Jonah’s Luck
OUT OF LUCK, mate? Have a liquor. Hang it, where’s the use complaining?
Take your fancy, I’m in funds now—I can stand the racket, Dan.
Dump your bluey in the corner; camp here for the night, it’s raining;
Bet your life I’m glad to see you—glad to see a Daylesford man.
Swell? Correct, Dan. Spot the get up; and I own this blooming shanty,
Me the fellows christened ‘Jonah’ at Jim Crow and Blanket Flat,
’Cause my luck was so infernal—you remember me and Canty?
Rough times, those—the very memory keeps a chap from getting fat.
Where’d I strike it? That’s a yarn. The fire’s a comfort—sit up nearer.
Hoist your heels, man; take it easy till Kate’s ready with the stew.
Yes, I’ll tell my little story; ’tain’t a long one, but it’s queerer
Than those lies that Tullock pitched us on The Flat in ’52.
Fancy Phil a parson now! He’s smug as grease, the Reverend Tullock.
Yes, he’s big—his wife and fam’ly are a high and mighty lot.
Didn’t I say his jaw would keep him when he tired of punching mullock?
Well, it has—he’s made his pile here. How d’you like your whisky—hot?
Luck! Well, now, I like your cheek, Dan. You had luck, there’s no denying.
I in thirty years had averaged just a wage of twenty bob—
Why, at Alma there I saw men making fortunes without trying,
While for days I lived on ’possums, and then had to take a job.
Bah! you talk about misfortune—my ill-luck was always thorough:
Gold once ran away before me if I chased it for a week.
I was starved at Tarrangower—lived on tick at Maryborough—
And I fell and broke my thigh-bone at the start of Fiery Creek.
At Avoca Canty left me. Jim, you know, was not a croaker,
But he jacked the whole arrangement—found we couldn’t make a do:
Said he loved me like a brother, but ’twas rough upon a joker
When he’d got to fight the devil, and find luck enough for two.
Jim was off. I didn’t blame him, seeing what he’d had to suffer
When Maginnis, just beside us, panned out fifty to the tub.
‘We had pegged out hours before him, and had struck another duffer,
And each store upon the lead, my lad, had laid us up for grub.
After that I picked up Barlow, but we parted at Dunolly
When we’d struggled through at Alma, Adelaide Lead, and Ararat.
See, my luck was hard upon him; he contracted melancholy,
And he hung himself one morning in the shaft at Parrot Flat.
Ding it? No. Where gold was getting I was on the job, and early,—
Struck some tucker dirt at Armstrong’s, and just lived at Pleasant Creek,
Always grafting like a good ’un, never hopeless-like or surly,
Living partly on my earnings, Dan, but largely on my cheek.
Good old days, they like to call them—they were tough old days to many:
I was through them, and they left me still the choice to graft or beg—
Left me gray, and worn, and wrinkled, aged and stumped—without a penny—
With a chronic rheumatism and this darned old twisted leg.
Other work? That’s true—in plenty. But you know the real old stager
Who has followed up the diggings, how he hangs on to the pan,
How he hates to leave the pipeclay. Though you mention it I’ll wager
That you never worked on top until you couldn’t help it, Dan.
Years went by. On many fields I worked, and often missed a meal, and
Then I found Victoria played out, and the yields were very slack,
So I took a turn up Northward, tried Tasmania and New Zealand,—
Dan, I worked my passage over, and I sneaked the journey back.
Times were worse. I made a cradle, and went fossicking old places;
But the Chows had been before me, and had scraped the country bare;
There was talk of splendid patches ’mongst the creeks and round the races,
But ’twas not my luck to strike them, and I think I lived on air.
Rough? That’s not the word. So help me, Dan, I hadn’t got a stiver
‘When I caved in one fine Sunday—found I couldn’t lift my head.
They removed me, and the doctor said I’d got rheumatic fever,
And for seven months I lingered in a ward upon a bed.
Came out crippled, feeling done-up, hopeless-like and very lonely,
And dead-beat right down to bed rock as I’d never felt before.
Bitter? Just! Those hopeful years of honest graft had left me only
This bent leg; and some asylum was the prospect I’d in store.
