Bullocky Bill
FROM a river siding, the railway town,
Or the dull new port there three days down,
Forward and back on the up-hill track,
With a creak of the jinker, a ringing crack,
Slow as a funeral, sure as steam,
Bullocky Bill and his old red team.
Ploughing around by the ti-tree scrub,
Four wheels down to the creeping hub,
Swaying they go, with their heads all low,
Bally, and Splodger, and Spot, and Jo.
Men in the ranges much esteem
Bullocky Bill and his old red team.
Worming about where the tall trees spring,
Surging ahead when the clay bogs cling;
A rattle of lash and of language rash
On the narrow edge of immortal smash.
He’d thread a bead or walk a beam,
Bullocky Bill with his old red team.
Climbing a ridge where the red stars ride;
Straddling down on the other side,
With a whistle and grind, and a scramble blind,
And a thundering gum-tree slung behind.
But they always get there, hill or stream,
Bullocky Bill and his old red team.
Engines or stamps for the mines about,
Tools for the men who are leading out;
Tucker, and boose, and the latest news
Back where the bunyip stirs the ooze.
Pioneers with the best we deem
Bullocky Bill and his old red team.
poem by Edward George Dyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Casey was the better team and the better team won.
quote by Bill Evans
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bill the Bullock-Driver
The Leaders of millions, the lords of the lands,
Who sway the wide world with their will
And shake the great globe with the strength of their hands,
Flash past us—unnoticed by Bill.
The elders of science who measure the spheres
And weigh the vast bulk of the sun—
Who see the grand lights beyond aeons of years,
Are less than a bullock to one.
The singers that sweeten all time with their song—
Pure voices that make us forget
Humanity’s drama of marvellous wrong—
To Bill are as mysteries yet.
By thunders of battle and nations uphurled,
Bill’s sympathies never were stirred:
The helmsmen who stand at the wheel of the world
By him are unknown and unheard.
What trouble has Bill for the ruin of lands,
Or the quarrels of temple and throne,
So long as the whip that he holds in his hands
And the team that he drives are his own?
As straight and as sound as a slab without crack,
Our Bill is a king in his way;
Though he camps by the side of a shingle track,
And sleeps on the bed of his dray.
A whip-lash to him is as dear as a rose
Would be to a delicate maid;
He carries his darlings wherever he goes,
In a pocket-book tattered and frayed.
The joy of a bard when he happens to write
A song like the song of his dream
Is nothing at all to our hero’s delight
In the pluck and the strength of his team.
For the kings of the earth, for the faces august
Of princes, the millions may shout;
To Bill, as he lumbers along in the dust,
A bullock’s the grandest thing out.
His four-footed friends are the friends of his choice—
No lover is Bill of your dames;
But the cattle that turn at the sound of his voice
Have the sweetest of features and names.
A father’s chief joy is a favourite son,
When he reaches some eminent goal,
But the pride of Bill’s heart is the hairy-legged one
That pulls with a will at the pole.
His dray is no living, responsible thing,
But he gives it the gender of life;
And, seeing his fancy is free in the wing,
It suits him as well as a wife.
He thrives like an Arab. Between the two wheels
Is his bedroom, where, lying up-curled,
He thinks for himself, like a sultan, and feels
That his home is the best in the world.
For, even though cattle, like subjects, will break
At times from the yoke and the band,
Bill knows how to act when his rule is at stake,
And is therefore a lord of the land.
Of course he must dream; but be sure that his dreams,
If happy, must compass, alas!
Fat bullocks at feed by improbable streams,
Knee-deep in improbable grass.
No poet is Bill, for the visions of night
To him are as visions of day;
And the pipe that in sleep he endeavours to light
Is the pipe that he smokes on the dray.
To the mighty, magnificent temples of God,
In the hearts of the dominant hills,
Bill’s eyes are as blind as the fire-blackened clod
That burns far away from the rills.
Through beautiful, bountiful forests that screen
A marvel of blossoms from heat—
Whose lights are the mellow and golden and green—
Bill walks with irreverent feet.
The manifold splendours of mountain and wood
By Bill like nonentities slip;
He loves the black myrtle because it is good
As a handle to lash to his whip.
