Miranda
Though she's Australian by birth she says what's birth right anyway
I'm a citizen of Planet Earth that's what Miranda say
'Tis power hungry men that gave us passports and our right to freely travel us denied
You may call this your Country but you don't own the Countryside.
She says because of our Government I'm not proud to be Australian they lock up refugees
Poor Stateless and Homeless people who arrive in boats from overseas
We celebrate war that leads to dispossession but war victims we disown
The war winners write the war history and one side of the war story only known
Miranda is in her mid fifties gray haired, graceful and tall
And she feels proud to be a member of the society of 'A fair go for all'
One of those selfless people who speaks out for Human rights
On the hills of justice and morality she has climbed to great heights.
She may be Australian by birth but of that she is not proud
And at the Anzac Day parade she was not one of the crowd
To cheer on the old soldiers as they paraded up and down
With their war medals pinned to their coats through the main streets of the Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Related quotes
South Africa Is Also My Country
From my birth South Africa is my own country
and my people can flee to an island
but my own culture and language stays holy
although this place is not safe,
I still trust on a much higher hand,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
even if the struggling government gives me resistance,
do oppress me with unfair laws,
even if nothing can stop the disintegration,
even if I am not safe against the onslaught,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country,
even if some act with effrontery against my people
I come from a noble heritage,
I am proud on my Afrikaner lineage,
even if people and buildings are set alight,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
with no other place I have such a deep bond
and even if here I will never have any job,
I believe in God and a Christian church,
God himself still keeps my ways intact,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I'm a proud Australian, a very, very proud Australian.
quote by Steve Irwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Australian people want to help build this country into a great nation. This budget... has not realized the capacity of the Australian people. It has underestimated them. It has let us down.
quote by Lionel K. Murphy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sing Us Songs Of Refugees
She said to the ballad singer sing us songs of refugees
Tell us of those poor sad people from Lands beyond the seas
Who have fled wars and famines for a better life elsewhere
Yet our Governments won't help them doesn't life seem so unfair.
Our Government supported those who invaded their Countries yet them we now disown
We have helped to bomb and ruin their Cities and scant respect for them we've shown
Lock them in detention centres tell them you are not wanted here
And we helped to make them Stateless and we only gave them fear.
For their own future and the future of their family we tell them you've jumped the queue
We do not want you in our Country there's no welcome here for you
Go back to where you've come from since here you cannot stay
We have too many of our own poor those who do not work for pay.
Sing us songs of refugees sir for the Stateless and downtrod
For the Homeless and forgotten and those of the lesser God
You have sung of love and heroes to your pleasant melodies
So for your last few numbers mister sing us songs of refugees.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Well, I'm half Australian, half English and I live in London. That is the only reason I came upon this story. My Australian mother, Meredith Hooper, was invited in late 2007 by some Australian friends to make up a token Australian audience in a tiny fringe theater play reading of an unproduced, unrehearsed play called 'The King's Speech.'
quote by Tom Hooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Not Proud Of My Country
I love my Homeland Country and of it's scenic sights I sing
But I don't say I am proud to be Irish as proud has a patriotic ring
And those who feel proud of their Country often go that step too far
As pride leads to patriotism and patriotism leads to war.
I have never waved my Country's flag at parade or football game
And I am not Proud of my country though I love it just the same
For pride and love are different as different as can be
And pride that leads to patriotism has never appealed to me.
Some people on flag post in their front yard fly their Country's flag
And I am proud of my Country you hear them proudly brag
But others worthiness and cultures they never could embrace
And without saying so they are telling you that ours is a superior race.
I am proud of my Country you will never hear me say
Though many feel that pride and patriotism are good and quite okay
But how many young men have died in wars due to patriotic pride
Love brings people together whilst pride and patriotism divide.
I have never been a soldier or had honours to my name
And I am not Proud of my Country though I love it just the same
And those who feel proud of their Country can take that step too far
For pride leads to patriotism and patriotism can lead to war.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Lines On The Australian Dock Dispute (98)
My sympathy is not with the sacked Australian wharfies
Compared to most others they are overpaid
The old tired fight the bosses versus the workers
On the Australian docks is once again replayed.
