En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Barber's Story

'Mornin',' I sez to 'im,
Gloomy, 'e seemed to be.
Glum an' unsociable. Comes in the shop
'Mornin',' I sez to 'im.
'E don't say anythin'.
'You're next,' I sez; an' 'e sits with a flop.

'Great Cup?' I sez to 'im.
Shakin' the wrappin's out.
'E don't say nuthin'; but jist give a grunt.
'Great win?' I sez to 'im,
Smilin' incouragin'.
'Wonderful way that 'e come to the front.'

'E don't reply to me.
Sits sorta glarin' like.
'Phar Lap,' I sez to 'im. 'Wonder 'orse. Wot?
'Ave a win yestidy?'
Still 'e don't answer me.
'Phar Lap,' I sez, ''e made 'acks of the lot.'

'Champeen,' I sez to 'him.
'Wonderful popiler…
This 'ere Tregiller, 'e never showed up…
Phar Lap,' I sez to 'im,
'Mus' be a wonder 'orse.
But this Tregiller run bad in the Cup.'

'Wot?' 'e come back at me,
Lookin' peculiar
Red in the face, so I thought 'e would choke.
'Cab-horse!' 'e sez to me,
Nasty an' venimous -
Reel disagreeable sort of a bloke.

'Tregiller!' 'e sez to me,
Glarin' reel murderous.
'Tregiller!!' 'e barks at me. 'That 'airy goat!'
Surly, 'e seemed to me
Man couldn't talk to 'im. . . .
''Air-cut?' I sez to 'im.
'No!' 'e sez. 'Throat!'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Protest

I say 'e isn't Remorse!
'Ow do I know?
Saw 'im on Riccarton course
Two year ago!
Think I'd forget any 'orse?
Course 'e's The Crow!
Bumper Maginnis and I
After a "go",
Walkin' our 'orses to dry,
I says "Hello!
What's that old black goin' by?"
Bumper says "Oh!
That's an old cuddy of Flanagan's --
Runs as The Crow!"

Now they make out 'e's Remorse.
Well, but I know.
Soon as I came on the course
I says "'Ello!
'Ere's the old Crow."
Once a man's seen any 'orse,
Course 'e must know.
Sure as there's wood in this table,
I say 'e's The Crow.

(Cross-examied by the Committee.)
'Ow do I know the moke
After one sight?
S'posin' you meet a bloke
Down town at night,
Wouldn't you know 'im again when you meet 'im?
That's 'im all right!

What was the brand on 'is 'ide?
I couldn't say,
Brands can be transmogrified.
That ain't the way --
It's the look of a 'orse and the way that 'e moves
That I'd know any day.

What was the boy on 'is back?
Why, 'e went past
All of a minute, and off down the track.
-- "The 'orse went as fast?"
True, so 'e did! But my eyes, what a treat!
'Ow can I notice the 'ands and the seat
Of each bumble-faced kid of a boy that I meet?
Lor'! What a question to ast!
(Protest Dismissed)

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Somebody

At a diner down on Broadway they make small talk
When she brings his eggs and fills his coffee cup
He jokes about his love life
And tells her he's about ready to give up
That's when she says "I've been there before
But keep on lookin'
Cause maybe who you're lookin' for is
Somebody in the next car
Somebody on the mornin' train
Somebody in the coffee shop
That you walk right by everyday
Somebody that you look at but never really see
Somewhere out there is somebody"
Across town in a crowded elevator
He can't forget the things that waitress said
He usually reads the paper
But today he reads a strangers face instead
It's that blue eyed girl
From two floors up
Maybe she's the one
Maybe he could fall in love with
Somebody in the next car
Somebody on the mornin' train
Somebody in the coffee shop
That you walk right by everyday
Somebody that you look at but never really see
Somewhere out there is somebody
Now they laugh about the moment that it happened
A moment they both missed until that day
When he saw his future in her eyes
Instead of just another friendly face
And he wonders why he searched so long
When she was always there
At that diner waitin' on
Somebody in the next car
Somebody on the mornin' train
Somebody in the coffee shop
That you walk right by everyday
Somebody that you look at
But never really see
Somewhere out there
Oh, somewhere out there
Is somebody

song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wish

I wish I had
a heart
as big as Phar Lap
the courage
of Don Bradman
fight
like Les Darcy
or half the dash
of Ned Kelly
what a man
I would be.

poem by Vince Gullaci
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Early Morning

Early morning
Great
I was a little late last night
got a little messy
I can't be like that anymore (early morning)
uh - no
CHORUS
I was shakin my ass in the street til mornin
Just walked in an it's early mornin - uh!
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Passed out on the couch I'm yawnin
Just walked in an it's early mornin - let's start again
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Met a dark dude, kinda dark hair
When he walked up
Tony grabbed him
But I liked him
I told him "come here
Kinda cool
Baby, we can make plans
Where you live?
Do ya mamma live there?
We can hook up at the hotel"
He was down so I told him "let's go"
what happened - guess what, you don't wanna know
CHORUS
I was shakin my ass in the street til mornin
Just walked in n it's early mornin
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Passed out on the couch i'm yawnin
Just walked in n it's early mornin - let's start again
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
I went out with girl Jen
And we called up gabe and his friends
He was talkin bout hittin up Show
So I said "what the hell? - let's go!"
Got up n got on the dance floor
Hooked up with a guy named Joe
When the music was fast danced slow
what happened next -guess what? you don't wanna know
CHORUS
I was shakin my ass in the street til mornin
Just walked in n it's early mornin
bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Passed out on the couch i'm yawnin
Just walked in n it's early mornin
Bump bump the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Call all your boys
Call all your girls
Call all your friends
Let's do it again!
Let's do it again!
Early mornin
I light your fire,
Your one desire
Pull on me baby
And I'll take you higher
You should try it
So come over here
And let's go so....
CHORUS
I was shakin my ass in the street til mornin
Just walked in n it's early mornin
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Passed out on the couch i'm yawnin
Just walked in n it's early mornin
Bump bump the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Call all your boys
Call all your girls
Call all your friends
Let's do it again!
Let's do it a...
Early mornin
Early mornin.