And thus through the world, with a swing in his tread,
Our hero self-satisfied goes;
With his cabbage-tree hat on the back of his head,
And the string of it under his nose.
Poor bullocky Bill! In the circles select
Of the scholars he hasn’t a place;
But he walks like a man, with his forehead erect,
And he looks at God’s day in the face.
For, rough as he seems, he would shudder to wrong
A dog with the loss of a hair;
And the angels of shine and superlative song
See his heart and the deity there.
Few know him, indeed; but the beauty that glows
In the forest is loveliness still;
And Providence helping the life of the rose
Is a Friend and a Father to Bill.
poem by Henry Kendall
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The Homeward Track
Once a year we lumber southward with the clip from Yarradee;
Spell the bullocks in the township while we run our yearly spree.
What's a bullocky to live for? Days of toil are hard and long;
And you'd not begrudge him yearly one short week of wine and song.
While it lasts he asks no better. When it's over 'Yoke 'em up,'
And we'll make another promise for to shun the brimming cup.
When we've done our little cheque in, and the township's at our back;
Then we start to think of mending - out along the Homeward Track.
For there comes a time of reck'ning when we're trudging by the team;
Back again to work an' worry; kind of waking from a dream;
We begin to see the folly of a week of wicked fun,
Bought with months of weary slaving, punching bullocks on the run.
But our views are somewhat tempered when we've done a twelve months' drouth;
And our thoughts ain't so religious when the team is heading south.
When the pleasure is before us, work and worry at our back,
We forget the grim reformers out along the Homeward Track.
What's the odds? It's got to happen. What we've done we'll do again;
And we know it while we make 'em, resolutions are in vain.
Life's a weary track to travel, mostly full of ruts and stumps:
Them that spends their days in drudging have to take their joy in lumps.
Yoke 'em up an' get a move on! Gayest times must have an end,
There's a weary track to travel when we've nothing left to spend.
If there's still a bob we'll wet it, and a last glad joke we'll crack,
Time enough for vain regretting when we're on the Homeward Track.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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What I do is draw but if you make an animated feature obviously it takes a whole team of people, and Zippy is my work. I felt that turning it over to a team of people would be wrong.
quote by Bill Griffith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm not trying to get back on a team, but I have tried to stay in shape just in case a team needs a point guard. A championship team. I wouldn't go to any other team.
quote by Tim Hardaway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Railroad Bill
Railroad bill were gonna railroad bill
He never works and he never will
Im gonna ride on a railroad bill
Im gonna ride on a railroad bill
Railroad bill he was a mighty bad man
Kill anybody that he think he can
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Im singin railroad bill,
Im talkin railroad bill, uh-huh-huh
He never worked and he never will
Im gonna ride on railroad bill, yeah
(cmon) Im gonna ride on railroad bill
Well old railroad bill he done stole my wife
Im gonna check him down Im gonna take his life
Gonna ride on railroad bill
Gonna ride railroad bill
Im singin railroad bill
On a railroad bill
He never worked and he never will
Im gonna ride on railroad bill
Im gonna ride on railroad bill
Railroad bill he was a mighty bad man
Kill anybody that he think he can
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Gonna ride railroad bill
Im talkin railroad bill
I love him railroad bill
Uh-huh-huh
He never worked and he never will
Gonna ride on railroad bill
Yeah, gonna ride on railroad bill
Well Im goin up the mountain
Yes Im goin out west
I got a mighty big pistol
Stickin out of my vest
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Gonna ride (alright)
Railroad bill, I love that railroad bill
Uh-huh-huh
He never works and he never will
Im gonna ride on a railroad bill
Im gonna ride on railroad bill
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire Bugs
Look 'ere. I'll bet a 'arf-a-crown
To anythink you like to name (said Bushy Bill),
If country fellers went to town,
An' burnt a few big buildin's down,
An' quids an' quids went up in flame (said Bushy Bill),
Do you suppose, by any chance,
You'd put it down to ignorance.
An' let 'em go their dilly way
To do the trick some other day? (Said Bushy Bill).
