But What's The Use
But what’s the use of writing ‘bush’—
Though editors demand it—
For city folk, and farming folk,
Can never understand it.
They’re blind to what the bushman sees
The best with eyes shut tightest,
Out where the sun is hottest and
The stars are most and brightest.
The crows at sunrise flopping round
Where some poor life has run down;
The pair of emus trotting from
The lonely tank at sundown,
Their snaky heads well up, and eyes
Well out for man’s manoeuvres,
And feathers bobbing round behind
Like fringes round improvers.
The swagman tramping ’cross the plain;
Good Lord, there’s nothing sadder,
Except the dog that slopes behind
His master like a shadder;
The turkey-tail to scare the flies,
The water-bag and billy;
The nose-bag getting cruel light,
The traveller getting silly.
The plain that seems to Jackaroos
Like gently sloping rises,
The shrubs and tufts that’s miles away
But magnified in sizes;
The track that seems arisen up
Or else seems gently slopin’,
And just a hint of kangaroos
Way out across the open.
The joy and hope the swagman feels
Returning, after shearing,
Or after six months’ tramp Out Back,
He strikes the final clearing.
His weary spirit breathes again,
His aching legs seem limber
When to the East across the plain
He spots the Darling Timber!
But what’s the use of writing ‘bush’—
Though editors demand it—
For city folk and cockatoos,
They do not understand it.
They’re blind to what the whaler sees
The best with eyes shut tightest,
Out where Australia’s widest, and
The stars are most and brightest.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Attitudes.
The moon sheds soft and silver light
upon the newly fallen snow
A master piece for our delight.
The city folk will never know.
The snow that falls on city streets.
Is all too soon polluted by
the footprints left by passing feet.
In cities different rules apply.
Country folk accept the snow
They know there’s little they can do
but wait. In time the snow must go.
Something to look forward to.
But city folk impatiently
Demand the streets should be snow free.
Wednesday,06 January 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I really understand what that process is all about and how important it is, especially with young folk and creative folk that love looking for some platform that makes it easier for them to express themselves.
quote by Mick Fleetwood
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hide Away Folk Family
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away
Tippy-toe to the front door, mother,
cause theres a guy with a long, long fuse
And the one thing you cant hide is all the fear you feel inside
As the fuse is spelling out these words
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away
Tippy-toe to the flat-bed, father,
Because theyre pouring out our gasoline
And sadly the cross-eyed bears been put to sleep behind the stairs
And his shoes are laced with irony
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away
Hello. this is leslie down with the daily home astrology report.
Taurus: contemplate domestic turmoil.
Aquarius: abandon hope for future plans.
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away (hide away)
Hide away (folk family) folk family (or else someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away
Hide away
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fairie's Fair
Who’s that dancing on the moonlight air,
Heel tapping, Toe-heel rapping?
Oberon opening the fairies’ fair
To jig away sorrow on the grave of Care.
Come along, old folk, cold fork, bold folk,
Drop your shears at the midnight stroke.
Elves are crying: "Who’ll come buying
Jugs of Joy from a fairy’s cloak?"
Mab is sitting on a silver shoe,
Bright eyes laughing, Light lips quaffing
Airy bubbles from a cup of dew,
Her bracelets tinkle with delights for you.
Come along tall folk, small folk, all folk,
Race the stream where the fat frogs croak,
Buy a bobbin! There goes Robin
Tying Time to a daisy’s yoke!
poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Folk Don't Talk
On the day she died they all came,
though I was shocked they recalled her name
but they drank our booze and ate our cake
yeah they ate our cake alright.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
Nobody came and nobody called
when she was ill and dying.
Nobody seemed to care at all
and now they're all here crying.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
So I sat there dazed and out of control
listening to them talking,
but when she were alive, the house was still,
just me and mother sighing.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
And afterwards, when they all went
I carried out her last requests.
I moved her gas fire, paid the rent
and left a note to the dairyman.
Nobody came and nobody called
when she was ill and dying.