You’ll be knowing how I felt then—cleaned-out, lame, completely gravelled—
All the friends I’d known were scattered widely north, and east, and west:
There seemed nothing there for my sort, and no chances if I travelled;
No, my digging days were over, and I had to give it best.
Though ’twas hard, I tried to meet it like a man in digger fashion:
’Twasn’t good enough—I funked it; I was fairly on the shelf,
Cursed my bitter fortune daily, and was always in a passion
With the Lord, sir, and with everyone, but mostly with myself.
I was older twenty years then than I am this blessed minute,
But I got a job one morning, knapping rock at Ballarat;
Two-and-three for two-inch metal. You may say there’s nothing in it,
To the man who’s been through Eaglehawk and mined at Blanket Flat.
Wait—you’d better let me finish. We and ill, I bucked in gladly,
But to get the tools I needed I was forced to pawn my swag.
I’d no hope of golden patches, but I needed tucker badly,
And this job, I think, just saved me being lumbered on the vag.
Fortune is a fickle party, but in spite of all her failings,
Don’t revile her, Dan, as I did, while you’ve still a little rope.
Well, the heap that I was put on was some heavy quartz and tailings,
That was carted from a local mine, I think the Band of Hope.
Take the lesson that is coming to your heart, old man, and hug it:
For I started on the heap with scarce a soul to call my own,
And in less than twenty minutes I’d raked out a bouncing nugget
Scaling close on ninety ounces, and just frosted round with stone.
How is that for high, my hearty? Miracle! It was, by thunder!
After forty years of following the rushes up and down,
Getting old, and past all prospect, and about to knuckle under,
Struck it lucky knapping metal in the middle of a town!
Pass the bottle! Have another! Soon we’ll get the word from Kitty—
She’s a daisy cook, I tell you. Yes, the public business pays
But my pile was made beforehand—made it ‘broking’ in the city.
That’s the yarn I pitch the neighbours. Here’s to good old now-a-days.
poem by Edward George Dyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
On the Wallaby
Now the tent poles are rotting, the camp fires are dead,
And the possums may gambol in trees overhead;
I am humping my bluey far out on the land,
And the prints of my bluchers sink deep in the sand:
I am out on the wallaby humping my drum,
And I came by the tracks where the sundowners come.
It is nor'-west and west o'er the ranges and far
To the plains where the cattle and sheep stations are,
With the sky for my roof and the grass for my bunk,
And a calico bag for my damper and junk;
And scarcely a comrade my memory reveals,
Save the spiritless dingo in tow of my heels.
But I think of the honest old light of my home
When the stars hang in clusters like lamps from the dome,
And I think of the hearth where the dark shadows fall,
When my camp fire is built on the widest of all;
But I'm following Fate, for I know she knows best,
I follow, she leads, and it's nor'-west by west.
When my tent is all torn and my blankets are damp,
And the rising flood waters flow fast by the camp,
When the cold water rises in jets from the floor,
I lie in my bunk and I list to the roar,
And I think how to-morrow my footsteps will lag
When I tramp 'neath the weight of a rain-sodden swag.
Though the way of the swagman is mostly up-hill,
There are joys to be found on the wallaby still.
When the day has gone by with its tramp or its toil,
And your camp-fire you light, and your billy you boil,
There is comfort and peace in the bowl of your clay
Or the yarn of a mate who is tramping that way.
But beware of the town -- there is poison for years
In the pleasure you find in the depths of long beers;
For the bushman gets bushed in the streets of a town,
Where he loses his friends when his cheque is knocked down;
He is right till his pockets are empty, and then --
He can hump his old bluey up country again.
