The Poor, Poor Country
Oh 'twas a poor country, in Autumn it was bare,
The only green was the cutting grass and the sheep found little there.
Oh, the thin wheat and the brown oats were never two foot high,
But down in the poor country no pauper was I.
My wealth it was the glow that lives forever in the young,
'Twas on the brown water, in the green leaves it hung.
The blue cranes fed their young all day - how far in a tall tree!
And the poor, poor country made no pauper of me.
I waded out to the swan's nest - at night I heard them sing,
I stood amazed at the Pelican, and crowned him for a king;
I saw the black duck in the reeds, and the spoonbill on the sky,
And in that poor country no pauper was I.
The mountain-ducks down in the dark made many a hollow sound,
I saw in sleep the Bunyip creep from the waters underground.
I found the plovers' island home, and they fought right valiantly,
Poor was the country, but it made no pauper of me.
My riches all went into dreams that never yet came home,
They touched upon the wild cherries and the slabs of honeycomb,
They were not of the desolate brood that men can sell or buy,
Down in that poor country no pauper was I.
* * * * *
The New Year came with heat and thirst and the little lakes were low,
The blue cranes were my nearest friends and I mourned to see them go;
I watched their wings so long until I only saw the sky,
Down in that poor country no pauper was I.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Country Gentleman
Country gentleman walked a crooked mile,
Got our money in his pocket.
Did it all with a very handsome smile.
Now, he's livin' it up in a great big office.
He ain't a-gonna help no poor man.
He ain't a-goona help no poor man.
He ain't a-gonna help no poor man.
He's just gonna help his rich friends.
He ain't a-gonna help no women.
He ain't a-gonna help no children.
He's just gonna help his rich friends.
Country gentleman, we see him on T.V.,
Glad handin' folks and chattin' to the nation.
We never knew what really to believe.
Just word upon slogan with emotional connection.
Chorus:
He ain't a-gonna help no poor man.
He ain't a-gonna help no children.
He ain't a-gonna help no women.
He's just gonna help his rich friends.
And in the papers all we'd ever read is
So and so big-shot signed his resignation.
Now, country gentleman he wants us to believe
That he's kind and honest with the best intentions.
Chorus
Country gentleman, now there's a bird that flew
High above his nation, prayed on its weakness.
Picked our bones and threw it in his stew.
Thank God he went back to California.
Chorus
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hollywood Holiday
I rode my motorcycle through a watermelon patch
Right on the california freeway
I took my holy Bible on my blessed boogie woogie drive
Cause I know I know I know
Where I go oh lord theyre gonna bless me jive
Poor you poor me
Poor everybody who buy to be
Poor me poor you
Poor everybody who die to do
I parked my motorcycle on hollywood and vine
And sang till my red blood turned boiling blue
I took my sole survival and bore my cross on a string
Cause I know I know I know
What I dear I bear my charm to king
Poor you poor me
Poor everybody who buy to be
Poor me poor you
Poor everybody who die to do
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Country
Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah!
Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah!
When the world in which you live in,
Gets a bit too much to bear,
And you need someone to lean on,
When you look, there's no one there
You're gonna find me, out in the country,
Yeah, you're gonna find me, way out in the country,
Where the air is good, and the day is fine,
And the pretty girl, has a hand in mine,
And the silver stream, is a poor man's wine,
In the country, in the country
When you're walking in the city,
And you're feeling rather small,
And the people on the sidewalk,
Seem to form a solid wall
You're gonna find me, out in the country,
Hey, you're gonna find me, way out in the country,
Where the air is good, and the day is fine,
And the pretty girl, has a hand in mine,
And the silver stream, is a poor man's wine,
In the country, in the country
Hurry, hurry, hurry,
For the time is slipping by,
You don't need a ticket,
It belongs to you and I
Come on an join me, out in the country,
Where the air is good, and the day is fine,
And the pretty girl, has a hand in mine,
And the silver stream, is a poor man's wine,
In the country, in the country
Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah!
Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah! Ba-ba-ba-Bah!
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poor Sad Baby
Goodbye. Im bound away
On the morning plane.
Ill fly around the world,
Then Ill fly around again.
And when Ive been from egypt
To the snows of nome,
Poor sad baby, thats when
Ill be coming home.
Rose gardens in the rain
And castles in the snow,
Post cards from distant places
Are poor company I know,
But when old gay paree
Is just another town,
Poor sad baby, ill
Come home and settle down.
When Ive felt the friendship
Of a thousand hands,
When Im drunk with the music
From a thousand bands,
A thousand bands,
Ill dance the streets by moonlight
And the fields by day.
