En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Stringy-Bark Tree

There's the whitebox and pine on the ridges afar,
Where the iron-bark, blue-gum, and peppermint are;
There is many another, but dearest to me,
And the king of them all was the stringy-bark tree.
Then of stringy-bark slabs were the walls of the hut,
And from stringy-bark saplings the rafters were cut;
And the roof that long sheltered my brothers and me
Was of broad sheets of bark from the stringy-bark tree.

And when sawn-timber homes were built out in the West,
Then for walls and for ceilings its wood was the best;
And for shingles and palings to last while men be,
There was nothing on earth like the stringy-bark tree.

Far up the long gullies the timber-trucks went,
Over tracks that seemed hopeless, by bark hut and tent;
And the gaunt timber-finder, who rode at his ease,
Led them on to a gully of stringy-bark trees.

Now still from the ridges, by ways that are dark,
Come the shingles and palings they call stringy-bark;
Though you ride through long gullies a twelve months you’ll see
But the old whitened stumps of the stringy-bark tree.

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Stringy-Bark Cockatoo

I'm a broken-hearted miner, who loves his cup to drain,
Which often times has caused me to lie in frost and rain.
Roaming about the country, looking for some work to do,
I got a job of reaping off a stringy-bark cockatoo.

Oh, the stringy-bark cockatoo,
Oh, the stringy-bark cockatoo,
I got a job of reaping off a stringy-bark cockatoo.

Ten bob an acre was his price—with promise of fairish board.
He said his crops were very light, 'twas all he could afford.
He drove me out in a bullock dray, and his piggery met my view.
Oh, the pigs and geese were in the wheat of the stringy-bark cockatoo.

The hut was made of the surface mud, the roof of a reedy thatch.
The doors and windows open flew without a bolt or latch.
The pigs and geese were in the hut, the hen on the table flew,
And she laid an egg in the old tin plate for the stringy-bark cockatoo.

For breakfast we had pollard, boys, it tasted like cobbler's paste.
To help it down we had to eat brown bread with vinegar taste.
The tea was made of the native hops, which out on the ranges grew;
'Twas sweetened with honey bees and wax for the stringy-bark cockatoo.

For dinner we had goanna hash, we thought it mighty hard;
They wouldn't give us butter, so we forced down bread and lard.
Quondong duff, paddy-melon pie, and wallaby Irish stew
We used to eat while reaping for the stringy-bark cockatoo.

When we started to cut the rust and smut was just beginning to shed,
And all we had to sleep on was a dog and sheep-skin bed.
The bugs and fleas tormented me, they made me scratch and screw;
I lost my rest while reaping for the stringy-bark cockatoo.

At night when work was over I'd nurse the youngest child,
And when I'd say a joking word, the mother would laugh and smile.
The old cocky, he grew jealous, and he thumped me black and blue,
And he drove me off without a rap—the stringy-bark cockatoo.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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My dogs

bark at the neighbors,
bark at the UPS man,
bark at cars
and kids on bicycles.

they bark at the television,
the radio
and the stereo.

they bark at
the vacuum cleaner,
the dust mop
and the broom.

they bark at
anyone
who enters the house
uninvited.

and
when they’re not barking,
they’re sitting there
waiting
for something
to bark at.

good dogs.

poem by John Yamrus
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Leaves Compared with Flowers

A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bar, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.

But I may be one who does not care
Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Leaves for smooth and bark for rough,
Leaves and bark may be tree enough.

Some giant trees have bloom so small
They might as well have none at all.
Late in life I have come on fern.
Now lichens are due to have their turn.

I bade men tell me which in brief,
Which is fairer, flower or leaf.
They did not have the wit to say,
Leaves by night and flowers by day.

