For all the Land to See: A Song of the Tools
THE CROSS-CUT and the crowbar cross, and hang them on the wall,
And make a greenhide rack to fit the wedges and the maul,
The “done” long-handled shovel and the thong-bound axe that fell,
The crowbar, pick-axe and the “throw”—the axe that morticed well.
The old patched tent and “fly”, bag bunk and pillow of sugee,
The frying-pan and billy-can, for all the land to see.
The cross-cut, after pounds of files, is narrowed down and thin,
With here and there a tooth cut out as th’ curve straightened in,
The axe close to the iron ground, the shovel to the shaft,
The handle from the first worn smooth with sweat and dust and graft.
The maul and wedges burred and split, spell bravest history—
These were the arms our fathers bore, for none but they to see.
Then look you round on all that is, on cities proud and fair,
And look you westward from the range—towns, farms and homesteads there.
Then hurry to a place you know lest you should be too late,
And clear the scrub some little space—small place, say—three-by eight.
A blackened post stump stands where four rough panels used to be
And there take off your panama where none but God might see.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Related quotes
Poem: Song to the Holy Cross
The cross of love:
The cross I love:
The cross I'd loved all life;
The wooden cross:
The holy cross:
The cross that bore man's strife.
The oaken cross:
The heavy cross:
The cross Jesus carried;
The cross on which
Christ Lord was nailed:
And bore man's sins indeed.
The cross of death:
The blood-stained cross:
The Savior, man, redeemed;
The cross of life's
Victory o'er death:
That souls on earth must heed.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rock Away
Stay on it.
Pray on it.
Don't give up,
'Til you own it.
And...
Pound, pound that rock away!
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
Get a pick and shovel pieces of it...
To a place where it will stay.
Oooow!
p-p-p Pound, pound that rock away.
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
tick-tick-tick,
Get a pick...
And shovel pieces of it to a place,
Where you know it will stay!
Take it off your constant meter.
Make your heated sweat,
Even sweeter.
Give it up to the gripper,
Quicker.
Slicker.
Live your life lived that much richer.
And...
Pound, pound that rock away!
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
Get a pick and shovel pieces of it...
To a place,
Where...
It will stay.
You will not feel free,
Until that beast has been ceased.
Stay on it.
Pray on it.
Don't give up,
'Til you own it.
Stay on it.
Pray on it.
Don't give up,
'Til you own it.
p-p-p Pound, pound that rock away.
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
tick-tick-tick,
Get a pick...
And shovel pieces of it,
To a place,
Where...
It will stay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wounded, Old And Treacherous
A walk on the quiet side, late in the day --
Don't mean to get in anybody's way.
The gods seem willing: sun's in the sky.
Old crows cawing as the straight crows fly.
There was a time when love was the law.
There was a time for the tooth and the claw.
Last rites given, no holds barred.
Heaven express on my credit card.
Now let me draw the jungle line --
I won't cross yours if you don't cross mine.
Won't make trouble, i don't need no fuss.
But i'm wounded, old and i'm treacherous.
Allow me to draw the jungle line --
You cross it once, you cross some friends of mine.
They won't make trouble, they don't need no fuss
But they're wounded, old and they're treacherous.
In the crisp of evening, on sacred ground --
Ghosts of fathers pushing moonbeams round.
Big cats prowling inside your head --
They left for china; better left for dead.
Let me draw the jungle line --
I won't cross yours if you don't cross mine.
Won't make trouble, i don't need no fuss.
But i'm wounded, old and i'm treacherous.
A walk on the quiet side, late in the day --
Don't mean to get in anybody's way.
The gods seem willing: sun's in the sky.
Old crows cawing as the straight crows fly.
There was a time when love was the law.
There was a time for the tooth and the claw.
Last rites given, no holds barred.
Heaven express on my credit card.
Living mountains going to shake that town --
Big mother calling you from underground.
She don't want trouble, she don't need no fuss.
But she's wounded, old and treacherous.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cross
Two fallen twigs when kept across
Can form a cross;
Two blades of grass just put cris-cross
Becomes a cross.
