The Land of Story-Books
At evening when the lamp is lit,
Around the fire my parents sit;
They sit at home and talk and sing,
And do not play at anything.
Now, with my little gun, I crawl
All in the dark along the wall,
And follow round the forest track
Away behind the sofa back.
There, in the night, where none can spy,
All in my hunter's camp I lie,
And play at books that I have read
Till it is time to go to bed.
These are the hills, these are the woods,
These are my starry solitudes;
And there the river by whose brink
The roaring lions come to drink.
I see the others far away
As if in firelit camp they lay,
And I, like to an Indian scout,
Around their party prowled about.
So when my nurse comes in for me,
Home I return across the sea,
And go to bed with backward looks
At my dear land of Story-books.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Isolation.
He came by unknown ways, and stood
At evening in the fading wood,
Which when the glowing hills were gone
Would as in a dream murmur on,
As he beside his camp-fire's glare
Sat as if in a vision there,
And felt the silence like a thing
In which his soul was functioning.
He was a poet maybe who
The world's impression dreamy drew
From his own heart in that strange air,
Like one who had been everywhere
And with the stars and fire-lit trees
Did blend a thousand memories,
Making that speck of light his home
Until the dewy dawn should come.
He well had seemed a phantom at
Some mystic work as lone he sat
Within his ring of charméd light,
Who might step out into the night,
And in a mischief-making mood
Perturb the starry solitude
Until his fire burnt out, and then
Might creep back to his camp again,
And wrapped within his blanket be
A thought-deserted entity.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swags Up!
Swags up! and yet I turn upon the way.
The yellow hill against a dapple sky,
With tufts and clumps of thorn, the bush whereby
All through the wonder-pregnant night I lay
Until the silver stars were merged in grey
Our fragrant camp, demand a parting sigh:
New tracks, new camps, and hearts for ever high,
Yet brief regret with every welcome day.
Dear dreamy earth, receding flickering lamp,
Dear dust wherein I found this night a home,
Still for a memory's sake I turn and cling,
Then take the road for many a distant camp,
Among what hills, by what pale whispering foam,
With eager faith for ever wandering.
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
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The Lake of the Dismal Swamp
'THEY made her a grave too cold and damp
For a soul so warm and true;
And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp,
Where all night long, by a firefly lamp,
She paddles her white canoe.
And her firefly lamp I soon shall see,
And her paddle I soon shall hear;
Long and moving our life shall be
And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree,
When the footstep of death is near.'
Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds, -
His path was rugged and sore,
Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds,
Through many a fen where the serpent feeds,
And man never trod before.
And when on the earth he sank to sleep,
If slumber his eyelids knew,
He lay where the deadly vine doth weep
Its venemous tear, and nightly steep
The flesh with blistering dew!
And near him the she-wolf stirr'd the brake,
And the copper-snake breathed in his ear,
Till he starting cried, from his dream awake,
'Oh when shall I see the dusky Lake,
And the white canoe of my dear?'
He saw the Lake, and a meteor bright
Quick over its surface play'd, -
'Welcome,' he said, 'my dear one's light!'
And the dim shore echo'd for many a night
The name of the death-cold maid.
Till he hollow'd a boat of the birchen bark,
Which carried him off from the shore;
Far, far he follow'd the meteor spark,
The wind was high and the clouds were dark,
And the boat return'd no more.
But oft, from the Indian hunter's camp,
This lover and maid so true
Are seen at the hour of midnight damp
To cross the Lake by a firefly lamp,
And paddle their white canoe!
