M'Gillviray's Dream
A Forest-Ranger's Story.
JUST nineteen long years, Jack, have passed o'er my shoulders
Since close to this spot we lay waiting the foe;
Ay, here is the mound where brave Percival moulders,
And yonder's the place where poor Norman lies low;
'Twas only a skirmish — just eight of our number
Were stretch'd on the sward when the fighting was done;
We scooped out their beds, and we left them to slumber,
The bold-hearted fellows went down with the sun.
The month was October — young Summer was peeping
Through evergreen forests where Spring, still supreme,
Spread all the rich tints that she had in her keeping
On tree, shrub, and bush, while each brooklet and stream
With babblings of joy ran along to the river —
But, hang it, old man, I am going too far;
I talk as I used to when from Cupid's quiver
Flew darts of affection my bosom to scar.
I'm not much at poetry, Jack, though I've written
Some nonsense in verse when my heart was aglow
With what they call love — have you ever been smitten
By some artful minx who deceived you? What, no?
By Jove, you've been lucky; but, Jack, I'm digressing.
Our quarters were here, under Lusk, and we made
Our camp in the church without asking a blessing;
This place is still known as the Mauku Stockade.
I'd fought with Von Tempsky along the Waikato;
I'd seen the green banks of that fair river dyed
With British blood, red as the plumes of the rata
When Spring scatters scarlet drops thick in her pride.
I cared not for danger, and fighting was pleasure,
The life of a Ranger was one of romance —
A dare-devil fool ever ready to measure
A savage's length with my rifle. 'Twas chance
That sent me among them; I lived but for glory;
My comrades were all of good mettle and true,
And one was a hero; I'll tell you his story —
God rest poor M'Gillviray — brave-hearted Hugh!
I knew him for years, Jack, and shoulder to shoulder
He stood by me often when swift leaden hail
Whizzed close to our ears. Ah! old man, I was bolder
In those valiant days than I'm now. To my tale: —
The morning was gloomy, and Hugh sat beside me;
We'd chumm'd in together for two years or more;
I found him a brick, and he said when he tried me
In front of the foe, “Dick, you're true to the core!”
Enough — we were friends, and in trouble or danger
We stuck by each other in camp and in fray.
How often we find in the breast of a stranger
The heart of a kind brother throbbing alway
With warmest affection, responsive and tender —
Hugh's breast had a tenant like this, and I knew
In him I'd a brother, a friend, a defender,
Prepared for whatever a brave man might do.
The morning was dark, and the outlook was dreary;
I noticed my comrade was sitting alone,
All thoughtful, disconsolate, pallid, and weary,
“Why, where has the gladness of yesterday flown?
Come, tell me, Hugh, why you are gloomy this morning;
What change has come over my light-hearted mate?
You've not” (and I laughed) “had a Banshee's death-warning,
Have Brownies or Goblins been sealing your fate?”
He turned his pale face, while his eyes, full of sorrow,
Met mine, and it seemed like the gaze of the dead;
I spoke once again: “Hugh, we'll meet them to-morrow,
Fierce Rewi is coming this way.” Then he said —
“Why am I sad? Ah, comrade kind,
We cannot tell why shadows fall
Across the soul and o'er the mind;
We cannot tell why dreams recall
Old scenes endeared by mem'ry's spell,
Old haunts where love and sorrow met,
Old spots where airy castles fell,
And Hope's young sun for ever set;
We cannot tell why thought should leap
Across the ocean's wide expanse,
And through the telescope of sleep
Review the dead years at a glance;
We cannot tell—— But why should I
Philosophize? We know we're here,
And for the wherefore and the why,
That problem suits the sage and seer,
But not the soldier. Listen, mate —
I'm not a coward, for I've stood
Full face to face with death, and fate
Has led me safe through scenes of blood;
But now my hour is drawing nigh,
Life's battle now is nearly done,
For me to-morrow's arching sky
Shall canopy no rising sun.”
“Why, comrade, you but jest,” I said;
“You shouldn't joke with me, you know;
To-morrow's sun shall shine o'erhead,
And see us watching for the foe.”