Two fingers placed atop the next
Looks like a cross;
A wire-mesh has umpteen crosses,
Like stars the sky across.
The cross is symbol of Christians;
The cross is pride of all baptized;
The cross instills love of Jesus;
The cross is feared by all devils!
The cross is sign of faith in God;
The cross means sacrifice like Christ;
The cross reminds of victory over death;
Carry your cross and follow Christ.
The cross can save the worst sinner;
The cross is sign of after-life;
The cross means Christ is Son of God!
The cross leads always to heaven.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-30-2009
poem by John Celes
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The Iron Cross
THEY pass, with heavy eyes and hair,
Before the Christ upon the Cross,
The Nations, stricken with their loss,
And lifting faces of despair.
What is the prayer they pray to Him,
Christ Jesus on the Iron Cross?
The Christ, neglected, dark with moss,
Whose hands are pierced, whose face is grim.
Is it forgiveness for great sin
They plead before the Iron Cross?
Or for some gift of gold or dross?
Or battle lost, that they would win?
With eyes where hate and horror meet,
They pass before the Iron Cross,
The Cross, that ancient words emboss,
Where hangs the Christ with nail-pierced feet.
His hair is fallen on his face.
His head hangs sidewise from the Cross —
The Crucified, who knows all loss,
And had on Earth no resting place.
'O world of men,' he seems to say,
'Behold me on your Iron Cross!
To me why kneel and tell your loss?
Why kneel to me and weep and pray?
'Have I not taught you to forgive?
And bade you from my Iron Cross
Believe, and bear your grief and loss,
That after death you too may live?
'You have not followed at my call!
You keep me on this Iron Cross,
And pray me keep you from all loss,
And save and comfort you withal.—
'You ask for love, and hate the more! —
You keep me on this Iron Cross!—
Restore to me my greater loss,
The brotherhood of rich and poor.'
They pass, with weary eyes and hair,
Before the Christ upon the Cross —
The Nations, wailing of their loss,
And lifting faces of despair.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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On The Flag Of The Southern Cross
On the flagpost in the freshening winds the flag of the Southern Cross
That brave workers once fought under does flap and wave and toss
In Ballarat in Australia where history was made
For their rights brave men died fighting at the Eureka Stockade
The Southern Cross above where they fought in the southern winds did blow
There history was created one hundred and fifty four years ago
The happening at Ballarat became known of Worldwide
Some of the miners who fought the Government troops were badly injured and some even died
For workers rights in Ballarat the price in human blood was paid
For the rights of a fair go it did not seem a fair trade
Each time I see the flag of the Southern Cross Ballarat comes to mind
The miners there who fought for workers rights were of the bravest kind
That great flag has a history for historians to recall
It surely stands for workers rights and a fair go for all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Headless Cross
Look through the people, and on through the mist
To the hill of the headless cross
Where all witches meet, on a night such as this
And the power of darkness is host
They come face to face, eye to eye, soul to soul
With and angel that fell from the sky
Borne on the air, the screams and the wails
Of the masses appointed to die
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
From the first evil night, when a black flash of light
Cut the crucifix half to the ground
Theres been no escape from the power of satan
On a nation so brave and so proud
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
How do you feel, when the locks refuse the key
And the master is calling your name
Does the luck of the charm, really keep you from harm?
Does the talisman protect you from pain?
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
From the first evil night, when a black flash of light
Cut the crucifix half to the ground
Theres no escaping the power of satan
On a nation so brave and so proud
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture, oh no, oh
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
At the headless cross, oh, at the headless cross
Where will you run to?