No fear. You'd take that crim'nal lot
An' likely lynch 'em on the spot.
Fine sense of property you got (said Bushy Bill).
Yet city coves come up this way,
Shootin' or goin' campin' out (said Bushy Bill).
But are they careful blokes? Not they.
An' when their camp fire gets away
They wonder what it's all about (said Bushy Bill).
They sling their matches round the place,
An' carry on a fair disgrace
Wise coots they are, all in the know,
Who reckons country coves is slow (said Bushy Bill).
But when two hundred thousand quid
Goes up, they dunno wot they did.
They can't think 'ow that green scrub caught
They never knoo. They never thought.
Look 'ere. IT'S TIME YOUS BLOKES WAS TAUGHT (said Bushy Bill).
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm On The Football Team
Coach says I'm real good...Best kid in the neighbourhood.
Looks like I've got a future ahead of me.
Starting quarterback, number 13. Mom and Dad are so proud of me.
I'm down with the cool kids, oh yeah.
They know I'm cool, the chicks dig me, and it's okay.
I get replaced, but it's alright, 'cause they all know...I'm on the football team.
Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na
I'm on the football team. (x2)
I'm getting chicks left and right. They're lined up for Saturday night.
Just to go down on me, oh yeah.
And when I walk down the hall, all of the nerds and geeks fall,
down on their knees and worship me.
They know I'm cool, the chicks dig me, and it's okay.
I get replaced, but it's alright, 'cause they all know...I'm on the football team.
Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na
I'm on the football team. (x4)
Hey dad guess what!
What's that son?
I'm on the football team.
Well jimminy in the buckhole.
Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na
I'm on the football team. (x4)
song performed by by All American Rejects
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Long Live Anna and Indian Democracy!
‘The passing of the bill
will prove that people’s will
Can make the nation ill
To climb corruption’s hill! ’
Anna has won through his marathon fast
A spectacular victory for all;
His Lokpal Bill has finally been passed;
Fast will be off; He set rolling the ball!
All MP’s also performed well their part;
They showed the world that Parliament’s supreme;
The people’s needs were paramount in heart;
They worked to realise the people’s dream!
The Anna Team had done too fine a job;
They helped Hazare all ways through his fast;
They were well encouraged by huge a mob;
They worked in harmony until the last!
The Resolution Anna asked had come;
The Anti-corruption bill will make it;
The happy end’’s more than hearty welcome;
The fast had become terrific a hit!
The war on Corruption is just begun;
’Tis the beginning of a struggle long;
The struggle long ought to always go on;
The country men can sing a happy song!
Long live the sacrifice of Hazare!
The aged man is hero without doubt;
The Anna Team has become bright thare;
On day twelve, they managed to win the bout!
The support ends the battle just for now;
A lot of things are to be done henceforth;
All showed their unity and country’s love;
The Bill will change the future giving mirth!
Long live Anna Hazare! Long live Indian Democracy!
Copyright By Dr John Celes 27-08-11
poem by John Celes
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Which is the strongest?
Team A beat team B,
Team B beat team C
And team C, team A
None is the strongest.
Time is the strongest
12.02.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anna Hazare’s Crusade against Corruption in India
Anna wants a Lokpal bill strong
Anna wants a Lokpal bill fast
Anna wants a Lokpal bill full
Anna wants a Lokpal bill now
Anna wants a Lokpal bill by fast
Anna wants a Lokpal bill first
Anna wants a Lokpal bill for all
Anna wants a Lokpal bill – his call
Anna wants a Lokpal bill now
Anna wants a Lokpal bill without delay
Anna wants a Lokpal bill, come what may
Anna wants a Lokpal bill even if it means death.
There is no turning back
There is no giving up the fast
There is no fear of arrest
There is no worry about death
For,
India needs an anti-corruption bill
India is monetarily seriously ill
India needs the honesty drill
India has its wealth outside but inside will
Bring the bill
Heed people’s will
Give them the fill
Heal those hearts ill.
Victory to India; victory to Lokpal Bill; victory to Anna!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 22-08-11
poem by John Celes
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When I competed, it was for honor and country. It was a privilege to be a part of the U.S. team.
quote by Bill Toomey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Bill!