Leaves and bar, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.

poem by Robert Frost
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The Old Bark Hut

Oh, my name is Bob the Swagman, before you all I stand,
And I've had many ups and downs while travelling through the land.
I once was well-to-do, my boys, but now I am stumped up,
And I'm forced to go on rations in an old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
I'm forced to go on rations in an old bark hut.
Ten pounds of flour, ten pounds of beef, some sugar and some tea,
That's all they give to a hungry man, until the Seventh Day.
If you don't be moighty sparing, you'll go with a hungry gut
For that's one of the great misfortunes in an old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
For that's one of the great misfortunes in an old bark hut.
The bucket you boil your beef in has to carry water, too,
And they'll say you're getting mighty flash if you should ask for two.
I've a billy, and a pint pot, and a broken-handled cup,
And they all adorn the table in the old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
And they all adorn the table in the old bark hut.
Faith, the table is not made of wood, as many you have seen
For if I had one half so good, I'd think myself serene
'Tis only an old sheet of bark—God knows when it was cut
It was blown from off the rafters of the old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
It was blown from off the rafters of the old bark hut.
And of furniture, there's no such thing, 'twas never in the place,
Except the stool I sit upon—and that's an old gin case.
It does us for a safe as well, but you must keep it shut,
Or the flies would make it canter round the old hark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
Or the flies would make it canter round the old bark hut.
If you should leave it open, and the flies should find your meat,
They'll scarcely leave a single piece that's fit for man to eat.
But you mustn't curse, nor grumble—what won't fatten will fill up
For what's out of sight is out of mind in an old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
For what's out of sight is out of mind in an old bark hut.
In the summer time, when the weather's warm, this hut is nice and cool,
And you'll find the gentle breezes blowing in through every hole.
You can leave the old door open, or you can leave it shut,
There's no fear of suffocation in the old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
There's no fear of suffocation in the old bark hut.
In the winter time—preserve us all—to live in there's a treat
Especially when it's raining hard, and blowing wind and sleet.
The rain comes down the chimney, and your meat is black with soot
That's a substitute for pepper in an old bark hut.
In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
That's a substitute for pepper in an old bark hut.
I've seen the rain come in this hut just like a perfect flood,
Especially through that great big hole where once the table stood.
There's not a blessed spot, me boys, where you could lay your nut,
But the rain is sure to find you in the old bark hut.
In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
But the rain is sure to find you in the old bark hut.
So beside the fire I make me bed, and there I lay me down,
And think myself as happy as the king that wears a crown.
But as you'd be dozing off to sleep a flea will wake you up,
Which makes you curse the vermin in the old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hu
Which makes you curse the vermin in the old bark hut.
Faith, such flocks of fleas you never saw, they are so plump and fat,
And if you make a grab at one, he'll spit just like a cat.
Last night they got my pack of cards, and were fighting for the cut
I thought the devil had me in the old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
I thought the devil had me in the old bark hut.
So now, my friends, I've sung my song, and that as well as I could,
And I hope the ladies present won't think my language rude,
And all ye younger people, in the days when you grow up,
Remember Bob the Swagman, and the old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
Remember Bob the Swagman, and the old bark hut.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Doggy Style

1-My dog
my lovely dog
that sees everything
listen everything
knows everything
and can't tell me
nothing!

Feels sorry for me.

2-My dog
doesn't bark
bullshit

My dog
doesn't bark
about others

My dog
doesn't bark
curses

My dog
barks
only the truth.

cK

poem by Arian Llalla
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Counting-Out Rhyme

Silver bark of beech, and sallow
Bark of yellow birch and yellow
Twig of willow.

Stripe of green in moosewood maple,
Colour seen in leaf of apple,
Bark of popple.

Wood of popple pale as moonbeam,
Wood of oak for yoke and barn-beam,
Wood of hornbeam.

