The Saginaw Song
In Saginaw, in Saginaw,
The wind blows up your feet,
When the ladies’ guild puts on a feed,
There’s beans on every plate,
And if you eat more than you should,
Destruction is complete.
Out Hemlock Way there is a stream
That some have called Swan Creek;
The turtles have bloodsucker sores,
And mossy filthy feet;
The bottoms of migrating ducks
Come off it much less neat.
In Saginaw, in Saginaw,
Bartenders think no ill;
But they’ve ways of indicating when
You are not acting well:
They throw you through the front plate glass
And then send you the bill.
The Morleys and the Burrows are
The aristocracy;
A likely thing for they’re no worse
Than the likes of you or me,—
A picture window’s one you can’t
Raise up when you would pee.
In Shaginaw, in Shaginaw
I went to Shunday Shule;
The only thing I ever learned
Was called the Golden Rhule,—
But that’s enough for any man
What’s not a proper fool.
I took the pledge cards on my bike;
I helped out with the books;
The stingy members when they signed
Made with their stingy looks,—
The largest contributions came
From the town’s biggest crooks.
In Saginaw, in Saginaw,
There’s never a household fart,
For if it did occur,
It would blow the place apart,—
I met a woman who could break wind
And she is my sweet-heart.
O, I’m the genius of the world,—
Of that you can be sure,
But alas, alack, and me achin’ back,
I’m often a drunken boor;
But when I die—and that won’t be soon—
I’ll sing with dear Tom Moore,
With that lovely man, Tom Moore.
Coda:
My father never used a stick,
He slapped me with his hand;
He was a Prussian through and through
And knew how to command;
I ran behind him every day
He walked our greenhouse land.
I saw a figure in a cloud,
A child upon her breast,
And it was O, my mother O,
And she was half-undressed,
All women, O, are beautiful
When they are half-undressed.
poem by Theodore Roethke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
If I Ever Get To Saginaw Again
If I ever get to saginaw again,
A locale thats somewhat off the beaten track.
Get to see the girl I never saw again
Who must know why I have never ventured back.
We we young,
And so alive
And now I wonder if shed cling to me,
Become my very own as she did then,
If I ever get to saginaw again.
If I ever get to saginaw again,
It wont be in spring with meadows turning green.
It wont be to tangle with the law again.
And it wont be with someone one only seventeen,
Who gave her love,
And made me hers.
And when you find the one youre dreaming of
Who thinks to ask, how old is love? ,
Not when
You may never get to saginaw again.
If I ever get to saginaw again
I will get to see son who bears my name.
And perhaps Ill quietly withdraw again
When I see the little man that he became.
And how I yearn
To watch him grow.
A fathers love is maybe all it takes
To not repeat those sad mistakes of men
If I ever get to saginaw again
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America
Paul simon
(full version on yesterdays, the new age of atlantic, or kta)
(edited single version is available on the yesyears album)
Let us be lovers
Well marry our fortunes together
Ive got some real estate here in my bag
So we bought a pack of cigarettes
And mrs. wagners pies
And walked on, walked on, walked on
To look for america
kathy, I said as we boarded a greyhound to pittsburg,
michigan seems like a dream to me now
It took me four days to hitchhike from saginaw
All gone to look for america
All gone to look for america
Laughing on the bus
Playing games with the faces
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy
I said, be carefull his bow tie is really a camera.
Kathy Im lost I said
Although I knew she was sleeping
Im empty and Im aching
And I dont know why
Counting the cars on the new jersey turnpike
Theyve all come to look for america
All come to look for america
All come to look for america
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America
Paul simon
(full version on yesterdays, the new age of atlantic, or kta)
(edited single version is available on the yesyears album)
Let us be lovers
Well marry our fortunes together
Ive got some real estate here in my bag
So we bought a pack of cigarettes
And mrs. wagners pies
And walked on, walked on, walked on
To look for america
kathy, I said as we boarded a greyhound to pittsburg,
michigan seems like a dream to me now
It took me four days to hitchhike from saginaw
All gone to look for america
All gone to look for america
Laughing on the bus
Playing games with the faces
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy
I said, be carefull his bow tie is really a camera.
