be to God! all the passengers were sent to Dundee
By the Steamers Renown, Forfarshire, Protector, and the Lass o' Gowrie,
Which certainly was a most beautiful sight to see,
When they landed 900 passengers safe on the pier at Dundee.
Then, good people, away to the mountains, glens, and lakes,
And drink of milk and pure water, and eat oaten cakes;
And sit down on the margin of a little burn in the sunshine,
And enjoy yourselves heartily during the holiday time.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Wreck of the Steamer Stella
'Twas in the month of March and in the year of 1899,
Which will be remembered for a very long time;
The wreck of the steamer "Stella" that was wrecked on the Casquet Rocks,
By losing her bearings in a fog, and received some terrible shocks.
The "Stella" was bound for the Channel Islands on a holiday trip,
And a number of passengers were resolved not to let the chance slip;
And the hearts of the passengers felt light and gay,
As the "Stella" steamed out of the London Docks without delay.
The vessel left London at a quarter-past eleven,
With a full passenger list and a favourable wind from heaven;
And all went well until late in the afternoon,
When all at once a mist arose, alas! too soon.
And as the Channel Islands were approached a fog set in,
Then the passengers began to be afraid and made a chattering din;
And about half-past three o'clock the fog settled down,
Which caused Captain Reeks and the passengers with fear to frown.
And brave Captain Reeks felt rather nervous and discontent,
Because to him it soon became quite evident;
And from his long experience he plainly did see
That the fog was increasing in great density.
Still the "Stella" sailed on at a very rapid rate,
And, oh, heaven! rushed headlong on to her fate,
And passed o'er the jagged rocks without delay,
And her side was ripped open: Oh! horror and dismay!
Then all the passengers felt the terrible shock,
As the "Stella" stuck fast upon the first ledge of rock;
And they rushed to the deck in wild alarm,
While some of them cried: "Oh! God protect us from harm."
Then men clasped wives and daughters, and friends shook hands,
And unmoved Captain Reeks upon the bridge stands;
And he shouted, "Get out the boats without delay!"
Then the sailors and officers began to work without dismay.
Again Captain Reeks cried in a manly clear voice,
"Let the women and children be our first choice!"
Then the boats were loaded in a speedy way,
And with brave seamen to navigate them that felt no dismay.
Then the "Stella" began rapidly for to settle down,
And Captain Reeks gave his last order without a frown,
Shouting, "Men, for yourselves, you'll better look out!"
Which they did, needing no second bidding, without fear or doubt.
Then the male passengers rushed to the boats in wild despair,
While the cries of the women and children rent the air;
Oh, heaven! such a scene ! 'twas enough to make one weep,
To see mothers trying to save their children that were fast asleep.
Brave Captain Reeks stood on the bridge till the ship went down,
With his eyes uplifted towards heaven, and on his face no frown;
And some of the passengers jumped from the ship into the sea,
And tried hard to save their lives right manfully.
But the sufferings of the survivors are pitiful to hear,
And I think all Christian people for them will drop a tear,
Because the rowers of the boata were exhausted with damp and cold;
And the heroine of the wreck was Miss Greta Williams, be it told.
She remained in as open boat with her fellow-passengers and crew,
And sang "O rest in the Lord, and He will come to our rescue";
And for fourteen hours they were rowing on the mighty deep,
And when each man was done with his turn he fell asleep.
And about six o'clock in the morning a man shrieked out,
"There's a sailing boat coming towards us without any doubt";
And before the sailing boat could get near, a steamer hove in sight,
Which proved to be the steamer "Lynx," to their delight.
And they were conveyed to Guernsey without delay,
Poor souls, with their hearts in a state of joy and dismay;
But alas! more than eighty persons have been lost in the briny deep,
But I hope their souls are now in heaven in safe keep.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Young Munro the Sailor
'Twas on a sunny morning in the month of May,
I met a pretty damsel on the banks o' the Tay;
I said, My charming fair one, come tell to me I pray,
Why do you walk alone on the banks o' the Tay.
She said, Kind sir, pity me, for I am in great woe
About my young sailor lad, whose name is James Munro;
It's he has been long at sea, seven years from this day,
And I come here sometimes to weep for him that's far, far away.
Lovely creature, cease your weeping and consent to marry me,
And my houses and all my land I will give to thee,
And we shall get married without any delay,
And live happy and contented on the banks o' the Tay.
Believe me, my sweet lady, I pity the sailor's wife,
For I think she must lead a very unhappy life;
Especially on a stormy night, I'm sure she cannot sleep,
Thinking about her husband whilst on the briny deep.
Oh, sir! it is true, what you to me have said,
But I must be content with the choice I've made;
For Munro's he's young and handsome, I will ne'er deny,
And if I don't get him for a husband, believe me, I will die.
Because, when last we parted, we swore to be true,
And I will keep my troth, which lovers ought to do;
And I will pray for his safe return by night and by day,
That God may send him safe home to the banks o' the Tay.
Forgive me, noble heart, for asking to marry you,
I was only trying your love, if it was really true;
But I've found your love is pure towards your sailor lad,
And the thought thereof, believe me, makes my heart feel glad.