Silver bark of beech, and hollow
Stem of elder, tall and yellow
Twig of willow.

poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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For Those Who Grieve

no one
no one can really stop you
from eating the bark of the tree
the thick skin of the
fruit

no one can tell you what should have
been proper
or better

you like the skin and you throw away
the fruit that could have
satisfied your
thirst and hunger

the bark has poisoned you
the moon has warned you too well
the worm is wriggling
its frail and elongated
body

you have no ears
your sense of smell so badly damaged

and now you
are dying

no one tells you that life is as sweet
as the ripe fruit of the tree
that luscious flesh that flowing
juice

your gaze is sharp as a knife
stabbing even the
sun

and you are always right

what you have been searching
that can satisfy your hunger and thirst
is not found on the fruit
not even in the tree

it is in the poisonous bark
that useless skin
that silly coat

definitely it is not even here
where we are all grieving

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kingdom Of The Owl

curled into the trunk
of an old woman tree,
listening to the owl,
and sleeping in the shade.
arms outstretched,
as if touching the sky,
roots deep in the earth,
swaying with the wind.
bark to bark,
he and she intertwine...
till only one remains.
seasons put down and lost
in the steady and sure,
waiting on moonlight and darkness
in the kingdom of the owl!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Baobab Tree

under whose branches lions lie down
dreaming in the sun,
where baboons sometimes play,
where elephants rip off some bark
and when you walk around it,
its branches look like rows of spears,
and birds do fly up, and bees buzz around it,
and when you come in its shade, smell its fruit,
its leaves and bark does not look similar
to any other tree.

poem by Gert Strydom
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A Jack Russell was heard in the dark.
He would bark on the beach at a shark.
When he ventured too close
he was grabbed by the nose
in the end there was just one more bark.

quote by by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Bark At The Moon

Screams break the silence
Waking from the dead of night
Vengence is boiling
He's returned to kill the light
Then when he's found who he's looking for
Listen in awe and you'll hear him

Bark at the moon
Ha ha ha ha ha...

Years spent in torment
Buried in a nameless grave
Now he has risen
Miracles would have to save
Those that the beast is looking for
Listen in awe and you'll hear him

Bark at the moon
Hey yeah

song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne from Bark At The Moon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Surroundings-7

Nuisance Neighbour

Four dogs bark all day
Grunts frequent thirsty borewell
Helpless tiffs pursued
Mom, dad, sons two quarrel loud
Four dogs theirs bark all day long

poem by Indira Renganathan
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He had his Dream

He had his dream, and all through life,
Worked up to it through toil and strife.
Afloat fore'er before his eyes,
It colored for him all his skies:
The storm-cloud dark
Above his bark,
The calm and listless vault of blue
Took on its hopeful hue,
It tinctured every passing beam -
He had his dream.

He labored hard and failed at last,
His sails too weak to bear the blast,
The raging tempests tore away
And sent his beating bark astray.
But what cared he
For wind or sea!
He said, 'The tempest will be short,
My bark will come to port.'
He saw through every cloud a gleam -
He had his dream.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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032110e Pleases My Eyes

wiggling tail partly hidden
teasing my eyes, my mind
from brownish to fading gray
matching the bark of a tree
were not for my eyeglasses
i would surely, surely miss

they were two playing hides
digging keeps at tree sides
they're so quick to climb up
light, they won't peel off bark
they sit on a branch munching
their eyes is always watching

stray ball rolled to their haven
i guess they knew it, not a nut
they left went to another tree
what else do i have to find here
hawk hovering around hungry
that's bird, i'm trying get birdie

poem by Manonton Dalan
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As tree

If option is given to you
How best you can prove it as true?
Would you prefer to see it later and view?

Life may be lasted in few years
Some of the things may not be pleasant to ears
Even insects pass the time easily

Dogs bark at strangers
But they are still good protectors
We bark at friends as cheaters

What the ideal life then should be?
Let others also feel it open and free
Act with laden fruits as tree

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Here to Bark You

I'm here to bark you.
With a not too thick protecterate.
Enclosing you to allow you growth.
To allow your branches,
To reach with leaves.

I've done the pines,
With their needles to prick.
I've done the birch,
To have them stand out...
For an easy search.

The oak and maple were not difficult for me.
The redwoods were the ones,
To reach as high as the eye could see!
Towers and the tallest on Earth,
They chose to be!

I'm here to bark you.
With a not too thick protecterate.
Enclosing you to allow you growth.
To allow your branches,
To reach with leaves.

