The More You Pay
The auctioneer said, I'm not through yet,
Here's a horse the likes of which you've never seen,
And the straw hats in the sun, with a face beneath each one,
Shown doubtful and the auctioneer got mean.
Do you think that you can find a horse like this every day?
I don't think there's any better on this earth,
And the more you pay, the more it's worth.
Then out she came, a snow-white mare,
Prancin' and a dancin' in the silver sun,
They watched her from behind, as she did her bump and grind,
Walkin' naked, sad and graceful for their fun.
Oh how I wished I could afford that lady painted white,
A queen with high nobility of birth,
But the more you pay, the more it's worth.
My pockets hung with empty blues,
Silent heels were standin' on my growin' pains,
My bid was not too bad, two bits was all I had,
And the stable boy just handed me the reins.
Well the gallery went wild, and the auctioneer half smiled,
What we don't sell we shoot or give away,
'Cause the more you pay, the more it's worth.
And where was the boy, who rode on her back,
With his arms holding tight round her neck?
How tightly he clung,
When they both were young,
And fate had not let this poor girl be so
Disgraced.
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Auctioneer
She didn't want to get pinned down by her prior town
Get me to the train on time, here take this nickel make a dime
Take this penny and make it into a necklace when I leave
What is at the other end, I don't know another friend
Another wife, another morning spent
Listen, listen to the auctioneer
Another engine, another engine
We never wrote the reasons that I need explained
Some things are givens, and others get away
This time its for myself you call it what you may
Okay, we won't say goodbye so long, so much more
Listen to the auctioneer
Another engine, another engine
Listen to the bargain holler
Listen to the barter holler
Listen to the auctioneer
Get me to the train on time here take this nickel make a dime
Take this penny and make it into a necklace when I leave
What is at the other end, an I don't know another friend
Another wife, another morning spent
Listen to the auctioneer
Another engine, another engine
Do I stand the bargain holler?
Listen to the barter holler
Listen to the auctioneer
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Auctioneer
Hey well all right sir, open the gate
Letem out and walkem boys
Here we come with lot number twenty-nine
What are you gonna give for the little fella
Well there was a boy from arkansas who wouldnt listen to his ma
When she told him that he should go to school
Hed sneak away in the afternoon and take a walk and pretty soon
Youd find him at the local auction barn
Hed stand and listen carefully until at last he began to see
How the auctioneer could talk so rapidly
He said oh my, its do or die, Ive got to learn that auction cry
Gonna make my mark and be an auctioneer
Well the time went by and he did his best and all could see he did not jest
He practiced calling bids both night and day
Til his pappy found him behind the barn just working up an awful storm
As he tried to imitate the auctioneer
His pop said son we just cant stand to have a mediocre man
Selling things at auction using our good name
Gonna send you off to auction school and then youll be nobodys fool
And you can take your place among the best
And from that boy that went to school there grew a man who played it cool
He come back home a full fledged auctioneer
And the people would come from miles around
Just to hear him make that rhythmic sound
That filled their hearts with such a happy cheer
And his fame spread out from shore to shore
Hed all that he could do and more
He had to buy a plane to get around
Now hes the best in all the land, lets pause and give that man a hand
For hes the best of all the auctioneers
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is only an auctioneer who can equally and impartially admire all schools of art.
Oscar Wilde in The Critic as Artist (1891)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Town Types No. 18
Johnny Nock, the auctioneer, golden-bearded, ever gay,
Spread about him great good cheer in his prosperous heyday;
Familiar sight on district roads - his buckboard and his pacing roans,
As men, perched high on harvest lands, waved whips and called in cheery tones;
For not a man had ill to speak of open-handed Johnny then,
Since, with its fortune at the peak, the old town valued spending men.
And Johnny spent, come shine, come rain; and earned and spent and carried on
With his prophetic trade-refrain of 'Going - Going - Going - Gone!'
Johnny Nock, the auctioneer, at his more important sales
Always stood the crowd free beer, serving it from bright tin pails. And, as the pannikins passed round, few were too churlish not to quaff,
While Johnny, from his vantage ground, tossed banter back, and laugh for laugh
At some broad jest, then paused to praise this 'splendid beast,' these 'fine fat
sheep';
Then, as the bids began to rise, vowed dolefully they went too cheap.
And sudden optimists would grant that as a rustic wit he shone,
This wag, with his familiar chant of 'Going - Going - Going - Gone!'
So Johnny Nock, the auctioneer, spent and prospered, spent again,
Till 'Progress' brought the railroad here, and out across the Mallee plain.Then puzzled men knew vague unease as prices, too, began to fall;
They talked about economies, and failed to understand it all.
Yet Johnny Nock, now past his prime, smiled on, and scorned ill-omened tales,
And drew commissions for a time from dismal, beerless mortgage sales.