As homeward we retraced our steps her heart seemed glad,
In hopes of seeing again her brave sailor lad,
He had promised to marry her when he would return,
So I bade her keep up her spirits and no longer mourn.
Dear creature, the lass that's true to her sweetheart deserves great praise,
And I hope young Munro and you will spend many happy days,
For unto him I know you will ever prove true,
And perchance when he comes home he will marry you.
What you have said, kind sir, I hope will come true,
And if it does, I'll make it known to you;
And you must come to the marriage, which you musn't gainsay,
And dance and rejoice with us on the marriage-day.
When we arrived in Dundee she bade me good-bye,
Then I told her where I lived, while she said with a sigh,
Kind sir, I will long remember that morning in May,
When I met you by chance on the banks o' the Tay.
When three months were past her sailor lad came home,
And she called to see me herself alone,
And she invited me to her marriage without delay,
Which was celebrated with great pomp the next day.
So I went to the marriage with my heart full of joy,
And I wished her prosperity with her sailor boy;
And I danced and sang till daylight, and then came away,
Leaving them happy and contented on the banks o' the Tay.
So all ye pretty fair maids, of high or low degree,
Be faithful to your sweethearts when they have gone to sea,
And never be in doubts of them when they are far away,
Because they might return and marry you some unexpected day.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Her Sea Tale
Her tale is really a very unhappy one
She married a Captain hoping to have fun
She wanted to discover the world with him
Instead of which she only saw the ocean
For he always made sure that
She stayed back on board at every port
In sheer desperation she took a decision
At one such port she stealthily disembarked
And hid herself in an empty warehouse
Just before the ship was set to sail
She watched her husband on the deck
Talking animatedly to a fellow crew member
He was totally unaware that she was ashore
As the vessel sailed she waved it goodbye
Remaining riveted to her hiding spot
Until it was completely out of sight
That was the last she hoped to see of him
Her ex-husband the mean and captain
A sense of peace thencame over her
The worst was finally coming to an end
No longer would she in lonliness whinge
Every time her husband went on a Binge,
Leaving her to her own devices
While he indulged himself and his vices
Now she hopes to lead a more normal life
At the port, taking up odd jobs to support herself
While continuously hoping always that her husband
Will never return to claim her back
So that she can enjoy her new found freedom
And be relieved from a lifetime of boredom
poem by Sandra Martyres
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Port Adelaide
It is the great City of Port Adelaide
Where heroes are born and legends are made
In the Australian Football League they have their own football team
For to play for Port Adelaide many Port teens do dream.
A place where Indigenous and white Australia meet
And different races live on every street
The Indigenous tribes had their corroborees long ago
By the trees near the banks where the Port waters flow.
Many nineteenth century buildings in Port Adelaide remain
Which one does suppose goes in part to explain
Why so many visitors come to that Town
Port's history is far more than football renown.
The Port river dolphins are famed far and wide
One can see them surface from the harbour side
A tourist attraction and it would be fair to say
That seeing them has made many a vistor's day.
Where the cultures meet Indigenous and European
Port Adelaide a Town where all races are seen
When in South Australia I feel at home there
Few Towns with Port Adelaide can hope to compare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Bill Bowls the Sailor
'Twas about the beginning of the present century,
Bill Bowls was pressed, and sent to sea;
And conveyed on board the Waterwitch without delay,
Scarce getting time to bid farewell to the villagers of Fairway ·
And once on board the "Waterwitch," he resolved to do his duty,
And God willing, he'd marry Nelly Blyth, the village beauty;
And he'd fight for Old England, like a jolly British tar,
But he'd think of Nelly Blyth during the war.
The poor fellow little imagined what he had to go through,
But in ail his trials at sea, he never did rue;
No; the brave tar became reconciled to his fate,
And he felt proud of his commander, Captain Ward the great.
And on board the "Waterwitch" was Tom Riggles, his old comrade,
And with such a one as Tom Riggles he seldom felt afraid,
Because the stories they told on board made the time fly away,
And made the hearts of their messmates feel light and gay.
'Twas on a sunny morning, and clear to the view,
Captain Ward the close attention of his men he drew:
Look ! he cried, there's two Frenchmen of war on our right,
Therefore, prepare my men immediately to commence the fight.
Then the "Waterwitch" was steered to the ship most near,
While every man resolved to sell his life most dear;
But the French commander, disinclined to commence the fight,
Ordered his men to put on a press of canvas and take to flight.
But Captain Ward quickly gave the order to fire,
Then Bill Bowls cried, Now we'll get fighting to our heart's desire!
And for an hour and more a running fight was maintained,
Until the two ships of the enemy near upon the "Waterwitch" gained.
Captain Ward walked the deck with a firm tread,
When a shot from the enemy pierced the ship's side above his head;
And with a splinter Bill Bowls was wounded on the left arm,
And he cried, Death to the frog-eaters! they have done me little harm.
Then Captain Ward cried, Fear not, we will win the day,
Now, courage my men, pour in broadsides without delay;
Then they sailed round the "St. Denis" and the "Gloire,"
And in at their cabin windows they poured a deadly fire.
