The Milch Kangaroo
'Which reminds me,' said O'Brien
'And 'tis not a word of lyin'
Of a summertime way back in eighty-two,
Whin a felly name of Brady
An' his sister (quite a lady)
Ran a dairy up beyant in Wallaloo.
But, in place of cows like Bossy
An' Strawberry and' Flossie,
It was Kangaroo she milked - I'm spakin' true;
While his pretty sister, Mary,
Was the mistress of the dairy,
Of the dairy of the milch Kangaroo.
'Now, his neighbour, name of Cleary,
He was dape in love with Mary
Small blame to him; for sure she was a drame;
But his love he had to smother
'Count of Mary's wealthy brother
Wid his waggon-loads of Kangaroo crame;
For a clever man was Brady,
Tho' some thought his methods shady;
For, in spite of all that they could say or do,
'Twas the thing he kept concealin',
Past the hope of all revealin',
Was his secrit of the milch Kangaroo.
For he milked them by the dozens;
Not the Fiend and all his cousins
Could discover how he kep' the bastes in bounds.
Then Tim Cleary, thinkin' deeply,
Wint and purchased rather cheaply,
Half a dozen savage Kangaroo hounds.
For 'twas ruination utter
That this Brady and his butter
Meant to every single soul in Wallaloo.
'An' he's overworin' Mary,'
Muttered Cleary, 'wid his dairy
Wid his dairy of the milch Kangaroo.'
'Well, you've guessed it,' said O'Brien;
'For, widout a word of lyin',
Brady's flocks an' herds were scattered far an' wide;
An' 'twas aisy Cleary found him,
Wid his drames in tatters round him,
Whin he came to claim swate Mary for his bride.'
Said O'Brien: 'That's the story;
An' I here declare to glory,
Every single, blessed word of it is thrue.
An', if any would misdoubt me,
I've a par of fists about me
To convince yez of the milch Kangaroo.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Related quotes
The Duck and the Kangaroo
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo,
'Good gracious! how you hop!
Over the fields and the water too,
As if you never would stop!
My life is a bore in this nasty pond,
And I long to go out in the world beyond!
I wish I could hop like you!'
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo.
'Please give me a ride on your back!'
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo.
'I would sit quite still, and say nothing but 'Quack',
The whole of the long day through!
And we'd go to the Dee, and the Jelly Bo Lee,
Over the land, and over the sea;
Please take me a ride! O do!'
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo.
Said the Kangaroo to the Duck,
'This requires some little reflection;
Perhaps on the whole it might bring me luck,
And there seems but one objection,
Which is, if you'll let me speak so bold,
Your feet are unpleasantly wet and cold,
And would probably give me the roo-
Matiz!' said the Kangaroo.
Said the Duck, 'As I sat on the rocks,
I have thought over that completely,
And I bought four pairs of worsted socks
Which fit my web-feet neatly.
And to keep out the cold I've bought a cloak,
And every day a cigar I'll smoke,
All to follow my own dear true
Love of a Kangaroo!'
Said the Kangaroo, 'I'm ready!
'All in the moonlight pale;
'But to balance me well, dear Duck, sit steady!
'And quite at the end of my tail!'
So away they went with a hop and a bound,
And they hopped the whole world three times round;
And who so happy - O who,
As the Duck and the Kangaroo?
poem by Edward Lear
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To Mary Ruefle, poet
and since you're an
American Poet or
a poet writing in English
or however you might put this
in a cv which you'll surely
never need being unique
and therefore beyond all
job descriptions except poet
since you're, well, those things or
that thing
you may never have seen
a kangaroo (and in a zoo
they can't hop..)