Perchance my jeans wont jingle
But the memry coins will stay.
Ill be a pauper queen,
A poorhouse millionaire.
Poor sad baby, ill
Bring you home a dream to share
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Town & Country
Written by dewey bunnell and gerry beckley, 1998
Found on human nature.
Touched by a butterfly on my way home
Flying who knows where
Walking down that dusty road
Without a care
The sun was shining up in the country
And bells were ringing downtown
Clouds were moving slow and lazy
While I was kicking around
And feeling out the town and the country
Feeling out the town and the country
Up on the hill I got a better look
I watched the river run brown (watched the river run brown)
And then I heard those songbirds singing
The country sound
When I got home I sat in my kitchen
And turned the television on (turned the tv on)
The news wasnt good so I didnt listen
I started clicking around
Thinking of the town and the country
I was thinking of the town and the country
Thinking of the town and the country
In the morning everything will be the same
Open up your world (watch the children play)
In the sun or rain
Thinking of the town and the country
A thinking of the town and the country
I was thinking of the town and the country (fade)
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Town And Country
Touched by a butterfly on my way home
Flying who knows where
Walking down that dusty road
Without a care
The sun was shining up in the country
And bells were ringing downtown
Clouds were moving slow and lazy
While I was kicking around
And feeling out the town and the country
Feeling out the town and the country
Up on the hill I got a better look
I watched the river run brown (watched the river run brown)
And then I heard those songbirds singing
The country sound
When I got home I sat in my kitchen
And turned the television on (turned the TV on)
The news wasn't good so I didn't listen
I started clicking around
Thinking of the town and the country
I was thinking of the town and the country
Thinking of the town and the country
In the morning everything will be the same
Open up your world (watch the children play)
In the sun or rain
Thinking of the town and the country
A thinking of the town and the country
I was thinking of the town and the country (fade)
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Secret To Prosperity!
Wandering clouds not so focused,
For where to rain, it not yet decided,
Running from country to country,
Gathering the seeds that can spray,
People look up for rain, but no clouds,
Bright yellow sun and the blue sky,
The tears of rain in their deepened eyes,
The shopping clouds look down at them,
Clumsy they are and hunger rules them,
The proud clouds with the bounty of water,
Hate these poor people and move quicker,
And there are green mountains with flowers,
The running clouds stop all of a sudden,
For it amazed by the swelling of that woman,
Just start to clear what it stores for many hours,
Heavy rain on the mountain and the river sisters,
Flow down to the civilization, the rich people,
All around, as they know how to save water,
People who are ignorant of importance of forest,
Fell the trees for quick money and luxury,
Those who already felled, know the misery,
The clouds in the sky, know this exactly,
The poor will remain poor, if not sorry,
And to replant the trees quickly.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poverty Is A Relative Thing
It is true poverty is a relative thing
A poor bloke buys his girlfriend a ten dollar ring
But to a pauper one with ten dollars is not poor at all
What to one seems big to another seems small,
That poverty is a relative thing seems so true
You may well be poor but many poorer than you
There are millions of homeless on Poverty Street
Searching in rubbish bins to find something to eat
And there are millions who lay down to rest hungry at night
And sleep in the open under the starlight
At least you have a roof over your head and a bed on which to lie
And it will not be of malnutrition that you will die
And of those down on their luck the singer may sing
But poverty can be a relative thing.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No one so hard upon the poor as the pauper who has got into power.
In The Wide Brown Country
To the wide brown country the Seasons come and go
South in South Australia where the Murray flow
Through the wide brown country where the brown dust fly
When the gales are rushing down the southern sky.
In the wide brown country woods not there to see
Where the mighty Murray crawls on towards the sea
Through the bone dry paddocks that are never green
Mother Nature in this landscape in her brown only seen.
Where the black tribes fished and hunted centuries ago
Little of their culture others seem to know
Through the wide brown country they travelled far and wide
And theirs was a great culture but their culture with them died.
In the wide brown country wildering flowers are rare
And the sun parched paddocks always looking bare
And where only the hardiest can hope to survive
Emu, wombat and wallaby and grey roo seem to thrive.
In the wide brown country where the Murray flow
Onwards towards the ocean onwards ever slow
And the grass is growing brown even where the rains have been
In that brown old country that man has failed to green.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yes A Pauper Knows A Pauper
Yes a pauper knows a pauper.
And what they do.
Living on the city streets.
In snow or heat.
And when the rain pours down,
These people don't scatter to scoot.
With attitude.
Yes a pauper knows a pauper.
And what they do.
Living on the city streets.
In snow or heat.
