The Buckskin Bag of Gold
Last night I met him on the train--
A man with lovely eyes;
And he gave me a searching glance
Of sweet charm'd surprise!
I knew 'twas he the lady meant,
Who once my fortune told,
By his jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
Yes! (Ha! ha!) Yes! (ha! ha!) his is the man
Who does your fortune hold!
He has jet black eyes, a grand moustache,
And a buckskin bag of gold.
Tall! (Ha! ha!) slim! (ha! ha!) quick as a flash!
And twenty two years old;
He has jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
The dearest man you ever saw
How much I love him now!
And if I should live a thousand years,
No other hears my vow.
Like Judas--no, like Jupiter,
He look'd so brave and bold,
With his jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
Sweet boy bring me the "Morning Call"
Perchance I'll find his name;
At the "Grand Hotel" he must have stopp'd,
I wonder when he came!
He must have charm'd those Lumpkin girls,
So haughty, proud and cold,
By his jet black eyes, his grand mousetache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
How can I seek a name unknown?
Oh, tell me where he went!
What is this I read! why Papa's bank
Is robb'd of ev'ry cent!
The thief, it seems, left town last night,
Well, well! I'm nicely sold!
He had jet black eyes, his grand mousetache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Related quotes
The quill worker
Plains, plains, and the prairie land which the sunlight floods and fills,
To the north the open country, southward the Cyprus Hills;
Never a bit of woodland, never a rill that flows,
Only a stretch of cactus beds, and the wild, sweet prairie rose;
Never a habitation, save where in the far south-west
A solitary tepee lifts its solitary crest,
Where Neykia in the doorway, crouched in the red sunshine,
Broiders her buckskin mantle with the quills of the porcupine.
Neykia, the Sioux chief's daughter, she with the foot that flies,
She with the hair of midnight and the wondrous midnight eyes,
She with the deft brown fingers, she with the soft, slow smile,
She with the voice of velvet and the thoughts that dream the while,--
"Whence come the vague to-morrows? Where do the yesters fly?
What is beyond the border of the prairie and the sky?
Does the maid in the Land of Morning sit in the red sunshine,
Broidering her buckskin mantle with the quills of the porcupine?"
So Neykia, in the westland, wonders and works away,
Far from the fret and folly of the "Land of Waking Day."
And many the pale-faced trader who stops at the tepee door
For a smile from the sweet, shy worker, and a sigh when the hour is o'er.
For they know of a young red hunter who oftentimes has stayed
To rest and smoke with her father, tho' his eyes were on the maid;
And the moons will not be many ere she in the red sunshine
Will broider his buckskin mantle with the quills of the porcupine.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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A Poet's Wooing
I woo'd a woman once,
But she was sharper than an eastern wind.
Tennyson
"What may I do to make you glad,
To make you glad and free,
Till your light smiles glance
And your bright eyes dance
Like sunbeams on the sea?
Read some rhyme that is blithe and gay
Of a bright May morn and a marriage day?"
And she sighed in a listless way she had,--
"Do not read--it will make me sad!"
"What shall I do to make you glad--
To make you glad and gay,
Till your eyes gleam bright
As the stars at night
When as light as the light of day
Sing some song as I twang the strings
Of my sweet guitar through its wanderings?"
And she sighed in the weary way she had,--
"Do not sing--it will make me sad!"
"What can I do to make you glad--
As glad as glad can be,
Till your clear eyes seem
Like the rays that gleam
And glint through a dew-decked tree?--
Will it please you, dear, that I now begin
A grand old air on my violin?"
And she spoke again in the following way,--
"Yes, oh yes, it would please me, sir;
I would be so glad you'd play
Some grand old march--in character,--
And then as you march away
I will no longer thus be sad,
But oh, so glad--so glad--so glad!"
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Lucindy Jane
When I was young I was too proud
To wheel my daughter in her pram.
"It's infra dig," I said aloud,--
Bot now I'm old, behold I am
Perambulating up and down
Grand-daughter through the town.
And when I come into the Square,
Beside the fountain I will stop;
And as to rest I linger there,
The dames will say: "How do, Grand-pop!