but if you do you'll recognise it
when I say it - your mind
is metaphorically, and no-one
handles metaphors like you do may I say,
like a kangaroo - huge hops
off into the horizon of thought
with what in marsupial body-language
may be bounding, boundless
joy
a kangaroo which might in the world
of your poems which I can't hope
to imitate but I'll have a go,
be carrying a baby roo in its pouch with
its head sticking out
and a backward glance towards you
who one day will return grown-up
with a crumpled poem
in its own pouch
addressed to Mary Ruefle
mentioning in passing
immortality
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Brady Bunch
You can watch mr. rogers
You can watch threes company
And you can turn on fame or the nelywed game
Or the addams family
I say, you can watch barney miller
And you can watch your mtv
And you can watch till your eyes fall out of your head
Thatll be ok with me
And you can watch (tv)
You can watch johnny carson
You can watch phil donahue
And you can use tv guide to help you decide
With capsulized review
Say, you can watch 60 minutes
Even captain kangaroo
But theres only one set, so what ever you watch
Well, you know I gotta watch it too
Say, give it up, give it up, televisions taking its toll
Thats enought, thats enough, gimme the remote controll
I been nice, I been good, please dont do this to me
Turn it off, turn it off, I dont want to have to see
The brady bunch
Not the brady bunch
Well, the brady bunch
Yeah, the brady bunch
Its the story of a lovely lady
Who was bringing up three very lovely girls
All of them had hair of gold, like their mother
The youngest one in curls
Its a story of a man named brady
Who was busy with three boys of his own
They were four men living all together
Yeah, but they were all alone
Until the one day, one day when the lady met the fellow
And they knew, and they knew it was much more than a hunch
Then they knew this group must somehow form a family
Thats the way, thats the way, thats the way they all became
The brady bunch
Well, the brady bunch
Yeah, the brady bunch
Well, the brady bunch
Oh, its the brady bunch
Its the brady bunch
Oh, the brady bunch, yeah
Oh, the brady bunch
Its the brady bunch
Well, its the brady bunch
Well, its the brady bunch
Well, its the brady bunch
Its the brady bunch
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cockatoo and the Kangaroo
The happy cockatoo asked the hopping kangaroo,
“Does everyone in your family have a purse like you? ”
The hopping kangaroo stopped and smiled at the bird,
Saying, “Calling it a pouch would be a better word.”
The happy cockatoo was interested in learning more
And asked, “A pouch? Please tell me what it’s for.
The kangaroo explained that she had become a mother.
This pouch was the home of this new precious other.
Out of the pouch the precious baby popped his head;
Looked at the cockatoo with a funny smile and said,
“You make me very nervous Mr. Happy Cockatoo.
Flying in the air with those arms on top of you.”
Mother kangaroo said, “Don’t be afraid of such things.
Since this cockatoo is a bird, those are called wings.
Just as we kangaroo hop on our legs to get around,
The cockatoo uses its wings to fly above the ground.”
The cockatoo said, “I guess it’s like my nest in the tree
Where I lay and hatch my eggs, then raise my family.”
Your ways seem strange. It’s different from what I see.
Though when I get to know you, you’re a lot like me.
We both have our babies and help them find their way
So they can love and raise their own families another day.
It’s this love we all share that shines brightly as a flame
Whether pouch, feather or wing, we’re all much the same.”
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Kangaroo Power
NOW, Yankee inventors can beat a retreat,
And German professors may take a back seat,
For their colours we’re going to lower:
They’ve invented a wonderful plough in the West,
The scientists call it “the latest and best”;
It ploughs, sows, and reaps without taking a rest,
And they drive it by kangaroo power.
Sing hey!
Sing ho!
Then it’s bully for kangaroo power!
O wondrous the changes our children shall meet,
For soon we may travel the principal street
In something far short of an hour.
The traffic shall flow without stoppage or jambs
And sharp little screeches and naughty big damns,
For soon all the hansoms and ’busses and trams
Shall travel by kangaroo power.
Sing hey!
Sing ho!
Then it’s bully for kangaroo power!
Advance, Young Australia, thy banner unfurled,
And jump through the years and astonish the world;
Thou art of all nations the flower.
And Bismarck with envy shall grind his old stumps,
And Yankee inventors shall sit in the dumps,
To see young Australia advancing by jumps,
When driven by kangaroo power.
Sing hey!
Sing ho!
Then it’s bully for kangaroo power!
poem by Henry Lawson
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I once saw an albino kangaroo,
Beside a tasmanian devil at the Melbourne zoo!
A koala was there,
While a wombat combed the hair,
Of that snowy white cute kangaroo!
quote by by Robert Edgar Burns
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A Roo
A large, red kangaroo
hopped into a bar on West 47th St.
and ordered a martini.