song performed by by Britney Spears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Open Up Your Eyes

The Hollies
Open Up Your Eyes
(Allan Clarke/Tony Hicks/Graham Nash)
Single release as B-side of "Jennifer Eccles" 1968
Open up your eyes, lookin' at the people
Wouldn't it be nice if they were always smilin'
Open up your eyes, lookin' at the people
Wouldn't it be nice if they were always smilin', smilin'
Wake in the mornin', look out of my window
Down on the street as the people pass by
Wonderful faces, awake but asleep
Rushing around with appointments to keep
Rushing around with appointments to keep
Bald-headded banker, with bowler on head
Credit for debit still in the red
School girl in pigtails and freckly nose
Tryin' to remember her latin prose
Tryin' to remember her latin prose
Open up your eyes, lookin' at the people
Wouldn't it be nice if they were always smilin'
Open up your eyes, lookin' at the people
Wouldn't it be nice if they were always smilin', smilin'
Open up your eyes, open up your eyes
Open up your eyes, open up your eyes
Isn't it surprisin' what you'll find?
{Interlude}
Open up your eyes, open up your eyes
What are they thinkin'? What's on their minds?
Are they all lookin' for somethin' to find?
Decreasin' circles, running around
Searchin' for somethin' they've already found
Searchin' for somethin' they've already found
Open up your eyes, lookin' at the people
Wouldn't it be nice if they were always smilin'
Open up your eyes, lookin' at the people
Wouldn't it be nice if they were always smilin'
Open up your eyes, lookin' at the people

song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mexican

[Babe Ruth]
Chico Fernandez, sleepin' on his gun
Dreams of Santa Anna
Fighting in the sun
Drums so loud from both sides
Makes it hard to dream
A bluish fall on an orange fast
Makes that hard to seems reason
Mornin', calm mornin'
Ah, Chico's gonna have his share
Mornin', sad mornin'
Sad it must be Aahahahahahahahahahaha...
Mornin', sad mornin'
Me-xi-ca-an!!!
Seniorita panned in:
Chico, come-on-home!
Santa Anna's losing
You'll be the first to go
Sam Whosman's laughin'
Davy Crocket too
Whenn Anna takes the Alamo
The first to go is you
Mornin', calm mornin'
Ah, Chico's gonna have his share
Mornin', sad mornin'
Heaven will be there
Aahahahahahahahahahaha...
Mornin', sad mornin'
Me-xi-ca-an!!!

song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Post-Cup Tale

I'ad the money in me 'and!
Fair dinkum! Right there, by the stand.
I tole me wife at breakfus' time,
Straight out: 'Trivalve,' I sez 'is prime.
Trivalve,' I sez. An', all the week,
I swear ther's no one 'eard me speak
Another 'orse's name. Why, look,
I 'ad the oil straight from a Book
On Sund'y at me cousin's place
When we was torkin' of the race.
'Trivalve,' 'e sez. ''Is chance is grand.'
I 'ad the money in me 'and!

Fair in me 'and I 'ad the dough!
An' then a man 'as got to go -
Wot? Tough? Look, if I 'adn't met
Jim Smith (I ain't forgave 'im yet)
'E takes an' grabs me be the coat.
'Trivalve?' 'e sez. 'Ar, turn it up!
'Ow could 'e win a flamin'Cup?'
Of course, I thort 'e muster knoo.
'Im livin' near a trainer, too.

Right 'ere, like that, fair in me fist
I 'ad the notes! An' then I missed -
Missed like a mug fair on the knock
Becos 'is maggin' done me block.
'That airy goat?' 'e sez. 'E's crook!'
Fair knocked me back, 'e did. An' look,
I 'ad the money in me 'and!
Fair in me paw! An', un'erstand,
Sixes at least I coulder got -
Thirty to five, an' made a pot.
Today I mighter been reel rich
Rollin' in dough! Instid o' which,
'Ere's me - Aw! Don't it beat the band?
I 'AD THE MONEY IN ME 'AND!
Put me clean off, that's wot 'e did…
Say, could yeh len' us 'arf a quid?

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Termarter Sorce

It wasn't kid stakes. I 'ad no crook lurk
To act deceivin', or to treat 'er mean.
I'm old enough to know them games don't work
Not with Doreen.
Besides, deceit ain't in me bag uv tricks.
I got a few; but there is some that sticks.

Sticks in me gizzard. Some blokes sees no wrong
In workin' points, an' thinks it bonzer sport
To trifle with a wife's belief, so long
As they ain't cort.
But, when yeh play the game on dead straight lines,
It 'urts to be accused uv base designs.

It starts this mornin'. I wake with a tooth
That's squirmin' like a basketful uv snakes.
Per'aps I groan a bit, to tell the truth;
An' then she wakes,
An' arsts me wot I'm makin' faces for.
I glare at 'er, an' nurse me achin' jor.

That was no very 'appy mornin' song.
I ain't excusin' my end uv the joke;
But, after that, things seem to go all wrong.
She never spoke
One narsty word; but, while the chops she serves,
'Er shrieks uv silence fair got on me nerves.

She might 'ave arst wot ailed me. Spare me days I
She seen that I was crook. She seen me face
Swelled like a poisoned pup's. She only says,
'Please to say grace.'
I mumbles ... Then, in tones that wakes brute force,
She twitters, 'Will yeh take termarter sorce?'

I could n't eat no breakfast. Just the sight
Uv sweet things give me tooth a new, worse ache.
Sez she: 'You seem to lost yer apetite.
'Ave some seed cake.'
Seed cake! Gawstruth! I'm there in agerny,
An' she, 'oo swore to love, sits mockin' me.