Lucindy Jane with eyes so blue
Looks more and more like you."
And sure it's pleased as Punch I get,
And take Lucindy on my knee;
Aye, at the risk of getting wet,
I blether to the girls a wee:
Then as we have a bottle date
Home we perambulate.
Gosh! That's the joy of all my day;
And as I play the part of nurse:
"She's got your nose," I hear them say.
Thinks I: "Well now, she might have worse."
And how I dream I'll live to see
A great-grandchild upon my knee,
Whom folks say looks like me!
poem by Robert William Service
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It's Grand
It's grand to be a squatter
And sit upon a post,
And watch your little ewes and lambs
A-giving up the ghost.
It's grand to be a "cockie"
With wife and kids to keep,
And find an all-wise Providence
Has mustered all your sheep.
It's grand to be a Western man,
With shovel in your hand,
To dig your little homestead out
From underneath the sand.
It's grand to be a shearer
Along the Darling-side,
And pluck the wool from stinking sheep
That some days since have died.
It's grand to be a rabbit
And breed till all is blue,
And then to die in heaps because
There's nothing left to chew.
It's grand to be a Minister
And travel like a swell,
And tell the Central District folk
To go to -- Inverell.
It's grand to be a socialist
And lead the bold array
That marches to prosperity
At seven bob a day.
It's grand to be unemployed
And lie in the Domain,
And wake up every second day --
And go to sleep again.
It's grand to borrow English tin
To pay for wharves and docks
And then to find it isn't in
The little money-box.
It's grand to be a democrat
And toady to the mob,
For fear that if you told the truth
They'd hunt you from your job.
It's grand to be a lot of things
In this fair Southern land,
But if the Lord would send us rain,
That would, indeed, be grand!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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My grand dad
I remember you grand dad
Back since I was only three
I remember you granddad
How much you adored me
I remember you grand dad
How you made me smile
I remember you grand dad
You made my toddler years worthwhile
I remember you grand dad
Your lovely smell of tobacco
I remember you grand dad
The love for others you would show
I remember you grand dad
When I came to see you, you would give me a jellybean
I remember you grand dad
You always made me feel like a queen
I remember you grand dad
And I miss you everyday
Suppose?
It's mighty nice at shut of day
With weariness to hit the hey,
To close your eyes, tired through and through,
And just forget that "you are you."
It's mighty sweet to wake again
When sunshine floods the window pain;
I love in cosy couch to lie,
And re-discover "I am I."
It would be grand could we conceive
A heaven in which to believe,
And in a better life to be be,
Find out with joy "we still are we."
Though we assume with lapsing breath
Eternal is the sleep of death,
Would it not be divinely odd
To wake and find that - "God is God."
poem by Robert William Service
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What A Life Ive Led
(hicks / lynch)
There never was a man so doggone mean
I wore only black and my eyes were green
And I can tell you now that Im very old
Id kill any man for a piece of gold
Oh what a life Ive led
Ive been a real bad man and I oughta be dead
Oh what a life Ive led
Ive been real mean man, full of cheating and lying
Left a lot of men dead and a lot of girls crying
Yes I did
I rode into dodge on a sunny day
I went there to steal all the railmens pay
And when I left town all the streets ran red
I had ten grand in gold, and three guards lay dead
Chorus
I was a bad man with a heart made of stone
If you were a wise man, you wouldve left me alone
Ive lived all my life, such a lonely one
Just me and my horse and a fine six-gun
Ive lived and Ive loved and I knew great pain
But I know now Id do it over again singing
Chorus x 2
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Segregation
I stood beside the silken rope,
Five dollars in my hand,
And waited in my patient hope
To sit anear the Band,
And hear the famous Louie play
The best hot trumpet of today.
And then a waiter loafing near
Says in a nasty tone:
"Old coon, we don't want darkies here,
Beat it before you're thrown."
So knowin' nothin' I could do
I turned to go and--there was Lou.
I think he slapped that Dago's face;
His voice was big an' loud;
An' then he leads me from my place
Through all that tony crowd.
