We gathered all the stock we could find, and made an attempt to move. We left many of our horses and cattle in Wallowa. We lost several hundred in crossing the river.
quote by Chief Joseph
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But if cattle and horses or lions had hands, or were able to draw with their hands and do the work that men can do, horses would draw the forms of the gods like horses, and cattle like cattle, and they would make their bodies such as they each had themselves.
quote by Xenophanes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crossing The Border
Hey, take it and run, child
Ill ask you no questions
We traded our fortunes
Crossing the border
I hope you got lucky
You needed a change
I--i made it without you
Crossing the border
We were like a couple of wetbacks running
Standin on the banks of some dangerous river
Lookin into a brave new country
Risky business
Crossing the border
Ahhh, you--you doubled my chances
I--i sure do want your freedom
I--Ill never forget you
Crossing the border
Back when we were out there
Crossing the border
Layin it on the line
Crossing the border
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where The River Flows
Music : rudolf schenker
Lyrics: klaus meine
Under suburban skies
Where life is bleeding
Where concrete skies are grey
Theres plenty of room for dreaming
I still keep coming here
Follow those traces
I travel back in time
Remember all those places
Feels like I never left
The houses still standing
Down by the river where
The dreams are never ending
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Under the silent moon
This industrial city
Is heartland even though
Lifes been not that pretty
I still keep coming here
To that old river
To find my roots just where
The future lives forever
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me, you can find me
By the river where dreams will never die
By the river under suburban skies
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
By the river where dreams have never died
By the river I look through childrens eyes
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mountain Station
I bought a run a while ago,
On country rough and ridgy,
Where wallaroos and wombats grow --
The Upper Murrumbidgee.
The grass is rather scant, it's true,
But this a fair exchange is,
The sheep can see a lovely view
By climbing up the ranges.
And She-oak Flat's the station's name,
I'm not surprised at that, sirs:
The oaks were there before I came,
And I supplied the flat, sirs.
A man would wonder how it's done,
The stock so soon decreases --
They sometimes tumble off the run
And break themselves to pieces.
I've tried to make expenses meet,
But wasted all my labours,
The sheep the dingoes didn't eat
Were stolen by the neighbours.
They stole my pears -- my native pears --
Those thrice-convicted felons,
And ravished from me unawares
My crop of paddy-melons.
And sometimes under sunny skies,
Without an explanation,
The Murrumbidgee used to rise
And overflow the station.
But this was caused (as now I know)
When summer sunshine glowing
Had melted all Kiandra's snow
And set the river going.
And in the news, perhaps you read:
`Stock passings. Puckawidgee,
Fat cattle: Seven hundred head
Swept down the Murrumbidgee;
Their destination's quite obscure,
But, somehow, there's a notion,
Unless the river falls, they're sure
To reach the Southern Ocean.'
So after that I'll give it best;
No more with Fate I'll battle.
I'll let the river take the rest,
For those were all my cattle.
And with one comprehensive curse
I close my brief narration,
And advertise it in my verse --
`For Sale! A Mountain Station.'
A.B. (Banjo) Paterson
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Jumping Horses Of The Carnival
Do you still remember
the jumping horses of the carnival
when we were yet small?
Do you remember sometime
in July of 1968?
The horses are made of tin
in different colors,
practically all other colors
which are impossible for real horses
Those horses did not jump on their own
You bet
and when you guess wins, you get
either a plastic glass or
a cheap teddy bear
Those horses move with the music
of the record player
and there was a Big Man
holding the microphone
Dictating who shall move next
till your number wins
That is the beginning of my criticism.
Now, i am going back there to obtain more data
Perhaps, i shall then be
Enlightened.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Free River
Free River flow, Free River
so cold, Free River
you’re getting old.
Free River don’t cry, Free River
you’ve run dry.
I still see you through my youth’s eyes.
Free River you told no lies, Free River
your path has been made, Free River
all things change.
Free River you made it to the sea.
The friends I swam with once
are now gone, left only me.