poem by Henry Lawson
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You're My Mate
Ill tell you what I think, I think shes a cow
Shes let you down too many times now
Lets go for a drink, forget it for now
Put It behind you, I think its your round
Cause youre my mate and I will stand by you
Youre my mate and I will stand by you
And in the face of things that could hurt you
Youre my mate and I will stand by you
Cause youre my mate and I will stand by you
Youre my mate and I will stand by you
And in the face of things that could hurt you
Youre my mate and I will stand by you
Cause youre my mate
Ill tell you what I think, I think hes a pain
He aint got a car, but he drives you insane
Lets go for a drink and sink a few
Enough about him lets talk about you
Cause youre my mate and I will stand by you
Youre my mate and I will stand by you
Cause youre my mate and I will stand by you
Youre my mate and I will stand by you
And in the face of things that could hurt you
Youre my mate and I will stand by you
Cause youre my mate
All I wanna do is get drunk here with you
All I wanna do is get drunk here with you
All I wanna do is get drunk here with you
All I wanna do is get drunk here with you
Cause youre my mate and I will stand by you
Youre my mate and I will stand by you
And in the face of things that could hurt you
Youre my mate and I will stand by you
Cause youre my mate and I will stand by you
Youre my mate and I will stand by you
And in the face of things that could hurt you
Youre my mate and I will stand by you
Cause youre my mate
Cause youre my mate
Cause youre my mate
Cause youre my mate
Cause youre my mate
TAXI
song performed by by Right Said Fred
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never, Ever And Luck
never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck
never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck
never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck
never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck
never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck
never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck
never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck
never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck
never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck never, ever and luck
prayers are answered
need repetitions
Hang Wire
Theyre going higher
Wind is whistling on the barbs
Your heads a hammer
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire
That man is a liar
The day is like a warm night
Salt rusts the cold line
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire
Every morning and every day
Ill bossanova with ya
If there were a fire
Can we scratch beneath this
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire?
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Your Corner
I hear tell theres big fun tonigh
On the corner of main and dog-meat-bite
Friday midnights would not be right
Without redds hot party and a nasty fight
But Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
You cant renege cause its goin be live
Fine women, lots of liquor and stuff for your mind
Now where were goin they dont like your kind
But theyll cool when you tell them youre a friend of mine
cause Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
You cant tell your pa and mama
Where were goin til after weve been there
cause that might make their poor heads worry
And worrying can cause grey hair
And one thing just might lead to another
And if theres any trouble theyll blame it on me
I think we just might have two to go
The prettys lookin over here from the middle of the floor
Well make a b-line to hotel la sin
Where youll do the talkin to get us in
And Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
We shoulda been long gone cause this place is hot
cause in the corner there are two brothers who are undercover cops
If they stop us for questioning mum is the word
cause a question not answered is a answer not heard
And Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
You cant tell your pa and mama
Where were goin til after weve been there
cause that might make their poor heads worry
And worrying can cause grey hair
And one thing just might lead to another
And if theres any trouble theyll blame it on me
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Does That Boy Hang Out
Where where where is he over there
Where where where is he over there
Hes on the corner waiting waiting
Waiting for the right love to walk on by
Hes on the look out he should cause
Hes the one that they take their lovin from
When he looks down deep into their eyes
Their knees start shakin but much to their surprise
Hes gone hes gond hes done it again
Where does the boy hang out
Their on the street dreamin alot
But dreams are trouble if theyre caught
Where does the boy hang out
They try to run away prayin looking for the place
Where he wont be hes on the make
And they tempt him cause hes the one
Theyre gonna take their lovin from
When he looks down deep into their eyes
Their hearts start beating but much to their surprise
Hes gone hes done it again
Where does the boy hang out
Why does he do it
Why must he do it
Dont he know that hes a man jst the same
Oh why must he show it
Why must he know it
That his words will always show em the way
The boy hangs out
The boy hangs out
I said the boy cant help it
The boy hangs out
The boy hangs out
I said the boy cant help it
Im gonna find him and tell him
That he dont have to prove anything to anyone
Im gonna show him that hes alright
And talkins just as good as lvin deep in the night
When he tells his story
So hard to resist hes slow talking
No need to be kissed
Hes smooth hes done it again
Where does the boy hang out
Theyre on the corner dreamin about
But dreams are trouble if theyre caught
Where does the boy hang out
Where does the boy hang out
Ad lib
song performed by by Taylor Dayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Panic
Panic on the streets of london
Panic on the streets of birmingham
I wonder to myself
Could life ever be sane again ?
The leeds side-streets that you slip down
I wonder to myself
Hopes may rise on the grasmere
But honey pie, you're not safe here
So you run down
To the safety of the town
But there's panic on the streets of carlisle
Dublin, dundee, humberside
I wonder to myself
Burn down the disco
Hang the blessed dj
Because the music that they constantly play
It says nothing to me about my life
Hang the blessed dj
Because the music they constantly play
On the leeds side-streets that you slip down
Or provincial towns you jog 'round
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Thankyou ...
