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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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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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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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To “Doc” Wylie
THOUGH doctors may your name discard
And say you physicked vilely,
I would I were as good a bard
As you a doctor, Wylie!
How often, when your skill subdued
The fever ranging highly,
You won a bushman’s gratitude,
Though little more, Doc Wylie!
How oft across the regions wide
Where scrub for many a mile lay
The bushman rode, as bushmen ride,
To seek your aid, Doc Wylie!
But now, when bushman’s wife or child
Lies ill and suffering direly,
He’ll need to ride a weary while
Before he finds Doc Wylie.
I hope where they have made your bed,
And where these verses I lay,
They’ll raise a board above your head—
And write your name—Doc Wylie!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Push Push
Come take a ride
Or a slipnside
To sit astridengliden.
....Push!Push!
Please pull the strings
Bees use their stings
Birds spread their wing and
Some things...Push! Push!
A puss that pures
By settinspures
Is this his or her what stirs?
Now: Push! Push!
Unlock the sloice
Bring up the juce
Just let it loose..Producen
Push! Push!
Refrain
Push! Push! Push!Just a little
Push! Push! Push!A little further
Push! Push! Push!Just a little bit
Push! Push! Push!A little bit mooooore!
Ooh what a blow
Yeah, what a show!
Hey, one more throw...
Lets go now! Push! Push!
Another shot
We hit teh spot
Oh that was hot.. a lot
Now: Push! Push!
Refrain
From stick or stone
To the prick an d bone
Im lyinprone, Im nnnot alone
Push!Push!
With a whip and chain
Theres plesuren pain
And no venture, no gain....again
Now Push!! Push!
Refrain
Our fathers who are from heaven
When kings have come thy will be
done Forgive this day - our dailybread Give ahead!!!
Refrain
song performed by by Falco
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 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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Harry Stephens
So the world of odds and evens ceased to trouble Harry Stephens,
and the niggard road no longer echoes to his lonely tread.
For another bushman found him with his ‘bluey’ wrapped around him, sleeping like a bushman, only sleeping with the mighty dead.
And the shadows were upon him, and they found a ticket on him – just a relic of a battle that was lately lost and won.
And it told the stray Camboonian he’d been loyal to his union (right or wrong) – he had been loyal to the strike of ‘91’.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When You Push
When you push...
Don't turn your back upon a cliff.
Or try to balance on the edge of it.
When you push.
When you push...
Don't think for a moment,
I will insist you resist this!
Or think not to inflict...
An exchange with you conflict!
When you push...
And you have been warned!
A visit to your end will come to you quick.
As your fingertips slip...
From that cliff,
With my assistance.
When you continue to push!
And push.
And push!
Think of it,
As a gift to realize your wishes.
When you push to give...
Expect to receive!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hit It
1st verse
Somebody said what are you doin down there
Trying to make me a living
All I want is to get my fair share
Im pleading but nobodys giving
Maybe Im wrong, and I dont see things clear
But I know how I feel after all the these years
Ill keep fighting the pain and the heartache and tears
Chorus
Then Ill push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
2nd verse
Looking up cause Ive got time to spare
Today the sun aint shining
Im still searching everywhere
For my cloud with the silver lining
People say that enough is enough
Turn my back on this thing put it down to bad luck
But the day I do that, then my life will be up
Chorus
So Ill push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Fine Sunday Morning
A little more push,
a little more push
higher, higher
a little more push,
a little more push
oh, I'm almost there.
A little more push,
a little more push
higher, higher
a little more push,
a little more push
oh, I got it,
I got my shoe!