Nobody seemed to care at all
and if they say they did, they're lying.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Christmas Scene
To this green place the tourists troop,
By twos, by threes, and group by group,
Lads in bright blazers, girls in slacks,
Hikers with rucksack on their backs.
And bush ways, till their advent stilled,
With joyous shouting now is filled
'Cooee!' each gay town-dweller cries,
And counts himself full forest wise.
An old grey bushman lounging by
Marks the sophisticated cry
And smiles a little as he says,
'The city folk got real queer ways.
What's this here 'cooee' mean at all?
Seems like a kind of mating call.
Childish they seem.' He smiles again,
The wise one in his own domain.
Here's his revenge for all he meets
Of stares and smiles in city streets,
For ridicule and laughing snubs
By city paths and city pubs.
He deems it now the crowning joke
To 'pull the legs' of city folk.
'What? Snakes?' says he. 'By gosh, you're right.
It's days like this they're apt to fight.'
So moves the pageantry today
By many a pleasant bushland way,
And laughing crowds wake merriment
Where once, mid silences there went
Some wandering band of blacks, to seek,
Their scanty fare by hill and creek,
Less than ten score of years ago.
And of the future? Who may know.
Content amid this Christmas scene
Of gleaming sky and glowing green
And happy shouts, one well might pray
For even yet some happier day
When, growing saner, kindlier still,
May devise, by wooded hill
And shaded vale, some scene of mirth
As yet unvisioned on our eath.
Is it for this our feet are set,
While war and folly men forget?
Orm ust this land drift back again
To primal silence, making vain
All that our vaunted progress won?
Who knows? Who cares? Here is the sun!
Glad youth calls youth by hill and creek. . . .
These are no thoughts for Christmas week.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The City With Eyes
The city with eyes
Sees everything,
City with eyes
Hears everything
Feels everything
The city with eyes
Sees people living on the rough side of the streets
Sees people eating crumbs from the floor
Sees people with ripped clothes and no shoes
Watching other people wearing lubatones walking past
It cries not one but millions of tears
For them
Tears which touch every one
Which soaks everything
Rain, they call it.
The city with eyes
Watching
What has happened to my city?
It cries with sorrow
The city with eyes
Feels the sadness
Of those in need, sad, hurt, …
Watching what was happy
To what is sad know
Folk rock was my real roots. I did a few gigs as a folk artist, in the style of Fairport Convention.
quote by Alan Parsons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Kenny first came to me, I think he was thinking of making a nice little folk record, but in my opinion, folk music had come to an end and I felt he needed to go to the next step, the next generation.
quote by Jim Messina
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We had a certain kind of really big prestige among, I suppose not just intellectual folk, but a sort of nice middle class intelligent folk of a very urban nature.
quote by Adolph Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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CHANGE TRUDEAU'S CHARTER May 4th,2011
To those folk in Quebec who haven’t signed the constitution yet,
Demand Trudeau’s Charter and Chretien’s law be changed and we’re set,
Then get death with dignity and a binding referendum law,
Then sit down and figure out if there are any other flaws.
Because some old sick folk need death-with-dignity like the Swiss,
But this is something our politicians are inclined to dismiss,
And we need binding referendums in order to improve,
In case there is something or someone we want to remove.
If we are going to change the Constitution we have to think,
A political party is second to a people link,
One provincial premier should be prime minister each year,
So the Quebecois or nobody else have anything to fear.
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Down the airy mountain
Down the airy mountain
Through the rushing glen
We daren't go a- hunting
For fear of little men-
Good folk bright folk
trooping all together
With redcap, green coat and
white owl feather.
poem by Willow Cochrane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Mine, Not Yours
Paradise, about to get lost,
Artisans losing sheen,
Intrusion ad invasion,
Did they ask the folk?
Felons barging into the territory,
Annihilating whatever coming their way,
Trampling over the agreed upon,
Deteriorating the beautiful vistas.
Shitty personas plundering the dell,
Screeching, “It’s mine, not yours.”
