The battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton.
quote by Arthur Wellesley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Probably the battle of Waterloo was won on the playing-fields of Eton, but the opening battles of all subsequent wars have been lost there.
quote by George Orwell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Proportionality'. A disgusted rant.
We here in Britain have a traditional
belief in fair play.
Like, if we lose an away match,
we trash their town centre,
hold the town square as our turf
for several hours against the
full might of the police
who hours before, got us safely
to our seats and kept the home crowd
from throwing more at us
than we could shout at them
(That's one thing about
not learning foreign languages:
they have to learn English
to insult you...)
Proportionality.
It’s reassuring.
A level playing field.
And if one end dips away,
change ends at half time.
Like Waterloo, as we were taught,
was won on the playing fields of Eton.
Whatever that means.
That’s Waterloo in Belgium,
not the rush-hour and every
man and woman for themselves.
So it’s really offensive to our sense
of fair play when those countries
of the Middle East who love fighting
and who’s ever going to stop them,
do they want to, it’s
a national sport, kinda gun Olympics –
when those countries don’t play
the rules of proportionality:
the death toll in the ‘conflict’
- and Dubya-or-quits agrees with this –
should be more or less equal;
and in these democratic days,
that should include civilians
in with the troops.
Proportionality.
It’s reassuring.
A level killing field.
Bodies strewn equally.
Perhaps if it dips away one end like this,
They should change ends at half time.
Though, would anyone notice?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The only thing worse than a battle lost is a battle won.
Arthur Wellesley in Aftermath of the Battle of Waterloo (1815)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Return To Waterloo (Demo Recording / Remix)
Look at all the people around me,
Same old faces joining the queue.
For return to waterloo,
Return to waterloo.
Started off this morning as usual,
Checkin out the mail and all the bills to pay.
Maybe something specials gonna happen,
Maybe this is my lucky day.
The forecast says heavy weather,
So take your umbrella just in case.
Will I get away, will I see it through,
On the return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Somehow you feel that the worlds been passin you by.
Cant help thinkin somehow theyre living a lie.
Now Im asking questions, I never thought Id ask them before,
Like "why" or "how" or "what am I doing it for? "
Will I reach my destination,
Or will I get off along the way?
Will I reach my destination?
Will I reach my destination,
Have I stopped or am I only going slow?
Have we got a couple more stations,
Or is this as far as we all go?
The headlines cry out from the papers,
"inflation," "murder," "wars," who really wants to know?
If I return to waterloo,
Itll cost me more in 1992.
Will I get away,
Will I see it through?
And come back home to you,
On the return to waterloo.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Return To Waterloo
Look at all the people around me,
Same old faces joining the queue.
For return to waterloo,
Return to waterloo.
Started off this morning as usual,
Checkin out the mail and all the bills to pay.
Maybe something specials gonna happen,
Maybe this is my lucky day.
The forecast says heavy weather,
So take your umbrella just in case.
Will I get away, will I see it through,
On the return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Somehow you feel that the worlds been passin you by.
Cant help thinkin somehow theyre living a lie.
Now Im asking questions, I never thought Id ask them before,
Like why or how or what am I doing it for?
Will I reach my destination,
Or will I get off along the way?
Will I reach my destination?
Will I reach my destination,
Have I stopped or am I only going slow?
Have we got a couple more stations,
Or is this as far as we all go?
The headlines cry out from the papers,
Inflation, murder, wars, who really wants to know?
If I return to waterloo,
Itll cost me more in 1992.
Will I get away,
Will I see it through?
And come back home to you,
On the return to waterloo.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waterloo Sunset
Dirty old river, must you keep rolling
Flowing into the night
People so busy, makes me feel dizzy
Taxi light shines so bright
But I don't need no friends
As long as I gaze on Waterloo sunset
I am in paradise
Every day I look at the world from my window
Chilly, chilly is the evening time
Waterloo sunset's fine
Terry meets Julie at Waterloo Station
Every Friday night
But I am so lazy, don't want to wander
I stay at home at night
But I don't feel afraid
As long as I gaze on Waterloo sunset
I am in paradise
Every day I look at the world from my window
Chilly, chilly is the evening time
Waterloo sunset's fine
Millions of people swarming like flies 'round Waterloo underground
But Terry and Julie cross over the river
Where they feel safe and sound
And they don't need no friends
As long as they gaze on Waterloo sunset
They are in paradise
Waterloo sunset's fine (Waterloo sunset's fine)
Waterloo sunset's fine (Waterloo sunset's fine)
Waterloo sunset's fine (Waterloo sunset's fine)
Waterloo sunset's fine
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Meeting A Hero
I met a hero yesterday
In silver, bronze and polished gold,
Just back from spending time away,
From doing all that he was told,
By donkeys bred at public schools,
The playing fields of Eton's mess.