Free River you’re worth more than gold, Free River
I've grown old.
I’ve lived by you my whole life and
I’ve left my seed through my wife, Free River
I lie at your shore; now dry,
Free River it’s my time to die.
poem by Patrick Dumas
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New Country
Conde had come with us all the way --
Eight hundred miles -- but the fortnight's rest
Made him fresh as a youngster, the sturdy bay!
And Lurline was looking her very best.
Weary and footsore, the cattle strayed
'Mid the silvery saltbush well content;
Where the creeks lay cool 'neath the gidya's shade
The stock-horses clustered, travel-spent.
In the bright spring morning we left them all --
Camp, and cattle, and white, and black --
And rode for the Range's westward fall,
Where the dingo's trail was the only track.
Slow through the clay-pans, wet to the knee,
With the cane-grass rustling overhead;
Swift o'er the plains with never a tree;
Up the cliffs by a torrent's bed.
Bridle on arm for a mile or more
We toiled, ere we reached Bindanna's verge
And saw -- as one sees a far-off shore --
The blue hills bounding the forest surge.
An ocean of trees, by the west wind stirred,
Rolled, ever rolled, to the great cliff's base;
And its sound like the noise of waves was heard
'Mid the rocks and the caves of that lonely place.
We recked not of wealth in stream or soil
As we heard on the heights the breezes sing;
We felt no longer our travel-toil;
We feared no more what the years might bring.
poem by Mary Hannay Foott
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THE JUMPING HORSES OF THE CARNIVAL (edited, my eyes are failing me)
Do you still remember
the jumping horses of the carnival
when we were yet small?
Do you remember sometime
in July of 1968?
The horses were made of tin
in different colors,
practically all other colors
which were impossible for real horses
that we knew of
black, gray, white, brown, spotted
there were pink, yellow green
and rainbow horses
(i hope you remember
that you preferred the black ones)
Those horses did not jump on their own
You bet
A hand held their feet
and when your guess won,
you got
a cheap teddy bear
Those horses move with the music
of the old record player
with a harsh and confused voice
like a desert storm
and there was a Big Man
holding the microphone
Dictating who shall move next
till your number won the prize
of your persistence
i called you stupid &
That was the beginning of my criticism
Turned treatise of Reason
Now, i am going back there to obtain more data
Perhaps, i shall then be
Enlightened in black and white, perhaps,
i am not sure anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Crossing The River Jordan
Crossing the River Jordan.
Thinking about the rules of your laws to respect my muse;
But my mother is now very old at home.
There are more cows in Argentina than human beings!
But crossing over River Jordan gave me your view;
And like my mother who is now very old,
But i will always respect your laws.
White and dry,
Black and wet! !
The joy of your muse is like crossing over the River Jordan!
But my mother is very old at home,
And she cannot follow me now on this path.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The difference between playing the stock market and the horses is that one of the horses must win.
quote by Joey Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Long Gone Lonesome Blues
originally by Hank Williams
I went down to the river to watch the fish swim by
But I got to the river so lonesome I wanted to die ... Oh Lord!
And then I jumped in the river, but the river was dry.
He's long gone, and now I'm lonesome blue.
I had me a man who couldn't be true.
He made me for my money and she made me blue.
A woman needs a man that he can lean on,
But my leanin' post is done left and gone.
He's long gone, and now I'm lonesome blue.
I'm gonna find me a river, one that's cold as ice.
And when I find me that river, Lord I'm gonna pay the price, Oh Lord!
I'm goin' down in it three times, but Lord I'm only comin up twice.
He's long gone, and now I'm lonesome blue.
He told me on Sunday he was checkin' me out;
Long about Monday he was nowhere about.
And here it is Tuesday, ain't had no news.
I got them gone but not forgotten blues.
He's long gone, and now I'm lonesome blue.