But did they enquire about the folk?
Gimcrack acts and fractious intruders,
With daggers, proceeding,
Blood flowing in rills,
Bloodshed in ginormous quantities,
Flanked by his entourage, came he
Attired in white, howled he,
“I am the czar here.”
Fractious figure, yelled he,
“I am the monarch here.”
Paradise heaving with crimson hues,
Snowcaped rocks blackened.
But did the folk permit you?
Blasts and sounds and echoes,
Lament and mourn and groan.
Paradise lost, we doomed.
Atrocities and deterioration and despise.
But did the folk support you?
Demagogue playing a gimmick,
Folk lured and invitation to hooliganism,
Holocaust all around,
Where would the kids and adults take refuge?
But did the folk walk along with you?
CONTRIBUTED BY: -
NEHA SHARMA
ENGLISH (HONS.) 2nd YEAR
JDMC, DU
poem by Neha Sharma
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A 4th World
Here we are under these particular stars
Here we stand Victorian
Where the white folk can grow to no so
Very little about the black folk
The same folk who rightfully own
This piece of beauty that we call our home
Well negativity is often heard from society
With conviction they preach
Not even knowing of whom they speak
I guess its each to there own
Those that want to will know
I guess its each to there own
Because from the top the views are old and grey
Well I feel so ashamed
Of this system and these ways
The tiny hearts that lead our nation
And tiny minds that let them in
And I see your confusion
I see your pain
I see your pain and your confusion
And theres still some with my skin
Who still try and hide the reason
song performed by by Xavier Rudd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Folk I Love
I do hate the folk I love-
They hurt so.
Their least word and act may be
Source of woe.
'Won't you come to tea with me?'
'Not today'
I'm so tired, I've been to church
Such folk say.
All the dreary afternoon
I must clutch
At the strength to love like them
Not too much
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Rain Along Shore
Wan white mists upon the sea,
East wind harping mournfully
All the sunken reefs along,
Wail and heart-break in its song,
But adown the placid bay
Fisher-folk keep holiday.
All the deeps beyond the bar
Call and murmur from afar,
'Plaining of a mighty woe
Where the great ships come and go,
But adown the harbor gray
Fisher-folk keep holiday.
When the cloudy heavens frown,
And the sweeping rain comes down,
Boats at anchorage must bide
In despite of time or tide;
Making merry as they may
Fisher-folk keep holiday.
Now is time for jest and song
All the idle shore along,
Now is time for wooing dear,
Maidens cannot choose but hear;
Daffing toil and care away
Fisher-folk keep holiday.
Oh, the fretted reefs may wail,
Every man has furled his sail!
Oh, the wind may moan in fear,
Every lad is with his dear!
Mirth and laughter have their way,
Fisher-folk keep holiday.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Ethics for Infants
Now, children, in this lesson of a rather novel sort
Let us dwell, however briefly, on the moral phase of sport,
Taking cricket, for example, and those vague unwritten laws
Which, when observed, bring harmony, and help the noble cause
Of sportsmanship; but, understand, opinions given here
And rules of conduct specified are just as they appear.
To me and sundry others who see eye to eye with me
While 'tis candidly admitted other folk may disagree.
Eample one: When bowling we'll suppose, without intent,
You hurt a batsman badly so that half his strength be spent.
Now, the law, as I conceive it; is to give the man a chance
And to treat him rather gently while he flounders in trance.
That's sportsmanship, true sportsmanship as it appears to me;
Tho', as I have remarked before, some folk may disagree.
They would set a leg trap for him and attack him out of hand!
But that's a trick that you and I could never understand.
Example two: When bowling you have got a batsman out
But the umpire has not seen it, and the issue is in doubt;
The batsman gets the benefit and profits by the same.
And you? Why you regard it as the fortune of the game.
But, should you lose your temper and show plainly you are peeved,
Well, I and who thnk like me would be just a little grieved,
A little bit ashamed, you know, or so it seems to me,
Tho' remember clearly, children, other folk may disgaree.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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