And my sympathy is not with Chris Corrigan of Patrick Stevedores
He sacked one thousand four hundred of his men
Because they all were members of a Trade Union
Is union membership nowadays a sin? .
But least of all my sympathies are not with the Australian Government
They only seek to conquer and divide
They are the greatest culprits in this conflict
But soon their fate the people will decide.
I can feel sympathy for farmers and exporters and importers
They are between a rock and a hard place
This power struggle is going to cost them millions
This dock dispute an Australian disgrace.
But for the farm leaders I don't have any sympathy
For siding with the Government against the M.U.A.
They should have known that those who take sides in disputes
Win or lose will have some price to pay.
Perhaps the wharfies should have accepted their substantial redundancies
Although 'twould seem that they've not been treated fair
But my sympahies are with the lower paid workers
And the forgotten people on welfare.
And as for the Government elected by the people
For taking sides in disputes they were not empowered
And history will not look on them too kindly
Especially those two Reith and Johnny Howard.
On the WIK issue the Government had shown their true colours
They only seek to conquer and divide
But they were not elected for to be divisive
And the Australian people on their fate will soon decide.
And since the wharfies by the Federal Court are re-instated
Their jubilation with them I can't share
I see them as the privileged class of workers
And my sympathies will always be elsewhere.
Millions of dollars have been squandered on court battles
Between Patrick Stevedores and the M.U.A.
And poor Australia is the biggest loser
And barristers and judges getting wealthier by the day.
The likes of St Vincent De Paul and the Salvation Army
With the squandered millions could do quite a lot
They could help out the less privileged and needy
The people by this government forgot.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Streaking The Australian Way
Streaking
Do we do on a lonely campus night
Tvs a drag and theyre turning off the city lights
I remember the days of the party raids
And sitting on combs was a silly craze
We got a new one
And its called
Streaking the old australian way
Streaking
Were bringing back the age
Streaking
The old australian way
Streaking
Its not what you call your regular high school course
Its a little like lady godiva without the horse
You just need a crowd and some confidence
Theres nothing special to wear so theres no expense
Everybody can do it
So lets go streaking
The old australian way
Were bringing back the age
Streaking
The old australian way
Me and my lady are going to get away
Then go streaking night and day
We felt for awhile there was nothing new to try
You dont have to smoke it but it still gets you high
You just need a mg to get away
And maybe a nice warm sunny day
Anybody can do it
So lets go streaking the old australian way
Were bringing back the age
Streaking
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Great Waiting Silence
Where shall we go for prophecy? Where shall we go for proof?
The holiday street is crowded, pavement, window and roof;
Band and banner pass by us, and the old tunes rise and fall—
But that great waiting silence is on the people all!
Where is the cheering and laughter of the eight-hour days gone by?
When the holiday heart was careless, and the holiday spirit high—
The friendly jostling and banter, the wit and the jovial call?
But that great waiting silence is over the people all.
Oh! but my heart beats faster—and a gush that was nearly tears:
Clatter of hammers on iron! and Australian Engineers!
Goods from Australian workshops—proud to the world at last
(And I see, in a flash from the future, Australian guns go past).
The morning sun-glare, softened by a veil, like frosted glass—
There is no breath of a head-breeze as the Labour banners pass,
There seems no sign of a danger or a change for the workers now—
But for some great, new-born spirit the banners seem to bow.
Where shall we go for our platforms? Where shall we go, indeed?
Shall we follow the cackle of women that follow the jesting Reid,
Through indifferent-seeming cities—and the browned men straight and tall?
But that great waiting silence is on the people all.
Twist and tangle and mystify, bully, and weep and bluff;
Marry the truth to a glaring lie, and say it is good enough;
Boast of your vice and villainy—in your virtue rant and bawl—
But that great waiting silence is over the people all!