At the headless cross
Look, to the headless cross
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Before Dawn....
i've been too long in the valley of death,
too long in the prisons, too long at the wheel.
too close to the blade, too far from the fire,
too long defined by lonliness and grief.
they say there's a wind,
that comes from a forbidden place.
that strips leaves from the trees,
and causes mountains to shudder.
they say there's a god,
whose name we cant say.
who walks naked in the instant,
just before dawn.
and they say there's a lover,
who smells like me.
who tastes like my hunger,
whose voice i know.
yes, and they say there's a time,
when the wars will cease.
when the hungry will be fed,
and someone will care.
and i pray there's a hand,
and eyes that shine...
that darkness will undress me,
and name the light!
that small kindnesses will turn,
the ancient potter's wheel.
and make me a cup,
held close by your heart.
if i dance tonight beneath trees that weep,
know that tomorrow i'll burn,
know that my lips wait still...
know that i am alive...
as words fall like leaves...
the cross i lay down,
is but a shovel, but a pen...
the page i write upon...
you, simply you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Marriage Buraeu Rendezvous
Well I've been lookin' after number one for too long
And it seemed the love was passing me by
So I thought I better do something about it
And that's why I'm sittin' here lookin' cross the table at you
That's why I'm sittin' here lookin' cross the table at you
Well a lonely man needs a Marriage Bureau
Where they sit you right down and you fill in a form
Would you like a blonde or a black or a blue rinse
Do you like 'em small, love 'em slim long and tall
Do you like 'em small, love 'em slim long and tall
Oh no, too many questions
I'm looking for a girl like Momma used to be
She's cooking up a dream, she's baking ecstasy
Won't it be fine when
I find her
Would I like to take her to a movie or the theatre
Would I pick her up at home or would I like to meet her
Somewhere we could take a good look at each other
Smile and say hello or walk away
Smile and say hello or walk away
So I'm squeaky clean in and out of the bath
I never shaved so close before
I'm gonna put on a tie, I'm gonna shine up my shoes
I'm gonna slick back my hair, I've got nothin' to lose
Oh, oh, I'll be stinkin' so good
like I'm drowning in a sea of cologne
Hey... do you know you remind me of someone
But I'm here making eyes at you
And I think we're gonna say goodbye to the bureau
Close the files, turn the page, start anew
Close the files, turn the page, start anew
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Get There
Ohohah
Hey
Yeah
I've been wanderin' 'round in the dark
Been lost somewhere where no light could shine on my heart
I have known a pain so deep
But I know my faith will free me
[Get there] And I'll get through this
[Get there] I'll find my way again
So don't tell me that it's over
'Cause each step just gets me closer
[chorus]
(I will get there) I will get there
(I will get there) I will get there somehow
Cross that river (Cross that river)
Nothing's stoppin' me now
I will get through the night (Oh, yes, I will)
And make it through to the other side
(Get there) Get there
(Get there) Get there
I've been in these chains for so long
I'll break free and I'll be there where I belong
Hold my head up high, I'll stand tall
And I swear this time I won't fall
[Get there] I will do this
[Get there] No matter what it takes
'Cause I know no limitations
And I'll reach my destination, I will get there
[chorus]
I will get there (I will get there)
I will get there (Ooh) somehow (Somehow)
Cross that river (Cross that river)
Nothing's stoppin' me now
I will get through the night
And make it through to the other side
(Ooh, get there) Get there
(Get there) Get there
Well, the night is cold and dark
But somewhere the sun is shining
And I'll feel it shine on me
I'll keep on tryin', I'll keep on tryin'
I will get there (I will get there)
I will get there somehow
Cross that river (Cross that river)
Nothing's stoppin' me now
I will get through the night
And make it through to the other side
Get there, get there
I will get there (I will get there)
I will get there somehow (Somehow)
Cross that river (I'll cross that river for you)
Nothing's stoppin' me now (OhwhoaI)
I will get through (Through) the night
And make it through to the other side (Ohhoohho)
(Get there) Get there
(Ooh, get there) Get there (Whoaoh)
I will get there (I will get there)
I will get there somehow (Somehow)
Cross that river (I'll cross it for your love)
Nothing's stoppin' me now (No matter what)
I will get through the night (I will get through the night)
And make it through to the other side
(Get there) Get there
(Ooh, get there) Get there
Get there
Ohhooh
I'll get there
song performed by by Boyz II Men
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With Mercy for the Greedy
for my friend Ruth, who urges me to make an appointment for the Sacrament of Confesson
Concerning your letter in which you ask
me to call a priest and in which you ask
me to wear The Cross that you enclose;
your own cross,
your dog-bitten cross,
no larger than a thumb,
small and wooden, no thorns, this rose -
I pray to its shadow,
that gray place
where it lies on your letter… deep, deep.