Kathy Im lost I said
Although I knew she was sleeping
Im empty and Im aching
And I dont know why
Counting the cars on the new jersey turnpike
Theyve all come to look for america
All come to look for america
All come to look for america
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bandit Tears
How could someone do something so horrible?
To such a sweet animal
Why would someone do that to
Innocent animals
It’s like being mean to a baby
You just don’t do that it’s wrong
He is one of the greatest gifts god gave to this earth
The light shines around the massive creature that I call my baby
My baby is in so much pain all of the time
It kills me
My baby has been mistreated many times but not by me
My baby likes carrots but loves apples just like me
Unconditional love is what he supplies me
I dream of riding him when were apart
My baby is the best thing that ever happened to me
My baby is so beautiful that he makes gorgeous look ugly
As the vets words “this horse might have to be put down if surgery fails”
Echo in my ears tears flood my eyes and my judgment breaks down
What’s right and what’s wrong start fading together
To where I cant tell the difference
The pain in my heart turns to anger and
The little devil on my shoulder is now winning
I tell bandit I will make him pay
Pay with his life soon
I’ll show him that hurting animal’s is not the answer
I jump onto bandit’s back and he takes me down to the house
I jump off and head into the house
I grab my shotgun and throw it in the back of my truck
Looking back into bandit’s pain filled eyes
I drove off in a cloud of dust
To Saginaw I went
Where I found the man responsible for my babies pain
The cock of the shotgun makes him look twice
I pointed it to his forehead and only said
“This is for bandit’s and
All the other horses you make live in pain”
Pulled the trigger and walked away
Not looking back
I drove off with tears in my eyes
Knowing that killing him wouldn’t
Make bandits or my pain go away
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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America
Let us be lovers, we'll marry our fortunes together"
"I've got some real estate here in my bag"
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies
And we walked off to look for America
"Kathy" I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh
"Michigan seems like a dream to me now"
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw
I've gone to look for America
Laughing on the bus, Playing games with the faces
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy
I said "Be careful, his bowtie is really a camera"
"Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat"
"We smoked the last one an hour ago"
So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine
And the moon rose over an open field
"Kathy, I'm lost" I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey turnpike
They've all gone to look for America
All gone to look for America, All gone to look for America
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America
Let us be lovers well marry our fortunes together
Ive got some real estate here in my bag
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and mrs. wagner pies
And we walked off to look for america
Kathy, I said as we boarded a greyhound in pittsburgh
Michigan seems like a dream to me now
It took me four days to hitchhike from saginaw
Ive gone to look for america
Laughing on the bus
Playing games with the faces
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy
I said be careful his bowtie is really a camera
Toss me a cigarette, I think theres one in my raincoat
We smoked the last one an hour ago
So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine
And the moon rose over an open field
Kathy, Im lost, I said, though I knew she was sleeping
Im empty and aching and I dont know why
Counting the cars on the new jersey turnpike
Theyve all gone to look for america
All gone to look for america
All gone to look for america
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winds of Change
I was enjoying a picnic,
When the wind came up.
It blew my napkin,
And rolled my cup.
It ruined the nice place
That I had set,
However, there's one thing
I'll never forget-
The wind switched direction,
And flipped my plate.
Yes, the wind slapped it,
Twice in my face!
