Scarecrow in the hillock
Scarecrow in the hillock
Paddy field --
How unaware! How useful.
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Related quotes
Paddy Magee
What are you doing now, Paddy Magee?
Grafting, or spelling now, Paddy Magee?
Breaking, or branding?
Or overlanding,
Out on the sand ridges, Paddy Magee?
Is your mouth parched, from an all-night spree?
Taking a pick-me-up, Paddy Magee?
Cocktail - or simple soda and b.? -
Which is the 'antidote,' Paddy Magee?
Still 'shook' on some beautiful, blushing she?
Girl in the Bogan side, Paddy Magee?
A hack providing
For moonlight riding,
Side-saddle foolery, Paddy Magee?
Up on the station - or in the town -
Or on the Warrego, droving down,
Whatever you're doing - wherever you be!
'There's lashin's o' luck to ye!' Paddy Magee!
poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
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Youll Be The Scarecrow
One day Ill have to fly
To the next great unknown
One day Ill be outta here
Back on my own
And when I come around for my goodbye
Youll be the scarecrow
Youll be the scarecrow
The one I adore
The one Ill cary with me
Forever more
You were the special one
Something we shared
The one that Ill miss the most
The one that cared
So when I come around for my goodbyes
Youll be the scarecrow
Youll be the scarecrow
The one I adore
The one Ill cary with me
Forever more
There may not be a day
For a dou reunion
There may not be a day
For us
One day youll look and see
A purple sunset
And then youll know that Im ok
Im doing my best
And when I come around for my goodbye
Youll be the scarecrow
Youll be the scarecrow
The one I adore
Youll be the scarecrow
The one I miss most
And when I come around for my goodbye
Youll be the scarecrow
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scarecrow
The black and green scarecrow as everyone knows
Stood with a bird on his hat and straw everywhere.
He didnt care.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
His head did no thinking
His arms didnt move except then the wind cut up
Rough and mice ran around on the ground
He stood in a field where barley grows.
The black and green scarecrow is sadder than me
But now hes resigned to his fate
cause lifes not unkind - he doesnt mind.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scarecrow
The black and green scarecrow as everyone knows
Stood with a bird on his hat and straw everywhere.
He didnt care.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
His head did no thinking
His arms didnt move except when the wind cut up
Rough and mice ran around on the ground
He stood in a field where barley grows.
The black and green scarecrow is sadder than me
But now hes resigned to his fate
cause lifes not unkind - he doesnt mind.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paddy Smell
Nostrils are the steps to soul.
Paddy farm, just reaped, smells.
Same old unique smells
Climb up the attic of soul.
Full soul shines in silver
Above the leaves tide.
Footfalls of cat eyed maid
With a pot on her shoulder.
On embankment in field,
Her anklet resonates.
Old untouched love beats,
Then my soul gets wild.
At dawn smelling paddy,
Old white skirt flutters
Below black blouse hers:
Truly soul smells paddy.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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The Scarecrow
Once I said to a scarecrow, 'You must be tired of standing in this
lonely field.'
And he said, 'The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I
never tire of it.'
Said I, after a minute of thought, 'It is true; for I too have
known that joy.'
Said he, 'Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.'
Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled
me.
A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.
And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest
under his hat.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Scarecrow
Staring in the face of condemnation
Laughter fills the sky instead of rain
Live my life alone in resignation
Arms outstretched for those who cannot see
Scarecrow
Crucified and left in isolation
Pictures of our lost morality
Scarecrow
Eyeless stares invite this whole damnation
Rotting corpse of inhumanity
Scarecrow
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Golden Boat
Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain.
I sit on the river bank, sad and alone.
The sheaves lie gathered, harvest has ended,
The river is swollen and fierce in its flow.
As we cut the paddy it started to rain.
One small paddy-field, no one but me -
Flood-waters twisting and swirling everywhere.
Trees on the far bank; smear shadows like ink
On a village painted on deep morning grey.
On this side a paddy-field, no one but me.
Who is this, steering close to the shore
Singing? I feel that she is someone I know.
The sails are filled wide, she gazes ahead,
Waves break helplessly against the boat each side.