Yet a hope most know,
For them...
Is leaning on,
Mean scenes.
In desperation.
Mean scenes...
To demean.
Yet a hope most know,
For them...
Is leaning on,
Mean scenes.
In desperation.
Mean scenes...
To demean.
And the streets they live on for them,
Will never be...
Good friends,
In the end!
Yes a pauper knows a pauper.
And what they do.
Living on the city streets.
In snow or heat.
And the streets they live on for them,
Will never be...
Good friends,
In the end!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whose Country Is This?
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of snakes;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of many waters;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of thieves! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of oil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of earthquakes!
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of lovers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of volcanoes!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful flowers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hansome men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of roses;
Whose country is this?
it is a land ruled only by men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land without rainfall;
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by a woman;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of corruption!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pirates! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by law;
Whose country is this?
It is a land controlled by rebels!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ice;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of singers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of troubles;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of war! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land with the biggest cemetery in the wolrd!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of desert;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of trees;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant teenagers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of timber;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hatred;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of love;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of care;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of peace;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of smokers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of businesses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of harlots;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of wise people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of idiots!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of gold;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of cocoa;
Whose country is this?
It is a alnd full of crabs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of evil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of rainfalls;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ants;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of horses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pigs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of statues;
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of birds;
And so on, and so forth!
Because nature had made them so as we see them around us,
But the wise and fool live together on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tax
Tax is for the welfare of the masses
That’s why more tax should levied
Upon the rich than the poor
In such a manner
So that a desired balance is maintained.
There should be no filthy rich
In a poor country
So the government should impose tax
On this people couple of times more
Than the ordinary rich.
Education tax, poverty elimination tax
And tax to rehabilitate the beggars
Can be imposed on the very rich.
The government must go for moderate tax
For the poor people
And they should not slaughter the hen
That lays egg of gold.
The Muslims should give tax properly
Since it is obligatory for them
So in a Muslim country
The government should highlight this
In order to increase revenue.
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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society ***** PAYATAS DUMPSITE OVERNIGHT
(a year after the mournful tragedy)
Down
On your man-made mountain
Frighten
Of another collapse
Of another tragedy
Deprives the innocent
The poor the majority
The hunger
I am blank
As I throw sympathy to all night scavengers
Digging for endless survival
Your smoke your artificial breath
I smell too
And I truly understand
Only poor country
Loves deadly-poisonous air
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Writer's Ink
I am the writer's ink,
So just write with me without any fear;
I will move more than expected,
I will write more than expected,
I am the writer's ink.
Use me slowly or even faster,
I will talk more than expected;
I do have the message to teach everyone.
Of the beauty of communication,
I am used by everyone;
I am the writer's ink,
I do make people sad or glad;
My ink makes rulers sad,
My ink makes personalities sad,
My ink makes the common man sad,
The way i am used matters.
I am the writer's ink,
I am not expensive;
Buy me and use me always.
How can a country like Ghana be poor? !
Ghana has gold, oil, cocoa and timber;
There are also diamond, bauxite and other minerals;
How then can Ghana be poor? !
The writer's ink should tell us more.
Mismanagement is the food in the country,
Ghana has really more than it needs;
This country shouldn't be poor.
What the leaders say on air is not,
What we see on the ground;
I am the talkative ready to talk.
I am the writer's ink,
I will always speak the truth!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seldom Won
Independence, liberty and freedom
Bloodlessly won seldom
Stalwarts and leaders had shown wisdom
This all we now read in class rooms
Who will not want to be in free country?
Where it is classless, non racial and sans misery
What else can be dreamed of to lead it happily?
And country is surging ahead steadily
Foreign occupants are taken as cruel and marauders
Their position is that of land hungry and invaders
They might have plundered the country in process
And brutally murdered for gaining the access
All said and done and now they have packed
No more claims on our land is staked
We are fully independent and sovereign
Free from any yoke as independence is regained
What is scenario there after?
Is country leading towards disaster?
Is the freedom struggle really a boom?
Is there any scope for poor with room?
It has tuned into grim reality
It has proved our incompetence and inability
We have pushed country into Dark Age
We failed to look after people and manage
Farmers are coming suicide
Politicians are asking for free ride
Everybody is on rampage and hands are full of corruption
The loot is clearly seen and going on without any interruption
Yes, death is wealth
To take pride for Poor’s health
Where are we today on this freedom day?
Can they take us to peaceful way?
Can we not dream for two square meals?
Can they not strike a simple deal?