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From the Gulf
Store cattle from Nelanjie! The mob goes feeding past,
With half-a-mile of sandhill 'twixt the leaders and the last;
The nags that move behind them are the good old Queensland stamp-
Short backs and perfect shoulders that are priceless on a camp;
And these are men that ride them, broad-cheated, tanned, and tall,
The bravest hearts amongst us and the lightest hands of all:
Oh, let them wade in Wonga grass and taste the Wonga dew,
And let them spread, those thousand head-for we've been droving tool
Store cattle from Nelanjie! By half-a-hundred towns,
By northern ranges rough and red, by rolling open downs
By stock-routes brown and burnt and bare, by floodwrapped river-bends,
They've hunted them from gate to gate-the drover has no friends!
But idly they may ride to-day beneath the scorching sun
And let the hungry bullocks try the grass on Wonga run;
No overseer will dog them here to "see the cattle through,"
But they may spread their thousand head-for we've been droving too!
Store cattle from Nelanjie! They've a naked track to steer;
The stockyards at Wodonga are a long way down from here;
The creeks won't run till God knows when, and half the holes are dry;
The tanks are few and far between and water's dear to buy:
There's plenty at the Brolga bore for all his stock and mine-
We'll pass him with a brave God-speed across the Border Line;
And if he goes a five-mile stage and loiters slowly through,
We'll only think the more of him-for we've been droving too I
Store cattle from Nelanjie! They're mute as milkers now;
But yonder grizzled drover, with the care-lines on his brow,
Could tell of merry musters on the big Nelanjie plains,
With blood upon the chestnut's flanks and foam upon the reins;
Could tell of nights upon the road when those same mild-eyed steers
Went ringing round the river bend and through the scrub like spears;
And if his words are rude and rough, we know his words are true,
We know what wild Nelanjies are-and we've been droving too !
Store cattle from Nelanjie! Around the fire at night
They've watched the pine-tree shadows lift before the dancing light;
They've lain awake to listen when the weird bushvoices speak,
And heard the lilting bells go by along the empty creek;
They've spun the yarns of hut and camp, the tales of play and work,
The wondrous tales that gild the road from Normanton to Bourke;
They've told of fortunes foul and fair, of women false and true,
And well we know the songs they've sung-for we've been droving too!
Store cattle from Nelanjie! Their breath is on the breeze;
You hear them tread, a thousand head, in blue-grass to the knees;
The lead is on the netting-fence, the wings are spreading wide,
The lame and laggard scarcely move so slow the drovers ride!
But let them stay and feed to-day for sake of Auld Lang Syne;
They'll never get a chance like this below the Border Iodine;
And if they tread our frontage down, what's that to me or you?
What's ours to fare, by God they'll shared for we've been droving tool
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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Little Roland Lost
Im lost, Im lost, find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
He wondered too far now
He is lost and lonely
Little roland all alone
Cause he cant find his way
Wish I was home in the arms of my mom
Shes the one to protect me
But here I am in the woods by myself
Wont somebody find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
I see a path maybe this is the way
That leads to safety
No just a dead end leading to nowhere
Wont somebody find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
Little roland see your field eyes
Little legs running wildly
Comes the night, strange noises
Guess hes lost forever
Im lost, Im lost, find me
Im lost, Im lost, find me
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Like River
We had such fun
Underneath the sun
But it's done
And time has won
In the ocean beneath
Washing away our feet
Offering my seat
And you go
On like river
Off like hurricane
Oh yeah
And you go
On like river
Off like hurricane
Can you feel my pain?
By the light in me
Helping you to see
Try to believe in me
Cuz, love, you go
On like river
Off like hurricane
Can you feel my pain?
I can't just move on
I just can't faze it out
Oh, no..
I think I'll run away
Nothing left to say
In the light of day
You go
On like river
Off like hurricane
Can you feel my pain?
Lost for words
Following the birds
May seem absurd
Cuz you go
On like river
Off like hurricane..