Oh,
what a fine Sunday morning
you and I comparing
whose kick is higher
beside this old peach tree
that we planted together
twelve years ago.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Push Me Shove Me
Motion always seemed to me
The way I ought to go
No one now gets in my way
I wont let my heartache show
The same situation
Wont bring me down no more
I get on without you now
I dont need your help for sure
Push me (push me) shove me
I dont call that love me
Call that over
There was once a time
When I would fall for all your lies
No I know the game you play
I see it clear there in your eyes
You cant cry inside me
I wont let you in my heart
I can walk out on my own
Its high time we moved apart
Push me (push me) shove me (push me)
I dont call that love me
Push me (push me) shove me (push me)
I dont call that love me
Call that over
You say talk it out
I say its all one big mistake
Cut so deep, its hard
And its the chance I have to take
I dont need to follow
I want a base love on my own
Motion or emotion
From now on thats how it goes
Push me (push me) shove me
I dont call that love me
Call that over
Push me (push me) shove me
I dont call that love me
Call that over
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death of an Old Carriage Horse
I was a harness horse,
Constrained to travel weak or strong,
With orders from oppressing force,
Push along, push along.
I had no space of rest,
And took at forks the roughest prong,
Still by the cruel driver pressed,
Push along, push along.
Vain strove the idle bird,
To charm me with her artless song,
But pleasure lingered from the word,
Push along, push along.
The order of the day
Was push, the peal of every tongue,
The only word was all the way,
Push along, push along.
Thus to my journey's end,
Had I to travel right or wrong,
'Till death my sweet and favored friend,
Bade me from life to push along.
poem by George Moses Horton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bard of Furthest Out
He longed to be a Back-Blocks Bard,
And fame he wished to win—
He wrote at night and studied hard
(He read The Bulletin);
He sent in “stuff” unceasingly,
But couldn’t get it through;
And so, at last, he came to me
To see what I could do.
The poet’s light was in his eye,
He aimed to be a man;
He bought a bluey and a fly,
A brand new billy-can.
I showed him how to roll his swag
And “sling it” with the best;
I gave him my old water-bag,
And pointed to the west.
“Now you can take the train as far
As Blazes if you like—
The wealthy go by motor-car
(Some travellers go by bike);
They race it through without a rest,
And find it very tame—
But if you tramp it to the west
You’ll get there just the same.
“(No matter if the hour is late,
The morning goes Out-Back),
You do not need a dog nor mate,
You’ll find them on the track.
You must avoid such deadly rhymes
As ‘self’ and ‘elf’ and ‘shelf’.
But were it as in other times,
I’d go with you myself.
“Those days are done for me, but ah!
On hills where you shall be,
The wattle and the waratah
Are good to smell and see.
But there’s a scent, my heart believes,
That ‘travellers’ set higher
Than wattle—’tis the dried gum leaves
That light the evening fire.
“The evening fire and morning fire
Are one fire in the Bush.
(You’ll find the points that you require
As towards the west you push.)
And as you pass by ancient ways,
Old camps, and mountain springs,
The spirits of the Roaring Days
Will whisper many things.
“The lonely ridge-and-gully belt—
The spirit of the whole
It must be seen; it must be felt—
Must sink into your soul!
The summer silence-creek-oaks’ sigh—
The windy, rainy “woosh”—
’Tis known to other men, and I—
The Spirit of the Bush!
“So on, and on, through dust and heat,
When past the spurs you be—
And you shall meet whom you shall meet,
And see what you shall see,
You need not claim the stranger’s due,
They yield it everywhere,
And mateship is a thing that you
Must take for granted there.
“And in the land of Lord-knows-where—
Right up and furthest out—
You find a new Australia there
That we know nought about.
Live as they live, fight as they fight,
Succeed as they succeed,
And then come back again and write
For all the world to read.”
I’ve got a note from Hungerford,
’Tis written frank and fair;
The bushman’s grim philosophy—
The bushman’s grin are there.