Then, most men realised, at last, the old town's star no longer shone.
The glory of the reckless past was, 'Going - Going - Going - Gone!'
Old Johnny Nock, the auctioneer, his golden beard now clipped and grey,
In his wheeled-chair dragged out the drear and clouded sunset of his day.
His house, his buckboard, all were sold, his latest pair of prancing roans;
But Johnny, grown infirm and old, greeted all men in jovial tones.
He wheeled himself about the town, still patron of the racing club
For old times' sake; he wore no frown, and found much business at the pub.
Then, one still night, in accents clear he cried, 'Who bids, gents? Carry on!'
And Johnny Nock, the auctioneer was 'Going - Going - Going - Gone!'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Workin Man
Sittin alone in the dark,
Wastin my time in a park
cause Ive got nowhere to go.
Had me a job til the market fell out,
Tried hard to borrow but there was no help
Now Ive got nowhere to go.
I need a job for these two hands
Im a workin man
With nowhere to go
One last look at my land
Auctioneer with his gavel in hand
And he says its got to go.
Worked this peice all my life
It broke my heart and it took my wife
Now Ive got nothing to show
I need a job for these two hands
Im a workin man
With nowhere to go
Wandered aimless in the city
With my dirt workin boots and my old straw hat in hand
Singing a song by woody guthrie
This land is your land; it aint my land
Im a workin man, with nowhere to go
I was born to the sunrise
Breaking back all day
Now Ive got something to say
I am broke but not broken
And I am not alone
Cause theres a lot of folks
With nowhere to go
Are they ever gonna understand?
You cant leave a workin man
With nowhere to go.
Are they ever gonna understand?
You cant leave a workin man
With nowhere to go
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh, The Hats At Ascot
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
What a wonderful show on view,
Ladies parading,
Horses invading
The Course, for a race or two.
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
With all their bows and frills,
The fantastic styles,
And the Ladies smiles,
Will always give one such thrills.
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
An event that is Oh so true,
Just to outshine,
And look divine,
Is what the Ladies do.
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
Are way out and so very fine,
And with the Queen,
One must be seen,
As one watches the select equine.
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
Seen up and down the Course,
A glass of champers,
And gourmet hampers,
And a win on your favourite horse.
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
Which the Ladies heads do grace,
The Gents black toppers,
And the Champion Show stoppers,
Are all at this fashionable place.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Did I Fool Ya?
when daddy sings
hes an auctioneer, auctioneer.
and mother clings to anniversaries.
and his sister, shes got a little bit of mister in her
and her brothers goin round, round, round his bed
and i said, and i say
I say, well believe what i say
i said, did i, did i, fool ya, fool ya
well didnt daddy fool ya?
he sang once and a goin twice
hes gone for 35 or 40
and he go, once and a goin twice
hes gone for 35... SOLD to the middle line.
they go once and a goin twice
and aint it nice?
and oh lord they made it up to 65
they go once and a goin twice
and aint it nice? aint it nice oh aint it nice?
... said aint it nice for the price?
i said i got a nice life for the price is right
body rock, rody bock
and they boss, said a come on down, down, down
said come on down.
youre the next big winner
so come on down
oh oh oh
but i, but i, i said i
i give and give and i lay it all down now
well look what ive found
i give and give
i said i give and give and i lay it all down
now look what ive found, ah look what ive found
blue skies, theyre smiling at me
and thats my favorite melody.
but i cant read and i cant read and
i cant read between the things unseen
and i dont mind and i dont mind and i dont mind
if i dont find because ive tried
im absolutely definite
absolutley positive
absolutely definetly positive.
im absolutely definite
absolutley positive
absolutely definetly positive
im absolutely definite
absolutley positive
absolutely definetly positive.
and im absolutely definite
absolutley positive
absolutely definetly positively represented.
so i, why why, ohma why the bother with it all?
did i, did i fool ya?
well d
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Me & My Horse
riding together,
you and your horse.
as you run against the wind all you call hear is-
the wind wipping your ears,
the horse's hooves thundering beneath you,
the chains of your bit as the horse pulls against the reins,
and the faint sound of the horse behind you.
your horse stops,
the horse behind you catches up.
the race is over,
freedom will have to wait until next time.