I detest my sins and I try to believe
in The Cross. I touch its tender hips, its dark jawed face,
its solid neck, its brown sleep.
True. There is
a beautiful Jesus.
He is frozen to his bones like a chunk of beef.
How desperately he wanted to pull his arms in!
How desperately I touch his vertical and horizontal axes!
But I can't. Need is not quite belief.
All morning long
I have worn
your cross, hung with package string around my throat.
It tapped me lightly as a child's heart might,
tapping secondhand, softly waiting to be born.
Ruth, I cherish the letter you wrote.
My friend, my friend, I was born
doing reference work in sin, and born
confessing it. This is what poems are:
with mercy
for the greedy,
they are the tongue's wrangle,
the world's pottage, the rat's star.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Marriage Bureau Rendezvous
Well Ive been lookin after number one for too long
And it seemed the love was passing me by
So I thought I better do something about it
And thats why Im sittin here lookin cross the table at you
Thats why Im sittin here lookin cross the table at you
Well a lonely man needs a marriage bureau
Where they sit you right down and you fill in a form
Would you like a blonde or a black or a blue rinse
Do you like 'em small, love 'em slim long and tall
Do you like 'em small, love 'em slim long and tall
Oh no, too many questions
Im looking for a girl like momma used to be
Shes cooking up a dream, shes baking ecstasy
Wont it be fine when
I find her
Would I like to take her to a movie or the theatre
Would I pick her up at home or would I like to meet her
Somewhere we could take a good look at each other
Smile and say hello or walk away
Smile and say hello or walk away
So Im squeaky clean in and out of the bath
I never shaved so close before
Im gonna put on a tie, Im gonna shine up my shoes
Im gonna slick back my hair, Ive got nothin to lose
Oh, oh, Ill be stinkin so good
Like Im drowning in a sea of cologne
Hey... do you know you remind me of someone
But Im here making eyes at you
And I think were gonna say goodbye to the bureau
Close the files, turn the page, start anew
Close the files, turn the page, start anew
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eli Eli lama sabacthani
I
If I could go back in time to a hill
where a rough cross stands
and look at the scene
where the creator of the world perishes,
I would have understood
how it’s to hang innocent for everybody’s sins
and for a god to be captured
in human flesh.
II
If I could go back in time to a hill
where a rough cross stands
I would have known
how His exclamation of fear
“Eli Eli lama sabacthani”
really hits through flesh
and how it feels to be forsaken by God and man
and what it means
not to account those that persecuted him.
(Reference: Eli Eli lama sabacthani => My God, my God, why has though forsaken me?)
poem by Gert Strydom
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Lovers Cross
Guess that it was bound to happen
Was just a matter of time
But now Ive come to my decision
And its a-one of the painful kind
cause now it seems that you wanted a martyr
Just a regular guy wouldnt do
But baby I cant hang upon no lovers cross for you
You really got to hand it to ya
cause girl you really tried
But for every time that we spent laughin
There were two times that I cried
And you were tryin to make me your martyr
And thats the one thing I just couldnt do
cause baby, I cant hang upon no lovers cross for you
cause tables are meant for turnin
And people are bound to change
And bridges are meant for burnin
When the people and memories they join arent the same
Still I hope that you can find
Another who can take what I could not
Hell have to be a super guy
Or maybe a super god
cause I never was much of a martyr before
And I aint bout to start nothin new
And baby, I cant hang upon no lovers cross for you
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inside The Cross of Iron Shadow
Inside The Cross of Iron Shadow
====================
Shape to Guide Aligned by Light
Formed of Cross Divide of Shadow
Light to Darken The Cross Within
The Dark Surround The Light With Out
Shape To Confine The Shadow Caste Of Iron Cross
Pieced Together The Puzzle Within
Immediate Light of Circumstantial
Fade to Black
Cross Fade to Light
The Sound Staged Within
Shadow Sounds Free of Night
Forged Of Iron Shadow
Holier Than Thou Be This Shadow Cross of Age
Cast of Moon Beam of Light to Burn
Outline of Cross Confines The Shadow Dark
Which Binds A Mind To Light
Fore There In No Way Exist
This One Without The Other Side of Good
As Day to Blackest Night of Evil
As Sun Give Rise to Dawn To Cast Away
The Nightmare Within A Mind Of Day and Shadow
Night of Day To Darkest Cross Beam of Light
To Light A Mind Eclipsed In Shadow
Forever In Light To Dark Shade of Gray Matter
Inside The Cross Of Iron Shadow.