“Nay, comrade, we must part to-day,
A hand has beckon'd through the gloom,
And signalled me away, away
To brighter realms beyond the tomb;
You smile and count me as a slave
Of superstition — be it so;
My vision stretches o'er the grave;
I travel where you cannot go.
Ah! friend, you were not nursed beneath
The Highland hills, where every glen
Is filled with those who've conquered death —
Is tenanted with ghosts of men.
Ah! friend, your feet have never trod
The mighty Bens, whose summits grim
Approach the starry gates of God,
Where heaven grows bright and earth grows dim.
The legendary lore that clings
Round Highland hearts you have not felt,
Nor yet the weird imaginings
Which stir the spirit of the Celt.
Well, hear my story — listen, pray,
And I'll explain why I am sad
And in a downcast mood to-day.
You smile again and deem me mad —
Last night I was again a boy
Light-hearted 'mong my native hills,
Filled with a bright, ecstatic joy,
And pure as my own mountain rills;
I stood beneath old Monagh Leagh,
Nor far from rugged Dumnaglass,
And in the distance I could see
Wild Farracagh's romantic Pass;
A monarch proud, a youthful king,
Alone with nature there I stood,
At peace with God and everything,
For all His works seemed fair and good;
But best and fairest of them all
Was she who came to meet me there, —
I little thought dreams could recall
Those silken waves of sunny hair,
That tender smile, those eyes of blue,
The magic of whose flashing glance
Inflamed my soul with love, and threw
A glamour round me, — joyous trance!
We met last night just as of old,
And Elsie nestled by my side,
While playing with each tress of gold
I whispered, ‘Lassie, be my bride.’
The sweet soft answer came — why dwell
On that dear moment of delight?
Our heaven was in that Highland dell,
Where all seemed beautiful and bright.
We parted, and my dreaming soul
On Fancy's pinions forward flew
O'er five short years, and reached the goal
That love and hope had kept in view.
Oh, joyous day! a merry throng
Were gathered on the Clachan green;
The villagers, with dance and song,
Held jubilee; that happy scene
Is treasured in my memory still.
I hold again that little hand;
I hear the whispered word, ‘I will!’
I lead her through that cheerful band,
While Donald Beg, and Fergus Mohr,
And Angus Dhu — the pipers three —
Strike up, while marching on before,
The pibroch of M'Gillviray.
Oh! how the wild notes brought a flood
Of mem'ries bright and glories gone,
When, for the Royal Stuart blood.
Our chief led great Clan Chattan on
To famed Culloden's field: — 'Tis past,
That marriage scene with all its charms
And winter comes with freezing blast,
To find my young wife in my arms,
And all the villagers in tears
Assembled round us — she was gone;
The prize was mine a few short years,
And I was now alone, alone.
Oh! what had I to live for then?
One clasp, one look, one fond caress,
And flying far from each proud Ben,
With sorrow deep as dark Loch Ness,
I left my humble Highland home,
To gaze on Monagh Leagh no more.
With blighted heart I crossed the foam
And landed on New Zealand's shore;
You know the rest——”
“But what has all
This home-sick dreaming got to do
With death, my friend?”
“I've got a call
To meet my Elsie.”
“Nonsense, Hugh!”
I laughed, but still his brow was sad;
“Cheer up and chase this gloom away,
There's pleasure yet in life, my lad.”
“I tell you we must part to-day;
I have not told you all that passed
Before me in my dreaming hours.
This day, with you, shall be my last.
True friendship, Dick, has long been ours.
And we must part in love, my friend, —
You smile again — well, time will prove
My premonition true; — The end
Is drawing nigh; — Behold my love,
My life, my Elsie, on you hill, —
Ay, yonder hill is Monagh Leagh —
Just listen, friend, she's calling still,
And still the dear one beckons me
Away — the sun upon the peaks
Is blushing crimson o'er the snow.
Behold! how bright its rays and streaks
Are dancing on Loch Ness below;
Rich violet and purple clouds
A tabernacle form on high,
Behind whose folds the starry crowds
Lie hidden in the silent sky —
'Tis there, 'tis there, the same fond face,
Which, but a few short hours ago,
Pressed close to mine; just in this place
My Elsie stood, and, bending low,
She whispered in an icy breath,
‘Oh! Hugh, behold thy spirit-bride.