I like to drink and I love to smoke
Which sadly though is not a joke
I even like to take an occasionally pill,
So I now have a really bad heart
Which is to blame on my part
So now, you can call me Bill.
I am not at all very tall
Others say that I am very small
Men are mountains I am just a hill,
I have no hair upon my head
So my head is covered or it would be red
So of course, you can call me Bill.
I have myself this one daughter
Whom says she has no father
That statement makes me feel so very ill,
It makes me feel also really sad
I cheated on her mom so she is mad
So of course, you can call me Bill.
I ride myself a motor bike
As it reminds me of my other trike
I ride it to impress women and others with a thrill,
I want people to think I am rough
But I am coward and I am not at all tough
So of course, you can call me Bill.
I have myself a girlfriend
She is just like me till the very end
She’ll do anything for me even against her will,
She has cheated and she has also lied
Threw away her dignity and also her pride
So of course, you can call me Bill.
I don’t have a job so I never go to work
Other persons call me lazy but that’s a perk
As now our government pays for all of my bill,
They also paid me to go to school
I used the money but I am still a fool
So of course, you can call me Bill.
I am jealous what other men own
As I have nothing living inside a broken home
So from others I like to rob and also steal,
It is hard to see me while I prowl at night
Where I cower in the shadows away from light
So of course, you can call me Bill.
When my life comes to an end
And I go to meet GOD with all my sin
Then finally I will know what in life was real,
I shamefully will walk to GOD in my platform shoes
While covering my head so he wont be amused
And I will say I am sorry; but of course, I am Bill.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Be in a Team.
Form a team and be a part of it.
Even a double is a team, mind.
One day you can be its captain.
Being in a team is feeling good.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I am a member of a team, and I rely on the team, I defer to it and sacrifice for it, because the team, not the individual, is the ultimate champion.
The NBA believes if you play for a team and get paid by a team, you're the property of that team for 24 hours a day.
quote by Dennis Rodman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And then '74 as I mentioned and then the 1990 world cup was our team was the team of the reunification you know, so we were the team for both sides of Germany so now, you know throughout the last 16 years, we've melted together. And now comes the next milestone.
quote by Jurgen Klinsmann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Smoke Stood Up From Ludlow
When smoke stood up from Ludlow,
And mist blew off from Teme,
And blithe afield to ploughing
Against the morning beam
I strode beside my team,
The blackbird in the coppice
Looked out to see me stride,
And hearkened as I whistled
The trampling team beside,
And fluted and replied:
"Lie down, lie down, young yeoman;
What use to rise and rise?
Rise man a thousand mornings
Yet down at last he lies,
And then the man is wise."
I heard the tune he sang me,
And spied his yellow bill;
I picked a stone and aimed it
And threw it with a will:
Then the bird was still.
Then my soul within me
Took up the blackbird's strain,
And still beside the horses
Along the dewy lane
It sang the song again:
"Lie down, lie down, young yeoman;
The sun moves always west;
The road one treads to labour
Will lead one home to rest,
And that will be the best."
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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You can lead a team in a lot of different ways. It can be talking to somebody who is down or, during the course of a game, looking to penetrate and then dropping the ball off to someone else for an easy bucket.
quote by Bill Cartwright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You And I (And Two Football Teams)
you and i
met not long ago
you and i
were a thing of love
we were idolized by all
then the day came
you cheated on me
with the football team
what happened?
to you and i?
i didnt expect you to do this
i let my guard fall
and now as the open woulds bleed through
my heart cant take any more
but as the days go on without you
the wounds do not close
do not heal
my heart weakens more and more
then i heard
you slept with the visiting football team
the same night
as you slept with our home team
i cant take this anymore
you betrayed me
and our home football team
you slept with the visiting team
this is the final blow to my heart
as i walk into your house
i load my nine
i walk into your room
and look you in the eye
despite the other 3 men there
i empty my entire clip
into your slim tan body
i save one bullet
to end my hearts pain
the other 3 men
long gone now
i am now with you
and you are
with only me
we ended up together
yet again
just you and i
poem by Ground Sniper
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