World-famous Louie by the hand
Took me to meet his famous Band.
"Listen, you folks," I heard him say.
"Here's Grand-papa what's come.
Savin' he teached me how to play,
I mighta been a bum.
Come on, Grand-pop, git up an' show
How you kin trumpet Ol' Black Joe."
Tremblin' I played before his Band:
You should have heard the cheers.
Them swell folks gave me such a hand
My cheeks was wet wi' tears . . .
An' now I'm off to tell the wife
The proudest night o' all ma life.
poem by Robert William Service
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Train Of Gold
I saw her there from across the street, she was dressed in black
And when she moved she moved to a beat, like a cadillac
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
She was a woman of suspicious ways, never saw daylight
And in her room she sat and passed the days
And shed creep out at night
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
Chorus: train of gold, train of gold
It took me so long to find out I was wrong
Now I wait for her in the night
Looked through a window saw a velvet sky, a shade of green
A violin was playing soft and sweet, like it was a dream
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
Train of gold, train of gold
It took me so long to find out I was wrong
Now I wait for her in the night
Train of gold, train of gold
I dont believe her, it just couldnt be her
I cant get it out of my mind
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Know It All
Their grandfather
Often asks me…
If my daughter is
Helping me with
My housework…
I always chip in
To say, not only
His grand-daughter,
I'm also making sure
His grand-son learns
Some basic life skills.
For, I don't want my
Daughter to become
A "do it all" and my son
To feign a "know it all" ;)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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If the foolish, call them "flowers"
168
If the foolish, call them "flowers"—
Need the wiser, tell?
If the Savants "Classify" them
It is just as well!
Those who read the "Revelations"
Must not criticize
Those who read the same Edition—
With beclouded Eyes!
Could we stand with that Old "Moses"—
"Canaan" denied—
Scan like him, the stately landscape
On the other side—
Doubtless, we should deem superfluous
Many Sciences,
Not pursued by learned Angels
In scholastic skies!
Low amid that glad Belles lettres
Grant that we may stand,
Stars, amid profound Galaxies—
At that grand "Right hand"!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Goldrush
Give me your gold
Blue moon is walking
These lips are smoking
Big time disaster
My heart gets faster
My pot is melting
Doctors consulting destiny
Give it to me
This is
Your show and its old
And its a wonder
This day I give it to you
Give it to you
Give me your gold
Give me your gold
You got a nugget in your pocket
Got a nugget in your hand
You got a nugget in your pocket
Got a nugget for a grand
So forget your hesitation
Take a dozen invitation
Like its for a great confusion
Like its for a grand illusion
Clouds... love... stars... colors
Take it into the night
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goldrush
Give me your gold
Blue moon is walking
These lips are smoking
Big time disaster
My heart gets faster
My pot is melting
Doctors consulting destiny
Give it to me
This is
Your show and its old
And its a wonder
This day I give it to you
Give it to you
Give me your gold
Give me your gold
You got a nugget in your pocket
Got a nugget in your hand
You got a nugget in your pocket
Got a nugget for a grand
So forget your hesitation
Take a dozen invitation
Like its for a great confusion
Like its for a grand illusion
Clouds... love... stars... colors
Take it into the night
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cornish Lullaby
Out on the mountain over the town,
All night long, all night long,
The trolls go up and the trolls go down,
Bearing their packs and crooning a song;
And this is the song the hill-folk croon,
As they trudge in the light of the misty moon,--
This is ever their dolorous tune:
"Gold, gold! ever more gold,--
Bright red gold for dearie!"
Deep in the hill the yeoman delves
All night long, all night long;
None but the peering, furtive elves
See his toil and hear his song;
Merrily ever the cavern rings
As merrily ever his pick he swings,
And merrily ever this song he sings:
"Gold, gold! ever more gold,--
Bright red gold for dearie!"