Brothers, who work with shovel or pen, labour by day and night:
Brothers, who think of the hearts of men, ponder and speak and write;
Work for Australia’s destiny, content till you hear the call,
For the spirit that builds a nation is over the people all.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Miranda
At the end of the day
The end of the light
She remains of all of her foes
Miranda is dying with all of her might
She never comes
She always goes
She sticks the camera right into her arm
Anything to forget what the troubles about
It causes her pain
Thats part of the charm
Shes down for the count
And finally out
Miranda is taking the stars down
A little something to call her own
By the light there still goes miranda
And miranda is always alone
She sees her face in another magazine
And the walls all close in
As the fancy takes flight
Cant stand to be loved
But she loves to be seen
She slips headlong into the night
Miranda is taking the stars down
A little something to call her own
By the light there still goes miranda
And miranda is always alone
And then all at once
The sun starts to rise
She sees her father holding her down
All the daylight is poison to her eyes
She slips down the shade
And lets herself drown
Miranda is taking the stars down
A little something to call her own
By the light there still goes miranda
And miranda is always alone
The lights shot down in the arena
All across the safety zone
Loneliness follows miranda
And miranda is always alone
Miranda is always alone
Miranda is always alone
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Passing Cromwell Street
In Melbourne streets named in his honour though he does not warrant such fame
For he lived a life of dishonour yet he never felt any shame
For his crimes against the poor of Ireland the winners write the history they say
And historians are too kind to Cromwell the one who did awful things in his day.
He evicted the poor of rural Ireland those who only knew of poverty
And put them on the hard road to Connacht the victims of crimes against humanity
His army were thugs and not soldiers for they did things that soldiers ought not do
The winners always write the history though their version of history is often not true.
In Cromwell's time the winners wrote the history and the winners still write the history today
But for any crimes against humanity the winners too should be made to pay
But Cromwell and his army honoured for their crimes in Ireland against the poor defenceless poor
'Tis sad to think that one so unworthy of a place in history is secure.
To hell or to Connacht his catch cry he forced thousands of poor families on the road
To people who were penniless and innocent not one scrap of mercy he showed
Thousands of them died in the harsh Irish Winter when homelessness on them took it's toll
Because they were poor they were punished though their life circumstances beyond their control.
I think of the untruths of history each time I drive by Cromwell street
The history written by winners their history of lies and deceit
I say to myself they honour a tyrant and I struggle for to understand
Why they name a street after somebody who oppressed the poor of Ireland.
Andrew Marvell in verse glorified Cromwell but he was one who would not know
What Cromwell and his army got up to in Ireland in those bleak times centuries ago
But he only believed what they told him and they told him what he wanted to hear
History often written by unworthy people those who rule by terror and fear.
In Melbourne streets named in his honour his poor victims long forgotten and gone
Into the World of the forgotten but Cromwell's fame is living on
And the lessons we should have learned from history did not lead to a fair go for all
And the winners only write the story though the real truth they never recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Children Of Poor And Dysfunctional Parents
The children of poor and dysfunctional parents of any success in life stand little chance
The odds seem stacked against them by their birth circumstance
For them life is an uphill battle a struggle every day
The lady of luck and fortune does never smile their way
Though some wealthy parents can also be dysfunctional it does seem fair to say
That the child born to such parents at least financially will be okay
For those who say money speaks every language are saying what is true
People respect people with money though respect they may not be due,
Pity the poor children who become homeless at a young age and become institutionalized
For most of them their full potential is never realized
In a fair Human World this would never be
By circumstance of birth I feel that good luck was with me
There are millions of homeless children in the World of today
Due to their circumstance of birth in which they had no say.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Happy Fourth Of July
Today is your independence day,
the fourth of July.
The English and Americans
were not always friends and allies
as we are today.
If we travel back in time,
we were at war with one another
over a hundred years ago.
You won and we lost;
now you celebrate today
the fourth of July
for the independence you earned.
Now this may sound strange
coming from an Englishman.
Be proud of your Country,
as I am proud of mine.
May we always stand together
in any future troubled time.
It is strange
in over a hundred years
how we all have changed.
Be proud, Walk tall
and value your land.
Value your people
whatever race or creed,
for these mixture of people
make your country strong.
You fought hard
for your independence,
even went through a civil war.
Respect your values
and hold your head up high.
This is your day to celebrate,
and this why I write this poem
to say a sincere Happy Independence Day
to all of you.
poem by David Harris
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Republican Pioneers
We're marching along, we're gath'ring strong'
We place on our right reliance,
We fling in the air, for all who care,
Our first loud notes of defiance!