At last, when our small son gits orf to school,
I goes an' sits down sulkin' on a couch.
''Ave you a toothache, Bill?' sez she, quite cool,
'Or jist plain grouch?
Yer face looks funny. P'raps yer gittin' fat.'
I glare at 'er an' answer, 'Huh!' . . like that.

That one word, 'Huh,' said in a certain way,
'Eart-felt an' with intention-it can well
Make the beginnin's uv a perfick day
A perfick 'ell.
So I sez 'Huh! ...... an' then done my ole trick
(A low-down lurk) uv gittin' orf-stage quick.

It was a slap-up day. The wattle's gold
'Ad jist began to peep among the green;
An' dafferdils, commencin' to unfold,
They make the scene
A pitcher that - 'Struth! 'Ow that tooth did ache!
An', cravin' symperthy, I git - seed cake!

It was a bonzer day! The thrush's song
Rose like a nymn. A touch uv queer remorse
Gits me fer 'arf-a-mo', then goes all wrong.
Ter-marter sorce!
Women don't understand, it's all too plain.
Termarter sorce, she sez, an' me in pain!

I dunno 'ow the mornin' muddled through.
That naggin' tooth was gittin' reel red-'ot.
I 'ad a 'arf a dozen things to do,
An' slummed the lot.
Then, jist before I goes fer mornin' tea,
I start another row with Wally Free.

I tells 'im if that fence ain't mended - now
I'll summons 'im. But 'e jist stands an' grins.
'E's always grinnin'. Silly lookin' cow I
An' fer two pins
I'd go acrost an' give 'is eye a poke.
'E's far too 'appy - fer a single bloke.

While I am boilin' 'ot, Doreen conies out
To call me fer me mornin' cup o' tea.
I turn an' answer with a savage shout.
'Dear me!' sez she.
'You seem to be put out this mornin', Bill.
'E'll mend the fence, all right. I'm sure 'e will.'

'Aw! It ain't that,' I sez .... Then I let go,
When once we git inside, an' ease me mind
By tellin' 'er some things she ought to know.
I seemed to find
A lot uv things that 'elped to make me sore;
An' they remind me uv a 'ole lot more.

I tells 'er that no wife, 'oo was n't blind,
Would treat 'er 'usban' like a block uv wood.
I sez I could n't understand 'er mind
Blowed if I could!
I tells 'er that no woman with a brain
An' 'eart would smile to see a man in pain.

I sez some wives - some sorts uv wives, uv course,
If you was lyin' dead, no more to wake,
Would arst yeh if yeh liked termarter sorse,
Or else seed cake.
I sez I don't look for no fond caress,
But symperthy, an' un'erstandin'? Yes!

I sez, sarcastic, that I 'ave no doubt
Some wives might think termarters an' seed cake
Was 'andy sorts uv things to 'ave about
To stop toothache.
But wot I liked in wives, once in a while,
Was commin-sense. (An' 'ere, I seen 'er smile).

An' then I sez: 'Gorbli' me! Ain't I worked
Me fingers to the bone, an' toiled an' slaved?
Some fellers, if their wives 'ad smiled an' sn-drked
An' so be'aved' ......
(She pours the tea, an' 'ands acrost my cup)
'Would lose their tempers, yes, an' smash things up!'

I sez - 0h, other things in that same strain.
I ain't got any fancy to recall.
(That tooth jist 'ad me jumpin' mad with pain)
But through it all,
With them fool speeches bubblin' in me throat,
I saw meself a bleatin', babblin' goat.

I gulps me tea; already 'arf ashamed
Uv more than 'arf I'd said. But is me wife
All 'umble, like a woman 'oo's been blamed?
Not on yer life!
She answers me as if she was me mar.
'There, there,' she sez. 'Wot a big kid you are!'

I gulps more tea; an' tells 'er, anyway,
Me toothache ain't a thing to joke about;
An' I will 'ave to go to town to-day
An' 'ave it out.
At that, she looks at me with 'er calm eyes
Searchin' me through an' through 'fore she replies.

Then, 'Bill,' sez she, 'tell me the honest truth:
Does your tooth ache, or is this an excuse?
Why, yesterd'y you 'ad no achin' tooth .......
Aw, wot's the use!
'Excuse! Wot for?' I yells. But she sez, 'Oh,
If it's that bad I s'pose you'll 'aye to go.'

'Excuse!' I sez. 'I know wot's in yer mind.
Yeh think I can't read wonien's thoughts, I s'pose.
Yeh think that I planned this so I could find
Wot's 'appened Rose.
Yeh think I've come the double, lied an' schemed
About a thing I never even dreamed!

'Yeh think -' 'There, there!' she sez to me again,
Soothin' an' soft, still like a patient mar.
'It's plain you'll never understand, you men,
Wot women are,
Their thorts, their feelin's, 'ow they fear an' doubt.
Why, Bill, it's only you I think about.'

I knoo. Somewhere inside me silly nob
I knoo wot thort it is she won't explain.
She feared, if I got with the old, crook mob
In Spadgers Lane
That I might miss the step. I've never queered
The pitch in eight long years; an' yet she feared.

'I'll promise you - ' I starts. But she sez, 'Don't!
Don't promise wot you might regret some day.
I trust you, Bill; an' well I know you won't
Choose the wrong way.
Women are silly sometimes. Let's ferget
All that was said .... Is that tooth achin' yet?'

I gives it up! ... It's fairly got me beat,
The twists an' turin' uv a wonian's mind.
Nex' thing, she's smilin' up at me so sweet,
So soft an' kind
That I - with things still in me mind to tell -
I melts - jist like I always do. Ah, well!