The effect on the two ships was fearful to behold,
But still the Frenchmen stuck to their guns with courage, be it told;
And the crash and din of artillery was deafening to the ear,
And the cries of the wounded men on deck were pitiful to hear.
Then Captain Ward to his men did say,
We must board these French ships without dismay;
Then he seized his cutlass, ashe fearlessly spoke,
And jumped on board the "St. Denis" in the midst of the smoke.
Then Bill Bowls and Tom Riggles quickly followed him,
Then hand to hand the battle in earnest did begin;
And the men sprang upon their foes and beat them back,
And they hauled down their colours, and hoisted the Union Jack.
But the men on board the "St. Denis" fought desperately hard,
But, alas! as the "St Denis" was captured, a ball struck Captain Ward
Right on the forehead, and he fell dead with a groan,
And for the death of Captain Ward the sailors did cry and moan.
Then the first lieutenant, who was standing by,
Loudly to the men did cry:
Come men, and carry your noble commander to his cabin below,
But there is one consolation, we have beaten the foe.
And thus fell Captain Ward in the prime of his life,
And I hope he is now in the better land, free from strife:
But, alas! 'tis sad to think he was buried in the mighty deep,
Where too many of our brave seamen do silently sleep.
The "St. Denis" and the "Gloire" were towed to Gibraltar, the nearest port,
But by capturing of them, they felt but little sport,
Because, for the loss of Captain Ward, the men felt woebegone,
Because in bravery, they said, he was next to Admiral Nelson.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Burning of the Steamer City of Montreal
A sad tale of the sea I will relate, which will your hearts appal
Concerning the burning of the steamship "City of Montreal,"
Which had on board two hundred and forty-nine souls in all,
But, alas! a fearful catastrophe did them befall.
The steamer left New York on the 6th August with a general cargo,
Bound for Queenstown and Liverpool also;
And all went well until Wednesday evening the 10th,
When in an instant an alarming fire was discovered at length.
And most of the passengers had gone to their berths for the night,
But when the big bell rang out, oh! what a pitiful sight;
To see mothers and their children crying, was most heartrending to behold,
As the blinding smoke began to ascend from the main hold.
And the smoke before long drifted down below,
Which almost choked the passengers, and filled their hearts with woe;
Then fathers and mothers rushed madly upon the deck,
While the crew were struggling manfully the fire to check.
Oh, it was a soul-harrowing and horrible sight,
To see the brave sailors trying hard with all their might;
Battling furiously with the merciless flames --
With a dozen of hose, but still the fire on them gains.
At length it became apparent the steamer couldn't be saved,
And the passengers were huddled together, and some of them madly raved;
And the family groups were most touching to see,
Especially husbands and wives embracing each other tenderly.
The mothers drew their little ones close to them,
Just like little lambs huddled together in a pen;
While the white foaming billows was towering mountains high,
And one and all on God for protection did cry.
And when the Captain saw the steamer he couldn't save,
He cried, come men, prepare the boats to be launched on the briny wave;
Be quick, and obey my orders, let each one bear a hand-
And steer the vessel direct for Newfoundland.
Then the men made ready the boats, which were eight on board,
Hurriedly and fearlessly with one accord;
And by eight o'clock on Thursday morning, everything was ready
For the passengers to leave the burning steamer that was rolling unsteady.
Then Captain Land on his officers loudly did call,
And the cheery manliness of him inspired confidence in all;
Then he ordered the men to lower the boats without delay,
So the boats were launched on the stormy sea without dismay.
Then women and children were first put into them,
Also a quantity of provisions, then followed the men;
And as soon as the boats were loaded they left the steamer's side,
To be tossed to and fro on the ocean wide.
And just as they left the burning ship, a barque hove in sight,
Which filled the poor creatures' hearts with delight;
And the barque was called the "Trebant," of Germany,
So they were all rescued and conveyed to their homes in safety.
But before they left the barque, they thanked God that did them save
From a cold and merciless watery grave;
Also the Captain received their thanks o'er and o'er,
Whilst the big waves around the barque did sullenly roar.
So good people I warn ye ail to be advised by me,
To remember and be prepared to meet God where'er ye may be;
For death claims his victims, both on sea and shore,
Therefore be prepared for that happy land where all troubles are o'er.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Outside Track
There were ten of us there on the moonlit quay,
And one on the for’ard hatch;
No straighter mate to his mates than he
Had ever said: ‘Len’s a match!’
'’Twill be long, old man, ere our glasses clink,
’Twill be long ere we grip your hand!'—
And we dragged him ashore for a final drink
Till the whole wide world seemed grand.
For they marry and go as the world rolls back,
They marry and vanish and die;
But their spirit shall live on the Outside Track
As long as the years go by.
The port-lights glowed in the morning mist
That rolled from the waters green;
And over the railing we grasped his fist
As the dark tide came between.
We cheered the captain and cheered the crew,
And our mate, times out of mind;
We cheered the land he was going to
And the land he had left behind.
We roared Lang Syne as a last farewell,
But my heart seemed out of joint;
I well remember the hush that fell
When the steamer had passed the point
We drifted home through the public bars,
We were ten times less by one
Who sailed out under the morning stars,
And under the rising sun.