I watch and feel I have seen her face before.
Oh to what foreign land do you sail?
Come to the bank and moor your boat for a while.
Go where you want to, give where you care to,
But come to the bank a moment, show your smile -
Take away my golden paddy when you sail.
Take it, take as much as you can load.
Is there more? No, none, I have put it aboard.
My intense labour here by the river -
I have parted with it all, layer upon layer;
Now take me as well, be kind, take me aboard.
No room, no room, the boat is too small.
Loaded with my gold paddy, the boat is full.
Across the rain-sky clouds heave to and fro,
On the bare river-bank, I remain alone -
What had has gone: the golden boat took all.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Rain On A Scarecrow
Scarecrow on a wooden cross Blackbird in the barn
Four hundred empty acres that used to be my farm
I grew up like my daddy did My grandpa cleared this land
When I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry there's no legacy for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
The crops we grew last summer weren't enough to pay the loans
Couldn't buy the seed to plant this spring and the Farmers Bank foreclosed
Called my old friend Schepman up to auction off the land
He said John it's just my job and I hope you understand
Hey calling it your job ol' hoss sure don't make it right
But if you want me to I'll say a prayer for your soul tonight
And grandma's on the front porch swing with a Bible in her hand
Sometimes I hear her singing "Take me to the Promised Land"
When you take away a man's dignity he can't work his fields and cows
There'll be blood on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Blood on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Well there's ninety-seven crosses planted in the courthouse yard
Ninety-seven families who lost ninety-seven farms
I think about my grandpa and my neighbors and my name
And some nights I feel like dyin' Like that scarecrow in the rain
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry they're just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry they're just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Garden in my inner square
I planted a vegetable garden
in the inner square opposite a mural
and next to it there are flowers that only in the morning hour
spread their cups and spiral up against every side,
where it finds a holding place and grow hillock on hillock
over every thing with purple flowers that only last a short time.
I planted a vegetable garden
in the inner square opposite a mural,
where mountains tooth out blue in the background
and field after field of purple lavender bushes stand at the front
and there’s a shop owner sending his servants on bicycles around
and at the bottom in fruitful red sand
a vegetable garden was planted by me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Nature
MR VAVROOVAHANA PATRA, nabarangpur, odisha, India
NATURE
Grass is green; on it falls the sun-shine.
The peasant on the field with a plough looks thin.
The paddy plants look beautiful and green,
Goats graze in the field; they are nine.
A stream flows down with a muttering sound,
Attracts poets as drunkards to wine!
The mountain is bald but still looks beautiful;
The river water’s sound is tuneful.
Moon-beams kiss the paddy plant,
Fulfilling the desire of peasants and their wants.
God’s nature is mysteriously beautiful,
Deriving pleasure from it, farmers become dutiful.
THANK YOU
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Rain On The Scarecrow
Scarecrow on a wooden cross blackbird in the barn
Four hundred empty acres that used to be my farm
I grew up like my daddy did my grandpa cleared this land
When I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand
Chorus:
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
This land fed a nation this land made me proud
And son Im just sorry theres no legacy for you now
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
The crops we grew last summer werent enough to pay the loans
Couldnt buy the seed to plant this spring and the farmers bank foreclosed
Called my old friend schepman up to auction off the land
He said john its just my job and I hope you understand
Hey calling it your job ol hoss sure dont make it right
But if you want me to Ill say a prayer for your soul tonight
And grandmas on the front porch swing with a Bible in her hand
Sometimes I hear her singing take me to the promised land
When you take away a mans dignity he cant work his fields and cows
Therell be blood on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Blood on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Well theres ninety-seven crosses planted in the courthouse yard
Ninety-seven families who lost ninety-seven farms
I think about my grandpa and my neighbors and my name
And some nights I feel like dyin like that scarecrow in the rain
Chorus:
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
This land fed a nation this land made me proud
And son Im just sorry theyre just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
This land fed a nation this land made me so proud
And son Im just sorry theyre just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We go fish, we also catch fighting fish, looking for birds and it was for kampong people, the paddy field was our the play field for the children.
quote by Abdullah Ahmad Badawi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There was an old scarecrow from Cheshire
Who lay down to sleep at his leisure.