poem by Thomas Moore
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Play It Again Sam
Well we read best selling novels
So we can talk between the lines
And we often close our eyes
Just to hide the dollar signs
And were suddenly pretentious
And conform with the stream
Were born and bred believers
In the american dream
And we drink our whiskey straight
Though we do not like the taste
And we dress in obligations
With a top hat show of haste
And we hinder our reactions
As we measure what we say
Until someone starts to cry
And the faces turn away again
Play it again sam
Take it slow and easy
Sing about the land of the brave
And the home of the free
And theres a man who will tip you
Better than youve gotten yet
If you play us a happy song
And help us forget
Play it again sam
Well we donate to our charities
To deduct our future taxes
And we flock to bars for drinking
Though one never quite relaxes
And we compromise our standards
If it means well get attention
And the things we need the most to say
Are the things we never mention
Play it again sam
Take it slow and easy
Sing about the land of the brave
And the home of the free
And theres a man who will tip you
Better than youve gotten yet
If you play us a happy song
And help us all forget
Play it again sam
Now I know God is up in heaven
Its hard to keep in mind
Sometimes when youre searching for relief
And hell is all you find
And I know that Im a romantic
I might seem a fool to say
Im know Im going to see a few hands joined
Before my dying day
Play it again sam
Take it slow and easy
Sing about the land of the brave
And the home of the free
And theres a man who will tip you
Better than youve gotten yet
Just play us a happy song
And help us all forget
Play it again sam
Play it again sam
Play it again sam
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Cant Be Your Hero Today
By: jimmy buffett
1970
Its never been the same since you returned from dreamin
With your nursery rhyme excuses your picture postcards gleamin
Tellin everyone who looks your way bout people and their sinnin
While you left field verse is fallin in proportion to your winnin
And I cant be your hero today
Im through with the simple games you play
It just may take some time for me to even up the score
But I cant be your soldier home from war
And there you sit shouting that theres still hope for us
While nature holds the handcuffs on a capricorn and taurus
Theres nothing you can do or say to get me to your camp
Go fill up all your savings books and buy yourself a lamp
And I cant be your hero today
Your wholesale price is much to high to pay
A bargain basement atmosphere is no way to sell love
And I cant be your superman above
No I cant be your hero today
That is all I really want to say
Go find a leading man who wants to play
And I cant be your hero today
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red River
Words and music by keith darran mcguire and george pearce
I remember campin all night down by the rivers edge, skinny dippin in the
Bright moonlight, divin off a ledge, skippin rocks across the water,
Fishin on an old trout line, gigging frogs till the early mornin, smokin
Dried crossvine.
Chorus:
Take me back down where the red river rolls; send me back to lou sianne.
Take me back down where the white water flows, to the cajun promised land.
Give me my line and my old pirogue. get me back as fast as you can.
Take me back home where the red river rolls.
Take me back home where the red river rolls.
Floatin down the river on a patched up inner tube, eatin dinner on the
Ground, made of fresh caught catfish stew.
Lay wake at night when I hear a wildcat scream; tellin takes around the camp
Fire light about the girls in our dreams.
Chorus
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Party
Words and music by queen
We had a good night jamming away
There was a full moon showing
And we wanted to play
But in the cold light of day next morning
Party was over uh uh
The party was over
We got love and we got style
And we got sex and I know I know we got what it takes
Oh oh oh oh oh - oh oh oh
Why dont you come back and play
Come back and play (hey hey) come back and play
We got all night all day
Everybodys gone away
Why dont you come back and play come back and play
Come back and play come back and play
Play play it play it
Go get em boy - lets party
Yeah
Give it give it
We had a food fight in somebodys face
We were up all night singing (singing)
And giving a chase
But in the cold light of day next morning
Everybody was hung over
Hey come back and play (come back and play) come back
And play
We got all night all day
Everybodys gone away
Why dont you come back and play (and play) come back
And play
We got all night we got all day
We got all night to play
Come back come back come back come back back and play
Hey hey hey
Goodbye goodbye goodbye goodbye the party is over
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picture-Books in Winter
Summer fading, winter comes--
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.
Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.
All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children's eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.
We may see how all things are
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies' looks,
In the picture story-books.
How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Childhood Lost?
Can you tell me a story, Mom and Dad
Have to finish my office work, Dad said
I am watching my favourite TV serial, said Mom
Little, just a little story ('time', he meant)
Did you finish your homework
Haven't you any story books to read
Or Disney movies to watch on the VCR
Or games to play on your play-station
Dear, I have to finish my project
Let me watch TV in peace, darling
OK. No problem, said the child
Silently curled up in his bed and prayed
Tell me GOD, will they tell me a story tomorrow
?
poem by Sameer Sanjay Ganu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nurse's Song (Innocence)
When voices of children are heard on the green
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast
And everything else is still
Then come home my children the sun is gone down
And the dews of night arise
Come come leave off play, and let us away
Till the morning appears in the skies
No no let us play, for it is yet day
And we cannot go to sleep
Besides in the sky, the little birds fly
And the hills are all covered with sheep
Well well go & play till the light fades away
And then go home to bed
The little ones leaped & shouted & laugh'd
And all the hills echoed
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Odd Person Out
You don't take narcotics or you don't smoke tobacco
And you don't drink spirits, wine or stout
And you are what is known as a cleanskin
But at times you feel the odd one out.