And one by one, and two by two,
They have sailed from the wharf since then;
I have said good-bye to the last I knew,
The last of the careless men.
And I can’t but think that the times we had
Were the best times after all,
As I turn aside with a lonely glass
And drink to the bar-room wall.
But I’ll try my luck for a cheque Out Back,
Then a last good-bye to the bush;
For my heart’s away on the Outside Track,
On the track of the steerage push.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Boss Over the Board
When he’s over a rough and unpopular shed,
With the sins of the bank and the men on his head;
When he musn’t look black or indulge in a grin,
And thirty or forty men hate him like Sin—
I am moved to admit—when the total is scored—
That it’s just a bit off for the Boss-of -the-board.
I have battled a lot,
But my dream’s never soared
To the lonely position of Boss-of-the-board.
’Twas a black-listed shed down the Darling: the Boss
Was a small man to see—though a big man to cross—
We had nought to complain of—except what we thought,
And the Boss didn’t boss any more than he ought;
But the Union was booming, and Brotherhood soared,
So we hated like poison the Boss-of-the-board.
We could tolerate ‘hands’—
We respected the cook;
But the name of a Boss was a blot in our book.
He’d a row with Big Duggan—a rough sort of Jim—
Or, rather, Jim Duggan was ‘laying for’ him!
His hate of Injustice and Greed was so deep
That his shearing grew rough—and he ill-used the sheep.
And I fancied that Duggan his manliness lower’d
When he took off his shirt to the Boss-of-the-board,
For the Boss was ten stone,
And the shearer full-grown,
And he might have, they said, let the crawler alone.
Though some of us there wished the fight to the strong,
Yet we knew in our hearts that the shearer was wrong.
And the crawler was plucky, it can’t be denied,
For he had to fight Freedom and Justice beside,
But he came up so gamely, as often as floored,
That a blackleg stood up for the Boss-of-the-board!
And the fight was a sight,
And we pondered that night—
‘It’s surprising how some of those blacklegs can fight!’
Next day at the office, when sadly the wreck
Of Jim Duggan came up like a lamb for his cheque,
Said the Boss, ‘Don’t be childish! It’s all past and gone;
‘I am short of good shearers. You’d better stay on.’
And we fancied Jim Duggan our dignity lower’d
When he stopped to oblige a damned Boss-of-the-board.
We said nothing to Jim,
For a joke might be grim,
And the subject, we saw, was distasteful to him.
The Boss just went on as he’d done from the first,
And he favoured Big Duggan no more than the worst;
And when we’d cut out and the steamer came down—
With the hawkers and spielers—to take us to town,
And we’d all got aboard, ’twas Jim Duggan, good Lord!
Who yelled for three cheers for the Boss-of-the-board.
’Twas a bit off, no doubt—
And with Freedom about—
But a lot is forgot when a shed is cut out.
With Freedom of Contract maintained in his shed,
And the curse of the Children of Light on his head,
He’s apt to long sadly for sweetheart or wife,
And his views be inclined to the dark side of life.
The Truth must be spread and the Cause must be shored—
But it’s just a bit rough on the Boss-of-the-board.
I am all for the Right,
But perhaps (out of sight)
As a son or a husband or father he’s white.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Brandy
There's a port on a western bay
And it serves a hundred ships a day
Lonely sailors pass the time away
And talk about their homes
And there's a girl in this harbor town
And she works layin' whiskey down
They say "Brandy, fetch another round"
She serves them whiskey and wine
The sailors say "Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl)
"What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl)
"Yeah your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea"
(dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)
Brandy wears a braided chain
Made of finest silver from the North of Spain
A locket that bears the name
Of the man that Brandy loves
He came on a summer's day
Bringin' gifts from far away
But he made it clear he couldn't stay
No harbor was his home
The sailor said " Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl)
"What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl)
"But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea"
(dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)
Yeah, Brandy used to watch his eyes
When he told his sailor stories
She could feel the ocean foam rise
She saw its ragin' glory
But he had always told the truth, lord, he was an honest man
And Brandy does her best to understand
(dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)
At night when the bars close down
Brandy walks through a silent town
And loves a man who's not around
She still can hear him say
She hears him say " Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl)
"What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl)
"But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea"
(dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)
"Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl)
FADE
"What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl)
"But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The girl you all...
The girl you all once knew so well,
Has left and now dwells.
Dwells in the place of burning fire.
The place where you sent her with desire.
The girl you all once knew as a child,
Has left not for a while.
She's gone and won't come back again to this town.
Are you happy she took her final bow?
The girl you all once made fun of at school,
She was treated so cruel.
How you made her feel pain and fear,
Making her think she's unwanted here.
The girl you all once put in such pain,
Because of you fear and grief is what she gain.
She gained this by your torture in her life,
And yet you wonder why she sleeps with that silver knife,
The girl you all once called the bitch from hell,
Can you hear her ring those darken bells?
Do you understand the pain she was put through,
Around the people she once knew?
The girl you all let her life end,
Did you remember when you were once a friend?