I'm here for thee; prepare for death.
Thy soul to-morrow, by my side,
Shall trace the scenes we loved of yore.
Again, my Hugh, my husband brave,
We'll watch the Highland eagle soar;
We'll see the heath and bracken wave.
Ah! Hugh, the spirit-sight is keen;
We cross the ocean with a glance;
We know not time — ' She left the scene,
And I awakened from my trance;
But let us change the subject, mate;
Let's have a smoke; — Hark! there's a shot —
One, two, three, four! we mustn't wait —
Where are our rifles? Ah! we've got
The darkies now. See, see, they dance
Before our eyes; hear how they yell!
There goes the order for advance —
There's Norman out and Percival.”
M'Gillviray ceased, and we ran to the door,
Prepared to advance where our officers led;
Both Hill and O'Beirne were well to the fore,
While Norman and Percival rushed on ahead.
Flash! flash! went our rifles; we followed their track,
And in through a gap in the timber we broke;
We loaded again, and they answered us back —
The rebels, I mean — as they plunged through the smoke.
“Now, back to the camp, lads; we've scattered the swine;
They've tasted enough of our metal to-day!'
Twas Percival spoke, and we fell into line,
And back through the break in the bush took our way.
We reached but the centre, when out from the bush
That skirted each side with its branches and logs
The Maoris in crowds, with a yell and a rush,
Encompassed us: — “Boys, give the treacherous dogs
A taste of our true British pluck!” — a wild cry,
As a tomahawk's stroke cut the sentence in twain,
Went in through the woodlands and up to the sky,
And Percival lay in the front of the slain.
Oh, God! in my ears still rings yell after yell.
I see the bright tomahawks dripping with blood;
The wild demons looked as if painted in hell;
They leaped through the thicket and burst from the wood.
Outflanked and outnumbered, our officers dead,
A handful of men in the grasp of the foe,
What could we have done in such stress? so we fled
When Norman and Wheeler and Hill were laid low.
We reached the old church, but the savages stay'd
To butcher the wounded and mangle the slain;
They vanished ere night in the forest's dark shade,
To steer their canoes o er Waikato again.
At daybreak we went to the scene of the fray,
To bury our comrades and bid them adieu,
And near a small mound where five savages lay
We found brave M'Gillviray sleeping there too.
Five warrior chiefs proved the work he had done;
They fell by his hand ere his soul went to God;
He smiled in the face of the bright morning sun
That shone on the purple streaks o'er the green sod.
I planted a wattle to mark where he sleeps —
I wonder where is it? — Ah, there stands the tree!
By Jove, it's in blossom, too! See how it weeps
Rich tears of bright gold o er the hillock where he
Is resting in peace. Is he dreaming there still
Of Elsie, his bride, and his dear Highland glen?
This life is a puzzle, Jack; fight as we will,
We're nothing at last but the shadows of men.
The substance soon blends with the blossoms and weeds
That spring to the surface; and as for the soul.
Perhaps it may flourish or fade in its deeds,
Or find in some other bright planet its goal.
poem by Thomas Bracken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Oh, Tell Me, Ye Breezes
Oh, tell me, ye breezes that spring from the west,
Oh, tell me, ere passing away,
If Leichhardt’s bold spirit has fled to its rest?
Where moulders the traveller’s clay?
Perchance as ye flitted on heedlessly by
The long lost was yielding his breath;
Perchance ye have borne on your wings the last sigh
That ’scap’d from the lone one in death.
Tell me, ye breezes, ye’ve traversed the wild,
And passed o’er the desolate spot,
Where reposeth in silence sweet Nature’s own child,
Where slumbers one nearly forgot?
Ye answer me not but are passing away—
Ye breezes that spring from the west,
Unhallow’d still moulders the traveller’s clay,
For unknown is the place of his rest.