You don't party till late at the weekend
At home you do prefer to stay
Still you are an honourable person
Despite of you what others say.
Some others dismiss you as boring
Because you do not partake in their fun
Your great joy in life is in Nature
A walk by the lake in the sun.
You don't play sports or go to watch football
You go to the art gallery instead
And you write poems and plays and draw pictures
And hundreds of books about Nature you've read.
To most others you are very different
You don't drink alcohol, take drugs or watch football
But 'tis our different interests that make us interesting
And no two are exactly the same after all.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Concert Party
(EGYPTIAN BASE CAMP)
They are gathering round....
Out of the twilight; over the grey-blue sand,
Shoals of low-jargoning men drift inward to the sound—
The jangle and throb of a piano ... tum-ti-tum...
Drawn by a lamp, they come
Out of the glimmering lines of their tents, over the shuffling sand.
O sing us the songs, the songs of our own land,
You warbling ladies in white.
Dimness conceals the hunger in our faces,
This wall of faces risen out of the night,
These eyes that keep their memories of the places
So long beyond their sight.
Jaded and gay, the ladies sing; and the chap in brown
Tilts his grey hat; jaunty and lean and pale,
He rattles the keys ... some actor-bloke from town...
God send you home; and then A long, long trail;
I hear you calling me; and Dixieland....
Sing slowly ... now the chorus ... one by one
We hear them, drink them; till the concert’s done.
Silent, I watch the shadowy mass of soldiers stand.
Silent, they drift away, over the glimmering sand.
Kantara, April 1918.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nurse's Song
When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.
‘Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
And the dews of night arise;
Come, come leave off play, and let us away
Till the morning appears in the skies.’
‘No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
And we cannot go to sleep;
Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,
And the hills are all cover'd with sheep.’
‘Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
And then go home to bed.’
The little ones leapèd, and shoutèd, and laugh'd
And all the hills echoèd.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Saltbush Bill, J.P.
Beyond the land where Leichhardt went,
Beyond Sturt's Western track,
The rolling tide of change has sent
Some strange J.P.'s out back.
And Saltbush Bill, grown old and grey,
And worn for want of sleep,
Received the news in camp one day
Behind the travelling sheep
That Edward Rex, confiding in
His known integrity,
By hand and seal on parchment skin
Had made hiim a J.P.
He read the news with eager face
But found no word of pay.
'I'd like to see my sister's place
And kids on Christmas Day.
'I'd like to see green grass again,
And watch clear water run,
Away from this unholy plain,
And flies, and dust, and sun.'
At last one little clause he found
That might some hope inspire,
'A magistrate may charge a pound
For inquest on a fire.'
A big blacks' camp was built close by,
And Saltbush Bill, says he,
'I think that camp might well supply
A job for a J.P.'
That night, by strange coincidence,
A most disastrous fire
Destroyed the country residence
Of Jacky Jack, Esquire.
'Twas mostly leaves, and bark, and dirt;
The party most concerned
Appeared to think it wouldn't hurt
If forty such were burned.
Quite otherwise thought Saltbush Bill,
Who watched the leaping flame.
'The home is small,' said he, 'but still
The principle's the same.
'Midst palaces though you should roam,
Or follow pleasure's tracks,
You'll find,' he said, 'no place like home,
At least like Jacky Jack's.
'Tell every man in camp, 'Come quick,'
Tell every black Maria
I give tobacco, half a stick,
Hold inquest long-a fire.'
Each juryman received a name
Well suited to a Court.
'Long Jack' and 'Stumpy Bill' became
'John Long' and 'William Short'.
While such as 'Tarpot', 'Bullock Dray',
And 'Tommy Wait-a-While',
Became, for ever and a day,
'Scot', 'Dickens', and 'Carlyle'.
And twelve good sable men and true
Were soon engaged upon
The conflagration that o'erthrew
The home of John A. John.