A friend to her when she had none around,
So why did you let her die and leave this small town?
poem by Alice Spakrs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Recreation
WE took our work, and went, you see,
To take an early cup of tea.
We did so now and then, to pay
The friendly debt, and so did they,
Not that our friendship burnt so bright
That all the world could see the light ;
'Twas of the ordinary genus,
And little love was lost between us
We loved, I think, about as true
As such near neighbours mostly do.
At first, we all were somewhat dry ;
Mamma felt cold, and so did I :
Indeed, that room, sit where you will,
Has draught enough to turn a mill.
'I hope you're warm,' says Mrs. G.
'O, quite so,' says mamma, says she ;
'I'll take my shawl off by and by.'--
'This room is always warm,' says I.
At last the tea came up, and so,
With that, our tongues began to go.
Now, in that house, you're sure of knowing
The smallest scrap of news that's going ;
We find it there the wisest way
To take some care of what we say.
--Says she, 'there's dreadful doings still
In that affair about the will ;
For now the folks in Brewer's Street
Don't speak to James's when they meet.
Poor Mrs. Sam sits all alone,
And frets herself to skin and bone.
For months she managed, she declares,
All the old gentleman's affairs ;
And always let him have his way,
And never left him night nor day ;
Waited and watched his every look,
And gave him every drop he took.
Dear Mrs. Sam, it was too bad !
He might have left her all he had.'
'Pray ma'am,' says I, 'has poor Miss A.
Been left as handsome as they say ?'
'My dear,' says she, ''tis no such thing,
She'd nothing but a mourning ring.
But is it not uncommon mean
To wear that rusty bombazeen !'
'She had,' says I, 'the very same
Three years ago, for--what's his name ?'--
'The Duke of Brunswick --very true,
And has not bought a thread of new,
I'm positive,' said Mrs. G.
So then we laughed, and drank our tea.
'So,' says mamma, 'I find it's true
What Captain P. intends to do ;
To hire that house, or else to buy--
'Close to the tan-yard, ma'am,' says I ;
'Upon my word it's very strange,
I wish they mayn't repent the change !'
'My dear,' says she, ''tis very well
You know, if they can bear the smell.'
'Miss E.' says I, 'is said to be
A sweet young woman, is not she ?'
'O, excellent ! I hear,' she cried ;
'O, truly so !' mamma replied.
'How old should you suppose her, pray ?
She's older than she looks, they say.'
'Really,' says I,' 'she seems to me
Not more than twenty-two or three.'
'O, then you're wrong,' says Mrs. G.
'Their upper servant told our Jane,
She'll not see twenty-nine again.'
'Indeed, so old ! I wonder why
She does not marry then,' says I ;
'So many thousands to bestow,
And such a beauty, too, you know.'
'A beauty ! O, my dear Miss B.
You must be joking now,' says she ;
'Her figure's rather pretty,'----' Ah !
That's what I say,' replied mamma.
'Miss F.' says I, 'I've understood,
Spends all her time in doing good :
The People say her coming down
Is quite a blessing to the town.'
At that our hostess fetched a sigh,
And shook her head ; and so, says I,
'It's very kind of her, I'm sure,
To be so generous to the poor.'
'No doubt,' says she, ''tis very true ;
Perhaps there may be reasons too :--
You know some people like to pass
For patrons with the lower class.'
And here I break my story's thread,
Just to remark, that what she said,
Although I took the other part,
Went like a cordial to my heart.
Some innuendos more had passed,
Till out the scandal came at last.
'Come then, I'll tell you something more,'
Says she,--' Eliza, shut the door.--
I would not trust a creature here,
For all the world, but you, my dear.
Perhaps it's false--I wish it may,
--But let it go no further, pray !'
'O,' says mamma, 'You need not fear,
We never mention what we hear.'
And so, we drew our chairs the nearer,
And whispering, lest the child should hear her,
She told a tale, at least too long
To be repeated in a song ;
We panting every breath between,
With curiosity and spleen.
And how we did enjoy the sport !
And echo every faint report,
And answer every candid doubt,
And turn her motives inside out,
And holes in all her virtues pick,
Till we were sated, almost sick.
--Thus having brought it to a close,
In great good-humour we arose.
Indeed, 'twas more than time to go,
Our boy had been an hour below.
So, warmly pressing Mrs. G.
To fix a day to come to tea,
We muffled up in cloak and plaid,
And trotted home behind the lad.
poem by Jane Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Trouble
1 It's all for nothing: I've lost im now.
2 I suppose it ad to be:
3 But oh I never thought it of im,
4 Nor e never thought it of me.
5 And all for a kiss on your evening out
6 An a field where the grass was down ...
7 And e as gone to God-knows-where,
8 And I may go on the town.
9 The worst of all was the thing e said
10 The night that e went away:
11 He said e'd a married me right enough
12 If I adn't a been so gay.
13 Me, gay! When I'd cried, and I'd asked him not,
14 But e said e loved me so;
15 An whatever e wanted seemed right to me ...
16 An how was a girl to know?
17 Well, the river is deep, and drowned folk sleep sound,
18 An it might be the best to do;
19 But when he made me a light-o-love
20 He made me a mother too.
21 I've ad enough sin to last my time,
22 If twas sin as I got it by,
23 But it aint no sin to stand by his kid
24 An work for it till I die.
25 But oh the long days and the death-long nights
26 When I feel it move and turn,
27 And cry alone in my single bed
28 And count what a girl can earn
29 To buy the baby the bits of things
30 He ought to a bought, by rights;
31 And wonder whether e thinks of Us ...
32 And if e sleeps sound o' nights.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am the Pretty Girl-Chapter One
Pretty Hurts
I am the pretty one,
the one the girls hate
and the boys pant for
and I stand aloof because
there is no room for me to be
who I am.