It was a snodger day! . . . The apple trees
Was white with bloom. All things seemed good to me
(Except that tooth). Then by the fence I sees
Poor Wally Free,
Pretendin' to be happy with 'is plough.
Poor lonely coot! I pity 'im, some'ow.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sam's Racehorse

When Sam Small retired from the Army
He'd a pension of ninepence a day,
And seven pounds fourteen and twopence
He'd saved from his rations and pay.

He knew this 'ere wasn't a fortune,
But reckoned with prudence and care
He'd find some investment to save him
From hard work and things like that there.

He thought he'd invest in a race orse,
As apart from excitement and fun
He'd be able to sit down in comfort
And live on the money he won.

He knew buying 'orses was tricky,
But that didn't daunt him at all;
He said "They must rise early 't mornin
As wants to play tricks on Sam Small!"

When he called on the local 'Orse-dealer
Surprise rooted him to the spot,
For he found 'twere his old Comp'ny Sergeant,
Whose kindness he'd never forgot.

'Twere a happy reunion on both sides,
Their pleasure at meeting was great,
For each hoped to diddle the other
And wipe a few grudges off slate.

The Sergeant brought out his race 'orses,
For which he asked various sums;
They hadn't a tooth left between them,
But Sam knew their age by their gums.

Sam studied their lines and deportment
As Sergeant were trotting them round,
And told him he reckoned their value
Were fourpence, per race 'orse, per pound.

Now the Sarg. had a filly called Buster
As he hadn't said nothing about,
But when Sam turned his nose up at t'others
He thought as he'd best trot her out.

Sam were struck with her youthful appearance,
Though there wasn't much light in the place,
For her teeth were all pearly and even
And there wasn't a line on her face.

The Sergeant asked Sam twenty guineas,
But Sam, who were up to his tricks,
Pretended he thought he'd said shillings
And offered him eighteen and six.

In the end he paid eight guineas for her,
And when he'd got home with the goods
He reckoned he'd not done so badly,
For three of the guineas was duds.

But later, when he thought it over,
A doubt through his mind seemed to creep,
If Buster were all she were painted,
Why the Sergeant had sold her so cheap.

He very soon found out the answer
When he looked at her close in her stall,
She'd the marks where her face had been lifted
And a mouth full of false teeth an' all.

The little walk home had fatigued her
And the cold air had started her cough;
Sam reckoned he'd best see the Sergeant
And tell him the bargain was off.

The place were locked up when he got there,
And he realized Sergeant had bunked,
So back he went home in a dudgeon
And found Buster lying-defunct.

Sam knew if he wanted to sell her
He mustn't let on she were dead,
So he raffled her down at the Darts Club-
Forty members at five bob a head.

The raffle were highly successful,
They all came in every man jack
And so's winner'd have no cause to grumble
Sam gave him his five shillings back.

poem by Marriott Edgar
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Sawin' Wood

I wondered wot was doin'. First I seen
Ole Missus Flood wave signals to Doreen.
I'm in the paddick slashin' down some ferns;
She's comin' up the road; an' if she turns
An 'andspring I won't be su'prised a bit,
The way she's caperin', an' goin' it.

She yells out some remark when she gets near,
Which I don't catch, I'm too fur off to 'ear.
An' then Doreen comes prancin' to our door,
An' Missus Flood she sprints, an' yells some more;
My wife runs to the gate an' waves 'er arms...
But I lays low; I'm used to these alarms.

A married bloke, in time, 'e learns a bit;
An' 'e ain't over keen to throw a fit
Each time the women calls the fire-reel out.
It's jist a trifle 'e'll know all about
When things get normal. That's a point I learn;
So I saws wood, an' keeps on cutting fern.

At least, I cut a few. I got to give
Reel fac's, an' own I was inquisitive;
An' these 'ere fireworks gets me fair perplexed.
I watch the 'ouse to see wot 'appens next;
But nothin's doin'. They jist goes in,
An' leaves me wonderin' wot's caused the din.

I stands it for a full 'arf-hour or more;
Then gets dead sick uv starin' at the door.
I goes down to the 'ouse an' 'unts about
To find some 'baccer, which I 'ave no doubt
Is in me trousers pocket all the while.
When I goes in, the talk stops, an' they smile.

I sez I've lost me smoke, an' search a bit,
An' ask Doreen wot 'as become uv it,
An' turns the mantelshelf all upside-down,
An' looks inside the teapot, with a frown;
Then gives it up, an' owns I'd like a drink;
When Missus Flood sez, 'Bill, wot do you think?'

Now, ain't that like a woman? Spare me days,
I'll never get resigned to all their ways.
When they 'as news to tell they smile, an' wink,
An' bottle it, an' ask yeh wot yeh think.
It's jist a silly game uv theirs, an' so,
I gives the countersign: 'Wot? I dunno.'

'Then guess,' she sez. Well, I'm a patient bloke,
So I sits down an' starts to cut a smoke.
(To play this game yeh've got to persevere.)
'Couldn't,' I sez, 'if I guessed for a year';
Then lights me pipe, an' waits for 'er to speak.
At last she says, 'Jim's comin' back next week!'

'Go on,' sez I; an' puffs away awhile
Quite unconcerned. But for to see 'er smile
Was jist a treat: 'er eyes was shinin' bright,
An' she grow'd ten years younger in a night.
Jist 'ere, Doreen she sez to me, 'Good Lor,
Wot do yeh want two plugs uv 'baccer for?'

I takes me pipe out uv me mouth an' stares,
An' stammers, 'Must 'ave found a piece - somewheres.'
But, by the way she smiles - so extra sweet
I know she twigs me game, an' I am beat.
'Fancy,' she sez. 'Yeh're absent-minded, dear.
Sure there was nothin' else yeh wanted 'ere?'