poem by Ricardo Antunes
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Do I Ever Cross Your Mind
Oh, sometimes I go walking through fields where we walked
Long ago in the sweet used to be
And the flowers still grow, but they don't smell as sweet
As they did when you picked them for me
And when I think of you and the love we once knew
How I wish we could go back in time
Do you ever think back on old memories like that
Or do I ever cross your mind
Oh, how often I wish that again I could kiss
Your sweet lips like I did long ago
And how often I long for those two loving arms
That once held me so gentle and close
And when I think of you and the love we once knew
How I wish we could go back in time
Do you ever recall these old memories at all
Or do I ever cross your mind
When old memories appear my eyes wont stay clear
When I think of those happier times
Do you ever recall these old memories at all
Or do I ever cross your mind
Do you ever think back on old memories like that
Or do I ever cross your mind
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Swagman's Rest
We buried old Bob where the bloodwoods wave
At the foot of the Eaglehawk;
We fashioned a cross on the old man's grave
For fear that his ghost might walk;
We carved his name on a bloodwood tree
With the date of his sad decease
And in place of "Died from effects of spree"
We wrote "May he rest in peace".
For Bob was known on the Overland,
A regular old bush wag,
Tramping along in the dust and sand,
Humping his well-worn swag.
He would camp for days in the river-bed,
And loiter and "fish for whales".
"I'm into the swagman's yard," he said.
"And I never shall find the rails."
But he found the rails on that summer night
For a better place -- or worse,
As we watched by turns in the flickering light
With an old black gin for nurse.
The breeze came in with the scent of pine,
The river sounded clear,
When a change came on, and we saw the sign
That told us the end was near.
He spoke in a cultured voice and low --
"I fancy they've 'sent the route';
I once was an army man, you know,
Though now I'm a drunken brute;
But bury me out where the bloodwoods wave,
And, if ever you're fairly stuck,
Just take and shovel me out of the grave
And, maybe, I'll bring you luck.
"For I've always heard --" here his voice grew weak,
His strength was wellnigh sped,
He gasped and struggled and tried to speak,
Then fell in a moment -- dead.
Thus ended a wasted life and hard,
Of energies misapplied --
Old Bob was out of the "swagman's yard"
And over the Great Divide.
The drought came down on the field and flock,
And never a raindrop fell,
Though the tortured moans of the starving stock
Might soften a fiend from hell.
And we thought of the hint that the swagman gave
When he went to the Great Unseen --
We shovelled the skeleton out of the grave
To see what his hint might mean.
We dug where the cross and the grave posts were,
We shovelled away the mould,
When sudden a vein of quartz lay bare
All gleaming with yellow gold.
'Twas a reef with never a fault nor baulk
That ran from the range's crest,
And the richest mine on the Eaglehawk
Is known as "The Swagman's Rest".
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Sign On The Cross
by Bob Dylan
Now, I try, oh for so awf'ly long
And I just try to be.
And now, oh it's a gold mine
But it's so fine.
Yes, but I know in my head
That we're all so misled,
And it's that ol' sign on the cross
That worries me.
Now, when I was just a bawlin' child,
I saw what I wanted to be,
And it's all for the sake
Of that picture I should see.
But I was lost on the moon
As I heard that front door slam,
And that old sign on the cross
Still worries me.
Well, it's that old sign on the cross,
Well, it's that old key to the kingdom,
Well, it's that old sign on the cross
Like you used to be.
But, when I hold my head so high
As I see my ol' friends go by,
And it's still that sign on the cross
That worries me.