poem by Horse Lover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hats Off to the Woman, Who…
Hats off to the woman, who bears children
With labor-pains, completing family;
Hats off to the woman, who rears the young,
Making her babies suckle at her breasts;
Hats off to the woman, who tends to both
Husband, children, others with care and love;
Hats off to the woman, who does all things
For others’ sake, selflessly all her life;
Hats off to the woman, who keeps the home,
And raises her children in forbearance;
Hats off to the woman, who labors hard
And burns the midnight-oil for family;
Hats off to the woman, who contributes
Fiscally by working in a work-place;
Hats off to the woman, who patiently
Toils, to keep the harmony of her home;
Hats of to the woman, who can also
Extend tender, loving care to old-aged;
Hats off to the woman, who has God first
In life, and sacrifices for the rest;
Hats off to the woman, who can smile
To all, despite her grief, anguish and strife in heart;
Hats off to the woman, who turns the home
A virtual Paradise on earth all life;
Hats off to the woman, who loves to slog,
And toils to raise her family with love;
Hats off to the woman, who’s an angel
To all, by being a good example.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-21-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh The Guilt (Outtake '93)
She seems to think
She seems too weak
She takes a week to get over it
She likes the sea
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sound
She likes the sand
She likes to stand, she cant afford to sit
She likes to be
Shes into guilt
Guilt
She likes to think
She likes to drink
She seems too weak, she takes all the rent
She likes the time
She owns the time
She borrows time to self-invent
She seems too weak
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sand
She likes to stand
She likes to sit
She likes to go
Go
She likes to be
She likes to go
Go
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh, The Guilt
She seems to think
She seems too weak
She takes a week to get over it
She likes the sea
She likes to see
She likes to think she has to alter it
She likes the sound
She likes the sand
She likes to stand, she can't afford to sit
She likes to be
She likes to be
She likes to be
She's into guilt
Go
She likes to think
She likes to drink
She seems too weak, she takes all the rent
She likes the time
She owns the time
She borrows time and has to self-invent
She seems too weak
She likes to see
She likes to think she has to alter it
She likes the sand
She likes to stand
She likes to sit
She likes to go
Go
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh Guilt
She seems to think
She seems too weak
She takes a week to get over it
She likes the sea
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sound
She likes the sand
She likes to stand, she cant afford to sit
She likes to be
Shes into guilt
Guilt
She likes to think
She likes to drink
She seems too weak, she takes all the rent
She likes the time
She owns the time
She borrows time to self-invent
She seems too weak
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sand
She likes to stand
She likes to sit
She likes to go
Go
She likes to be
She likes to go
Go
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Straw Foot
I guess you didnt hear me
When I told you for the first time
Well dont you worry
It wont be the last
All I need a floorboard
An a wooden shoe
Step aside an let my lady through
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Up an back around
See the high priest
He took my place
When the judge looks to me
He saw his sons face
Not gonna join you in
Your tower of babble, boy
Tired o that talkin
Im sick o that noise
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Im not alone
An looks can be deceivin
When we get down to it
Youre talkin when you
Should be leavin
Ive been to nebraska
It reminded me of spain
All the questions loaded
All my answers same
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hay foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Let us not mince our words
Lets say it true this time
I need your forgiveness
Just like you need mine
Tell me how it is that
You dont want what hes given
It aint no sin son
To be forgiven
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
All over town
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jimmy Sharmans Boxers
From the red dust north of dalmore downs
Sharmans tents roll into town
Twelve will face the auctioneer
Sharmans boxers stand their ground
Their days are darker than your nights
But they wont be the first to fall
Children broken from their dreams
But they wont be the first to fall
Fighting in the spotlight
Eyes turn blacker than their skin
For jimmy sharmans boxers
Its no better if you win
Standing in the darkness
Lined up waiting for the bell
The days are wasted drinking
At the first and last hotel
Why are we fighting for this?
Why are you paying for this?
You pay to see me fall like shrapnel
To the floor
What is the reason for this?
There is a reason for this?
What is the reason they keep coming back for more?
The blows now bring him to his knees
But still the crowd calls out for more
The drums are burning in his ears
The man keeps counting out the score
(hirst/moginie)
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the Droving Days
"Only a pound," said the auctioneer,
"Only a pound; and I'm standing here
Selling this animal, gain or loss --
Only a pound for the drover's horse?
One of the sort that was ne'er afraid,
One of the boys of the Old Brigade;
Thoroughly honest and game, I'll swear,
Only a little the worse for wear;
Plenty as bad to be seen in town,
Give me a bid and I'll knock him down;
Sold as he stands, and without recourse,
Give me a bid for the drover's horse."
Loitering there in an aimless way
Somehow I noticed the poor old grey,
Weary and battered and screwed, of course;
Yet when I noticed the old grey horse,
The rough bush saddle, and single rein
Of the bridle laid on his tangled mane,
Straighway the crowd and the auctioneer
Seemed on a sudden to disappear,
Melted away in a kind if haze --
For my heart went back to the droving days.
Back to the road, and I crossed again
Over the miles of the saltbush plain --
The shining plain that is said to be
The dried-up bed of an inland sea.
Where the air so dry and so clear and bright
Refracts the sun with a wondrous light,
And out in the dim horizon makes
The deep blue gleam of the phantom lakes.
