A Wool Fleet Chorus
Fare you well, you Sydney girls, time for us to go!
The Peter's at the fore truck, and five thousand bales below,
We've a dozen shellbacks forrard, and a skipper hard as nails,
And we're bound for old England and the January sales!
Soon we'll leave the Snares behind, blusterous and strong
Up'll come the Westerlies and hustle her along:
Running like a driven deer through the thundering gales,
Racing under royals for the January Sales!
Old Cape Stiff 'll drop astern, like a blinking dream,
Sleet and snow and crashing seas, fog and ice'll seem,
Snoring through the Tropics with a Trade that never fails,
Nor'ard on a bowline for the January sales!
Then the girls'll get her towrope, and she'll smell the land again,
And she'll reel the knots off steady as a blessed railway train,
Till seventy days from Sydney Heads the Lizard light she hails -
First to the Channel for the January sales!
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
January Drear
January is here again
darkness, rain, wet and cold
work to be done
but the rush goes on
battling the sales shoppers
like in times of old
Back to the grindstone
the January drear
after Christmas cheer
and New Years celebrations
A tide of hangovers
weight-gain and revelations.
Peace on earth to all man kind
is what is said at Chrsitmastime
but in the new year
we lose that cheer
and become dismal
homosapian haters.
poem by Victoria Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Well all the big companies are really panicked by the internet thing and all that, and sales went down, although sales have gone up again in this country a bit and also the big companies, because they're so big, they need big sales really so they're not really interested.
quote by Jack Bruce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wind In Our Sales
One day we will have what we need
To build an extremely big neon sign
For people who dont know who we are
Five guys in a band
We have the wind in our sales
Why quit when we are this close to a dream?
We have the wind in our sales
The heat is waiting for us to be turned on
One day we will have what we need
To build an extremely big iron cage
For people who show us no respect
Five lives in their hands
We have the wind in our sales
Why quit when we are this close to a dream?
We have the wind in our sales
The heat is waiting for us to be turned on
Laugh about the irony, we become who we tried not to be
Music falls back to second place in this commercial race
song performed by by Undeclinable Ambuscade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Used Car Sales People
With the gift of the gab they would talk their way out of hell
These used car sales people they know how to sell
On their selling ability their jobs are at stake
The more cars they do sell the more commission they do make
On any deals they clinch they have never lost
And your trust on such people can come at a cost
The more cars they sell the more money they get paid
A hard job to succeed in the used car trade,
Shy and sensitive used car sales people one might say are rare
To sell one a car no effort they do spare
They have to sell cars or their boss them will fire
And other used car yard owners as car sales people them will not hire
The more cars they sell the greater is their pay
So to sell you a car they try every which way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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January Friend
Reach for higher ground
About the way you look
The way you scream out loud
Mine
Just like the last time
It's all the same to me
She said
Let's pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Cry
Don't cry out loud
You've gotta bear your cross but never dream too loud
And you're tied
Tied to the next time
You realize your crimes
Let's pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Time stood still Monday mornin' yeah
Showed me what I had to see
It's not the way I thought it should be
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
And every heart that beats pretend
Oh January friend
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
And every heart that beats tonight's
Pretend
song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Know It's Spring When.....
I know it's spring when blossoms bloom
I see the disappearing gloom
The sun shines bright on children's faces
Children run at fast paces
Spring sales here and there
Spring sales everywhere
Animal eggs hatch
Girls and boys play catch
Easter Bunny hopping around the town
Easter Bunny hopping up and down
Kites are flying through the sky
Now I smell a cherry pie
Now I see a dove
This is why spring is the season that I love
poem by Daniela Valdes
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January Stars
Ten below and falling fast
Those days of summer were long past
My horoscope said you'd come back
I have my doubts, you see
And as I watched the mercury
And thought about the prophecy
A new moon and an early thaw
I watched the door for you
If January stars came true
And as I gaze at winter stars
The second house conjunct with Mars
They would suggest that we'll be one
I have my doubts, you see
If I maintain a skeptic's eye
And train the other on the sky
I'd eat my hat if it came true
I'd probably eat yours too
If January stars came true
If January stars came true
Now I'm in a pretty mess
It's getting warmer I confess
My horoscope said you'd come back
I have my doubts it's true
And as I watched the mercury
And thought about the prophecy
A new moon and an early thaw
I left the door for you
If January stars
If January stars
If January stars came true
January stars
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How January Is Propelled To Spring
Chill January’s snow falls thick and fast
Propelled by blinding blizzard’s biting blast,
So soft white blankets bind the earth for days,
Though spring means drifts shall not lie long nor last.