poem by Macy Dvirnak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wild Montana Skies (feat. John Denver)
(John Denver)
He was born in the Bitteroot Valley in the early morning rain
Wild geese over the water, heading north and home again
Bringin' a warm wind from the south, bringin'
the first taste of the spring
His mother took him to her breast and softly she did sing:
Oh, Montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
He never knew his father and he never did ask why
He never knew the answers that would make an easy way
But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
His mother's brother took him in to his family and his home
Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
On the eve of his 21st birthday, he set out on his own
He was 30 years and runnin' when he found his way back home
Ridin' a storm across the mountains and an achin' in his heart
Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
Now he never told the story of the time that he was gone
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a john
There was something in the city that he said he couldn't breathe
There was something in the country that he said he couldn't leave
Now some say he was crazy and some are glad he's gone
But some of us will miss him and we'll try to carry on
Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Window
I was staring out the window
The whole time he was talking to me
It was a filthy pane of glass
I couldn't get a clear view
As he went on and on
It wasn't the outside world I could see
Just the filthy pane that I was looking through
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
I was never focused on just one thing
My eyes got fixed when my mind got soft
It may looked like I'm concentrated on a very clear view
But I'm as good as asleep
I bet you didn't know
It takes a lot of it away if you do
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
Because the fact in fact
Whatevers in front of me is covering my view
So I can't see what I'm seeing in fact
I only see what I'm looking through
I had to break the window
It just had to be it was in my way
Better that I break the window
Then forget what I had to say
So again I've done the right thing
I was never worried about that
The answer's always been in clear view
But even when the window's clean
I still can't see for the fact
That when it's clean it's so clear
I cant tell what I'm looking through
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
I had to break the window
It just had to be it was in my way
Better that I break the window
Then forget what I had to say
I had to break the window
It was in my way
Better that I break a window
Then forget what I had to say
Or miss what I should see
Or breaking him or her or me
song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Mama
I was raised on the west side shanty town.
I didn't get up till the sun went down.
When your back's against the wall, you better get tough,
An' learn real quick how to swing an' duck.'
I was born in the suite all for the sunshine,
Good lookin' women, back woods an' moonshine.
Learned more about life on the streets than in the school.
Sweet Mama didn't raise no fool,.
That's right.
Some folks cheat 'n some folks lie,
But I can judge a man by the look in his eye.
Don't hand me jack, try to call it cool.
I know the difference 'tween sh*t an' shiner.
I was born in the suite all for the sunshine,
Good lookin' women, back woods an' moonshine.
Learned more about life on the streets than in the school.
Sweet Mama didn't raise no fool.
Instrumental Break.
Talkin' about Mama,
Oh sweet Mama.
Mama was no angel, but she taught me right from wrong.
She knew ev'ry single word, an' ev'ry note, and ev'ry song.
She taught me how to gamble and how to roll a dice.
"If it makes you feel good, do a darn thing twice."
I was born in the suite all for the sunshine,
Good lookin' women, back woods an' moonshine.
Learned more about life on the streets than in the school.
My sweet Mama didn't raise no fool.
I was born in the suite all for the sunshine,
Good lookin' women, back woods an' moonshine.
Learned more about life on the streets than in the school.
My sweet Mama didn't raise no fool.
Yeeow!
Talkin' about:
(My sweet Mama,)
(Mama didn't raise no fool.)
Na, na, na.
(Talkin' about my sweet Mama,
(Mama didn't raise no fool.)
That's my sweet Mama.
(Talkin' about my sweet Mama,
(Mama didn't raise no fool.)
Oh, sweet Mama.
song performed by by Van Zant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Domestic Stones (fragment)
(Translated from the French by David Gascoyne)
The feet of morning the feet of noon and the feet of evening
walk ceaselessly round pickled buttocks
on the other hand the feet of midnight remain motionless
in their echo-woven baskets
consequently the lion is a diamond
on the sofas made of bread
are seated the dressed and the undressed
the undressed hold leaden swallows between their toes
the dressed hold leaden nests between their fingers
at all hours the undressed get dressed again
and the dressed get undressed
and exchange the leaden swallows for the leaden nests
consequently the tail is an umbrella
a mouth opens within another mouth
and within this mouth another mouth
and within this mouth another mouth
and so on without end
it is a sad perspective
which adds an I-don't-know-what
to another I-don't-know-what
consequently the grasshopper is a column
the pianos with heads and tails
place pianos with heads and tails
on their heads and their tails