Mother is rocking thy lowly bed
All night long, all night long,
Happy to smooth thy curly head
And to hold thy hand and to sing her song;
'T is not of the hill-folk, dwarfed and old,
Nor the song of the yeoman, stanch and bold,
And the burden it beareth is not of gold;
But it's "Love, love!--nothing but love,--
Mother's love for dearie!"
poem by Eugene Field
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The Great Franchise Demonstration
'Twas in the year of 1884, and on Saturday the 20th of September,
Which the inhabitants of Dundee will long remember
The great Liberal Franchise Demonstration,
Which filled their minds with admiration.
Oh! it was a most magnificent display,
To see about 20 or 30 thousand men all in grand array;
And each man with a medal on his breast;
And every man in the procession dressed in his best.
The banners of the processionists were really grand to see-
The like hasn't been seen for a long time in Dundee;
While sweet music from the bands did rend the skies,
And every processionist was resolved to vote for the Franchise.
And as the procession passed along each street,
The spectators did loudly the processionists greet;
As they viewed their beautiful banners waving in the wind,
They declared such a scene would be ever fresh in their mind.
The mustering of the processionists was very grand,
As along the Esplanade each man took his stand,
And as soon as they were marshalled in grand array,
To the Magdalen Green, in haste, they wended their way.
And when they arrived on the Magdalen Green,
I'm sure it was a very beautiful imposing scene-
While the cheers of that vast multitude ascended to the skies,
For the "Grand Old Man," Gladstone, the Hero of the Franchise,
Who has struggled very hard for the people's rights,
Many long years, and many weary nights;
And I think the "Grand Old Man" will gain the Franchise,
And if he does, the people will laud him to the skies.
And his name should be written in letters of gold :
For he is a wise statesman- true and bold-
Who has advocated the people's rights for many long years;
And when he is dead they will thank him with their tears.
For he is the man for the working man,
And without fear of contradiction, deny it who can;
Because he wishes the working man to have a good coat,
And, both in town and country, to have power to vote.
The reason why the Lords won't pass the Franchise Bill :
They fear that it will do themselves some ill;
That is the reason why they wish to throw it out,
Yes, believe me, fellow citizens, that's the cause without doubt.
The emblems and mottoes in the procession, were really grand,
The like hasn't been seen in broad Scotland;
Especially the picture of Gladstone- the nation's hope,
Who is a much cleverer man than Sir John Cope.
There were masons and ploughmen all in a row,
Also tailors, tenters, and blacksmiths, which made a grand show;
Likewise carters and bakers which was most beautiful to be seen,
To see them marching from the Esplanade to the Magdalen Green.
I'm sure it was a most beautiful sight to see,
The like has never been seen before in Dundee;
Such a body of men, and Gladstone at the helm,
Such a sight, I'm sure, 'twould the Lords o'erwhelm.
Oh! it was grand to see that vast crowd,
And to hear the speeches, most eloquent and loud,
That were made by the speakers, regarding the Franchise;
While the spectators applauded them to the skies.
And for the "Grand Old Man" they gave three cheers,
Hoping he would live for many long years;
And when the speeches were ended, the people's hearts were gay,
And they all dispersed quietly to their homes without delay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Didn't Know What Time It Was
Richard Rodgers / Lorenz Hart
Once I was young --
yesterday, perhaps --
danced with Jim and Paul
and kissed some other chaps.
Once I was young,
but never was naive.
I thought I had a trick or two
up my imaginary sleeve.
And now I know I was naive.
REFRAIN
I didn't know what time it was
then I met you.
Oh, what a lovely time it was,
How sublime it was too!
I didn't know what time it was
you hold my hand.
Warm like the month of May it was,
and I'll say it was grand.
Grand to be alive, to be young,
to be mad, to be yours alone!
Grand tosee your face, feel your touch,
hear your voice say I'm all your own.
I didn't know what time it was
live was no prize.
I whanted love and here it was
shining out of your eyes.
I'm wise,
and I know what time it is now.
VERSE 2
Once I was old --
Twenty years or so --
rather well preserved:
the wrinkles did't show.
Once I was old,
but not too old for fun.
I used to hunt for little girls
up my immaginary gun.
But now I ain for only one!
REFRAIN
I didn't know what time it was
then I met you.
Oh, what a lovely time it was,
How sublime it was too!
I didn't know what time it was
you hold my hand.
