Merchandise
MERCHANDISE! Merchandise! Tortoiseshell, spices,
Carpets and Indigo sent o’er the highseas;
Mothero’Pearl from the Solomon Isles
Brought by a brigantine ten thousand miles.
Rubber from Zanzibar, tea from NangPo,
Copra from Haiti, and wine from Bordeaux;
Ships, with topgallants and royals unfurled,
Are bringing in freights from the ends of the world
Crazy old windjammers, manned by Malays,
With ratridden bulkheads and creaking old stays,
Reeking of bilge and of paint and of pitch
That’s how these oceangirt islands grew rich:
And tramps, heavy laden, and liners untold
Will lease a new life to a nation grown old.
Merchandise! Merchandise! England was made
By her Men and her Ships and her OVERSEAS TRADE.
Widen your harbours, your docks and your quays,
Hazard your wares on the seven wide seas,
Run out your railways and hew out your coal,
For only by trade can a country keep whole.
Feed up your furnaces, fashion your steel,
Stick to your bargains and pay on the deal;
Rich is your birthright, and well you’ll be paid.
If you keep in good faith with your Overseas Trade.
Learn up geography, work out your sums,
Build up your commerce, and pull down your slums;
Sail on a Plimsoll that marks a full hold:
Your Overseas Trade means a harvest of gold.
Bring in the palmoil and pepper you’ve bought,
But send out ten times the amount you import:
Trade your inventions, your labour and sweat:
Your Overseas Traffic will keep ye from debt.
Hark to the song of the shuttle and loom,
Keep up your commerce or crawl to your tomb
Study new methods and open new lines,
Quicken your factories, foundries and mines,
Think of what Drake did, and Raleigh and Howe
And waste not their labours by slacking it now:
Work is life’s currency earn what you’re worth,
And send out your ships to the ends of the earth.
Deepbosomed mothers with widefashioned hips
Will bear ye good sons for the building of ships
Good sons for your ships and good ships for your trade
That’s how the Peace of the World will be made!
So send out your strong to the forests untrod,
Work for yourselves and your neighbours and
Keep this good England the home of the free,
With Merchandise, Men and good Ships on the
Merchandise! Merchandise! Good honest Merchandise!
Merchandise, Men and Good Ships on the Sea.
------------------------- ------------------------------------------------- ------
poem by John Milton Hayes
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Related quotes
The Merchandise
To the merchandise of gold,
To the merchandise of silver,
To the merchandise of bronze,
To the merchandise of ivory,
To the merchandise of precious stone,
To the merchandise of brass,
To the merchandise of pearls,
To the merchandise of cars,
To the merchanidse of bauxite,
To the merchandise of fine linen,
To the merchandise of houses,
To the merchandise of wine,
To the merchandise of oil,
To the merchandise of luxuries,
To the merchandise of weapons,
To the merchandise of coffee,
To the merchandise of purple,
To the merchandise of wheat,
To the merchandise of sheep,
To the merchandise of timber,
To the merchandise of cattle,
To the merchandise of iron,
To the merchandise of horses,
To the merchandise of fruits,
To the merchandise of frankincense,
To the merchandise of cocoa,
To the merchandise of scarlet,
To the merchandise of precious wood,
To the merchandise of silk,
To the merchandise of chariots,
To the merchandise of commercial planes,
To the merchandise of slaves,
To the merchandise of private jets,
To the merchandise of marbles,
To the merchandise of war planes,
To the merchandise of scented wood,
To the merchandise of fine flour,
To the merchandise of incense,
To the merchandise of cinnamon,
And to the merchandise of fragrant ointment;
But the day comes when we will all cry.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Today's Merchandise
Slumbering to the dawning darkness,
Tonight’s night mare, anchoring in predators
Who will feast on our poor souls
Because they traded their own
in today’s merchandise.
I will not slumber, to dream again.
In my bed, I will stay awake.
I will not trade, to have it all
In my solitude, I will reside
To be saved from today’s merchandise
Dropping values, picking passions
The kind of trade;
Cheap sex, traded morals
The day’s merchandise;
But I will not trade in today’s merchandise.
Men shed tears and reap fears
in today’s merchandise.
The profit we earn
is a troubled conscience
Making it unworthy, in today’s merchandise
poem by Timothy muggaga
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Toi
Give the shields of gold to Toi,
The King of Hamath;
Like the Arameans of Damascus.
But the bride of bondage is like,
The merchandise of cinnamon.