All I get is people reacting
to how I look
and I see them whisper
'She's so stuck up.'
I am not.
I am lonely and superior to them
that make these kinds of comments.
So all day I have to take the stares
and the mini-hatreds
just because I am pretty.
I like being pretty
it comes easy to me;
takes no effort.
My hair is beautiful and I don't have to do anything to it.
My skin is good. Thank God, no zits
My figure is good
but I get the comments when I walk through-
the Neanderthals always make comments-
and I cannot help it if my parents are rich.
So I am trapped behind this wall.
I don't have to study hard to get good grades;
this school is easy.
I don't have to work hard for anything.
Things just come to me.
But, it has made a prison for me
and because I don't have to get smart
or work hard-
I can get by on my looks,
my teachers like me-
one too much;
so in the end I am doing what I hate
others do-
seeing me only in terms of how I look-
and I realize I am doing the same thing to myself.
I am my looks.
I am trapped.
So when boys try to talk to me I clam up
because I think there is only one thing they want.
And most of the time I am right.
They do-just want
one thing.
Other's of them just want to say I am their girl friend
even if that is not true just so they can brag to their friends.
Some of them lie and claim they had you,
or you
are lesbian
just because you don't like them.
I am the pretty girl and most times that is pretty sad.
So I don't talk to anyone except other pretty girls.
They understand. They have the pretty girl thing too.
So we stand around sometimes and think we are superior
but we also think secretly we might be inferior and lonely too
and who is going to feel sorry for the pretty girl? Nobody that's who.
So I dated the football guy who was pretty too.
It seemed he would understand-handsome and pretty,
the same thing I thought.
Boy was I wrong. He was his mothers' boy
and only liked me
because he thought there was prestige in it.
And I did it for the same reason.
We both were boring when alone
and tried to look like the super couple
when people were around.
I was bored and truth be told I was also boring.
I had nothing to say
and all's he wanted to talk about was football
and sex.
I told him no.
And then he latched onto my best friend, well I called her my best friend, but
we were not really friends. We just sorta hung out together.
My real best friend was Alma for a while.
She was the ugly sidekick
pretty girls seem to attract.
All she wanted to do was be with me.
She did everything I asked her to,
sometimes without me even asking.
I began to think that just maybe being pretty was being superior.
People like Alma
made it easy to think that.
She seemed to think I was superior.
I used to lie to her about all the boys coming on to me
and things they said and she believed those lies.
I felt I had to tell the stories
because the stories seemed to mean so much to her.
Besides telling her the phony stories
gave me a fantasy life to make up for my real one.
We were a good pair of friends for a while
until Alma told me one day about her love;
Her love for me.
And I realized she was not talking about friend love.
That's another thing,
you get come on's from both genders
and some like Alma turn into stalkers.
She lied and told her friend that we had been together.
A total lie.
That is why high school is prison camp for the pretty girl.
I broke down one day while talking to Geek Billy
who came over to my house to fix my computer.
He was rad-geek and shorter than me
and I never really considered him a real person or anything
so I was talking like he was not even there.
I was saying why me, why does everyone hate me?
He started yammering that he didn't hate me,
and put his arm around me.
I looked up and saw that he was not trying to jump my bones,
he really was trying to comfort me
like he understood and all that.
It was laughable you know.
I was so above him and everything
but he seemed that day like a real person to me
for just a tiny minute.
He left and I lay on my bed
and wrote into my diary-
'Geek boy loves me.'
I wrote: 'I am the pretty girl no one likes
because I am above them.'
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bad Pretty Girl
I am the pretty one,
the one the girls hate
and the boys pant for
and I stand aloof because
there is no room for me to be
who I am.
All I get is people reacting
to how I look
and I see them whisper
'She's so stuck up.'
I am not.
I am lonely and superior to them
that make these kinds of comments.
So all day I have to take the stares
and the mini-hatreds
just because I am pretty.
I like being pretty
it comes easy to me;
takes no effort.
My hair is beautiful and I don't have to do anything to it.
My skin is good. Thank God, no zits
My figure is good
but I get the comments when I walk through-
the Neanderthals always make comments-
and I cannot help it if my parents are rich.
So I am trapped behind this wall.
I don't have to study hard to get good grades;
this school is easy.
I don't have to work hard for anything.
Things just come to me.
But it has made a prison for me
and because I don't have to get smart
or work hard-
I can get by on my looks.
My teachers like me-
one too much,
so in the end I am doing what I hate
others do-
seeing me only in terms of how I look
and I realize I am doing the same thing to myself.