Their verdict, 'Burnt by act of Fate',
They scarcely had returned
When, just behind the magistrate,
Another humpy burned!
The jury sat again and drew
Another stick of plug.
Said Saltbush Bill, 'It's up to you
Put some one long-a Jug.'
'I'll camp the sheep,' he said, 'and sift
The evidence about.'
For quite a week he couldn't shift,
The way the fires broke out.
The jury thought the whole concern
As good as any play.
They used to 'take him oath' and earn
Three sticks of plug a day.
At last the tribe lay down to sleep
Homeless, beneath a tree;
And onward with his travelling sheep
Went Saltbush bill, J.P.
His sheep delivered, safe and sound,
His horse to town he turned,
And drew some five-and-twenty pound
For fees that he had earned.
And where Monaro's ranges hide
Their little farms away,
His sister's children by his side,
He spent his Christmas Day.
The next J.P. that went out back
Was shocked, or pained, or both,
At hearing every pagan black
Repeat the juror's oath.
No matter how he turned and fled
They followed faster still;
'You make it inkwich, boss,' they said,
'All same like Saltbush Bill.'
They even said they'd let him see
The fires originate.
When he refused they said that he
Was 'No good magistrate'.
And out beyond Sturt's western track,
And Leichhardt's farthest tree,
They wait till fate shall send them back
Their Saltbush Bill, J.P.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good-Night
Then the bright lamp is carried in,
The sunless hours again begin;
O'er all without, in field and lane,
The haunted night returns again.
Now we behold the embers flee
About the firelit hearth; and see
Our faces painted as we pass,
Like pictures, on the window glass.
Must we to bed indeed? Well then,
Let us arise and go like men,
And face with an undaunted tread
The long black passage up to bed.
Farewell, O brother, sister, sire!
O pleasant party round the fire!
The songs you sing, the tales you tell,
Till far to-morrow, fare you well!
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Saltbush Bill, J.P.
Beyond the land where Leichhardt went,
Beyond Sturt's Western track,
The rolling tide of change has sent
Some strange J.P.'s out back.
And Saltbush Bill, grown old and grey,
And worn for want of sleep,
Received the news in camp one day
Behind the travelling sheep
That Edward Rex, confiding in
His known integrity,
By hand and seal on parchment skin
Had made hiim a J.P.
He read the news with eager face
But found no word of pay.
"I'd like to see my sister's place
And kids on Christmas Day.
"I'd like to see green grass again,
And watch clear water run,
Away from this unholy plain,
And flies, and dust, and sun."
At last one little clause he found
That might some hope inspire,
"A magistrate may charge a pound
For inquest on a fire."
A big blacks' camp was built close by,
And Saltbush Bill, says he,
"I think that camp might well supply
A job for a J.P."
That night, by strange coincidence,
A most disastrous fire
Destroyed the country residence
Of Jacky Jack, Esquire.
'Twas mostly leaves, and bark, and dirt;
The party most concerned
Appeared to think it wouldn't hurt
If forty such were burned.
Quite otherwise thought Saltbush Bill,
Who watched the leaping flame.
"The home is small," said he, "but still
The principle's the same.
"Midst palaces though you should roam,
Or follow pleasure's tracks,
You'll find," he said, "no place like home --
At least like Jacky Jack's.
"Tell every man in camp, 'Come quick,'
Tell every black Maria
I give tobacco, half a stick --
Hold inquest long-a fire."
Each juryman received a name
Well suited to a Court.
"Long Jack" and "Stumpy Bill" became
"John Long" and "William Short".
While such as "Tarpot", "Bullock Dray",
And "Tommy Wait-a-While",
Became, for ever and a day,
"Scot", "Dickens", and "Carlyle".
And twelve good sable men and true
Were soon engaged upon
The conflagration that o'erthrew
The home of John A. John.
Their verdict, "Burnt by act of Fate",
They scarcely had returned
When, just behind the magistrate,
Another humpy burned!
The jury sat again and drew
Another stick of plug.
Said Saltbush Bill, "It's up to you
Put some one long-a Jug."
"I'll camp the sheep," he said, "and sift
The evidence about."
For quite a week he couldn't shift,
The way the fires broke out.
The jury thought the whole concern
As good as any play.