The farmer was mad
And said it was sad
That the scarecrow should miss all the pleasure.
quote by by James Hart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As a child, the paddy field was my playground.
quote by Abdullah Ahmad Badawi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr Paddy's Capers.
Just when she thought
She'd found a place alone
To read her book, Mr Paddy
poked his nose between
Her and the open book, so
That pages are blanked out
By his huge head. Mr Paddy
Go off and annoy another,
She said, but he stood there
Determined to be where he
Was, between her and the
Brown covered book, held
Out in her small hands. Oh
Mr Paddy I cannot see the
Pages. Please go off and run
In the garden or in the kitchen
And steal a bone, she said. But
He wouldn't leave her alone,
He pushed his head against her
Young girl body, his damp nose
Dampening her wrist and her
White dress with blue sash, and
Dribble from his lips was wetting
The pages. Mr Paddy please let
Me be, I'm trying to read can't
You see? Mr Paddy's brown eyes
Scanned the pages, nothing there
But scribbled lines upon white paper,
And still he stood wet mouthed with
Big brown eyes and his silly old caper.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Proud Scarecrow
An old scarecrow stood with his arms akimbo,
Thinking his dull life was now in limbo,
He somehow, never seemed to scare the crows,
He had tried hard enough, heaven knows.
His coat was torn and there were many more
Holes, where the crows had searched for straw.
His hat was looking limp and out of shape,
His shirt in the front, had begun to gape.
A fieldmouse had nested inside his sleeve,
Even though he had asked it nicely, to leave.
Then sadly the whole family had all moved in,
And created each night, such an awful din.
That poor old scarecrow could get no sleep,
It made him sad, and it made him weep,
He considered it constantly, in his turnip head,
Actually that old scarecrow, was quite well read.
Then one day he found he was being moved,
Into a very large building, it was proved,
A place where important things can be found,
Where people stand and admire, and look around.
A Museum that's dedicated to our Country Art,
And a scarecrow his age, just had to be part
Of this collection, that was here for all to view,
An exhibit that stated that 'he' was 'New'.
In all his tatters, he stood straight and tall,
Not minding all the stares, no, not at all,
For this new life he felt, just couldn't be beat,
Now he's a proud scarecrow, feeling so complete.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Hearts Filthy Lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Theres always the diamond friendly
Sitting in the laugh hotel
The hearts filthy lesson
With her hundred miles to hell
Oh, ramona, if there was only something between us
If there was only something between us
Other than our clothes
Something in our skies
Something in our skies
Something in our blood
Something in our skies
Paddy
Paddy, whos been wearing mirandas clothes?
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Falls upon deaf ears
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Falls upon deaf ears
Falls upon dead years
Oh ramona, if there was only some kind of future
Oh ramona, if there was only some kind of future
And these cerulean skies
Something in our skies
Something in our skies
Something in our blood
Something in our skies
Paddy, paddy?
Paddy will you carry me, I think Ive lost my way
Im already five years older Im already in my grave
Im already
Im already
Im already
Will you carry me?
Oh paddy, I think Ive lost my way
Paddy
What a fantastic death abyss
Paddy
What a fantastic death abyss
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Tell the others
Its the hearts filthy lesson
What a fantastic death abyss
Tell the others
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Paddy
What a fantastic death abyss
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Tell the other
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paddy Malone In Australia
Och! my name's Pat Malone, and I'm from Tipperary.
Sure, I don't know it now I'm so bothered, Ohone!
And the gals that I danced with, light-hearted and airy,
It's scarcely they'd notice poor Paddy Malone.
'Tis twelve months or more since our ship she cast anchor
In happy Australia, the Emigrant's home,
And from that day to this there's been nothing but canker,
And grafe and vexation for Paddy Malone.
Oh, Paddy Malone! Oh, Paddy, Ohone!
Bad luck to the agent that coaxed ye to roam.
Wid a man called a squatter I soon got a place, sure,
He'd a beard like a goat, and such whiskers, Ohone!
And he said—as he peeped through the hair on his faitures
That he liked the appearance of Paddy Malone.