'Nothin',' I sez, an' feels a first-prize fool;
An' goes outside, an' grabs the nearest tool.
It was the crosscut; so I works like mad
To keep me self-respeck from goin' bad.
'This game,' I tells meself, 'will do yeh good.
You ain't proficient, yet, at sawin' wood.'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wonderful Aussie Waler

When Allenby's Army smashed the Turk
Who was the bloke who did all the work
The Aussie knows and he'll tell you straight
That most of the job was done by his mate
The wonderful Aussie Waler
It was umpty-nine in the shade each day
And the wells were spoiled in the Turkish way
But with nothing to eat and plenty to do
The heart of the Waler carried him through
The wonderful, wonderful Waler

For ten long weeks through the desert hot
He plugged along and all that he got
Was a drink, or not a drink a day
But did the stamina once give way
Of the wonderful Aussie Waler?
Was he the one to desert his mate?
Just watch him coming up the straight
With twenty stone of harness and man
No wonder the Turk was an also ran
With the wonderful, wonderful Waler

When drinks were not and feeds were few
There still was his harness that he could chew
With a nibble or two at another's mane
He plucked up heart to march again
The wonderful Aussie Waler
And when everything edible seemed to be stale
A hair or two from a neighbour's tail
Makes a pleasant meal and there's no doubt
They took it turn and turn about
The wonderful, wonderful Waler

A great Australian through and through
There's a good time coming old horse for you
There's a paddock green with grass to your knees
And there you shall roll at your lordly ease
My wonderful Aussie Waler
With a gallop or two to keep you fit
And won't it bring back the thrill of it!
There 're no more hardships and little work
For the cobber who broke the heathen Turk
My wonderful, wonderful Waler

But what is that the orders tell?
This mate of mine they're going to sell
To the old home paddock you'll never come back
They are selling you as a local's hack
My wonderful, wonderful Waler
The times together that we've been through
When all that I had in the world was you
Out there! Out there in a world of men
You were more than wife or sweetheart then
My wonderful, wonderful Waler

There was trust and mateship in your eyes
A horse has no soul - All lies I All lies!
And more than a kiss or soft eyes that speak
Was your muzzling nose against my cheek
You wonderful Aussie Waler
A life long slavery is your fate
Not while a mate can still shoot straight
Your eyes - I need a steady hand -
Good bye old chap - you understand
You wonderful, wonderful Waler.

poem by Arthur Henry Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wonderful

These are the days I love,
And Ill be happier than most
Crossing england coast to coast,
Through your town,
And as I cross the land
And I cry a salty tear,
For those who are not here
On this day
Youre wonderful
So wonderful,
Its good to see you
Youre wonderful
So wonderful,
Its great to be here.
And as I think back when
Life was uncomplicated then
We had some things we hated
But more that we loved
And we took care to wear
What nobody else would wear
Cos we didnt really care
In those days
Youre wonderful
So wonderful,
Its good to see you
Youre wonderful
So wonderful,
Its great to be here.

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Morning Strangers

BY BARRY MANILOW AND HAL DAVID
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Every mornin' many late night lovers
Wake up to become early mornin' strangers
Things always look different in the light of day
Every mornin' many late night lovers
Just silently stare, seein' all the changes
It's hard to make small talk
When there's nothin' to say
Early mornin' strangers
Lookin' at each other
That is all we are to one another
Early mornin' strangers
Who wake up to discover
It's just no good without love
To live without love is no life at all
Somewhere baby
There's got to be more
Somewhere baby there's a life worth livin'
Where nobody takes more than they are givin'
Where love is forever
Not just for a day
Early mornin' strangers
Lookin' at each other
That is all we are to one another
Early mornin' strangers
Who wake up to discover
It's just no good without love
To live without love is no life at all
Bye bye baby
I hope you find your love
And I hope I find mine
I hope you find your love
And I hope I find mine

song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kiss An Angel Good Mornin

Kiss an angel good mornin
Whenever a chance to meet some old friends on the street
They wonder how does a man get to be this way
I always got a smileing face any time and any place
And everytime they ask me why
I just smile and say
Youve got to kiss angel good mornin
And let her know you think about her when your gone
So kiss an angel good mornin
And love her like the devil when you get back home
Now people may guess the secret of happeniness
Some of them never learn
Its a simple thing
The secret Im speaking of
Is a woman and a man in love
And the anwser is in this song that I always sing
You got to kiss an angel good mornin
And let her know you think about her when your gone
So kiss an angel good mornin
And love her like the devil when you get back home
Kiss an angel good mornin
And let her know you think about her when your gone
So kiss an angel good mornin
And love her like the devil when you get back home.

song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Boys Who Took The Count

See, I'm writin' to Mick as a bloke to a bloke
To a cobber o' mine at the front
An' I'm gittin' full up uv the mullock they poke
At the cove that is bearin' the brunt.
Fer 'e mus'n't do this an' 'e shouldn't do that,
An' 'e's crook if 'e looks a bit shick,
An' 'e's gittin' too uppish, an' don't touch 'is 'at
But 'ere's 'ow I puts it to Mick.

Now it's dickin to style if yer playin' the game.
If it's marbles, or shinty, or war;
I've seen 'em lob 'ome 'ere, the 'alt an' the lame,
That wus fine 'efty fellers before.
They wus toughs, they wus crooks, they wus ev'ry bad thing,
But they mixed it as gentlemen should.
So 'ere's to the coot wiv 'is eye in a sling,
An' a smile in the one that is good.

It wus playin' the game in the oval an' ring
An' playin' fer orl it wus worth
That give 'em the knack uv a punch wiv a sting
When they fought fer the land uv their birth.
They wus pebs, they wus narks, they wus reel naughty boys,
But they didn't need no second 'int,
So ere's to the bloke wiv 'is swearin' an' noise,
An' 'is foot in a fathom uv lint.