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I was a freelancer, I thought this journalism thing was a racket, and now that I'm where I am now, I know it's a racket.
quote by Tabitha Soren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Three Maidens
There were three maidens met on the highway;
The sun was down, the night was late:
And two sang loud with the birds of May,
O the nightingale is merry with its mate.
Said they to the youngest, Why walk you there so still?
The land is dark, the night is late:
O, but the heart in my side is ill,
And the nightingale will languish for its mate.
Said they to the youngest, Of lovers there is store;
The moon mounts up, the night is late:
O, I shall look on man no more,
And the nightingale is dumb without its mate.
Said they to the youngest, Uncross your arms and sing;
The moon mounts high, the night is late:
O my dear lover can hear no thing,
And the nightingale sings only to its mate.
They slew him in revenge, and his true-love was his lure;
The moon is pale, the night is late:
His grave is shallow on the moor;
O the nightingale is dying for its mate.
His blood is on his breast, and the moss-roots at his hair;
The moon is chill, the night is late:
But I will lie beside him there:
O the nightingale is dying for its mate.
poem by George Meredith
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There were two qualities about the mutual funds of the 1920s that made them extremely speculative. One was that they were heavily leveraged. Two, mutual funds were allowed to invest in other mutual funds.
quote by Ron Chernow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tonight I'll Take What I Can Get (Band)
I've got my eye on top shelf liquor,
With taste so smooth it
Hits you quicker.
But you've only got the well.
And I've got an eye for top tier women
With legs so long they go straight to heaven,
But this old bunch looks like hell.
But tonight I'll take what I can get.
I'd like to hear a great musician
With strange ideas and grand ambitions,
But this guy, he's got trouble with chords.
And I'd like to leave this game a winner
Head held high, the luck of beginners
But this old losers crawling out on all fours.
But tonight I'll take what I can get.
Well this drink will do,
And girl you look alright,
And this band is playing like hell tonight.
These dice are loaded
And Lord I am too
I might be losing but I'm leaving soon.
With the prettiest girl
To enter this dump,
She drank all of the whiskey but she left me the rum
And tonight I'll take what I can get
Tonight I'll take what I can get
I've got my sights on brand new beginnings
Brand new starts make saints of sinners
But I'm doomed to live in my past
Live nude girls says the sign out front,
But old dead dreams are dancing in front,
Of old dead dreamers with washed up luck,
Buyin' love for cash
Well tonight I'll take what I can get.
This old story gets stale and dry,
No matter how I try and try
To spin this fable
Fresh and new
You strung me along
Like a tease on prom night
Getting me loose but
Leaving me uptight
Please tell me that
Some of that love was true.
Tonight I'll take what I can get -a
song performed by by Dashboard Confessional
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Complaining is good for you as long as you're not complaining to the person you're complaining about.
quote by Lynn Johnston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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’Tis a Sad, Mad World!
A famished, ill-clad beggar stands
Amidst some barking dogs!
All searching through the garbage-dump
For left-over food, fast;
Each taking turns at emptying,
The things inedible;
Their hunger-pangs can drive them mad;
Will Dame Luck smile on them?
His eyes keep straining just for food,
On plantain-leaves by luck;
The scorching sun can’t bother him,
Nor can the stench within;
His pangs of hunger goads him on
To lick the residue;
His face keeps smiling when he sees,
A morsel of cooked grain!
The dogs are happy biting bones,
Though meat, they never meet;
He’s back to work upon the pile
And sorts the rocks from leaves;
There’s silence excepting the noise
Of scrambling for food found;
The garbage-dump’s a blessed spot,
Where man and beast share food!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What’s Luck?
Luck is something that comes, not so often;
Luck is an occurrence in life, quite rare;
Luck’s unpredictable phenomenon;
Luck is a devil that is rarely kind!
Luck’s the last thing one should ev’r depend on;
Luck cannot simply come to all always;
Luck can’t work magic without labor hard;
Luck is futile if basic things aren’t done.
Luck is a make-up that needs a good face;
Luck’s a pretty dame with contours and shape;
Luck is an element of great surprise;
Luck is not the usual way, world goes by!