It is all around us,
Of the merchandise of wine;
It is all around you,
Of the merchandise of frankincense;
It is all around me,
Of the merchandise of oil;
But the merchandise of fine flour is like,
The merchandise of wheat.
The merchandise of flowers for my lover,
The merchandise of cattle for my family,
The merchandise of sheep for my neighbour,
The merchandise of horses for my friends,
With the merchandise of chariots and slaves to remember!
Give the shields of gold to Toi,
The king of Hamath;
Like the merchandise of arms and,
The merchandise of luxuries.
Give the shields of gold to Toi,
The King of Hamath;
For weeping and wailing will be heard very soon.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sea Captain
The merchandise of gold in the land of gold,
The merchandise of silver in the land of silver,
The merchandise of bronze in the land of bronze,
The merchandise of precious stones in the land of stones,
The merchandise of fine linen in the land of thread,
The merchandise of pearls in the land of pearls,
The merchandise of silk in the land of wool,
The merchandise of scarlet in the land of clothes,
The merchandise of ivory in the land of elephants,
The merchandise of scented wood in the land of timber,
The merchandise of brass in the land of metals,
The merchandise of precious wood in the land of trees,
The merchandise of wool in the land of sheep,
And the merchandise of marble in the land of marbles;
For this is the message to the sea captain.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Open Road
THE roads of the Sea
Are thronged with merchantmen;
East and West, North and South
They go and come again.
All precious merchandise
They bear in their hold:
Lest the people be starving
In the night and cold.
Now tell me, good merchants,
How this thing can be
That the white ships are thronging
The roads of the sea?
For there's death in the skies
And there's death on the earth;
And men talked of famine
And a frozen hearth.
Yet the ships they go crowding
The roads of the sea;
They bring home their treasures
To you and to me.
O listen, good people,
And hearing, praise God,
That the watch-dogs are keeping
The ships on their road!
They sit watchful and steady
Where the North winds blow;
Sleepless they are keeping
The roads the ships go.
In the day, in the hour,
They will spring--until then,
Their eyes keep the courses
Of the merchantmen.
Forget not, good people,
When ye heap the white board,
When ye draw to the hearth-fire,
To praise the Lord,
That the watch-dogs unsleeping
Keep the roads of the Sea,
Up by the Northern Lights
Where the great ships be.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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In My Dreams Song
In my dreams
You will swimm
L'océan
That God made
Many years ago
In my dreams
L'océan
Will always be there
For the ships to come
From a long distance
To deliver food and merchandise
To the stores
So that the owners of the stores
Can sell their food and merchandise
To the consumer
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Bargain Store
My life is like unto a bargain store
And I may have just what youre lookin for
If you dont mind the fact that all the merchandise is used
But with a little mending it could be as good as new
Why you take for instance this old broken heart
If you will just replace the missing parts
You would be surprised to find how good it really is
Take it and you never will be sorry that you did
The bargain store is open come inside
You can easily afford the price
Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise
And I will guarantee youll be completely satisfied
Take these old used memories from the past
And these broken dreams and plans that didnt last
Ill trade them for a future, I cant use them anymore
Ive wasted love but I still have some more
The bargain store is open come inside
You can easily afford the price
Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise
And I can guarantee youll be completely satisfied
My life is like unto a bargain store
And I may have just what youre lookin for
If you dont mind the fact that all the merchandise is used
With a little mendin it could be as good as new
The bargain store is open, come inside
The bargain store is open, come inside
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Ships
If all the ships I have at sea
Should come a-sailing home to me,
From sunny lands, and lands of cold,
Ah well! the harbor could not hold
So many sails as there would be
If all my ships came in from sea.
If half my ships came home from sea,
And brought their precious freight to me,
Ah, well! I should have wealth as great
As any king who sits in state,
So rich the treasures that would be
In half my ships now at sea.
If just one ship I have at sea
Should come a-sailing home to me,
Ah well! the storm clouds then might frown,
For if the others all went down
Still rich and proud and glad I’d be,
If that one ship came back to me.
If that one ship were down at sea,
And all the others came to me,
Weighed down with gems and wealth untold,
With glory, honor, riches, gold,
The poorest soul on earth I’d be
If that one ship came not to me.
O skies be calm! O winds blow free--
Blow all my ships safe home to me.