Wid him I agreed to go up to his station,
Saying abroad in the bush you'll find yourself at home.
I liked his proposal, and 'out hesitation
Signed my name wid a X that spelt Paddy Malone.
Oh, Paddy Malone, you're no scholard, Ohone!
Sure, I made a cris-crass that spelt Paddy Malone.
A-herding my sheep in the bush, as they call it
It was no bush at all, but a mighty great wood,
Wid all the big trees that were small bushes one time,
A long time ago, faith I 'spose 'fore the flood.
To find out this big bush one day I went further,
The trees grew so thick that I couldn't, Ohone!
I tried to go back then, but that I found harder,
And bothered and lost was poor Paddy Malone.
Oh, Paddy Malone, through the bush he did roam
What a Babe in the Wood was poor Paddy Malone.
I was soon overcome, sure, wid grafe and vexation,
And camped, you must know, by the side of a log;
I was found the next day by a man from the station,
For I coo-ey'd and roared like a bull in a bog.
The man said to me, "Arrah, Pat! where's the sheep now?"
Says I, "I dunno! barring one here at home,"
And the master began and kicked up a big row too,
And swore he'd stop the wages of Paddy Malone.
Arrah! Paddy Malone, you're no shepherd, Ohone!
We'll try you with bullocks now, Paddy Malone.
To see me dressed out with my team and my dray too,
Wid a whip like a flail and such gaiters, Ohone!
But the bullocks, as they eyed me, they seemed for to say too,
"You may do your best, Paddy, we're blest if we go."
"Gee whoa! Redman! come hither, Damper!
Hoot, Magpie! Gee, Blackbird! Come hither,
Whalebone!"
But the brutes turned round sharp, and away they did scamper,
And heels over head turned poor Paddy Malone.
Oh, Paddy Malone! you've seen some bulls at home,
But the bulls of Australia cows Paddy Malone.
I was found the next day where the brutes they did throw me
By a man passing by, upon hearing me groan,
And wiping the mud from my face that he knew me,
Says he, "Your name's Paddy?" "Yes! Paddy Malone."
I thin says to him, "You're an angel sent down, sure!"
"No, faith, but I'm not; but a friend of your own!"
And by his persuasion, for home then I started,
And you now see before you poor Paddy Malone.
Arrah, Paddy Malone! you are now safe at home.
Bad luck to the agent that coaxed ye to roam.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Scarecrow People
Hope you enjoyed your flight,
In one of our new straw aeroplanes,
Youll find things here are just like what youre used to.
Theres lots of waste and razor wire,
And no one gives a damn about the land,
We just stand around and stare like you folks do.
For we aint got no brains,
And we aint got no hearts,
Its just that wild old wind that tears us all apart.
Were the scarecrow people,
Have we got lots in common with you.
And if you dont start living well,
Youre all gonna wind up scarecrow people too.
Hope you enjoyed your meal,
Its only gas and chemicals,
We thought that youd prefer something not nature made.
Now while youre here can you advise us,
On a war wed like to start,
Against some scarecrows over there, a different shade?
For we aint got no brains,
And we aint got no hearts,
Its just that wild old wind that tears us all apart.
Were the scarecrow people,
Have we got lots in common with you.
And if you dont start living well,
Youre all gonna wind up scarecrow people too.
We dont have no tears here,
No one hopes or cares or fears here,
For the old, the sick, the poor and them what taint you.
We thought wed base our civilization upon yours,
cause youre the smartest animals on earth, now aint you?
We dont have no love here,
Theres no need to rise above here,
No one wants to write a book or try to paint thee.
We thought wed base our civilization upon yours,
cause were all dead from our necks up, now aint we?
And we aint got no brains,
And we aint got no hearts,
Its just that wild old wind that tears us all apart.
Were the scarecrow people,
Have we got lots in common with you.
And if you dont start living well,
Youre all gonna wind up scarecrow people too.
And I aint got no brains,
And I aint got no heart,
Its just them other humans tear my soul apart.
Im a scarecrow person,
Have I got quite some message for you.
For if we dont start learning well,
Were all gonna wind up scarecrow people too!
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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