Bleak January’s rain falls hard and long
Impelled by fierce Atlantic gales, full strong
So even mighty oaks bow in their wake
Till fury fades to calm in spring’s sweet song.
Wild January’s storms shall shed their sting,
Repelled by sun, as winter spins to spring,
So kinder, temperate breezes gently blow
To melt the snow, that all the fields can sing.
Mean January’s curse will never stay,
Dispelled by hopes of ever-lengthening day,
So gardens don spring coats of cheerful hues
As colour’s charm returns where all was grey.
Cruel January’s cloak of white shall yield,
Compelled to turn to green in springtime’s field,
So leaping lambs can clothe the hills again
And cattle quit the comfort of the bield.
Grim January’s gloom will end, by mirth
Expelled, as warmth returns to cheer the earth,
So birds will nest and leaves begin to spring
And dormant buds burst, bearing brand-new birth.
Harsh January’s coldness is compelled
To change, as dismal drabness is expelled.
Repelled by spring, impelled, the frost must flee;
So, doubts dispelled, to warmth we are propelled.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Time for Heavy Boots
For eight-foot snow drifts,
for jagged icicles the size
of mastodon tusks to
drag down gutters.
For gales to howl
through storm windows
and make even stately mansions
shake and shiver like Medea
giving birth.
Time to watch your life
unfold before your eyes
before opening the portal
leading from light and warmth
to a world of frozen terror
where comfort knows no welcome.
Time for Time
to be devoured by Medusa,
waiting in the mirror.
January, the month when all of
our parents always die.
January, time of Janus, the
dual-faced god simultaneously
embracing past and future.
January, time to create
the future by remembering
the past with a finer, more
focused vision.
poem by David Kowalczyk
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On The Rails
Phew! This department if so unbearably stifling,
The whole populace is frantically rifling,
Through loads of clothes, hanging up for inspection,
Either for your acceptance, or for your rejection,
On the rails,
At the Sales!
The available sizes left, are eight's and eighteen's,
In shirts, blouses, jumpers and denim blue jeans,
Bra cups in E's and F's and G's.
Skirts so short, they ride way above the knees,
What sort of 'shapes' are these stores expecting,
What choice, have we, when it comes to selecting,
From the rails,
At the Sales!
It's a manic crush, and there's really no mistaking,
Fighting over, items' that aren't worth the taking,
Like that half price dress, that was less than you thought,
But that someone else has just grabbed and has bought,
So quick, and you being just a little bit too slack,
You have lost it, and it won't now be yours, with diamante in black,
Off the rails,
At the Sales!
Oh! It's a battle, and such a mad struggle to survive,
And in the end, it takes so many hours to revive,
Your senses, and days like this one can be so tiring,
When buying these bargains, which you have stood there admiring,
Hung on rails,
At the Sales!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Song Of January!
January sings again for me
and for a year dead gone
on the wheels
of a northern curse.
January sings,
sings again for me
and for autumn flowers
January 30, 2010
poem by Rema Prasanaa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sales may lead to advertising as much as advertising leads to sales.
quote by Michael Schudson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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June In January
When in January it’s June,
in March it will be August, hot
and clammy while I swoon
within your arms, if I am not
mistaken about climate change
that is inevitable when
the summer months within my range
make me perspire once again,
and long for January that’s cold,
when I feel comfortable within
your arms, not feeble, frazzled, old,
and ready to embark on sin,
without the need for air condit-
ioning that I associate with June.
That’s why in wintertime I wish
that January will not leave soon,
but when it does it should be May,
my favorite month when birds do sing,
accompanying my love each day
with joy while you make my heart spring.
Inspired by “It’s June in January, ” a song associated with Bing Crosby, written by Ralph Rainger and Leon Robin:
A clouded moon creeps across the clouded sky
Winds of January sigh and moan
And yet it's June.
I can see a sky of blue
Dear the miracle is due to you.