There wus fellers I knoo in the soft days uv peace;
An' I didn't know much to their good;
An' they give more 'ard graft to the overworked p'leece
Than a reel puffick gentleman should.
They wus lookin' fer lash long before it wus doo;
When it come, they wus into it, straight.
So 'ere's to the bloke wiv 'is shoulder shot thro'
'Oo is cursin' the days 'e's to wait.

Ar, dickin to swank! when it comes to a mill,
It's the bloke wiv a punch 'oo's yer friend.
An' a coarse, narsty man wiv the moniker Bill
Earns the thanks uv the crowd in the end.
(An' when I sez 'earns' I am 'opin' no stint
Will be charged agin us by-an'-bye.)
So 'ere's to the boy wiv 'is arm in a splint
An' a 'don't-care-a-dam' in 'is eye.

'Cos the fightin's too far fer to give us a grip
Of the 'ell full uv slaughter an' noise,
There's a breed that gives me the particular pip
Be the way that they torks uv the boys.
0, they're coarse, an' they're rude, an' it's awful to liv
Wiv their cursin' an' shoutin' an' fuss.
Dam it! 'Ere's to the bloke wiv the bad-lookin' chiv
That 'e poked inter trouble fer us!

0, it's dead agin etikit, dead agin style
Fer to swear an' to swagger an' skite;
But a battle ain't won wiv a drorin'-room smile,
An' yeh 'ave to be rude in a fight.
An' it's bein' reel rude to enemy blokes
That'll earn yeh that 'ero-like touch,
So 'ere's to the boy wiv 'is curses an' jokes
'Oo is 'oppin' about on a crutch.

Now, the Turk is a gent, an' they greets 'im as such,
An' they gives doo respect to 'is Nibs;
But 'e never 'eld orf to apolergise much
When 'e slid 'is cold steel in their ribs.
An' our boys won the name that they give 'em of late
'Cos they fought like a jugful uv crooks,
So 'ere's to the bloke wiv the swaggerin' gait
An' a bullet mark spoilin' 'is looks.

So, the bloke wiv the scoff, an' the bloke wiv the sneer,
An' the coot wiv the sensitive soul,
'E 'as got to sit back, an' jist change 'is idear
Uv the stuffin' that makes a man whole.
Fer the polish an' gilt that's a win wiv the skirts
It wears thin wiv the friction uv war.
So 'ere's to the cove 'oo is nursin' 'is 'urts
Wiv an oath in the set uv 'is jor.

When yeh've stripped a cove clean an' got down to the buff
Yeh come to the meat that's the man.
If yeh want to find grit an' sich similar stuff,
Yeh've to strip on a similar plan.
Fer there's nothin' like scrappin' to bare a man's soul,
If it's Billo, or Percy, or Gus.
So 'ere's to the bloke 'oo 'ops round on a pole
An' 'owls songs goin' 'ome on the bus.

Spare me days! When a bloke takes the count in a scrap
That 'e's fightin' fer you an' fer me,
Is it fair that a snob 'as the nerve fer to snout
Any swad 'cos 'is manners is free?
They're deservin' our thanks, frum the best to the worst -
An' there's some is reel rorty, I own
But 'ere's to the coot wiv the 'ang-over thirst
'Oo sprags a stray toff fer a loan.

So I'm writin' to Mick; an' I'm feelin' reel wet
Wiv the sort o' superior nark,
'Oo tilts up 'is conk an' gits orl the boys set,
'Oo are out fer a bit uv a lark.
So I puts it to Mick, as I sez when I starts,
An' I ends wiv the solemest toast:
'Ere's to 'im - (raise yer glass) - 'oo left pride in our 'earts
An' 'is bones on Gallipoli coast.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wonderful World

(d. fletcher / m. flett)
This is a wonderful day
Its as bright as a days ever been
There is a big yellow sun looking down
On a wonderful scene
Up in the blue sky birds fly
And sing our cares away
And out of each throat each note
Greets a wonderful day
There is the sound of a symphony
Carried along on the breeze
Even the flowers are swaying in time
With the leaves on the trees
Heaven is found right here on the earth
It surrounds us in the wonderful things all around
In this wonderful wonderful
Wonderful wonderful world
This is a wonderful day
Its as bright as a days ever been
There is a big yellow sun looking down
On a wonderful scene
Heaven is found right here on the earth
It surrounds us in the wonderful things all around
In this wonderful wonderful
Wonderful wonderful world
Wonderful world, this wonderful world
Wonderful world, this wonderful world
Wonderful world, this wonderful world

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before the War

'Before the war,' she sighs. 'Before the war.'
Then blinks 'er eyes, an' tries to work a smile.
'Ole scenes,' she sez, 'don't look the same no more.
Ole ways,' she sez, 'seems to 'ave changed their style.
The pleasures that we had don't seem worth while
Them simple joys that passed an hour away
An' troubles, that we used to so revile,
'Ow small they look', she sez. ''Ow small today.

'This war!' sighs ole Mar Flood. An' when I seen
The ole girl sittin' in our parlour there,
Tellin' 'er troubles to my wife Doreen.
As though the talkin' eased 'er load 'uv care,
I thinks uv mothers, 'ere and everywhere,
Smilin' a bit while they are grievin' sore
For grown-up babies, fightin' Over There;
An' then I 'ears 'em sigh, 'Before the war.'

My wife 'as took the social 'abit bad.
I ain't averse - one more new word I've learned
Averse to tea, when tea is to be 'ad;
An' when it comes I reckon that it's earned.
It's jist a drink, as fur as I'm concerned,
Good for a bloke that toilin' on the land;
But when a caller comes, 'ere am I turned
Into a social butterfly, off-'and.

Then drinkin' tea becomes a 'oly rite.
So's I won't bring the family to disgrace
I guts a bit 'uv coachin' overnight
On ridin' winners in this bun-fed race.
I 'ave to change me shirt, an' wash me face,
An' look reel neat, from me waist up at least,
An sling remarks in at the proper place,
An' not makes noises drinkin', like a beast.