Our hero followed gilded fools,
A pawn in Britain's game of chess.
His Captain said, 'that man must die! '
And so our hero takes a life,
For his was not to reason why,
Nor tend the lonely, weeping wife,
Who wondered why her choking love
Was sacrificed to free a dove.
poem by Alastair Buchan
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Waterloo Sunset
Dirty old river, must you keep rolling
Flowing into the night
People so busy, makes me feel dizzy
Taxi light shines so bright
But I dont need no friends
As long as I gaze on waterloo sunset
I am in paradise
Every day I look at the world from my window
But chilly, chilly is the evening time
Waterloo sunsets fine
Terry meets julie, waterloo station
Every friday night
But I am so lazy, dont want to wander
I stay at home at night
But I dont feel afraid
As long as I gaze on waterloo sunset
I am in paradise
Every day I look at the world from my window
But chilly, chilly is the evening time
Waterloo sunsets fine
Millions of people swarming like flies round waterloo underground
But terry and julie cross over the river
Where they feel safe and sound
And the dont need no friends
As long as they gaze on waterloo sunset
They are in paradise
Waterloo sunsets fine
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Battle Cry Of Freedom (Southern Version)
Our flag is proudly floating
On the land and on the main,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Beneath it oft we've conquered,
And we'll conquer oft again!
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
CHORUS: Our Dixie forever!
She's never at a loss!
Down with the eagle
And up with the cross!
We'll rally 'round the bonny flag,
We'll rally once again,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Our gallant boys have marched
To the rolling of the drums,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
And the leaders in charge cry out,
'Come, boys, come!'
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!-CHORUS
They have laid down their lives
On the bloody battle field,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Their motto is resistance -
'To tyrants we'll not yield!'
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!-CHORUS
While our boys have responded
And to the fields have gone,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!
Our noble women also
Have aided them at home,
Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!-CHORUS
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Shadow Games
(first verse)
Long ago in the ancient past
I remember a life when we first met
In a dark shadow realm under a big full moon
There and then I could tell
You try to break my will
But now watch as I rise to a whole new height
And my mad battle cry will be heard all night
(chorus)
You keep on playing
Those dark shadow games and
No I wont be beat again
You keep on playing
Those dark shadow games and
All this time Ive prayed my friend
(second verse)
So now you know after time has passed
You can never be sure youre always the best
Cause Im back from the shadows coming after you
On the brightest day
Of your darkest hour
So now watch as I rise to a whole new height
And my mad battle cry will be heard all night
(chorus)
You keep on playing
Those dark shadow games and
No I wont be beat again
You keep on playing (You keep on playing)
Those dark shadow games and
All this time Ive prayed my friend
(third verse)
(Oh, oh, oh, oh)
You destroyed the future with your past
Forgot the lesson of the test
You never understood the blessed
Too bad today will be your last
So now watch as I rise to a whole new height
And my mad battle cry will be heard all night
(chorus)
You keep on playing (You keep on playing)
Those dark shadow games and
No I wont be beat again
You keep on playing
Those dark shadow games and
All this time Ive prayed my friend
You keep on playing
Those dark shadow games and
No I wont be beat again
You keep on playing
Those dark shadow games and
All this time Ive prayed my friends
You keep on playing
Those dark shadow games and
No I wont be beat again
song performed by by Yu-Gi-Oh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Mean to Say
We mean to say, it never has been granted
That anyone but England could decide,
In the crease or at the wicket,
Just exactly what was cricket
And, of course, I mean to say, we have our pride.
The great old game was, as it were, invented
On the playing fields of Eton, and all that,
And to try to steal our thunder
When you think we've made a blunder
Why, dear old bean, that's talking thro' the hat!
We mean to say - the game originated
With us, back in the dear old top-hat days,
And the gentlemen who played it,
By their sterling methods, made it
A top-hole game for sportsmen - hence the phrase.