We fling in the air,
For all who care,
Our first loud notes of defiance!
Laugh long and loud, you toady crowd,
At the men you call benighted,
In spite of your sneers, we are pioneers
Of "Australian States United"!
In spite of your sneers, We are pioneers
Of "Australian States United"!
Not long we'll stand as an outlaw band,
And be in our country lonely,
For soon to the sky shall ring our cry,
Our cry of "Australia only"!
For soon to the sky
Shall mount our cry,
Our cry of "Australia only"!
And we'll sleep sound in Australian ground,
'Neath the blue-cross flag star lighted,
When it freely waves o'er the grass-grown graves
Of the pioneers united!
When it floats and veers
O'er the pioneers
Of "Australian States United"!
poem by Henry Lawson
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Anzac Day
Patriotic men and women from sixty down to sixteen
Rode proudly on their horses in the famed Anzac green
Followed by the women of the Red Cross in their renowned white and red
On this day every April they honour the war dead.
Up to the war memorial where a large crowd stand around
And at the front of the congregation old 'Diggers' to be found
Old veterans of World war 2 they show their years in gray
Their war medals pinned to their lapels their bravery on display.
A lone bugler played the last post to honour the war dead
And an old man who was standing near i saw him bow his head
And tears were trickling down his face his thoughts were far away
Some noble men who were his friends in foreign Country lay.
We are gathered here this morning the ageing speaker said
To commemorate true heroes our great and brave war dead
They made the ultimate sacrifice and at a young age they did die
And we have them in part to thank for the freedom we enjoy
For our soldiers who died in foreign wars for their souls let us pray
It's only to remember them that we have Anzac day
Their bones may lay in foreign fields but in history they survive
And the spirit of the Anzac is still very much alive.
He thanked the old war veterans who marched in the parade
How can we thank you enough for the sacrifice you've made
You risked your lives in cause of peace 'we salute you today'
You noble men who won the war in Country far away.
He thanked the red cross women the finest in the Land
And the bugler who played 'The Last Post' and the six piece marching band
And the horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And he asked the band to finish up by playing 'God save the Queen'.
And the band played 'God save the Queen' but not 'Advance Australia Fair'
And i who doesn't believe in war could only feel aware
That in Britain they don't play the Australian anthem when they honour their war dead
Was it for Britain or Australia that young Aussie blood was shed? .
The horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And the bugler played the last post and the band played 'God Save The Queen'.
And a war veteran spoke of Aussie war dead their bones in Europe lay
At least they are remembered still on every Anzac Day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Kevin Andrews
Kevin Andrews the Australian Minister for Immigration says African refugees don't adjust to life in this Land
That Australian ways and culture they do not understand
His excuse for accepting less of African refugees
Seems nothing but latent racism of varying degrees.
He says African refugees are not well educated I only quote what he say
His remarks smack of racism in a very latent way
Kevin Andrews will never be seen as a great
He's not the type of person we should celebrate.
With words he is clever as most politicians are
He just says so much without taking it too far
Just to appease the racist voters amongst the voters out there
And racists as we well know have never been rare.
The accusation that he is a racist of course Kevin denies
Though his feelings on the matter he can barely disguise
And though many with what he says may well agree
It does sound like latent racism to me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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It's The Conquerors Who Write The History
As they chased the wild bison on horse back they whooped and cheered loud
And they were great hunters so noble and proud
But now on the prairies the bison are rare
And the people who hunted them no longer there.
Of the great Northern Land the first people till the invaders came
And their tragic dispossession is a thing of great shame
Conquered and put into reservations for to grow old and die
The rights of Indigenous people to them did not apply.
It's the conquerors who write history as we have been told
And men they have murdered for Land and for Gold
But what matters most when history we trace
That a Country's first people must take pride of place.
You great country singers with your golden guitars,
You politicians and tycoons and billionaire movie stars
There once was a people far greater than you
And to Mother Nature they were far more true.
And the workings of Nature they did understand
And they were the people who cared for the Land
And they were displaced and oppressed and down trod
By those who believed in a different God.