I am my looks. I am trapped.
So when boys try to talk to me I clam up
because I think there is only one thing they want.
And most of the time I am right. They do-just want
one thing.
Other's of them just want to say I am their girl friend
even if that is not true just so they can brag to their friends.
Some of them lie and claim they had you, or you
are lesbian just because you don't like them.
I am the pretty girl and most times that is pretty sad.
So I don't talk to anyone except other pretty girls.
They understand. They have the pretty girl thing too.
So we stand around sometimes and think we are superior
but we also think secretly we might be inferior and lonely too
and who is going to feel sorry for the pretty girl? Nobody that's who.
So I dated the football guy who was pretty too. It seemed he would
understand-handsome and pretty, the same thing I thought.
Boy was I wrong. He was his mothers' boy and only liked me
because he thought there was prestige in it. And I did it for
the same reason. We both were boring when alone and tried to
look like the super couple when people were around.
I was bored and truth be told I was also boring.
I had nothing to say and all's he wanted to talk about was football
and sex.
I told him no.
And then he latched onto my best friend, well I called her my best friend, but
we were not really friends. We just sorta hung out together.
My real best friend was Alma for a while. She was the ugly sidekick
pretty girls seem to attract. All she wanted to do was be with me. She did
everything I asked her to, sometimes without me even asking. I began to think that just maybe being pretty was being superior. People like Alma
made it easy to think that. She seemed to think I was superior.
I used to lie to her about all the boys coming on to me and things they said and she believed those lies. I felt I had to tell the stories because the stories seemed to mean so much to her. Besides telling her the phony stories gave me a fantasy life to make up for my real one.
We were a good pair of friends for a while until Alma told me one day about her love. Her love for me. And I realized she was not talking about friend love.
That's another thing, you get come ons from both genders and some like Alma turn into stalkers. She lied and told her friend that we had been together. A total lie.
That is why high school is prison camp for the pretty girl.
I broke down one day while talking to Geek Billy who came over to my house to fix my computer. He was rad-geek and shorter than me and I never really considered him a real person or anything so I was talking like he was not even there. I was saying 'why me, why does everyone hate me? '
He started yammering that he didn't hate me, and put his arm around me. I looked up and saw that he was not trying to jump my bones, he really was trying to comfort me like he understood and all that. It was laughable you know. I was so above him and everything but he seemed that day like a real person to me for just a tiny minute.
He left and I lay on my bed and wrote into my diary-'Geek boy loves me.'
I wrote: 'I am the pretty girl no one likes because I am above them.'
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Money Back Guarantee
By: jimmy buffett, michael utley, will jennings
1983
One day youll be glad I came around
I may be the best thing you have found
Aint much you can count on in this town
I swear Im speaking from my heart
And I want let you down
Chorus:
My love is guaranteed
Youre never going to see the end of me
Ive got all you need
Like a ginsu knife or a bamboo steamer
Late-night t.v. hawk-eyed screamer
Youll be the coffee Ill be the creamer
Im money back, money back guaranteed
Money back, money back guaranteed
I just do my best to stay alive
Got a junked out car but you should see me drive
Racing down st. charles avenue
Aint got much but what I got
Will sure be good for you
Chorus:
My love is guaranteed
Youre never going to see the end of me
Ive got all you need
Like a ginsu knife or a bamboo steamer
Late-night t.v. hawk-eyed screamer
Youll be the coffee Ill be the creamer
Im money back, money back guaranteed
Money back, money back guaranteed
Flyin down the highway of my dreams
You will find my crazy love
Is always what it seems
Chorus:
My love is guaranteed
Youre never going to see the end of me
Ive got all you need
Like a ginsu knife or a bamboo steamer
Late-night t.v. hawk-eyed screamer
Youll be the coffee Ill be the creamer
Im money back, money back guaranteed
Money back, money back guaranteed
Im money back, money back guaran...
Money back, money back guaran...
Money back, (money back) money back guaranteed
Money back, money back guaran...
Money back, money back guaran...
Im money back, money back guaranteed
Money back, money back guaran...
Money back, money back guaran...
Money back, money back guaranteed
Money back, money back guaran...
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Were Right Girl
Its hard to say how long its been, but once upon a time
You were my best friend, Im sorry I hurt you but I loved him, loved him
You said Id get hurt in the end, you tried to warn me with good advice
Instead of listening, I paid the price, yes I did, you told me back then
You said hell love you, leave you, you said his heart was cold as ice
And you were right girl, yes, he played me for a fool, (you were right girl)
Hmm, it all came true, (you were right girl), I know
I should have known it all along, (you were right girl)
Yes, you were right and I was wrong, I thought you blamed him for your mistakes
That all your put downs were just sour grapes, you told me back then
That theyll be lyin, cryin and it wont be his heart that breaks
And ooh, (you were right girl) you were right girl
He played me for a fool, (you were right girl) oh
It all came true, you were (you were right girl) right girl
Yes, I should have known it all along (you were right girl)
You were right girl, you were right and I was wrong
Oh, what made me think that I was different from you
That I could make him do what he wouldnt do for you
Now you told me back then Id never change him, change him
But hed change me before hes through, and ooh (you were right girl)
You were right girl, he played me for a fool, he really did
(you were right girl) well, it all came true, (you were right girl)
You were so right, I should have known it all along (you were right girl)
Oh, yes, you were right and I was wrong, oh, (you were right girl)
He really played me for a fool, (you were right girl)
Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, it all came true (you were right girl)
Yeah, (you were right girl) you were right girl
I should have known it all along, (you were righ girl)
You were right girlfriend, you were right and I was wrong, woo, woo, woo
(you were right girl) you were right my girl, (you were right girl)
You were right my girl, he played me for a great big fool
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Death of Captain Ward
'Twas about the beginning of the past century
Billy Bowls was pressed into the British Navy,
And conveyed on board the "Waterwitch" without delay,
Scarce getting time to bid farewell to the villagers of Fairway.