But if thou sendest some awrack
To never more come sailing back,
Send any--all that skim the sea--
But bring my love-ship home to me.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The House-Wives
We all men and women,
Professionals,
Living in the world of business,
Are the marketers:
Purchasers or sellers,
Merchandise our skills, or labour,
Or merchandise the items of body,
Honour, respect and nobility.
Some sell blood,
Some kids and kidneys,
Against the a few coins of silver or gold,
Or notes of paper;
And no one offers anything free of cost,
Except the house-wives,
Who toil with loyalty and fidelity,
Surrendering their entire entities,
Against the wages of words,
Spoken though in pretentious love
By the tongues dipped in hypocrisy
And though only once in life.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Black Ships Were Low Laden
The black ships were low laden
And to portugal home bound
They rose with that deep ocean swell
Slowed by the riches they had found.
Those black ships were a portent
Of a far more deadly trade
Of human traffic taken
And transported as mere slaves.
Deep within those black ships' hulls
And flaming on their sails
A thousand souls were crying
Like a chorus in those gales.
The winds were blowing backward
Each venomous black boat
The weight inside each one of them
Fought against them being afloat.
God he blew storms of madness
And sought to turn them back
The sea churned like a mystery
With the sky a vicious black.
The captain stood amongst them
Standing firm upon his deck
He made a pact with Lucifer
With the devil and with death.
The cargo was a sacrifice
The holds were emptied till
The ships could sail full forward
And then the sea did still.
So fill your ships with slavery
But of our pact you must not tell
My mission on this earthly place
Is to create as many hells
As i can find by seeking
The weakness in men's souls
And the emptying of principles
Lies in man's keen quest for gold.
poem by David Keig
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Junk is the ultimate merchandise. The junk merchant does not sell his product to the consumer, he sells the consumer to the product. He does not improve and simplify his merchandise, he degrades and simplifies the client.
quote by William Seward Burroughs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Junk is the ultimate merchandise. The junk merchant does not sell his product to the consumer, he sells the consumer to the product. He does not improve and simplify his merchandise, he degrades and simplifies the client.
quote by William S. Burroughs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Glory of Ships
The glory of ships is an old, old song,
since the days when the sea-rovers ran
In their open boats through the roaring surf,
and the spread of the world began;
The glory of ships is a light on the sea,
and a star in the story of man.
When Homer sang of the galleys of Greece
that conquered the Trojan shore,
And Solomon lauded the barks of Tyre that
brought great wealth to his door,
'Twas little they knew, those ancient men,
what would come of the sail and the oar.
The Greek ships rescued the West from the East,
when they harried the Persians home;
And the Roman ships were the wings of strength
that bore up the empire, Rome;
And the ships of Spain found a wide new world,
far over the fields of foam.
Then the tribes of courage at last saw clear
that the ocean was not a bound,
But a broad highway, and a challenge to seek
for treasure as yet unfound;
So the fearless ships fared forth to the search,
in joy that the globe was round.
Their hulls were heightened, their sails spread out,
they grew with the growth of their quest;
They opened the secret doors of the East,
and the golden gates of the West;
And many a city of high renown
was proud of a ship on its crest.
The fleets of England and Holland and France
were at strife with each other and Spain;
And battle and storm sent a myriad ships
to sleep in the depths of the main;
But the seafaring spirit could never be drowned,
and it filled up the fleets again.
They greatened and grew, with the aid of steam,
to a wonderful, vast array,
That carries the thoughts and the traffic of men
into every harbor and bay;
And now in the world-wide work of the ships
'tis England that leads the way.
O well for the leading that follows the law
of a common right on the sea!
But ill for the leader who tries to hold
what belongs to mankind in fee!
The way of the ships is an open way,
and the ocean must ever be free!
Remember, O first of the maritime folk,
how the rise of your greatness began.
It will live if you safeguard the round-the-world road
from the shame of a selfish ban;
For the glory of ships is a light on the sea,
and a star in the story of man!
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Said the Kaiser to the Spy
“Now tell me what can England do?”
Said the Kaiser to the Spy.
“She can do nought, your Majesty—
You rule the sea and sky.
Her day of destiny is done;
Her path of peace is plain;
For she dare never throw a troop
Across the Strait again.”
The Kaiser sent his mighty host,
With Bombast in advance,
To set his seal on Paris first,
And make an end of France.
Their guns were heard in Paris streets,
And trembling Europe heard;
(They’re staggering back in Belgium now)
And England said no word.
“Now tell me what can England do?”
Said the Kaiser to the Spy.