I'm here to bark you...
Trees, woody vines and shrubs.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Bring You A Taste Of Pride

I wish there was something I could say,
To encourage the removal of those shackles.
Even in your dismay...
You are obedient.
But when I come near,
You bark.
When I approach to unlock your chains...
You sneer and growl.
As if I had done this,
To you.
Something I could never do.

You have been restrained too long,
From a 'self' that has been denied.
You bark at me!
Perhaps I am wrong,
To make attempts...
To bring you a taste of pride.
I will leave it here with the key.
Leaving you with more than one choice,
From which to decide.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Above Eurunderee

There are scenes in the distance where beauty is not,
On the desolate flats where gaunt appletrees rot.
Where the brooding old ridge rises up to the breeze
From his dark lonely gullies of stringy-bark trees,
There are voice-haunted gaps, ever sullen and strange,
But Eurunderee lies like a gem in the range.

Still I see in my fancy the dark-green and blue
Of the box-covered hills where the five-corners grew;
And the rugged old sheoaks that sighed in the bend
O'er the lily-decked pools where the dark ridges end,
And the scrub-covered spurs running down from the Peak
To the deep grassy banks of Eurunderee Creek.

On the knolls where the vineyards and fruit-gardens are
There's a beauty that even the drought cannot mar;
For I noticed it oft, in the days that are lost,
As I trod on the siding where lingered the frost,
When the shadows of night from the gullies were gone
And the hills in the background were flushed by the dawn.

I was there in late years, but there's many a change
Where the Cudgegong River flows down through the range,
For the curse of the town with the railroad had come,
And the goldfields were dead. And the girl and the chum
And the old home were gone, yet the oaks seemed to speak
Of the hazy old days on Eurunderee Creek.

And I stood by that creek, ere the sunset grew cold,
When the leaves of the sheoaks are traced on the gold,
And I thought of old things, and I thought of old folks,
Till I sighed in my heart to the sigh of the oaks;
For the years waste away like the waters that leak
Through the pebbles and sand of Eurunderee Creek.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Eurunderee

There are scenes in the distance where beauty is not,
On the desolate flats where gaunt appletrees rot.
Where the brooding old ridge rises up to the breeze
From his dark lonely gullies of stringy-bark trees,
There are voice-haunted gaps, ever sullen and strange,
But Eurunderee lies like a gem in the range.

Still I see in my fancy the dark-green and blue
Of the box-covered hills where the five-corners grew;
And the rugged old sheoaks that sighed in the bend
O'er the lily-decked pools where the dark ridges end,
And the scrub-covered spurs running down from the Peak
To the deep grassy banks of Eurunderee Creek.

On the knolls where the vineyards and fruit-gardens are
There's a beauty that even the drought cannot mar;
For I noticed it oft, in the days that are lost,
As I trod on the siding where lingered the frost,
When the shadows of night from the gullies were gone
And the hills in the background were flushed by the dawn.

I was there in late years, but there's many a change
Where the Cudgegong River flows down through the range,
For the curse of the town with the railroad had come,
And the goldfields were dead. And the girl and the chum
And the old home were gone, yet the oaks seemed to speak
Of the hazy old days on Eurunderee Creek.

And I stood by that creek, ere the sunset grew cold,
When the leaves of the sheoaks are traced on the gold,
And I thought of old things, and I thought of old folks,
Till I sighed in my heart to the sigh of the oaks;
For the years waste away like the waters that leak
Through the pebbles and sand of Eurunderee Creek.

poem by Henry Lawson
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I Want A Dog

(tennant/lowe)
---------------
I want a dog,
A chihuahua
When I get back to my small flat
I want to hear somebody bark
Oh, (oh oh) you can get lonely
Dont want a cat,
Scratching its claws all over my
Habitat
Giving no love and getting fat
Oh, (oh oh) you can get lonely
And a cats no help with that
I want a dog,
To walk in the park
When it gets dark, my dog will bark
At any passers-by
Oh, (oh oh) you can get lonely
I want a dog
I want a dog,
A chihuahua
When I get back to my small flat
I want to hear somebody bark
Oh, (oh oh) you can get lonely
I want a dog

song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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