''Ave some more cake. Another slice, now do.
An' won't yeh 'ave a second cup uv tea?
'Ow is the children?' Ar, it makes me blue!
This boodoor 'abit ain't no good to me.
I likes to take me tucker plain an' free:
Tea an' a chunk out on the job for choice,
So I can stoke with no one there to see.
Besides, I 'aven't got no comp'ny voice.

Uv course, I've 'ad it all out with the wife.
I argues that there's work that must be done.
An' tells 'er that I 'ates this tony life.
She sez there's jooties that we must not shun.
You bet that ends it; so I joins the fun,
An' puts 'em all at ease with silly grins
Slings bits uv repartee like ''Ave a bun,'
An' passes bread an' butter, for my sins.

Since I've been marri'd, say, I've chucked some things,
An' learned a whole lot more to fill the space.
I've slung all slang; crook words 'ave taken wings,
An' I 'ave learned to entertain with grace.
But when ole Missus Flood comes round our place
I don't object to 'er, for all 'er sighs;
Becos I likes 'er ways, I likes 'er face,
An', most uv all, she 'as them mother's eyes.

'Before the war,' she sighs, the poor ole girl.
'Er talk it gets me thinkin' in between,
While I'm assistin' at this social whirl. . . .
She comes across for comfort to Doreen,
To talk about the things that might 'ave been
If Syd 'ad not been killed at Suvla Bay,
Or Jim had not done a bunk at seventeen,
An' not been heard uv since 'e went away.

They 'ave a little farm right next to us
'Er and 'er husband - where they live alone.
Spite uv 'er cares, she ain't the sort to fuss
Or serve up sudden tears an' sob an' moan,
An' since I've known 'er some'ow I 'ave grown
To see in 'er, an' all the grief she's bore,
A million brave ole mothers 'oo 'ave known
Deep sorrer since them days before the war.

'Before the war,' she sez. 'Yeh mind our Syd?
Poor lad. . . . But then, yeh never met young Jim
'Im 'oo was charged with things 'e never did.
Ah, both uv you'd 'ave been reel chums with 'im.
'Igh-spirited 'e was, a perfect limb.
It's six long years now since 'e went away
Ay, drove away.' 'Er poor ole eyes git dim.
'That was,' she sighs, 'that was me blackest day.

'Me blackest day! Wot am I sayin' now?
That was the day the parson came to tell
The news about our Syd. . . . An', yet, some'ow . . . .
My little Jim!' She pauses for a spell. . . .
'Your 'olly'ocks is doin' reely well,'
She sez, an' battles 'ard to brighten up.
'An' them there pinks uv yours, 'ow sweet they smell.
An' - Thanks! I think I will 'ave one more cup.'

As fur as I can get the strength uv it,
Them Floods 'ave 'ad a reel tough row to how.
First off, young Jim, 'oo plays it high a bit,
Narks the ole man a treat, an' slings the show.
The come the war, an' Syd 'e 'as to go.
'E run 'is final up at Suvla Bay
One uv the Aussies I was proud to know.
An' Jim's cracked 'ardy since 'e went away.

'Er Jim! These mothers! Lord, they're all the same.
I wonders if Doreen will be that kind.
Syd was the son 'oo played the reel man's game;
But Jim 'oo sloped an' left no word be'ind,
His is the picter shinin' in 'er mind.
'Igh-spirited! I've 'eard that tale before.
I sometimes think she'd take it rather kind
To 'ear that 'is 'igh spirits run to war.

'Before the war,' she sez. 'Ah, times was good.
The little farm out there, an' jist us four
Workin' to make a decent liveli'ood.
Our Syd an' Jim! . . . Poor Jim! I grieves me sore;
For Dad won't 'ave 'im mentioned 'ome no more.
'E's 'urt, I know, cos 'e thinks Jim 'urt me.
As if 'e could, the bonny boy I bore. . . .
But I must off 'ome now, an' git Dad's tea.'

I seen 'er to the gate. (Take it frum me,
I'm some perlite.) She sez, 'Yeh mustn't mind
Me talkin' uv Jim, but when I see
Your face it brings 'im back; 'e's jist your kind.
Not quite so 'an'some, p'r'aps, nor so refined.
I've got some toys uv 'is,' she sez. 'But there
This is ole woman's talk, an' you be'ind
With all yer work, an' little time to spare.

She gives me 'and a squeeze an' turns away,
Sobbin', I thort; but then she looks be'ind,
Smilin', an' wavin', like she felt reel gay,
I wonders 'ow the women work that blind,
An' jist waves back; then goes inside to find
A lookin'-glass, an' takes a reel good look. . . .
''Not quite so 'an'some, p'r'aps, nor so refined!'
Gawd 'elp yeh, Jim,' I thinks. 'Yeh must be crook.'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That's wonderful love.......

How wonderful to win your heart with a smile
How wonderful to kiss your lips with hopeful
How wonderful to get your heart with love
How wonderful to see your soul in me
How wonderful to laugh with your sweet words
How wonderful to hold you tight and kiss gently
How wonderful to fly with you to the dream land
How wonderful to drive you through the mountain valleys
How wonderful to be with you within four walls
How wonderful to give you what you look for
How wonderful to hug you and keep you in my arms
How wonderful to wear our wedding rings on our wedding day
How wonderful to bind your love to last for ever

poem by Ravi Sathasivam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Born Cross-eyed

Seems like Ive been here before,
Fuzzy then and still so obscure, good-bye, good-bye, good-bye, good-bye.
And I dont want to see anybody cry,
Meet me some mornin in the sweet by and by, by and by, by and by.
Song commin on,
So pleasin to see, come and gone, good-bye, good-bye, good-bye, good-bye,
You dont have to tell me why,
Meet me some mornin in the sweet by and by, by and by, by and by.
It aint cause Im the only one left darlin,
Bout the time the sun rises west,
Feelin groovy, lookin fine.
Think Ill come back here again,
Every now and then from time to time.
My how lovely you are, my dear,
The ball game has gone much too far my dear,
Sing to me, do your thing to me,
Ill meet you some mornin, meet you some mornin,
In the sweet by and by, by and by, by and by.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Introduction to Ginger Mick

Jist to intraj'uice me cobber, an 'is name is Ginger Mick
A rorty boy, a naughty boy, wiv rude impressions thick
In 'is casu'l conversation, an' the wicked sort o' face
That gives the sudden shudders to the lor-abidin' race.