They once were great warriors, wise, noble and proud
And they gave us Chief Seattle and wise Chief White Cloud
And their profound words of wisdom still living today
And such things of great beauty will never decay.
The truth may seem bitter but the truth we must face
That a Country's first people should take pride of place
And around the World Indigenous people are not treated well
Though they have such marvellous stories to tell.
The conquerors write the history as conquerors do
But to the true history they never are true
And the conquered the history never will write
And we are conditioned to believe that might is always right.
The changes keep happening and nothing seem to last
And the great herds of bison a thing of the past
And those who once hunted them were locked away
And in reservations were forced for to stay.
Out on the lone prairie their ghosts still reside
At midnight the hunters their spotted horses ride
As they chase the wild bison across the great plain
The past in the moonlight comes to life again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On The Wayne Carey Scandal
The captain of the Kangaroos Football Club known for his dash and flair
And in the game of Australian rules a football millionaire
But he quit the Club in disgrace when news broke of his affair
With the wife of a team mate his future now elsewhere.
He breached the trust of his mate and was unfaithful to his own wife
And he must now try to save his marriage and get on with his life
He went back home to Wagga to hide away in shame
And many feel Wayne Carey might have played his last game
Of Australian Rules Football but without him the game will go on
And the North Melbourne club is still around though their ex captain from them gone
The Club's bigger than the individual is that's always been the case
And as good a player though he may be there's one to take his place.
He should have gone to a brothel for his bit on the side
Instead he had sex with his best mate's wife and their friendship he destroyed
The Roos fans had him on a pedestal and they called him the king
But like a silly person he did the silly thing.
My sympathies not with Carey or any sporting millionaire
My sympathies are with the poor and all people in despair
Like those brave souls who in leaky boats cross the dangerous southern seas
In search of a home they flee from war poor defenceless refugees.
Like those people interred in Woomera with numbers for their name
The Government of this great southern Land bring on their Country shame
They keep people behind barbed wire and their only crime is they
Have fled war lords and the bombs of foreign powers in their
Homelands far away.
The ex captain of the Kangaroos is back home in Wagga Wagga Town
And for his fall from grace he has himself to blame since he dragged himself down
And though I only wish him well my sympathies elsewhere
For my sympathies could never be with a disgraced football millionaire.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Forgotten Hungry And Homeless
The forgotten hungry and homeless nowadays to be found everywhere
There are millions of them close to a billion in the bigger World out there
The refugees of drought stricken Lands and of warlords and the homeless of Poverty Street
Basic human rights of them are denied shelter from the weather and enough for to eat
In a Human World where everyone is supposed to be equal after all we breathe in the same air
But the poor and the homeless and the hungry cannot feel that life is very fair
The minority those who are too wealthy people with too much of everything
Are people that many look up to though their praises I cannot sing,
In an egalatarian Human World everyone would have a home to live in
And nobody would be without food and well dressed and not ragged and thin
The poor by the day growing poorer and that does seem a sad thing to say
And the refugee camps of the World are all overcrowded today,
'Tis sad to think that from the poverty of many that a minority does stand to gain
And I with enough of food and shelter have no reason for to complain.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Sound Of The Crowd
Put your hand in a party wave
Pass around
Make a shroud pulling combs through a backwash frame
Find the copies in a carbon mount
Pass around
Stroke a pocket with a print of a laughing sound
Get around town
Get around town
Where the people look good
Where the music is loud
Get around town
No need to stand proud
Add your voice to the sound of the crowd
The shades from a pencil peer
Pass around
A fold in an eyelid brushed with fear
The lines on a compact guide
Pass around
A hat with alignment worn insde
Get around town
Get around town
Where the people look good
Where the music is loud
Get around town
No need to stand proud
Add your voice to the sound of the crowd
Get in line now
Get in line now
Stay in time with the rhythm and rhyme
Get around town
Get around town
Where the people look good
Where the music is loud
Get around town
No need to stand proud
Add your voice to the sound of the crowd
Get around town
Get around town
Where the people look good
Where the music is loud
Get around town
No need to stand proud
Add your voice to the sound of the crowd
Get around town
Get around town
Where the people look good
Where the music is loud
Get around town
No need to stand proud
Add your voice to the sound of the crowd
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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