The bartender, polishing a
glass, really didn't
feel like being inter-active,
but ever the professional, remarked,
'We don't get many kangaroos
in this place-know what I mean'?
The kangaroo, a little miffed, replied
'No. And at these prices
You're not likely to be getting many more, either'.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Kangaroo talks to the Sun
Hey Sun, look Man -
I can move around and hop
and I can run around
even at 70km/h;
I can kangaroo fight and kick for a mate
and I can go all across the land -
and you?
All you can do is to spin and spin
and crawl over the sky
and burn and lose all your hair
and burn and show your temper in solar flares
Hey you, Sun, look Man -
I can stand on three using my tail as well
and jump around like a ping pong
and you, all you can do is
to shine and burn and try and look bright.
Hey you, Sun, look Man –
what can you do?
And the Sun
burned hot and showed its temper
and the continent was parched
and heat waves came with fire and smoke
and the creeks and rivers went dry
and the Kangaroo could find no shade;
and then the kangaroo said, with a grin:
Hey God Sun…
you needn’t take my words so seriously, eh?
poem by Raj Arumugam
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To Mary In Summer
LAY your head here, Mary,
Lay your head here,
While the blown grass, Mary,
With timid voice and wary,
Sings in your ear:—
The grass which round us, Mary,
Shuts like a nest;
By your dear limbs, dear Mary,
Lighter than limbs of Faery,
Daintily press'd.
Back with it all though, Mary,
Back and aside;
The wind comes this way, Mary,
And here the trees are airy
And the skies are wide.
What do your eyes fear, Mary,
So grave and soft?
I love to see them, Mary,
In whimsical vagary
Lifted aloft.
Mary, Mary, Mary,
Laugh in my face:
You know now, my own Mary,
No eyes can laugh so rarely
Or grant such grace.
Your cheek is pale now, Mary,
And red, by turns.
Why should the hand be chary
Of that to give which, Mary,
The heart so yearns?
Give me your hand, ah Mary,
Give me your hand:
In city or in prairie
There is none kinder, Mary,
From land to land.
Your lips to my lips, Mary,
Your lips to mine:
High up in Hebe's dairy
No milk so sweet, my Mary,
On earth no wine.
Lay your head here, Mary,
Lay your head here;
While my heart now, Mary,
The pleasant tune to vary,
Beats in your ear.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Mary, Mary
Words and music by michael nesmith
Mary, mary, where you goin to?
Mary, mary, can I go too.
This one thing I will vow ya,
Id rather die than to live without ya.
Mary, mary, where you goin to?
Mary, mary, tell me truly
What did I do to make you leave me.
Whatever it was I didnt mean to,
You know I never would try and hurt ya.
Mary, mary, where you goin to?
What more, mary, can I do
To prove my love is truly yours?
Ive done more now than a clear-thinkin man would do.
Mary, mary, its not over.
Where you go, I will follow.
til I win your love again
And walk beside you,
But until then.
Mary, mary, where you goin to?
Mary, mary, where you goin to?
Mary, where you goin to?
Mary, mary, mary, mary, mary, where you goin to?
[repeat adlib]
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mary Mary Magdalene
Mary Mary Magdalene,
what do all those stories mean?
Mary, Mary, is it true,
Jesus had a thing for you?
Mary, Mary – He lay with you?
Mary, Mary, tell me true
Mary, Mary, red hair wild,
did He leave you great with child?
Mary, was your love so steady,
that you had had His kids already?
Mary, Mary, at the Cross,
did it feel a gain or loss?
Mary, Mary – on that third day,
what was it like with the stone rolled away?
Mary, Mary, running there with love,
what did you think when He rose above?
Mary, Mary – what was it like, after?
Were there tears or joyful laughter?
Mary, Mary – the kids you had –
did they turn out like their Dad?
Mary, Mary, whore redeemed,
did it work out like you dreamed?
Mary, Mary – your afterlife –
was it mostly love, or mostly strife?
Mary, Mary, were you worshipped or despised
As Mary’s daughter-in-law, Mrs. Christ?
Mary, Mary, did you stay,
or feel you had to take the kids away?
Mary, Mary, with so much love,
did you, too, rise to heaven above?