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She's Got The Jack
She gave me the Queen
She gave me the King
She was wheelin' and dealin'
Just doin' her thing
She was holdin' a pair
But I had to try
Her Deuce was wild
But my Ace was high
But how was I to know
That she'd been dealt with before
Said she'd never had a Full House
But I should have known
From the tattoo on her left leg
And the garter on her right
She'd have the card to bring me down
If she played it right
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
Poker face was her name
Poker face was her nature
Poker straight was her game
If she knew she could get you
She played 'em fast
And she played 'em hard
She could close her eyes
And feel every card
But how was I to know
That she'd been shuffled before
Said she'd never had a Royal Flush
But I should have known
That all the cards were comin'
From the bottom of the pack
And if I'd known what she was dealin' out
I'd have dealt it back
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, and who knows what else?
She's got the jack, yeah, yeah
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack,
Ooh, It was a bad deal, (Jack)
She gave me the (Jack), hey
She's got the (Jack), she's got the (Jack)
She's got the (Jack), ooh can't you tell
She's got the (Jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack)
(She's got the jack, she's got the Jack)
She's got the jack, she's got the Jack
She's got the jack, you never know!
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack
She's got the jack, and it hurts!
(She's got the jack)
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
Aaaaaah!
Oooooh!
Thank you, thank you, thank you people, thank you, thank you
I'm glad you like the show, yes, thank you very much folks.
Goodnight and God bless
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once when I was in Hawaii, on the island of Kauai, I met a mysterious old stranger. He said he was about to die and wanted to tell someone about the treasure. I said, "Okay, as long as it's not a long story. Some of us have a plane to catch, you know." He stared telling his story, about the treasure and his life and all, and I thought "This story isn't too long." But then, he kept going, and I started thinking, "Uh-oh, this story is getting long." But then the story was over, and I said to myself "You know, that story wasn't too long after all." I forget what the story was about, but there was a good movie on the plane. It was a little long, though.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nineteen Years Is Long Enough (Revised)
For the first time in nineteen years I'm planning
Christmas with my parents, to be with them as
one singing Carols, preparing delicacies to eat -
but particularly singing songs mother wrote,
presenting the play she designed for us ages
ago when we twins were just six years old
Back then my brothers and dad spoiled things -
but this time we can present mother's songs less
their interference, and afterwards I can go for a
spin on brother-in-law's motorbike, making up
for events we missed when small - yes, this
Christmas will be a grand reunion ball
For the first time in nineteen years I shan't be
home; it's either or, never parents and hubby
together, and though he was angry hearing
my plans - after nineteen years he cannot
really complain - it is the first time I shall be
with them - I think it is fair,
Nineteen years is long enough
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Sunshine Of Your Love
By eric clapton, jack bruce and pete brown
Its getting near dawn,
When lights close their tired eyes.
Ill soon be with you my love,
To give you my dawn surprise.
Ill be with you darling soon,
Ill be with you when the stars start falling.
Ive been waiting so long
To be where Im going
In the sunshine of your love.
Im with you my love,
The lights shining through on you.
Yes, Im with you my love,
Its the morning and just we two.
Ill stay with you darling now,
Ill stay with you till my seas are dried up.
Chorus
Second verse
Ive been waiting so long
Ive been waiting so long
Ive been waiting so long
To be where Im going
In the sunshine of your love.
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunshine Of Your Love
(by eric clapton, jack bruce, ginger baker)
Its getting near dawn,
When lights close their tired eyes.
Ill soon be with you my love,
To give you my dawn surprise.
Ill be with you darling soon,
Ill be with you when the stars start falling.
Ive been waiting so long
To be where Im going
In the sunshine of your love.
Im with you my love,
The lights shining through on you.
Yes, Im with you my love,
Its the morning and just we two.
Ill stay with you darling now,
Ill stay with you till my seas are dried up.
Chorus
Second verse
Ive been waiting so long
Ive been waiting so long
Ive been waiting so long
To be where Im going
In the sunshine of your love.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Battle Of The Blue & Grey
Now its gone ,gone , gone
Those years have passed away
Its gone , gone , gone
Theres truth in what I say
Its gone , gone , gone
Theres nothing more to say
But Id do anything if I could do it all again
Well, Im an old man now and Im born to win the race
People wont believe me but theres truth in what I say
Many hearts were broken and a lot of tears were shed
The sky was black and the battlefield was red
Now its gone , gone , gone
Those years have passed away
Its gone , gone , gone
Theres truth in what I say
Its gone , gone , gone
Theres nothing more to sa
But Id do anything if I could do it all again
Now ,stonewall jackson stepped right up and then he said to me
He said the battles gettin rough son, guess we better flee.