And tramping on through rain and drought—
Unlooked for and unmissed—
I may have sent to furthest out
The Great Bush Novelist.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please Push No More
Now Im behind glass
Ill talk to you
The telephone lines blind
You have defaced my face
I bet you laughed at me
You bright young things
And now I need no-one
I miss you, so
Please push no more
Please push no more
Now its all over for sure
Ill walk back home
We must all come down
We all grow old
We are close, we are hurt
So that was love
And love she kills me
It needs to, so
Please push no more
Please push no more
Please push no more
Please push no more
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Over the Edge
If we believe in one Father,
Why push our siblings down?
If we believe in one God,
Why push our relatives into struggle?
If we believe in one Savior,
Why push sinners into hell?
If we believe in one love,
Why push neighbors into thorns?
If we believe in one spirit,
Why push them over the edge?
***The Book of End of Times
poem by Young Church
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Conroy's Gap
This was the way of it, don't you know --
Ryan was "wanted" for stealing sheep,
And never a trooper, high or low,
Could find him -- catch a weasel asleep!
Till Trooper Scott, from the Stockman's Ford --
A bushman, too, as I've heard them tell --
Chanced to find him drunk as a lord
Round at the Shadow of Death Hotel.
D'you know the place? It's a wayside inn,
A low grog-shanty -- a bushman trap,
Hiding away in its shame and sin
Under the shelter of Conroy's Gap --
Under the shade of that frowning range
The roughest crowd that ever drew breath --
Thieves and rowdies, uncouth and strange,
Were mustered round at the "Shadow of Death".
The trooper knew that his man would slide
Like a dingo pup, if he saw the chance;
And with half a start on the mountain side
Ryan would lead him a merry dance.
Drunk as he was when the trooper came,
to him that did not matter a rap --
Drunk or sober, he was the same,
The boldest rider in Conroy's Gap.
"I want you, Ryan," the trooper said,
"And listen to me, if you dare resist,
So help me heaven, I'll shoot you dead!"
He snapped the steel on his prisoner's wrist,
And Ryan, hearing the handcuffs click,
Recovered his wits as they turned to go,
For fright will sober a man as quick
As all the drugs that the doctors know.
There was a girl in that shanty bar
Went by the name of Kate Carew,
Quiet and shy as the bush girls are,
But ready-witted and plucky, too.
She loved this Ryan, or so they say,
And passing by, while her eyes were dim
With tears, she said in a careless way,
"The Swagman's round in the stable, Jim."
Spoken too low for the trooper's ear,
Why should she care if he heard or not?
Plenty of swagmen far and near --
And yet to Ryan it meant a lot.
That was the name of the grandest horse
In all the district from east to west;
In every show ring, on every course,
They always counted The Swagman best.
He was a wonder, a raking bay --
One of the grand old Snowdon strain --
One of the sort that could race and stay
With his mighty limbs and his length of rein.
Born and bred on the mountain side,
He could race through scrub like a kangaroo;
The girl herself on his back might ride,
And The Swagman would carry her safely through.
He would travel gaily from daylight's flush
Till after the stars hung out their lamps;
There was never his like in the open bush,
And never his match on the cattle-camps.
For faster horses might well be found
On racing tracks, or a plain's extent,
But few, if any, on broken ground
Could see the way that The Swagman went.
When this girl's father, old Jim Carew,
Was droving out on the Castlereagh
With Conroy's cattle, a wire came through
To say that his wife couldn't live the day.
And he was a hundred miles from home,
As flies the crow, with never a track
Through plains as pathless as ocean's foam;
He mounted straight on The Swagman's back.
He left the camp by the sundown light,
And the settlers out on the Marthaguy
Awoke and heard, in the dead of night,
A single horseman hurrying by.
He crossed the Bogan at Dandaloo,
And many a mile of the silent plain
That lonely rider behind him threw
Before they settled to sleep again.
He rode all noght, and he steered his course
By the shining stars with a bushman's skill,
And every time that he pressed his horse
The Swagman answered him gamely still.
He neared his home as the east was bright.
The doctor met him outside the town
"Carew! How far did you come last night?"
"A hundred miles since the sun went down."