Mary, Mary, in the sky,
all we ask are the reasons why…
Mary, Mary Magdalene,
What is really true? What does it really mean?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Only Land For Me (A currency Lad)
Prate not to me of foreign strand,
Of beauty o'er the sea -
"This is my own - my native land" -
The only land for me!
The only land for me
The only land for me
"This is my own - my native land" -
The only land for me!
I love to roam, like a wild gazelle,
O'er my native mountains blue,
And wildly, thro' the woody dell,
Chase the bounding kangaroo!
The bounding kangaroo
The bounding kangaroo
And wildly thro' the woody dell
Chase the bounding kangaroo!
I've rode upon the stormy wave,
I've danc'd aboon the sea;
And where's the pleasure that it gave
Like my native land to me?
My native land to me
My native land to me
And where's the pleasure that it gave
Like my native land to me?
poem by Anonymous Oceania
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This was a dairy cow, and dairy cows have IDs on them. The ID was traced back to the farm in Washington. It's a dairy farm. And that farm now has been quarantined, and the owners have been very cooperative in doing that.
quote by Ann Veneman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wild Kangaroo
The rain-clouds have gone to the deep -
The East like a furnace doth glow;
And the day-spring is flooding the steep,
And sheening the landscape below.
Oh, ye who are gifted with souls
That delight in the music of birds,
Come forth where the scattered mist rolls,
And listen to eloquent words!
Oh, ye who are fond of the sport,
And would travel yon wilderness through,
Gather - each to his place - for a life-stirring chase,
In the wake of the wild Kangaroo!
Gather - each to his place -
For a life-stirring chase
In the wake of the wild Kangaroo!
Beyond the wide rents of the fog,
The trees are illumined with gold;
And the bark of the shepherd's brave dog
Shoots away from the sheltering fold.
Down the depths of yon rock-border'd glade,
A torrent goes foaming along;
And the blind-owls retire into shade,
And the bell-bird beginneth its song.
By the side of that yawning abyss,
Where the vapours are hurrying to,
We will merrily pass, looking down to the grass
For the tracks of the wild Kangaroo!
We will merrily pass,
Looking down to the grass
For the tracks of the wild Kangaroo.
Ho, brothers, away to the woods;
Euroka hath clambered the hill;
But the morning there seldom intrudes,
Where the night-shadows slumber on still.
We will roam o'er these forest-lands wild,
And thread the dark masses of vines,
Where the winds, like the voice of a child,
Are singing aloft in the pines.
We must keep down the glee of our hounds;
We must ~steal~ through the glittering dew;
And the breezes shall sleep as we cautiously creep
To the haunts of the wild Kangaroo.
And the breezes shall sleep,
As we cautiously creep
To the haunts of the wild Kangaroo.
When we pass through a stillness like death
The swamp fowl and timorous quail,
Like the leaves in a hurricane's breath,
Will start from their nests in the vale;
And the forester,* snuffing the air,
Will bound from his covert so dark,
While we follow along in the rear,
As arrows speed on to their mark!
Then the swift hounds shall bring him to bay,
And we'll send forth a hearty halloo,
As we gather them all to be in at the fall -
At the death of the wild Kangaroo!
As we gather them all
To be in at the fall -
At the death of the wild Kangaroo!
poem by Henry Kendall
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Of Hopping And Of Hoping
a kangaroo hops
perhaps finding discomfort
on the grass below its feet
or sensing danger
of the strange sound around
it hops
and hopes for something better
on the other hill
i sit here
unable to hop like this silly kangaroo
sensing my gaze
as a dangerous haze
does it ever know
how hopping can destroy
hope that does not know
how to hop?
i hope for some better things
in my life
i will take chances under these trees
resetting some leaves
and twigs
to see the skies
and the sun that must
this morning rise
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Free-Selector's Daughter
I met her on the Lachlan Side --
A darling girl I thought her,
And ere I left I swore I'd win
The free-selector's daughter.
I milked her father's cows a month,
I brought the wood and water,
I mended all the broken fence,
Before I won the daughter.
I listened to her father's yarns,
I did just what I `oughter',
And what you'll have to do to win
A free-selector's daughter.
I broke my pipe and burnt my twist,
And washed my mouth with water;
I had a shave before I kissed
The free-selector's daughter.