So, hang it all! If something 'isn't cricket'
It's our prerogative to say so, flat.
And it's cheek, you know, cool cheek,
When you dash in, so to speak,
And take the words out of our mouths like that.
We mean to say, there's quite a choice of phrases
That you might use, if you must make a fuss.
Curse away of you feel hot;
But it's simply bally rot
To apply our own pet shibboleth to us!
There's the code, you know - our code, we would remind you.
We made it for ourselves, and mean to stick it.
And to try to knock us flat
With a boomerang like that
By gad! It isn't done! It isn't cricket!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Field Of Joy
let's wander slowly through the fields
slowly slowly through the fields
i touch the leaves that touch the sky
just you and i through fields of joy
all trouble slowly fades away
slowly slowly fades away
i hold your hand inside my hand
across the land through fields of joy
the sound of music that we hear
the blend of colors throug the air
all cities, mountains disappear from view
all truth and beauty near to me and you
with you through the fields
with you through the fields
with you through the fields
the fields of joy
let's wander slowly through the fields
slowly slowly through the fields
i know our love will never die
just you and i
through fields of joy
through fields of joy
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Man from Goondiwindi, Q.
I
This is the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
II
This is the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
III
These are the wealthy uncles -- two,
Part of the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
IV
This is the game, by no means new,
Played by the wealthy uncles -- two,
Part of the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
V
This is the trooper dressed in blue,
Who busted the game by no means new,
Played by the wealthy uncles -- two,
Part of the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
VI
This is the magistrate who knew
Not only the trooper dressed in blue,
But also the game by no means new,
And likewise the wealthy uncles -- two,
And ditto the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
VII
This is the tale that has oft gone through
On western plains where the skies are blue,
Till the native bear and the kangaroo
Have heard of the magistrate who knew
Not only the trooper dressed in blue,
But also the game by no means new,
And likewise the wealthy uncles -- two,
And ditto the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
The Evening News, 17 Dec 1904
(This verse was published, copiously illustrated by Lionel Lindsay. Each stanza had its own illustration.)
The pronounciation of many Australian place-names can be quite unexpected. Goondiwindi is a case in point. The town is situated on the border of Queensland and New south Wales, on the banks of the Macintyre River, and its name is pronounced "gun-da-windy", with the main stress on the third syllable, a secondary stress on the first.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Through the years, I have so many wonderful memories of playing with the Red Wings: winning four Stanley Cups, scoring big goals, going into battle every night side by side with my teammates, playing with every ounce of effort I could muster.
quote by Ted Lindsay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Man from Waterloo (With kind Regards to Banjo)
It was the Man from Waterloo,
When work in town was slack,
Who took the track as bushmen do,
And humped his swag out back.
He tramped for months without a bob,
For most the sheds were full,
Until at last he got a job
At picking up the wool.
He found the work was rather rough,
But swore to see it through,
For he was made of sterling stuff—
The Man from Waterloo.
The first remark was like a stab
That fell his ear upon,
’Twas—‘There’s another something scab
‘The boss has taken on!’
They couldn’t let the towny be—
They sneered like anything;
They’d mock him when he’d sound the ‘g’
In words that end in ‘ing.’
There came a man from Ironbark,
And at the shed he shore;
He scoffed his victuals like a shark,
And like a fiend he swore.
He’d shorn his flowing beard that day—
He found it hard to reap—
Because ’twas hot and in the way
While he was shearing sheep.
His loaded fork in grimy holt
Was poised, his jaws moved fast,
Impatient till his throat could bolt
The mouthful taken last.
He couldn’t stand a something toff;
Much less a jackaroo;
And swore to take the trimmings off
The Man from Waterloo.
The towny saw he must be up
Or else be underneath,
And so one day, before them all,
He dared to clean his teeth.
The men came running from the shed,
And shouted, ‘Here’s a lark!’
‘It’s gone to clean its tooties!’ said
The man from Ironbark.
His feeble joke was much enjoyed;
He sneered as bullies do,
And with a scrubbing-brush he guyed
The Man from Waterloo.
The Jackaroo made no remark
But peeled and waded in,
And soon the Man from Ironbark
Had three teeth less to grin!
And when they knew that he could fight
They swore to see him through,
Because they saw that he was right—
The Man from Waterloo.
Now in a shop in Sydney, near
The Bottle on the Shelf,
The tale is told—with trimmings—by
The Jackaroo himself.
