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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Related quotes
My shoes and my duck
My shoes and I are quite good friends you see
Often they have chats with me
They tell me things doesn’t matter when
Day or night
They ask me please to lace right
Tell me how to wear them right
I have many pair but only one do I love
They are blue and white
Just like the morning and its dove
That flies around with all their might
My shoes fight in my closet in the black of night
Over which one I will ware on my bike
But I can never forget my duck
To which I can always turn to trust
My friend that is always there
Telling me no lies
And awaiting my return home
From my eight hour chore
My duck can’t swim
my duck can’t quake
My duck just sinks
with a rock on his back
My duck can’t cry
my duck can’t sing
my duck just cant do anything
My ducks no duck and I know why
my duck is stuffed
my duck can’t fly...
I love my duck
Can’t you see why
So in the end
I wouldn’t trade my shoes for any red bull
Or my duck for any frog
Even though one might give me wings
Or one might make noise now and again
I love my blue shoes and my stuffed duck
P.S. the Saint helped me write parts of this, so I owe him a thank you, and just so you all know not all mine.
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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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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Duck
It is a white duck
During the rains a band of ducks afloat
against the cloud laden skies
only remind of the duck
The duck that wings unseen in the morning
and in the night
carrying the sunbeams and moonbeams
in its roseate beaks
The duck that lives on light
The duck that is the mount of Knowledge and Wisdom
Knowledge and wisdom always fights with one another
But when they ride the duck
they hold each other with loving arms
Or else they might fall from the shoulders of the duck
and break into pieces
In that case no one will be able to bring the pieces together
Alas! Alas!
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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I Want A New Duck
Woh oh
I want a new duck
One that wont try to bite
One that wont chew a hole in my socks
One that wont quack all night
I want a new duck
One with big webbed feet
One that knows how to wash my car
And keep his room real neat
One that wont raid the ice box
One thatll stay in shape
One thats never gonna try to migrate or escape
Or Ill tie him up with duck tape
I want a new duck
A mallard I think
One that wont make a mess of my house
Or build a nest in the bathroom sink
I want a new duck
One that wont steal my beer
One that wont stick his bill in my mail
One that knows the duck stops here
One that wont drive me crazy waddling all around
One wholl teach me how to swim and help me not to drown
And show me how to get down
How to get down baby
Get it?
*****
*****
*** ****
****
*** ***
I want a new duck
Not a swan or a goose
Just a drake I can dress real cute
Think Im gonna name him bruce
I want a new duck
Not a quail or an owl
One that wont molt to much
One that wont smell too fowl
One that wont beg for breadcrumbs
Hangin around all day
Hed better mind his manners
Better do just what I say
Or hes gonna be duck patte, duck patte, yah, yah
*
*****
***** (*** ** **)
****
*******
(lots of quacking sounds)
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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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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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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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 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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If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, looks like a duck, it must be a duck.
If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's probably a duck.
When I see a bird that walks like a duck and swims like a duck and quacks like a duck, I call that bird a duck.
quote by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Duck & Run
To this world Im unimportant just
Because I have nothing to give
So you call this your free country
Tell me why it cost so much to live
Tell me why
This world can turn me down
But I wont turn away, oh no
And I wont turn around
All my work and endless measures
Never seem to get me very far
Walk a mile just to move an inch
Now even though Im trying so
Damn hard
Im trying so hard
This world can turn me down but i
Wont turn away
And I wont duck and run, cause
Im not built that way
When everything is gone there is
Nothing there to fear
This world cannot bring me down
No cause Im already here, oh no!
I am already here, down
On my knees
I am already here, on no, I am
Already here
I must have told you a thousand
Times I am not running away
I wont duck and run
I wont duck and run
I wont duck and run
No, no pass away
This world can turn me down but i
Wont turn away
And I wont duck and run, cause
Im not built that way
When everything is gone there is
Nothing there to fear
This world cannot bring me down
No cause Im already here
This world can turn me down
But I wont turn away
And I wont duck away
Cause Im not built that way
When everything is gone there
Is nothing there to fear
This world cannot
Bring me down
No cause Im already here
song performed by by 3 Doors Down
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Kangaroo
Kanagaroo, Kangaroo!