Theres grapeshot all around us and the field is black with lead.
You better start a-runnin boy before you lose your head .
Its gone , gone , gone
Those years have passed away
Its gone , gone , gone
Theres truth in what I say
Its gone , gone , gone
Theres nothing more to say
But Id do anything if I could do it all again
Well, the cannons roared around us and the field was black with lead
I picked a soldier dressed in blue and filled him full of lead
I picked out six more soldiers there a-sittin on a mound
I fixed my bayonet to my gun and really mowed them down
Now, its gone , gone , gone
Those years have passed away
Its gone , gone , gone
Theres truth in what I say
Its gone , gone , gone
Theres nothing more to say
But Id do anything if I could do it all again
But Id do anything if I could do it all again
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Jack
SO, I’ve battled it through on my own, Jack,
I have done with all dreaming and doubt.
Though “stoney” to-night and alone, Jack,
I am watching the Old Year out.
I have finished with brooding and fears,
Jack, And the spirit is rising in me,
For the sake of the old New Years, Jack,
And the bright New Years to be.
I have fallen in worldly disgrace, Jack,
And I know very well that you heard;
They have blackened my name in this place, Jack,
And I answered them never a word.
But why should I bluster or grieve,
Jack? So narrow and paltry they be—
I knew you would never believe, Jack,
The lies that were said against me.
That is done which shall never be undone,
And I blame not, I blame not my land,
But I’m hearing the Calling of London,
And I long for the roar of the Strand.
It was always the same with our race,
Jack; You know how a vagabond feels—
We can fight a straight man face to face, Jack.
But we can’t keep the curs from our heels.
You know I loved women and drink, Jack,
And that’s how the trouble began;
But you know that I never would shrink,
Jack, From a deed that was worthy a man!
I never was paltry or mean, Jack.
And cruel I never could be,
I will give you a hand which is clean,
Jack, When we meet again over the sea.
I will bring a few wrinkles of care,
Jack; I have altered a lot, I am told;
The steel-filings show in my hair, Jack;
But my heart is as young as of old.
I have faith still in women, and men, Jack,
Though selfish and blind they may be.
I still have my soul and my pen, Jack,
And my country seems dearer to me.
I will sail when your summer sets in, Jack,
And good-bye to my own native land;
Oh, I long for a glimpse of your grin, Jack,
And I long for the grip of your hand.
We both suffered sorrow and pain, Jack,
And sinned in the days that are done;
But we’ll fight the old battle again, Jack,
Where the battle is worth being won.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Expecting You
I am a woman and i know the father of my child,
But holding up the silver side of love to tell you my story;
For i am nineteen years old and, i am like a woman of words already!
One mile from 'Mile-Seven',
One word from 'Mile-Eleven',
And like a small world from 'Mile-Twelve'! !
But invisible with my passion to him who impregnated me;
For i am nineteen years old and, i am like a woman of words.
I am now in a world of my own and,
It is just like another day without the rain;
But are you ready to follow me into the woods with my child? !
For i have been expecting you lately on this issue of mine,
Because i am a woman and i know the father of my child;
But holding up the silver sde of love to tell you my story!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Old Town Types No. 7
Well I remember him - Big Jack Herrington;
Big Jack, the lumper, tanned and honest-eyed,
The clean, straight limbs of him,
The strength in those limbs of him
Strength that was the end of him, and once had been his pride:
Big Jack Herrington, toiling up the stack,
Hefting up the wheat sacks on his mighty back.
One year, two years he labored when the wheat came;
Three years, four years, in the grimy heat,
Toiling up the planks there
The crazy, narrow planks there.
Folk said, 'A wonder! Why, there's nothing got him beat!'
Never had he faltered beneath a heavy bag
Big, Jack, the lumper, never known to sag.
For five years, for big pay he larbored there.
'Ten bob a day!' they said. 'Jack's the boy to score.'