They used to "take him oath" and earn
Three sticks of plug a day.
At last the tribe lay down to sleep
Homeless, beneath a tree;
And onward with his travelling sheep
Went Saltbush bill, J.P.
His sheep delivered, safe and sound,
His horse to town he turned,
And drew some five-and-twenty pound
For fees that he had earned.
And where Monaro's ranges hide
Their little farms away --
His sister's children by his side --
He spent his Christmas Day.
The next J.P. that went out back
Was shocked, or pained, or both,
At hearing every pagan black
Repeat the juror's oath.
No matter how he turned and fled
They followed faster still;
"You make it inkwich, boss," they said,
"All same like Saltbush Bill."
They even said they'd let him see
The fires originate.
When he refused they said that he
Was "No good magistrate".
And out beyond Sturt's western track,
And Leichhardt's farthest tree,
They wait till fate shall send them back
Their Saltbush Bill, J.P.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Comic Books
Long before I was 12 I would read by myself.
Archie, josie, super-heroes.
I would read them by myself.
I had the stars on my wall.
14 was a gas for me.
Batman on tv.
I would cheer the super-heroes.
They were all I wanted to be.
I had the stars on my wall.
18 I was guaranteed.
I would lose my teenage dream.
But its so funny how I got to look.
Like all the people in my comic books.
Now Im a star on my wall.
Comic books.
Comic books.
Comic books.
Comic books.
song performed by by Blondie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heading South
Orbison/dees
I want to talk to folks back home again, to walk along a lonely country lane
To spend some time with that woman of mine, heading south, heading south
Things look bright and I feel alright yeah Im heading south
Heading south to see the sun go down on camp fire light,to join the singing at night
Heading south to cotton rows and honeysuckle bloom
Under the cumberland moon heading south, heading south
Give me room to travel on my way to a place where dreams all fade away
Where the river flows and tobacco grows heading south heading south
Cause the sun is hot and people love a lot yeah Im heading south
Heading south to see the sun go down on camp fire light, to join the singing at night
Heading south to cotton rows and honeysuckle bloom under the cumberland moon
Heading south, heading south
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Night Long
Well, my friends, the time has come
To raise the roof and have some fun
Throw away the work to be done
Let the music play on
(play on, play on)
Everbody sing, everybody dance
Lose yourself in wild romance
Were going to party
Karamu, fiesta, forever
Come on and sing along!
Were going to party
Karamu, fiesta, forever
Come onand sing along!
Were going to party
Karamu, fiesta, forever
Come on and sing along!
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
People dancing all in the street
See the rhythm all in their feet
Life is good wild and sweet
Let the music play on
(play on, play on)
Feel it in your heart
And feel it in your soul
Let the music take control
Were going to party
Liming, fiesta, forever
Come on and sing my song!
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
Yeah, once you get started
You cant sit down
Come join the fun
Its a merry go round
Everyones dancing
Their troubles away
Come join our party
See how we play!
Oh, yes
Were going to have a party!
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
All night long! (all night)
All night long!
Everyone you meet
Theyre jamming in the street
All night long1
Yeah, I said, everyone you meet
Theyre jamming in the street
All night long!
Yeah, I said, everyone you meet
Theyre jamming in the street
All night long!
Feel good! feel good!
song performed by by Lionel Richie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cindy, Cindy
(words & music by kaye - weisman - fuller)
Wish I was an apple dangling from a tree
Every time youd pass me by youd take a bite of me
I wish I was a bluebird Id never fly away
Id sit up on your shoulder baby and sing to you all day
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home cindy cindy
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home to me
I wrote it in a letter, carved it on a tree
Told it to a honeycomb, told it to a bee
Told them that I love you, they all know its true
Say it till the cows come home until it gets to you
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home cindy cindy
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home to me
Need you in the morning to start the coffee pot
Need you in the afternoon to fan me when Im hot
Need you in the evening when supper time is through
What Im really tryin to say is I cant get enough of you
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home cindy cindy
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home to me
If I were a musician Id harp on just one thing
You should never play my harp the way you pluck a string
If only you would love me say it and tell me so
I need two charms about me baby to have the whole world know
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home cindy cindy
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home to me
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home cindy cindy
Come on home cindy cindy, come on home to me
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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