“She can do nought in Southern seas
Where her possessions lie!
Her colonies are arming now—
They only wait your aid!”
“I’ll send my ships,” the Kaiser said,
“And I will kill her trade!”
The Kaiser sent his cruisers forth
To do their worst or best;
And one made trouble in the North—
The Cocos tell the rest.
He sent a squadron to a coast
Where treachery prevailed—
Gra’mercy! They were stricken hard
On seas that Raleigh sailed!
“Now tell me what can England do?”
Said the Kaiser to the Spy.
“Her ports are all unfortified
And there your chances lie!”
He sent his ships to Scarborough,
And called them back again.
The Blucher lies in Channel ooze
With seven hundred men.
“Oh, tell me what can England do?”
Said the Kaiser to the Spy.
“She can’t hold Egypt for a day—
(I have it from On High.”)
And so the Kaiser paid the Turk
To put the matter through—
And England’s Queen of Egypt now,
And boss of Turkey too.
“Now tell me what shall England do?”
Said the Kaiser to the Spy.
You see that neither of them knew
Much more than you or I.
But the blooming thing that’s troubling me
As the pregnant weeks go by,
Is wotinell shall England do
When the Kaiser hangs that Spy!
poem by Henry Lawson
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City Of Ships
CITY of ships!
(O the black ships! O the fierce ships!
O the beautiful, sharp-bow'd steam-ships and sail-ships!)
City of the world! (for all races are here;
All the lands of the earth make contributions here;)
City of the sea! city of hurried and glittering tides!
City whose gleeful tides continually rush or recede, whirling in and
out, with eddies and foam!
City of wharves and stores! city of tall façades of marble and iron!
Proud and passionate city! mettlesome, mad, extravagant city!
Spring up, O city! not for peace alone, but be indeed yourself,
warlike! 10
Fear not! submit to no models but your own, O city!
Behold me! incarnate me, as I have incarnated you!
I have rejected nothing you offer'd me--whom you adopted, I have
adopted;
Good or bad, I never question you--I love all--I do not condemn
anything;
I chant and celebrate all that is yours--yet peace no more;
In peace I chanted peace, but now the drum of war is mine;
War, red war, is my song through your streets, O city!
poem by Walt Whitman
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Good merchandise, even hidden, soon finds buyers.
quote by Titus Maccius Plautus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bushman
When the merchant lies down, he can scarce go to sleep
For thinking of his merchandise upon the fatal deep;
His ships may be cast away or taken in a war,
So him alone we'll envy not, who true bushmen are.
Who true bushmen are,
So him alone we'll envy not, who true bushmen are!
When the soldier lies down, his mind is full of thought
O'er seeking that promotion which so long he has sought;
He fain would gain repose for mortal wound or scar,
So him also we'll envy not, who true bushmen are.
When the sailor lies down, his mind he must prepare
To rouse out in a minute if the wind should prove unfair.
His voyage may be stopped for the want of a spar,
So him also we'll envy not, who true bushmen are.
When the bushman lies down, his mind is free from care,
He knows his stock will furnish him with meat, wear and tear.
Should all commerce be ended in the event of a war,
Then bread and beef won't fail us boys, who true bushmen are.
Then fill, fill your glasses, a toast I'll give you, then,
To you who call yourselves true-hearted men.
Here's a health to the soldier and e'en the jolly tar,
And may they always meet as good friends as we bushmen are.
Who true bushmen are,
And may they always meet as good friends as we bushmen are.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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By doing good with his money, a man, as it were, stamps the image of God upon it, and makes it pass, current for the merchandise of heaven.
quote by John Rutledge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ships
(ian hunter)
We walked to the sea, just my father and me
And the dogs played around on the sand.
Winter cold cut the air, hanging still everywhere
Dressed in gray did he say hold my hand?
I said loves easier when its far away
We sat and watched the distant lights.
Were two ships that pass in the night
And we smile when we say its alright.
Were still here, its just that were out of sight
Like those ships that pass in the night.
Theres a boat on the line where the sea meets the sky.
Theres another that rides far behind.
And it seems you and I are like strangers a wide
Ways apart as we drift on through time.
He said its harder now youre far away
We only read you when you write.
Were two ships that pass in the night
We both smile when we say its alright.
Were still here, oh its just that were out of sight
Like those ships that pass in the night.
Were two ships that pass in the night
Were two ships that pass in the night
Were two ships that pass in the night
(repeat and fade)
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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