consequently the tongue is a chair
Wild Montana Skies
(john denver)
He was born in the bitteroot valley in the early morning rain
Wild geese over the water, heading north and home again
Bringin a warm wind from the south, bringin
The first taste of the spring
His mother took him to her breast and softly she did sing:
Oh, montana, give this child a home
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild montana skies
His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
He never knew his father and he never did ask why
He never knew the answers that would make an easy way
But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
His mothers brother took him in to his family and his home
Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
On the eve of his 21st birthday, he set out on his own
He was 30 years and runnin when he found his way back home
Ridin a storm across the mountains and an achin in his heart
Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
Now he never told the story of the time that he was gone
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a john
There was something in the city that he said he couldnt breathe
There was something in the country that he said he couldnt leave
Now some say he was crazy and some are glad hes gone
But some of us will miss him and well try to carry on
Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Half Empty/Half Full
This coulda been one of those days
I didn't feel like writing
A day when drugs embraced me
And washed my thoughts away
This coulda been a day I didn't feel like fighting
When the minutes turn to hours till the end of the day
But, there will come a day when even drugs won't be enough
To forget mistakes and problems all surrounding us
Pretty soon this little world is gonna tear itself apart
I can feel it in my soul
I can feel it in my heart
I crack a beer, and out the window I stare
My glass half empty; my glass half full
Thinkin' about the rich, the poor, and all our affairs
I'm a fuckin' genius; I'm a fuckin' fool
The writers write, the singers sing
The poor stay poor; the rich hoard things
The thirsty and the hungry die
People don't care, so nobody asks, 'Why? '
The smoke from burnt books clouds the sky
Men beat their wives; Religion or cultures justify
While asses rot in front of TV screens
The masses scream - the poets still dream
I crack a beer, and out the window I stare
My glass half empty; my glass half full
Thinkin' about the rich, the poor, and all our affairs
I'm a fuckin' genius; I'm a fuckin' fool.
- Aug.2009 -
poem by Ray Quesada
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz Moradabadi'
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Changeling
Toll no bell for me, dear Father dear Mother,
Waste no sighs;
There are my sisters, there is my little brother
Who plays in the place called Paradise,
Your children all, your children for ever;
But I, so wild,
Your disgrace, with the queer brown face, was never,
Never, I know, but half your child!
In the garden at play, all day, last summer,
Far and away I heard
The sweet "tweet-tweet" of a strange new-comer,
The dearest, clearest call of a bird.
It lived down there in the deep green hollow,
My own old home, and the fairies say
The word of a bird is a thing to follow,
So I was away a night and a day.
One evening, too, by the nursery fire,
We snuggled close and sat roudn so still,
When suddenly as the wind blew higher,
Something scratched on the window-sill,
A pinched brown face peered in--I shivered;
No one listened or seemed to see;
The arms of it waved and the wings of it quivered,
Whoo--I knew it had come for me!
Some are as bad as bad can be!
All night long they danced in the rain,
Round and round in a dripping chain,
Threw their caps at the window-pane,
Tried to make me scream and shout
And fling the bedclothes all about:
I meant to stay in bed that night,
And if only you had left a light
They would never have got me out!
Sometimes I wouldn't speak, you see,
Or answer when you spoke to me,
Because in the long, still dusks of Spring
You can hear the whole world whispering;
The shy green grasses making love,
The feathers grow on the dear grey dove,
The tiny heart of the redstart beat,
The patter of the squirrel's feet,
The pebbles pushing in the silver streams,
The rushes talking in their dreams,
The swish-swish of the bat's black wings,
The wild-wood bluebell's sweet ting-tings,
Humming and hammering at your ear,
Everything there is to hear
In the heart of hidden things.
But not in the midst of the nursery riot,
That's why I wanted to be quiet,
Couldn't do my sums, or sing,
Or settle down to anything.
And when, for that, I was sent upstairs
I did kneel down to say my prayers;
But the King who sits on your high church steeple
Has nothing to do with us fairy people!
'Times I pleased you, dear Father, dear Mother,
Learned all my lessons and liked to play,
And dearly I loved the little pale brother
Whom some other bird must have called away.
Why did they bring me here to make me
Not quite bad and not quite good,
Why, unless They're wicked, do They want, in spite,
to take me
Back to Their wet, wild wood?
Now, every nithing I shall see the windows shining,
The gold lamp's glow, and the fire's red gleam,
While the best of us are twining twigs and the rest of us
are whining
In the hollow by the stream.
Black and chill are Their nights on the wold;
And They live so long and They feel no pain:
I shall grow up, but never grow old,
I shall always, always be very cold,
I shall never come back again!