And his wife got round, and an oath he passed,
So long as he or one of his breed
Could raise a coin, though it took their last,
The Swagman never should want a feed.
And Kate Carew, when her father died,
She kept the horse and she kept him well;
The pride of the district far and wide,
He lived in style at the bush hotel.
Such wasThe Swagman; and Ryan knew
Nothing about could pace the crack;
Little he'd care for the man in blue
If once he got on The Swagman's back.
But how to do it? A word let fall
Gave him the hint as the girl passed by;
Nothing but "Swagman -- stable wall;
Go to the stable and mind your eye."
He caught her meaning, and quickly turned
To the trooper: "Reckon you'll gain a stripe
By arresting me, and it's easily earned;
Let's go to the stable and get my pipe,
The Swagman has it." So off they went,
And as soon as ever they turned their backs
The girl slipped down, on some errand bent
Behind the stable and seized an axe.
The trooper stood at the stable door
While Ryan went in quite cool and slow,
And then (the trick had been played before)
The girl outside gave the wall a blow.
Three slabs fell out of the stable wall --
'Twas done 'fore ever the trooper knew --
And Ryan, as soon as he saw them fall,
Mounted The Swagman and rushed him through.
The trooper heard the hoof-beats ring
In the stable yard, and he jammed the gate,
But The Swagman rose with a mighty spring
At the fence, and the trooper fired too late
As they raced away, and his shots flew wide,
And Ryan no longer need care a rap,
For never a horse that was lapped in hide
Could catch The Swagman in Conroy's Gap.
And that's the story. You want to know
If Ryan came back to his Kate Carew;
Of course he should have, as stories go,
But the worst of it is this story's true:
And in real life it's a certain rule,
Whatever poets and authors say
Of high-toned robbers and all their school,
These horsethief fellows aren't built that way.
Come back! Don't hope it -- the slinking hound,
He sloped across to the Queensland side,
And sold The Swagman for fifty pound,
And stole the money, and more beside.
And took to drink, and by some good chance
Was killed -- thrown out of a stolen trap.
And that was the end of this small romance,
The end of the story of Conroy's Gap.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It’s Okay to Rest
In a fast-paced world,
Trying to stay on top,
You push, push, push—
Push until you drop.
Trying to take advantage
Of every op—
Determined to let nothing
Hinder or stop.
You work, work, work;
Work up lots of stress.
But just remember—
It’s okay to rest.
©
poem by Walterrean Salley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Push and Pull
It is hard to keep it clean,
When you push and pull.
Or acting happy when feeling mean,
When you push and pull.
And people stand around just to see one weep.
When you push and pull.
And when you say 'hello' they don't even speak.
When you push and pull.
You might see Bo Peep having some trouble with her sheep,
When you push and pull.
You might see Mary and her lambs giving Bo Peep creeps.
When you push and pull.
You might see Humpty Dumpty crawling up a wall.
When you push and pull.
You might see Perter and The Wolf eating chips at a local mall.
When you push and pull.
Ain't nothing easy,
When you try to keep your feet from sinking...
Deep!
And with no sleep.
It is hard to keep it clean,
When you push and pull.
Or acting happy when feeling mean,
When you push and pull.
And people stand around just to see one weep.
When you push and pull.
And when you say 'hello' they don't even speak.
When you push and pull.
And they push bull,
When you push and pull.
And they push bull,
When you push and pull.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Just Cant Push Me
I got a line on you
We could be overdue
We could be trashed inside
We could be on the slide
No need to cool it out
Just one two three and shout
You just cant push me
You just cant push me
You just cant push me
Around
You got to help me in
You want to be my sin
You want to be my dream
You want to fill my dreams yea
No need to feel it out
Just another something
To forget about
You just cant push me
You just cant push me
You just cant push me
Around (oh not like this)
I got a line on you
We could be overdue
We could be trashed inside
We could be on the slide
You just cant push me
You just cant push me
You just cant push me
Around
song performed by by Cars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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