And once on board the "Waterwitch" he resolved to do his duty,
And if he returned safe home he'd marry Nelly Blyth, his beauty;
And he'd fight for old England like a jolly British tar,
And the thought of Nelly Blyth would solace him during the war.
Poor fellow, he little thought what he had to go through,
But in all his trials at sea he never did rue;
No, the brave tar became reconciled to his fate,
And felt proud of his commander, Captain Ward the Great.
And on board the "Waterwitch" was Tom Riggles, his old comrade,
And with such a comrade he seldom felt afraid;
Because the stories they told each other made the time pass quickly away,
And made their hearts feel light and gay.
'Twas on a Sunday morning and clear to the view,
Captain Ward the attention of his men he drew;
"Look!" he cried, "There's two French men-of-war our right,
Therefore prepare, my lads, immediately to begin the fight."
Then the " Waterwitch" was steered to the ship that was most near,
While every men resolved to sell their lives most dear;
But the French commander disinclined to engage in the fight,
And he ordered his men to put on a press of canvas and take to flight.
Then Captain Ward gave the order to fire,
Then Billy Bowls cried, "Now we'll get fighting to our hearts' desire";
And for an hour a running fight was maintained,
And the two ships of the enemy near upon the "Waterwitch" gained.
Captain Ward walked the deck with a firm tread,
When a shot from the enemy pierced the ship, yet he felt no dread;
But with a splinter Bill Bowls was wounded on the left arm,
And he cried, "Death to the frog-eaters, they have done me little harm."
Then Captain Ward cried, "Fear not, my men, we will win the day,
Now, men, pour in a broadside without delay
Then they sailed around the "St. Denis" and the "Gloire,"
And in their cabin windows they poured a deadly fire.
The effect on the two ships was tremendous to behold,
But the Frenchmen stuck to their guns with courage bold;
And the crash and din of artillery was deafening to the ear,
And the cries of the wounded men ware pitiful to hear.
Then Captain Ward to his men did say,
"We must board the Frenchman without delay";
Then he seized his cutlass as he spoke,
And jumped on board the " St. Denis " in the midst of the smoke.
Then Bill Bowls and Tom Riggles hastily followed him,
Then, hand to hand, the battle did begin;
And the men sprang upon their foe and beat them back,
And hauled down their colours and hoisted the Union Jack.
But the men on board the "St. Denis" fought desperately hard,
And just as the "St. Denis" was captured a ball struck Captain Ward
Right on the forehead, and he fell without a groan,
And for the death of Captain Ward the men did moan.
Then the first lieutenant who was standing near by,
Loudly to the men did cry,
"Come, men, and carry your noble commander below;
But there's one consolation, we have beaten the foe."
And thus fell Captain Ward in the prime of life,
But I hope he is now in the better world free from strife;
But, alas! 'tis sad to think he was buried in the mighty deep,
Where too many of our brave seamen silently sleep.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Im So Young
I have a girlfriend
She says Im her only one
We wanna get married
But were so young
So young
Cant marry no one
They say our love is
Just a teenage affection
But no one knows
Our hearts direction
So young
Cant marry no one
Im Im Im so young
Im Im Im so young
Im Im Im so young
Cant marry no one, no one
Pretty soon now
Ill go to sea
Their mothers baby
Will have seen the last of me
So young
Cant marry no one, no one
Cant marry no one
Cant marry no one
Cant marry no one
Cant marry no one
Cant marry no one
Cant marry no one
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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English Eyes
What youre sayin it never really crossed my mind
I hear playin and everybodys keepin time
Im recallin that girl I met in london town
She was strange, young and tender and narrowed all my choices down
Chorus:
We ran away into the night hypnotized
You carved your name right next to mine, english eyes
I was tryin to read her lips and knew the time was drawing near
I forgot what she said but I remember how she whispered in my ear
I can hear laughter coming from the places we once knew
There were stories from a stranger out of nowhere but they seemed so true
Chorus
English eyes, english eyes
(instrumental break)
English eyes
Red sky warning, girl you really put a spell on me
Never told me bout the daddy you refused to please
You took the bishop when the king was standing right in front of you
Theres nothing in it if I cant have a girl with eyes like you
Chorus repeats 2x
English eyes, yeah, english eyes, english eyes
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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