Luck is the decoration on a cake;
Luck’s a factor that clicks for some at times;
Luck isn’t the first thing, we trust any time;
Perseverance is key to success prime.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-23-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To a Dead Mate
There's many a man who rides today
In the lonely, far out-back;
There's many a man who makes his way
On a dusty bushland track;
There's many a man in bush and town
Who mourns for a good mate gone;
There are eyes grown sad and heads cast down
Since Henry has passed on.
A mate he was, and a mate to love,
For mateship was his creed:
With a strong, true heart and a soul above
This sad world's sordid greed.
He lived as a mate, and wrote as a mate
Of the things which he believed.
Now many a good man mourns his fate,
And he leaves a nation grieved.
True champion he of the lame and halt:
True knight of the poor was he,
Who could e'er excuse a brother's fault
With a ready sympathy.
He suffered much, and much he toiled,
With his hand e'er for the right:
And he dreamed and planned while the billy boiled
In the bushland camp at night.
Joe Wilson and his mates are sad,
And the tears of bushwives fall,
For the kindly heart that Henry had
Had made him loved of all.
There's many a man who rides today,
Cast down and sore oppressed;
And thro' the land I hear them say:
'Pass, Henry, to your rest.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Celebrate The News
Hello
My luck was so bad
I thought I used up all the luck I had
Everytime I thought I'd get it on
Someone put me on
There's been a change
Beautiful and strange
My life's gone through a change
Somehow I know (somehow I know)
Bad luck's in the past
All good things here at last
So now we'll grow
There's been a change
Mmmmm
Bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
I got news for you
There ain't no blues
I got news for you
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
I got news for you
There ain't no blues
I got news for you
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
I got news for you
There ain't no blues
I got news for you
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
Listen to the boys loud and clear
Come on folks withstand you fears
Sail away the choice is yours you choose
Celebrate the news
There ain't no blues
Come on, come on, come on
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is It Luck?
My socks and shoes always match
Is it luck?
Theres a foot at the end of each of my legs
Is it luck? I can play my bass for you
Is it luck? some gals like to kiss my face
Is it luck? is it luck?
There was food inside your mouth today
Is it luck? your barber cuts your hair just so
Is it luck? when the taste of sex is on your lips
Is it luck? is it luck?
Cyanide works oh so fast
Is it luck? polyester makes you sweat
Is it luck? if a graham cracker gets you off
Is it luck
Love. love?
Is it luck? is it luck?
(additional lines: she said she wanted my body not my mind so i
Showed her my dictionary to show the words that I know and how
Loquacious I can be when I set my mind down to it, and she wasnt
Impressed. she wasnt impressed at all.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You stored your milk in a straining metal... and now you are complaining about bad luck?
Hang On Your IQ
Chinese masseuse,
comes between us talks in haikus,
plastic venus.
Got a headrush,
in her pocket two rubbers two lubes,
and a silver rocket.
Hang on,
hang onto your IQ,
to your ID hang on,
hang on to your IQ,
to your ID I'm lonely Every morning,
my eyes will open wide I gotta get high,
before I go outside.
Roll another,
for breakfast burning clouds around,
and in my solar plexus.
Hang on,
hang on to your IQ,
to your ID hang on,
hang on to your IQ,
to your ID I'm lonely Legs eleven,
makes me stay up late two fat ladies on my back,
and now it's 88.
I'm a fool,
whose tool is small it's so miniscule,
it's no tool at all.
Hang on,
hang on to your IQ,
to your ID hang on,
hang on I'm lonely Oh
song performed by by Placebo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With A Little Luck
With a little luck, we can help it out.
We can make this whole damn thing work out.
With a little love, we can lay it down.
Cant you feel the town exploding?
There is no end to what we can do together.
There is no end, there is no end.
The wiliow turns his back on inclement weather;
And if he can do it, we can do it, just me and you,
And a little luck, we can clear it up.
We can bring it in for a landing,
With a little luck, we can turn it on.
There can be no misunderstanding.
There is no end to what we can do together.
There is no end, there is no end.
The willow turns his back on inclement weather;
We can do it, just me and you.
With a little push, we could set it off.
We can send it rocketing skywards.
With a little love, we could shake it up.
Dont you feel the comet exploding?
With a little luck.
With a little luck.
With a little luck, a little luck, a little luck.
With a little luck.
With a little luck.
With a little luck, a little luck, a little luck.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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