Thou Spirit of Australia,
That redeems from utter failure,
From perfect desolation,
And warrants the creation
Of this fifth part of the Earth,
Which would seem an after-birth,
Not conceiv'd in the Beginning
(For GOD bless'd His work at first,
And saw that it was good),
But emerg'd at the first sinning,
When the ground was therefore curst; --
And hence this barren wood!
Kangaroo, Kangaroo!
Tho' at first sight we should say,
In thy nature that there may
Contradiction be involv'd,
Yet, like discord well resolv'd,
It is quickly harmonized.
Sphynx or mermaid realiz'd,
Or centaur unfabulous,
Would scarce be more prodigious,
Or Pegasus poetical,
Or hippogriff -- chimeras all!
But, what Nature would compile,
Nature knows to reconcile;
And Wisdom, ever at her side,
Of all her children's justified.
She had made the squirrel fragile;
She had made the bounding hart;
But a third so strong and agile
Was beyond ev'n Nature's art;
So she join'd the former two
In thee, Kangaroo!
To describe thee, it is hard:
Converse of the camélopard,
Which beginneth camel-wise,
But endeth of the panther size,
Thy fore half, it would appear,
Had belong'd to some "small deer,"
Such as liveth in a tree;
By thy hinder, thou should'st be
A large animal of chace,
Bounding o'er the forest's space; --
Join'd by some divine mistake,
None but Nature's hand can make --
Nature, in her wisdom's play,
On Creation's holiday.
For howsoe'er anomalous,
Thou yet art not incongruous,
Repugnant or preposterous.
Better-proportion'd animal,
More graceful or ethereal,
Was never follow'd by the hound,
With fifty steps to thy one bound.
Thou can'st not be amended: no;
Be as thou art; thou best art so.
When sooty swans are once more rare,
And duck-moles the Museum's care,
Be still the glory of this land,
Happiest Work of finest Hand!
poem by Barron Field
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Duck at Haldon Ponds
At evening watches the duck
slow feeding the waterline.
Praises the duck. Such a fine
white miracle breasting the mayfly.
Green of her tail feathers,
space of her neck doubled in water
paddles off with my mind.
Ducks I have known.
Old duck mates of mine
inspecting the meeting of air and liquid.
Make no mistake, duck.
I´d like to eat you well cooked
one bell-battered Sunday in April.
And I´d wear your gorgeous feathers in my hat,
make a soup of the bones
and give your leftovers to the cat.
The Best Of Me (feat. David Foster)
The late George Woolnough
Worked on High Street
And lived on manors
52 years he sat on his veranda
And made his saddles
and if you had questions
About sheep or flowers or dogs
You just ask the saddler
He lived without sin
They\\\'re building a library for him
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
The son of George Woolnough
Went off and got married
And had a war baby
But something was wrong
And it\\\'s easier to drink than go crazy
And if there were questions about why
The end was so sad
Well George had no answers about why a son
Ever have need of a gun
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
The grandson of George
Has been all around the world
And lives in no special place
Changed his last name
And he married a girl with an interesting face
He\\\'d almost forgotten them both
Because in the life that he leads
Theres nowhere for George
And his library
Or the son with his gun
To belong
Except in this song
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
Time is a medler
Tenterfield saddler make your bed
Fly away cockatoo
Down on the ground emu up ahead
Time is a tale teller
Tenterfield saddler turn your head
Ride again jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tenterfield Saddler (feat. Peter Allen)
The late George Woolnough
Worked on High Street
And lived on manors
52 years he sat on his veranda
And made his saddles
and if you had questions
About sheep or flowers or dogs
You just ask the saddler
He lived without sin
They're building a library for him
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
The son of George Woolnough
Went off and got married
And had a war baby
But something was wrong
And it's easier to drink than go crazy
And if there were questions about why
The end was so sad
Well George had no answers about why a son
Ever have need of a gun
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
The grandson of George
Has been all around the world
And lives in no special place
Changed his last name
And he married a girl with an interesting face
He'd almost forgotten them both
Because in the life that he leads
Theres nowhere for George
And his library
Or the son with his gun
To belong
Except in this song
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
Time is a medler
Tenterfield saddler make your bed
Fly away cockatoo
Down on the ground emu up ahead
Time is a tale teller
Tenterfield saddler turn your head
Ride again jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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