And then came the end of him
A false step, and the end of him;
And Big Jack, the lumper, he toiled no more.
Twisted now and broken - his body and his pride,
Big Jack lingered on, a cripple till he died.
Old Jack Herrington, sitting in the bar-room,
Hoping for a kind friend, waiting for a 'shout.'
Men said, 'Remember him?'
Course I remember him.
Best about the stock yard till his strength gave out.
Booze never beat him till that tumble turned him queer....
Hey! Old Jack, there! Have another beer?'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Same As Here
I got home from school one day
with a dark spot on my eye
Masiter Kumedzro always say:
fighting was against the rules
so when Grandma got home I told her a story
just like I'd rehearsed some hours before
and there I stood on my trembling knees
waiting for the worst
interestingly, she did not say a word
when she got into the kitchen she called
she said son 'Let me tell you a secret
about a Grandma's love”
a secret she said was just between us
she said, “Grandma’s don't just love their children
every now and then, it's a love without an end, amen'
when I became a father
there was no doubt my son was a stubborn boy
he was not like me but as just like my father's son
one day when I thought my patience
had been tested to the end too long
I took my Grandma's secret
and I passed it on to him
he hugged me and cried on my shoulders
last night I dreamed I'd died
and stood outside those pearly gates of Salem
suddenly, I realized, there must be some mistake
supposing St. Peter knows half the things I've done
he would never open the gate to let me in
there a deep voice spoke from the other side of the dome
and I heard those words again
it said, “Son Grandpa’s don't just love their children
every now and then, it's a love without an end, amen'
poem by Padmore Enyonam Agbemabiese
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Clown In Waiting
Everyone has a funny story
that has happen to them.
I have quite a few
which makes me a clown in waiting.
At the time they were not funny,
however looking back now
the embarrassment has gone
and years have passed.
You think why did I do that?
It was probably immaturity
or being over zealous
that those silly mistakes were made.
Now as you sit down with friends
and talk about years gone by.
You recall these funny stories,
giving everyone a damn good laugh.
You smile to yourself,
hoping you don’t make mistakes like that again.
You know you will
as you are a clown in waiting.
23 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Put The Weight On My Shoulders
Put the weight on my shoulders
Take the load off of your mind
Cause the headwinds that blow
Will fade away in time
Rest yourself on my waters
Take the lifeline from me
Rise above what has passed
And let yourself be free
I only know what love must bear
Through laiden times I will be there
And when your down Ill break the fall
Loose the weight on my shoulders
It aint no weight at all
I only know what love must do
When fortune cries Ill follow you
And when your down Ill break your fall
Put the weight on my shoulders
It aint no weight at all
Put the weight on my shoulders
See you star how it shines
Cause theyre so many dreams
Left to find
Put the weight on my shoulders .....
Put the weight on my shoulders .....
Put the weight on my shoulders .....
Put the weight on my shoulders .....
Put the weight on my shoulders .....
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting For The Day
It was only for a fight
That I asked you to come in
But you brought me tumbling down
And the walls came caving in
Wont you help me dry my tears
Help me roll away the years
Then perhaps I will forgive you
And the hurt will disappear
But in a fit of blind arrogance
You stood up and walked away
If youd given me half a chance
Ill be waiting for the day
For the day that you come back to me
Come on back to me
You come back to me
So forget the long goodbye
You never really tried
Threw the keys down on the table
Youve got your sense of pride
Then you had to tell the world
Your story must be heard
Slammed the door behind you
Without a single word
But in a fit of blind arrogance
You stood up and walked away
The day that you come back to me
Come on back to me
You come back to me
Come back to me
You come back to me
No I never had a single thought in my head
No I never had a single thought
Oh for the day that you come back to me
Come on back to me
You come back to me
Come on back to me
You could be my life long friend
You could be the light of dawn
You could keep me close at hand
You could keep me safe and warm
I will be your fantasy
If you come and stay with me
I will try to give you all
Waiting for the night to fall
You could be the light of day
You could be my life long friend
You could keep me close at hand
Waiting for the day to end
I will be your fantasy
If you come and stay with me
I will try to give my all
Waiting for the night to fall
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peter Percival Pattersons Pet Pig Porky
Peter percival patterson had a pet pig named porky
This pet pig named porky loved pie
He loved pizza pie, pumpkin pie, pineapple pie, pizza pie, mints tarts
And peter percival pattersons pet pig porky loved
Pie for breakefast, pie for lunch, pie in the afternoon and pie before he
Went to bed.