'Is name is on the records at the Melbourne City Court,
Fer doin' things an' sayin' things no reel nice feller ort;
An 'is name is on the records uv the Army, over there,
Fer doin' things - same sort o' things that rose the Bench's 'air.

They never rung no joy-bells when 'e made 'is first de- boo;
But 'e got free edjication, w'ich they fondly shoved 'im thro';
Then turned 'im loose in Spadger's Lane to 'ang around the street
An' 'elp the cop to re-erlize the 'ardness uv 'is beat.

Then 'e quickly dropped 'is aitches, so as not to be mistook
Fer an edjicated person, 'oo 'is cobbers reckoned crook;
But 'e 'ad a trick wiv figgers that ud make a clerk look sick;
So 'e pencilled fer a bookie; an' 'e 'awked a bit, did Mick.

A bloke can't be partic'lar 'oo must battle fer a crust;
An' some, they pinch fer preference, an' some, becos they must.
When times is 'ard, an' some swell coves is richer than they ort;
Well, it's jist a little gamble fer a rise, agin the Court.

Now, Mick wus never in it as a reel perfeshnal crook,
But sometimes cops 'as slabs uv luck, so sometimes 'e wus took,
An' 'e got a repitation, thro' 'im bein' twice interned;
But 'e didn't skite about it, 'cos 'e felt it wasn't earned.

I reckerlect one time a Beak slings Mick a slab uv guff,
Wiv 'Thirty days or forty bob' (Mick couldn't raise the stuff) -
An' arsts 'im where 'is conshuns is, an' w'y 'e can't be good,
An' Mick jist grins, an' takes it out, an' never understood.

An' that is orl there wus to Mick, wiv orl 'is leery ways.
If I wus up among the 'eads, wiv right to blame or praise,
Whenever some sich bloke as 'im wus tucked away fer good
I'd chalk them words above 'is 'ead: ''E never understood.'

If I wus up among the 'eads, wiv right to judge the game,
I'd look around fer chance to praise, an' sling the flamin' blame;
Fer findin' things in blokes to praise pays divvies either way;
An' wot they're blamed fer yesterd'y brings 'earty cheers to-day.

Yes, 'earty cheers frum thortless coots 'oo feel dead sure their God
Would never 'ave no time fer crooks 'oo does a stretch in quod;
'Oo reckon 'eaven is a place where orl folk tork correck,
An' judgment, where the 'vulgar' gits it solid in the neck.

An' Ginger Mick wus vulgar. 'Struth! When things wus gettin' slow
'E took to 'awkin' rabbits, wich is very, very low-
'E wus the sort o' bloke to watch when 'e come in yer gate:
'E 'ad a narsty fightin' face that orl nice people 'ate.

'E 'ad that narsty fightin' face that peacefulfolk call grim;
But I 'ave seen it grow reel soft when kiddies spoke to 'im.
'E 'ad them narsty sullen eyes that nice folk can't enjure;
But I 'ave seen a smile in 'em that made our frien'ship sure.

There's men 'oo never knoo ole Mick, an' passed 'im in the street,
An' looks away an' sez, 'See 'im? A narsty chap to meet!
'E'd be an ugly customer alone an' after dark!'
An' Mick, 'e'd twitch 's jor at 'em, 'arf earnest, 'arf a lark.

That wus the sort o' character that Mick earned be 'is looks.
The talk uv 'im, the walk uv 'im, put 'im among the crooks.
An' Mick, 'e looks on swank an' style as jist a lot o' flam,
An' snouted them that snouted 'im, an' never give a dam.

But spite uv orl 'is 'ulkin' frame, an' langwidge flowin' free
I seen the thing inside uv Mick that made 'im good to me.
An' spite uv orl the sneerin' ways that leery blokes imploy,
I knoo 'im jist fer wot 'e wus - a big, soft-'earted boy.

Fer when a bloke 'as come to be reel cobbers wiv a bloke,
They sorter swap good fellership wivout words bein' spoke.
I never slung no guff to Mick, 'e never smooged to me,
But we could smoke, an' 'old our jor, an' be reel company.

There 'as bin times that 'e would curse to 'ave recalled by me,
When I 'ave seen 'im doin' things that coves calls charity;
An' there's been times, an' frequent times, in spite uv orl 'is looks,
When I 'ave 'eard 'im sayin' things that blokes shoves inter books.

But Ginger Mick was Ginger Mick - a leery boy, fer keeps,
'Oo 'owled 'Wile Rabbee!' in the streets, in tones that gave yeh creeps.
'E never planned 'is mode uv life, nor chose the Lane fer lair,
No more than 'e designed 'is chiv or colour uv 'is 'air.

So Ginger 'awked, an' Ginger pinched, an' Ginger went to quod,
An' never thort to waste 'is time in blamin' man or God -
An' then there came the Call uv Stoush, or jooty - wot's a name?
An' Ginger cocked 'is 'ear to it, an' found 'is flamin' game.

I intrajuice me cobber 'ere; an' don't make no ixcuse
To any culchered click that it's a peb I intrajuice.
I dunno wot 'is ratin' wus in this 'ere soshul plan;
I only know, inside o' me, I intrajuice a man.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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