They come once in five years
To feed with oasis waters in deaf years
No answer may ever be found
Out economy is claimed to be sound
All well but country is in ill health
Entire country is robbed of its wealth
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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He Comes From A Different Culture
He comes from a different culture the tall dark one with such a great smile
And he finds it so hard to settle here so far from the banks of the Nile
He cannot speak the English language the tongue of this Southern Land
And that he feels he is an outsider ought not be hard to understand.
Tall and lean he looks very athletic and like a runner quite light on his feet
But he is not known as a sportsman and he never was an athlete
A young man in his early twenties and so gentle in his own quiet way
He speaks just a few words of English and two of those words are 'good day'
War and famine ravage his Homeland and for him 'twas not a safe place
And he fled just like many others to live far from his clan and race
To smile to him comes rather easily and he seems untainted by guile
But in his dark eyes there's a longing for the distant banks of the Nile.
My sympathies with the poor fellow he seems such an honorable bloke
He came to this Country a pauper financially dependant and broke
From his tribe to a refugee camp and life for him downhill all of the way
One hopes for him a better future though in that he doesn't have a say.
In this City his life is so different nostalgia is such a strange thing
Amongst his tribe and his family he felt happy and good memories of the past to him cling
Back home everybody was special and here he's just one more refugee
To smile to him it may come easy but the sadness in his eyes one see.
He comes from a different culture and of this culture not much he knows
And here he must feel an outsider but one might say that's life I suppose
He is such an honorable fellow yet how sad his life for him must be
And life is not meant to be easy for any poor Stateless Refugee.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Money Speaks Every Language
That money speaks every language has often been said before
And what also applies to money is much always wants more
And that moneyed people rule the World is something we all know
The more money they accumulate the more their power does grow.
Compared to those in poverty the millionaires seem few
And in saying that money speaks every language is not saying anything new
For every millionaire there is thousands in poverty
It is money and the lack of it that causes inequality.
That with money speaks every language most surely would agree
That's how it was and that's how it is and that's how 'twill always be
The poor sad pauper of the street to greatness none inspire
It is those who have heaps of money that others do admire.
Their dreams of success and wealth and fame so many do pursue
And that money speaks every language so happens to be true
For the poor of the poor suburb success seems far away
And the gap between the haves and the have nots is widening by the day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Take Me Home, Country Roads
(bill danoff/taffy nivert/john denver)
Country roads,take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia,mountain mama
Take me home,country roads
Almost heaven,west virginia
Blue ridge mountain,shenandoe river
Life is old there,older than the trees
Younger than the mountains
Growing like the breeze
Country roads,take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia,mountain mama
Take me home,country roads
All my memories gather round her
Mine is lady,stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine
Teardrop in my eye
Country roads,take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia,mountain mama
Take me home,country roads
I hear her voice in the morning
Now she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And driving down the road I get a feeling
That I shouldve been home yesterday,yesterday
Country roads,take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia,mountain mama
Take me home,country roads
Country roads,take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia,mountain mama
Take me home,country roads
Take me home,country roads
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Highly-Colored Romance
Ben Green was a New-Hampshire boy,
Who stood full six feet two:
A jovial chap this same Ben Green,
Though he had oft been blue.
He loved a girl named Olive Brown,
Who lived near Bixby's pond,
And who, despite her brunette name,
Was a decided blonde.
"A Highly Colored Romance."
A pink of rare perfection she,
The belle of all the town;
Though Ben oft wished her Olive Green,
Instead of Olive Brown.
And she loved Ben, and said that nought
Should mar their joy serene;
And, when she changed from Olive Brown,
'Twould surely be to Green.
She kept her word in-violet,
And vowed, ere she was wed,
Although when Brown she had Be(e)n Green.
When Green she'd be well read.
But, ah! her young affections changed
To Gray, a Southern fellow;
And Green turned white the news to hear,
Though first it made him yell, oh!
Says he, " How can you lilac this,
When you vowed to be true?
I'll take your fine young lover, Gray,
And beat him till he's blue."
Then Olive Brown to crimson turned,
And said, "Do as you say:
The country long has wished to see
'The Blue combined with Gray.'"
Ben Green to purple turned with rage,
And black his brow as night;
While on the cheek of Olive Brown
The crimson changed to white.
"O cruel Olive Brown!" says Ben,
"I've been dun-brown by you:
Let this 'Grayback' his steps retrace,
And take Greenback, — oh, do!"
Poor Olive Brown, what could she say,
To sea-Green look so sad ?
And so she rose, and said to him,
"I'll go and ask my dad."
. . . .
The years rolled by: Ben's raven locks
For silver did not lack;
And Olive, with her hair of gold,
Was glad she took Greenback.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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