Warm like the month of May it was,
and I'll say it was grand.
Grand to be alive, to be young,
to be mad, to be yours alone!
Grand tosee your face, feel your touch,
hear your voice say I'm all your own.
I didn't know what time it was
live was no prize.
I whanted love and here it was
shining out of your eyes.
I'm wise,
and I know what time it is now.
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Didnt Know What Time It Was
Richard rodgers / lorenz hart
Once I was young --
Yesterday, perhaps --
Danced with jim and paul
And kissed some other chaps.
Once I was young,
But never was naive.
I thought I had a trick or two
Up my imaginary sleeve.
And now I know I was naive.
Refrain
I didnt know what time it was
Then I met you.
Oh, what a lovely time it was,
How sublime it was too!
I didnt know what time it was
You hold my hand.
Warm like the month of may it was,
And Ill say it was grand.
Grand to be alive, to be young,
To be mad, to be yours alone!
Grand tosee your face, feel your touch,
Hear your voice say Im all your own.
I didnt know what time it was
Live was no prize.
I whanted love and here it was
Shining out of your eyes.
Im wise,
And I know what time it is now.
Verse 2
Once I was old --
Twenty years or so --
Rather well preserved:
The wrinkles didt show.
Once I was old,
But not too old for fun.
I used to hunt for little girls
Up my immaginary gun.
But now I ain for only one!
Refrain
I didnt know what time it was
Then I met you.
Oh, what a lovely time it was,
How sublime it was too!
I didnt know what time it was
You hold my hand.
Warm like the month of may it was,
And Ill say it was grand.
Grand to be alive, to be young,
To be mad, to be yours alone!
Grand tosee your face, feel your touch,
Hear your voice say Im all your own.
I didnt know what time it was
Live was no prize.
I whanted love and here it was
Shining out of your eyes.
Im wise,
And I know what time it is now.
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Retired Shopman
He had the grocer's counter-stoop,
That little man so grey and neat;
His moustache had a doleful droop,
He hailed me in the slushy street.
"I've sold my shop," he said to me,
Cupping his hand behind his ear.
"My deafness got so bad, you see,
Folks had to shout to make me hear."
He sighed and sadly shook his head;
The hand he gave was chill as ice.
"I sold out far too soon," he said;
"To-day I'd get ten times the price.
But then how was a man to know,
(The War, the rising cost of life.)
We have to pinch to make things go:
It's tough - I'm sorry for the wife.
"She looks sometimes at me with tears.
'You worked so hard,' I hear her say.
'You had your shop for forty years,
And you were honest as the day.'
Ah yes, I loved my shop, it's true;
My customers I tried to please;
But when one's deaf and sixty-two
What can one do in times like these?
"My savings, that I fondly thought
Would keep me snug when we were old,
Are melting fast - what once I bought
For silver, now is sought with gold.
The cost of life goes up each day;
I wonder what will be the end?"
He sighed, I saw him drift away
And thought: Alas for you, my friend!
and every day I see him stop
And look and look with wistful eye
At what was once his little shop,
Whose goods he can no longer buy.
Then homeward wearily he goes
To where his wife bed-ridden lies,
A driblet dangling from his nose. . . .
But Oh the panic in his eyes!
poem by Robert William Service
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A horse of a different color
Yellow is the sun
Who always seems to run,
Blue is for the ocean
whitch never will have a notion
Purple is a lightning storm
Whitch always makes me feel warm
Orange is a tigers fur
black to sure
Gold is the fish itself
gold and grand a fish is
Red is the brilliant blood
That cover my razors
Just My Luck
"Dear someone, you know you are now and after
For so long I lone and suffer
Hunting and seeking for more than tender
The closer I get, the more it hinder
In my dream only I can imagine
To turn fate into magic
I've had a taste of various varieties
Black, white, diamond and gold
Black, white, green and blue
Black, white, young and old
With the wish of having something new
Know you are now then be my new
Know you are after and wish you flew
Along with me because you thought you knew"
I lost my dairy to a stranger
She read the words and fell in love
poem by Kwasi Boakye
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