Please don't leave me
Standing, take me
In your arms..
poem by Pete Rivera
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The Freehold On The Plain
I'm a broken-down old squatter, my cash it is all gone,
Of troubles and bad seasons I complain;
My cattle are all mortgaged, of horses I have none,
And I've lost that little freehold on the plain.
The stockyard's broken down, and the woolshed's tumbling in;
I've written to the mortgagees in vain;
My wool it is all damaged and it is not worth a pin,
And I've lost that little freehold on the plain.
I commenced life as a squatter some twenty years ago,
When fortune followed in my train;
But I speculated heavy and I'd have you all to know
That I've lost that little freehold on the plain.
I built myself a mansion, and chose myself a wife;
Of her I have no reason to complain;
For I thought I had sufficient to last me all my life,
But I've lost that little freehold on the plain.
And now I am compelled to take a drover's life,
To drive cattle through the sunshine and the rain,
And to leave her behind me, my own dear loving wife
We were happy on that freehold on the plain.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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You Move Me
Everytime you move
There's a spark that seems to find it's way
To everything I own
I am loosing in your favorite way
You move me, yeah you move me
And you move me
You move, you move, you move, you move
'cause you are everything I have
'cause you are everything I have
the secrets that we share
aren't allways so important that we
have to disagree
about lots of things we used to do
Hey there switch your mind of
And untie me
You move me 'round the day
For a while
I'm not lost, I am saved now
You untied me
You move me 'round the day
Everytime I come
There's a spark that seems to find it's way
To everything I own
I am loosing in your favorite way
For a while I thought you liked me
song performed by by Zornik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You
You made promises.
You knew you would never keep them.
You made them anyway.
You promised you would never hurt me.
You did.
You promised you would never lie to me.
You did.
You promised to always be there when I needed you.
You weren't.
You promised to never leave.
You left.
You promised to always care about me.
You stopped.
You never should have made promises you knew you wouldn't keep.
You left me here alone.
You made me think.
You made me realize I don't need you.
You may think I do.
You are so wrong.
You left and I let go.
You were important to me, but I've learned to move on.
You will never lie to me again.
You will never hurt me again.
You will never hear my voice.
You will never see my face.
You lost me.
You have to be the one to let go now.
You shouldn't have treated me that way.
You never will again.
You are gone and I've moved on.
poem by Ashley Reese
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Dry River Bed
The river- was, but died away,
leaving behind sand and stone,
a dry river bed.
The river that once led the way,
To Rameses throne,
Has no more life- dead.
The river from which reeds grew and swayed,
now dead and gone,
all that's left-a dry river bed.
The river that was marvelous by day,
and treacherous once the sun was gone,
is now but a dri river bed.
The river- beautiful, no words could say,
left behind - just a dry river bed.
poem by Esnala Banda
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Failure
Maybe i, I didnt seem to have a thing left to say
I bottled it far away
Maybe i, I tried too hard to find someone to blame
Maybe its me who changed
And now, Im left with nothing again
So what if I lost everything
Would you want me if I was a failure
So what if I lost everything
Would you be there even when I am gone
Maybe i, I didnt seem to give everything away
Not because I needed you to stay, and i
I couldnt face the fears I left far behind
I try to answer every question to why
Im left with nothing again
So what if I lost everything
Would you want me if I was a failure
So what if I lost everything
Would you be there even when I am gone
Maybe you couldnt see
All the pain inside of me
And now I feel like this was all for nothing
cause Im left with nothing, Im left with nothing again
So what if I lost everything
Would you want me if I was a failure
So what if I lost everything
Would you want me if I was a failure
So what if I lost everything
Would you be there even when I am gone
So what if I lost everything
Would you want me if I was a failure
song performed by by Unloco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Hundred Thousand Marching
One hundred thousand marching
One hundred thousand men
One hundred thousand heading
To a place and a time when
One hundred thousand dying
One hundred thousand cold
One hundred thousand praying
Forever young and never old
One hundred thousand lives were lost
One hundred thousand felt the pain
One hundred thousand maimed and slaughtered
And yet those armies march again.
poem by David Keig
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