Well, it seems to be the sign on the cross. Ev'ry day,
ev'ry night, see the sign on the cross just layin' up
on top of the hill. Yes, we thought it might have
disappeared long ago, but I'm here to tell you, friends,
that I'm afraid it's lyin' there still. Yes, just a
little time is all you need, you might say, but I don't
know 'bout that any more, because the bird is here and
you might want to enter it, but, of course, the door might
be closed. But I just would like to tell you one time,
if I don't see you again, that the thing is, that the sign
on the cross is the thing you might need the most.
Yes, the sign on the cross
Is just a sign on the cross.
Well, there is some on every chisel
And there is some in the championship, too.
Oh, when your, when your days are numbered
And your nights are long,
You might think you're weak
But I mean to say you're strong.
Yes you are, if that sign on the cross,
If it begins to worry you.
Well, that's all right because sing a song
And all your troubles will pass right on through.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jesus’ Cross
The Holy Cross beckons
To follow Jesus Christ;
The source of strength and joy
To souls, for Lord athirst!
The Holy Cross guides us
To walk upon His steps;
The Son of God had died
To save mankind from sins.
The Holy Cross reminds
To place our trust in God;
Jesus resurrected
To annul man from rod.
The Holy Cross signals
That life has crosses, woes;
Yet, we must tread fearless;
Engages God, our foes!
The Holy Cross goads us
To carry each one’s cross;
Our war with satan’s won,
By Jesus, without loss!
The Holy Cross renews
Our ties with Jesus Lord;
He will come in glory
To judge mankind by Word!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Since the Cities are the Cities
FOOLS can parrot-cry the prophet when the proof is close at hand,
And the blind can see the danger when the foe is in the land!
Truth was never cynicism, death or ruin’s not a joke,
“Told-you-so” is not a warning—Patriotism not a croak.
Blame will aid no man nor country when the dark days come at last—
As with men so with a nation, and the warning time is past.
Our great sins were of omission, and the dogs of war are loosed—
And we all must stand together when those sins come home to roost.
Since the cities are the cities and shall stand for evermore,
Let us justify our being, be it peace or be it war.
For because we are the townsfolk, and have never ridden far
Shall we call the bush to aid us that has made us what we are?
Westward went our brothers, fighting distance, drought, and loneliness
While we lived in light and comfort knowing nothing of distress,
We who never shared the hardships when the sunset led them on,
Now’s our time, O street-bred people, with our faces to the dawn!
They have conquered with the cross-cut and the wedges and the maul,
With the spade and axe and mattock and the saddle-packs and all,
They have mighty work before them for the sake of you and me—
Let us stand up to our duty! We’re the Rearguard by the Sea.
Days of gibes at “street-bred people” by the street-bred bards are done—
Shall the man who lays the yard-stick never learn to lay the gun?
Shall the crouched type-writer toiling for his home in days like these
Touch the button the less firmly when we play on other keys?
We have seen in many countries what the street-bred men can do—
In the desert, scrub and jungle they were men who battled through!
Human weeds of grand endurance winning where the strong men quailed,
Pigeon-chested leaders leading on where beef-born courage failed.
Street-bred people down the ages—beggars, mobs and democrats—
Fought through many desperate sieges (fought on horseflesh, dogs and rats)
When their own cowed country failed them, then the city soul was proved—
“Street-bred people” died in thousands for the cities that they loved.
In the days when strength was needed—days of pike and axe and sword—
Daylight found the peaceful burghers ready, keeping watch and ward.
Clerks and tailors fought like heroes at the gates and in the trench—
(Even Falstaff brought his herrings with some slaughter through the French).
Every man should have a cottage and a garden to defend,
But the “should-be” is for ever—cities stand until the end,
Every farmer has a country that he loves when war-drums roll—
Every clerk may have a city that he loves with heart and soul.
Fat or lean, we all are sinners—lean or fat we all would be;
High or low or lean or fatted, ’tis for Nationality.
It will be till all is ended, as it was since all began—
’Tis the head and not the feathers! ’tis the heart and not the “man”!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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