Then, rising in the frosty morn,
I brought the cows for Mary,
And when I'd milked a bucketful
I took it to the dairy.
I poured the milk into the dish
While Mary held the strainer,
I summoned heart to speak my wish,
And, oh! her blush grew plainer.
I told her I must leave the place,
I said that I would miss her;
At first she turned away her face,
And then she let me kiss her.
I put the bucket on the ground,
And in my arms I caught her:
I'd give the world to hold again
That free-selector's daughter!
poem by Henry Lawson
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Kangaroo Court
Kangaroo Court
When he reads news of
Kangaroo Courts held
in some places where the brutes live,
for enquiring fishy incidents like
petty thefts, eloping of girls with strangers,
knotty problems involving naughty youths,
love affairs between boys and girls
of different cates and religions,
and punishing the guilty
with insulting treatments,
he relives the painful moments,
he underwent in his sixteenth year,
prostrating several times
before the nitpickers of his village,
in a Kangaroo Court held in her house,
for responding with a few lines of love.
Boys of soft castes need be punished that way,
for saving them from being assaulted by the goons
of the violent castes of the girls.
When the Britishers ruled India,
castes were relegated to the background
but in the free country, the politicians with verve,
had brought it to the foreground.
----------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Bonny Mary O!
The morning opens fine, bonny Mary O!
The robin sings his song by the dairy O!
Where the little Jenny wrens cock their tails among the hens,
Singing morning's happy songs with Mary O!
The swallow's on the wing, bonny Mary O!
Where the rushes fringe the spring, bonny Mary O!
Where the cowslips do unfold, shaking tassels all of gold,
Which make the milk so sweet, bonny Mary O!
There's the yellowhammer's nest, bonny Mary O!
Where she hides her golden breast, bonny Mary O!
On her mystic eggs she dwells, with strange writing on their shells,
Hid in the mossy grass, bonny Mary O!
There the spotted cow gets food, bonny Mary O!
And chews her peaceful cud, bonny Mary O!
In the mole-hills and the bushes, and the clear brook fringed with rushes
To fill the evening pail, bonny Mary O!
The cowpond once agen, bonny Mary O!
Lies dimpled like thy sen, bonny Mary O!
Where the gnat swarms fall and rise under evening's mellow skies,
And on flags sleep dragon flies, bonny Mary O!
And I will meet thee there, bonny Mary O!
When a-milking you repair, bonny Mary O!
And I'll kiss thee on the grass, my buxom, bonny lass,
And be thine own for aye, bonny Mary O!
poem by John Clare
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The First Dingo
The kangaroo was formed to run,
but not from man alone -
it ran before the horse or gun
or native dog was known.
It ran when drought left waterholes
three hundred miles between -
from great floods and greater fires
than we have ever seen.
The blacks beside the coastal springs,
where mountain sides are steep,
they bred and kept their kangaroo
much tamer than are sheep.
And when the men fought inland tribes
or when they roamed at large,
they drove their flocks down to the sea
and left the gins in charge.
And so, alert, with startled eyes
the shepherdess in fear
perceives with wonder and surprise
some foreign beats appear.
She watches, creeping through the trees,
and round the blackened logs
the strangest sight by southern seas -
the stranded Dutchmans's dogs.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Sing-Song of Old Man Kangaroo
This is the mouth-filling song of the race that was run by a Boomer.
Run in a single burst--only event of its kind--
Started by Big God Nqong from Warrigaborrigarooma,
Old Man Kangaroo first, Yellow-Dog Dingo behind.
Kangaroo bounded away, his back-legs working like pistons--
Bounded from morning till dark, twenty-five feet at a bound.
Yellow-Dog Dingo lay like a yellow cloud in the distance--
Much too busy to bark. My! but they covered the ground!
Nobody knows where they went, or followed the track that they flew in,
For that Continent hadn't been given a name.
They ran thirty degrees from Torres Straits to Leeuwin
(Look at the Atlas, please then they ran back as they came.
S'posing you could trot from Adelaide to the Pacific
For an afternoon's run -- half what these gentlemen did--
You would feel rather hot, but your legs would develop terrific,
Yes, my importunate son, you'd be a Marvellous Kid!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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