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wherever These Feet May Roam.....
be that land so far so lost,
where freedom first touched these lips.
where the taint of love
scorched heart and soul,
where the path met by howl and want.
where the song found words,
and the night named stars,
where moonlight be the holy drink.
where the rebel rose courted moss and stone,
where the fire was lit by true bent hope.
where the wind undressed,
and the mountains wept,
and the sea called me home.
where the light was forged from human sweat,
as angels danced barefoot by night.
where the promise of dawn be more than enough,
and the spirit walked through walls!
be that land my home my heart's desire,
wherever these feet may roam!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Storm [Furtuna]
No one lingers in the street.
The black clouds come like a fleet.
Fly the dry leaves in the air
And are scattered everywhere,
Tremble the acacias' feet:
Blows the wind, beware!
At the crossroads, far away,
There's a woman on the way
With her kid... Wind blows with force
Hits the gates without remorse
And the woman starts to pray:
Thunders roar, of course.
When the clouds tear like a veil,
The poor mother, with a wail,
Weary and a little numb,
Her heart beating like a drum,
Calls her child so scared and frail:
– Come to mother, come!
Takes him in her arms with grace
Raindrops cruelly strike her face.
The sky breaks and looks severe
He clings with his hands in fear
To his mother, his safe place:
– It is raining, dear!
poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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A Wind From... Elsewhere
The wind blows here... the wind blows there
The wind seems to blow from... everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair...
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! Can you see its graceful fingers... playing in your hair?
Nay! You cannot see the wind... e'en though you know it's there.
It's flitting... it's flirting... it's prancing everywhere
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! It blows unexpectedly... with a gentle breeze... it blows...
The Great Hand of Miracles... brings it... then it goes
To greet the early morning sun... to dance to and fro
From the highest, loftiest mountain heights... to valleys... far below. 'Who is He that sitteth upon the circle of the earth...
Who gathereth the winds in his fists—Who maketh a wind to pass over...
Thou hearest the sound thereof...
But canst not tell whence it cometh... and wither it goeth.' The wind blows here... the wind blows there...
The wind seems to blow... from everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair—
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE!
poem by Elga Haymon White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Women of the Town
It is up from out the alleys, from the alleys dark and vile—
It is up from out the alleys I have struggled for a while—
Just to breathe the breath of Heaven ere my devil drags me down,
And to sing a song of pity for the women of the town.
Johnnies in the private bar room, weak and silly, vain and blind—
Even they would shrink and shudder if they knew the hell behind,
And the meanest wouldn’t grumble when he’s bilked of half-a-crown
If he knew as much as I do of the women of the town.
For I see the end too plainly of the golden-headed star
Who is smiling like an angel in the gilded private bar—
Drifting to the third-rate houses, drifting, sinking lower down
Till she raves in some foul parlour with the women of the town.
To the dingy beer-stained parlour all day long the outcasts come—
Draggled, dirty, bleared, repulsive, shameless, aye, and rotten some—
They have sold their bodies and would sell their souls for drink to drown
Memories of wrong that haunt them—haunt the women of the town.
I have seen the haunting terror of the ‘horrors’ in their eyes,
Heard them cry to Christ to help them as the mansoul never cries,
While the smirking landlord listened with a grin or with a frown.
Oh, they suffer hell in drinking, do the women of the town.
I have known too well, God help me! to what depths a man can sink,
Sacrificing wife and children, fame and honour, all for drink.
Deeper, deeper sink the women, for the veriest drunken clown
Has his feet upon the shoulders of the women of the town.
There’s a heavy cloud that’s lying on my spirit like a pall—
’Tis the horror and injustice and the hopelessness of all—
There’s the love of one for ever that no sea of sin can drown,
And she loves a brute, God help her! does the woman of the town.
O my sisters, O my sisters, I am powerless to aid;
’Tis a world of prostitution, it is business, it is trade,
And they profit from the brewer and the smirking landlord down
To the bully and the bludger, on the women of the town.
Oh, the heart of one great poet* called to heaven in a line—
Crying, ‘Mary, pity women!’—You have whiter souls than mine.
And if in the grand Hereafter there is one shall wear a crown—
For the hell that men made for her—’tis the Woman of the Town.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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