Peter percival pattersons pet pig porky ate soo much pie,
Do you know what he did?
He popped.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Australian Advertisement
WE WANT the man who will lead the van,
The man who will pioneer.
We have no use for the gentleman,
Or the cheating Cheap-Jack here;
We have no room for the men who shirk
The sweat of the brow. Condemn
The men who are frightened to look for work
And funk when it looks for them.
We’ll honour the man who can’t afford
To wait for a job that suits,
But sticks a swag on his shoulders broad
And his feet in blucher boots,
And tramps away o’er the ridges far
And over the burning sand
To look for work where the stations are
In the lonely Western land.
He’ll brave the drouth and he’ll brave the rain,
And fight his sorrows down,
And help to garden the inland plain
And build the inland town;
And he’ll be found in the coming years
With a heart as firm and stout,
An honoured man with the pioneers
Who lead the people out.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ocean Ranger Disaster
On a cold stormy February night 1982
A news flash on tv
Out at sea the Ocean Ranger was listing dangerously
Off the Grand Banks of Newfoundland
The Ocean Ranger was sinking to the bottom of the sea
Eighty -five men were cast into the icy sea
Untrained men, No safety protocol
Sixty-five foot waves came crashing down
Winds 100 miles per hour
The men were sucummed with hypothermia and drowned
The famous oil rig went down
The Ocean Ranger it was named
The giant of the sea was going to bring Newfoundland riches and fame
All it brought was death and pain
Many widows were made that night
Children clinging to their mothers
Realizing their daddies were never coming home
Sadness and tears filled every household
They were left to mourn that cold, stormy winter night
Always remember the brave men from the bay
Who sacrifice their lives
Becoming victims of the sea
They paid dearly with their lives
On the Ocean Ranger off Newfoundland, s shore
poem by Verna Ralph
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The rain forest has Sting. Now Siberia has Jack Dee. Someone had to draw the short straw. In this case it was the rain forest.
You Don't Mess Around With Jim
Uptown got it's hustlers
The bowery got it's bums
42nd street got big jim walker
He's a pool-shootin' son of a gun
Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come
But he stronger than a country hoss
And when the bad folks all get together at night
You know they all call big jim "boss", just because
And they say
You don't tug on superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger
And you don't mess around with jim
Well outta south alabama came a country boy
He say i'm lookin' for a man named jim
I am a pool-shootin' boy
My name willie mccoy
But down home they call me slim
Yeah i'm lookin' for the king of 42nd street
He drivin' a drop top cadillac
Last week he took all my money
And it may sound funny
But i come to get my money back
And everybody say jack don't you know
And you don't tug on superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger
And you don't mess around with jim
Well a hush fell over the pool room
Jimmy come boppin' in off the street
And when the cuttin' were done
The only part that wasn't bloody
Was the soles of the big man's feet
Yeah he were cut in in bout a hundred places
And he were shot in a couple more
And you better believe
They sung a different kind of story
When big jim hit the floor now they say
You don't tug on superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger
And you don't mess around with slim
Yeah, big jim got his hat
Find out where it's at
And it's not hustlin' people strange to you
Even if you do got a two-piece custom-made pool cue
Yeah you don't tug on superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off the old lone ranger
And you don't mess around with slim
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moon of Venus
You who are going to Venus:
There is a third man who has waited
for thirty one years.
Waiting is meditating.
He is the greatest Buddha
of us all.
Close to bliss
bask in his closeness.
There is a middle man.
He is waiting.
He is meditating.
Far from close
he is Pluto.
Third man is Venus.
There is one who has long basked.
She is the Moon of Venus.
She loves bold patterns
in two colours.
One is always darker than the other.
There is a first man.
He is not waiting.
He is commentating.
He has one of Moon's bold patterns.
Orange is lighter than green.
poem by Douglas Scotney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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