‘They made my life a hell,’ he said;
‘They wouldn’t let me be;
They set the bully of the shed
‘To take it out of me.
‘The dirt was on him like a sheath,
‘He seldom washed his phiz;
‘He sneered because I cleaned my teeth—
‘I guess I dusted his!
‘I treated them as they deserved—
‘I signed on one or two!
‘They won’t forget me soon,’ observed
The Man from Waterloo.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Johnson, alias Crow
Where the seasons are divided and the bush begins to change,
and the links are rather broken in the Great Dividing Range;
where the atmosphere is hazy underneath the summer sky,
lies the little town of Eton, rather westward of Mackay.
Near the township, in the graveyard, where the dead of Eton go,
lies the body of a sinner known as “Johnson alias Crow”.
He was sixty-four was Johnson, and in other days, lang syne,
was apprenticed to a ship-wright in the land across the Rhine;
but, whatever were his prospects in the days of long ago,
things went very bad with Johnson—Heinrich Johnson (alias Crow).
He, at Eton—where he drifted in his age, a stranded wreck—
got three pounds by false pretences, in connection with a cheque.
But he didn’t long enjoy it, the police soon got to know;
and the lockup closed on Johnson, lonely Johnson alias Crow.
Friday night, and Crow retired, feeling, as he said, unwell;
and the warder heard the falling of a body in the cell.
Going in, the warder saw him bent with pain and crouching low—
Death had laid his hand on Johnson, Heinrich Johnson, alias Crow.
Then the constable bent o’er him—asked him where he felt the pain. Johnson only said, “I’m dying”—and he never spoke again.
They had waited for a witness, and the local people say
Johnson’s trial would have ended on that very Saturday;
but he took his case for judgment where our cases all must go,
and the higher court is trying Heinrich Johnson (alias Crow).
poem by Henry Lawson
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Cedric's Sister
My sister likes you
Cedric said
and as he said it
he blushed
and well Christina
wasn’t a bad looker
from what you saw of her
in the recreation grounds
at school
and once
you’d gone up to her
when she was sitting
with her school friends
in the summer
on the playing fields
and you saw
how she sat
with a small glimpse
of thigh revealed
and dark hair
and brown eyes
like chocolate drops in snow
and you said
you’ve got fine eyes
(you didn’t mention
her thighs)
and she giggled
with her friends
and you thought
how she’d like to go
with you into
the tall grass
but never said it aloud
and so you said to Cedric
what’d she say?
And he said
looking down
at his black shoes
that she liked you
and wanted to know
if you’d meet her up
on the playing field
at lunch recess
near the tall grass?
And you imagined her
there on her ass
looking up at blue skies
with her chocolate eyes
uttering sexy sighs
and bringing you in close
Sure you said
and watched
as Cedric wandered off
like some messenger
of old having brought
his message of battle
and walked away wearied
having told.
poem by Terry Collett
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Something Real
words and music by emily saliers
I've seen the sun on a funeral, the full moon in a midday sky
Tactician politician hold his head and wonder why
I'm always struck that much harder by the power of suggestion
By now I know the answer's always in the question
Now that we're done with that why don't you warm the car
All of the fields are filled with fresh boys playing football
More than the weather chills, the bands practicing their drills
I've got to get back to something real with you
I had to call your parents to get your number again
I was either gonna be the prodigal or the banished friend
We were standing against an outside wall, I was afraid of what you'd say
It took me ten years to call you back but here we are today
Now that we're done with that why don't you warm the car
All of the fields are filled with fresh boys playing football
More than the weather chills, the bands practicing their drills
I've got to get back to something real with you
So life has brought you this: two marriages and three kids
And me life as slick as ice that finally hit the skids
You're as sweet as you ever were
A slight sickness of regret washes over me
And in the end that's all I get
Now that we're done with that why don't you warm the car
All of the fields are filled with fresh boys playing football
More than the weather chills, the bands practicing their drills
I've got to get back to something real
I've got to get back to something real
I've got to get back to something real with you
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epigram
What mean ye by this print so rare?
Ye wits, of Eton jealous:
Behold! your rivals soar in air,
And ye are heavy-fellows!
poem by George Canning
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I believe in the battle-whether it's the battle of a campaign or the battle of this office, which is a continuing battle.
quote by Richard Milhous Nixon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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