Just you.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love
It always is spring in my heart
with you in my arms.
The snow is just white blossoms
that fall from above.
And here is the reason, my dear,
Your magical charms.
The night is cold
The trees are bare
But I can feel the scent of roses in the air.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love.
But only because I'm in love with you.
Oh the night is cold!
Won't it be to bear?
But I can feel the scent of roses in the air.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love
`1/23/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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One Third Of The Calendar
In January everything freezes.
We have two children. Both are she'ses.
This is our January rule:
One girl in bed, and one in school.
In February the blizzard whirls.
We own a pair of little girls.
Blessings upon of each the head ----
The one in school and the one in bed.
March is the month of cringe and bluster.
Each of our children has a sister.
They cling together like Hansel and Gretel,
With their noses glued to the benzoin kettle.
April is made of impetuous waters
And doctors looking down throats of daughters.
If we had a son too, and a thoroughbred,
We'd have a horse,
And a boy,
And two girls
In bed.
poem by Ogden Nash
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In January In Duhallow
The cold winds of January from the north east does blow
And the weather is cold quite cold enough for to snow
And the hungry birds silent on the naked hedgerow
In the flat and rushy fields where the Blackwater flow.
January in Duhallow from here far away
In the chill of the morning the frost bound fields gray
In the farmyard sheds cattle bellow for silage or hay
Where the sun seldom shines on a January day.
The distinctive harsh caws of the silver backed crow
In the Season where grass does refuse for to grow
And few cars on the roadway that leads to the town
Near where the river flows bank high in flood waters of brown.
In January in Duhallow the old fields looking bare
With the harsh chill of Winter in the cold Morning air
And at least eight long weeks till the first breath of Spring
When Nature will bloom and her wild birds will sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Cancel Christmas! !
Cancel Christmas, full of fraud,
Consumer madness (praise the Lord?)
Forget about the little Child,
'Little Jesus, meek and mild',
Just as long as you spend like mad
And get much more than you ever had -
What are those carols people sing,
Must they bring God into everything?
And all this talk of love and compassion,
Don't they know religion's out of fashion?
I want to enjoy my Christmas roast,
Not hear about Christ and the Holy Ghost!
The Bible's full of fairy tales,
Forget it all at the January Sales! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Window Insight
windows eyes into a company soul
windows eyes into shifting stock sales
windows eyes into heart policy sales
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Happy 2011
HAPPY 2011
H-ave
A
P-eaceful
P-rosperous
Y-ear
I trust that 2011 is going to be a year to remember
That from January to December
You are going to be blessed
That all will turn out for the best
You will win every test
Fix all that is messed
Restore broken relations
Have more patience
When times become tough
They will be overcome by love
You will give no place to fear
And 2011 will be an awesome year
Gods very best to you and your family for 2011
Love
Henry & Madalene 31 January 2011
Hebry Brown 31 January 2011
poem by Henry Brown
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For an Otter
Three Years: I am to always be here with you.
Even the days I was not (you were not)
Sufficed by the many hes or shes, lips for kissing
Or maybe, just once, settled for sweetness
Tossed around in my bed, (your bed)
Lead me (perhaps you too) to doors of salvation
But never apart for long to ask of me who I was, and once
Come after I'd gone missing in January, from last January
And was not around to hear you but
You'd remembered to always speak in French to me
So I could always return to remember to say to you
That you were still smiling and even after so long
Strangers melting together in summer's sun goodbye
I wanted for you to stop kissing me
Only to sleep in your hand with mine
To be too wordy, too distant
To argue, To agree on
The brilliance in:
sedation, grinding teeth, tired eyes, jittery knees,
Your songs and such that are not about me, and
Poems I write and read to you of January from last January
so far away is the plane you caught this morning
Too many states away are my hands from your hands
- What if we had not been lovers fighting against love?
I don't want to know
I am to think I would have lost when I did not have to
I am to always be here with you
poem by Belinda Nelson
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January Warmth
The leaves are whirling in the wind
Clouds a stirring
What a warm January day.
The squirrels have come out to play
Running and scurrying all the way.
The sun is hiding somewhere
Somewhere way up high
The warmth of a January Day
Warms the heart in everyway
Trees in motion swaying and
Swooping with a notion.
poem by Melanie Dickie
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