At dawn of day we could feel the breeze
That stirred the boughs of the sleeping trees,
And brought a breath of the fragrance rare
That comes and goes in that scented air;
For the trees and grass and the shrubs contain
A dry sweet scent on the saltbush plain.
for those that love it and understand
The saltbush plain is a wonderland,
A wondrous country, were Nature's ways
Were revealed to me in the droving days.
We saw the fleet wild horses pass,
And kangaroos through the Mitchell grass;
The emu ran with her frightened brood
All unmolested and unpursued.
But there rose a shout and a wild hubbub
When the dingo raced for his native scrub,
And he paid right dear for his stolen meals
With the drovers' dogs at his wretched heels.
For we ran him down at a rattling pace,
While the pack-horse joined in the stirring chase.
And a wild halloo at the kill we'd raise --
We were light of heart in the droving days.
'Twas a drover's horse, and my hand again
Made a move to close on a fancied rein.
For I felt a swing and the easy stride
Of the grand old horse that I used to ride.
In drought or plenty, in good or ill,
The same old steed was my comrade still;
The old grey horse with his honest ways
Was a mate to me in the droving days.
When we kept our watch in the cold and damp,
If the cattle broke from the sleeping camp,
Over the flats and across the plain,
With my head bent down on his waving mane,
Through the boughs above and the stumps below,
On the darkest night I could let him go
At a racing speed; he would choose his course,
And my life was safe with the old grey horse.
But man and horse had a favourite job,
When an outlaw broke from the station mob;
With a right good will was the stockwhip plied,
As the old horse raced at the straggler's side,
And the greenhide whip such a weal would raise --
We could use the whip in the droving days.
-----------------
"Only a pound!" and was this the end --
Only a pound for the drover's friend.
The drover's friend that has seen his day,
And now was worthless and cast away
With a broken knee and a broken heart
To be flogged and starved in a hawker's cart.
Well, I made a bid for a sense of shame
And the memories of the good old game.
"Thank you? Guinea! and cheap at that!
Against you there in the curly hat!
Only a guinea, and one more chance,
Down he goes if there's no advance,
Third, and last time, one! two! three!"
And the old grey horse was knocked down to me.
And now he's wandering, fat and sleek,
On the lucerne flats by the Homestead Creek;
I dare not ride him for fear he's fall,
But he does a journey to beat them all,
For though he scarcely a trot can raise,
He can take me back to the droving days.
A.B. (Banjo) Paterson
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Between My Horse's Wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
The wind rushing forcefully
Through my long dark hair
The feel of the cool air
Beneath the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy
The muscles work powerfully
To drive us into the night
The stars wink like little lights
Above the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As I ride over the ocean and sea
My muscles tense as I hold
My skin red from the windy cold
Flowing past the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
I revel in this dangerous ecstasy
A silvery mane blows in my face
Blown back, by the wind we race
Born on by the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As we fly through the air swiftly
My face is lifted toward the sky
Arms outstretched, wind rushing by
The beating of the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
Faster and faster, we seem to fly
The wind tugging at my body
As I look to the heavenly bodies
Shining on the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
My horse flies gracefully
Over the fields and streams
Are these things only my dreams?
Sitting between the horse’s wings
poem by Horse Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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First Straw
Oh a whole new way of looking at things
The way you react to phone rings
The way it feels when you just let it flow
Sometimes I wonder just how it could be
You take every bit before we see it off the rails
I think that you should know
You never cease to amaze me
You keep me from going crazy
And that's one thing I know for sure
Sometimes I see just how it all will be
Take every bit it's so easy the first straw
And this I know for sure
The first straw
So small it seemed impossible
The next straw
Vanished like shooting stars that fall
The last straw
There's no reason for getting there at all
Yeah
No reason to take it there at all
Yeah
The last straw can land in your mix
Your best day could be apocalypse
Nobody pay attention to the first straw
It seems the last one is all we ever saw
The first straw's a metaphore I pick up myself
It tells me something by showing me something else
I think that you should know
The first straw
So small it seemed impossible
The next straw
Vanished like shooting stars that fall
The last straw
There's no reason for getting there at all
Yeah
No reason to take it there at all
Yeah
Everyone reacts when it gets to the weight of breaking their back
I won't let that be us cause the long side never gave back
Yeah
The first straw
So small it seemed impossible
The next straw
Vanished like shooting stars that fall
The last straw
There's no reason for getting there at all
Yeah
The first straw
So small it seemed impossible
The next straw
Vanished like shooting stars that fall
The last straw
There's no reason for getting there at all
Yeah
song performed by by 311
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What is a Horse?
What is a horse?
A horse has eyes as dainty as a mink.
The grace is interrupted merely by a blink.
A horse is beauty.
What is a horse?
A horse is a tree in a storm that never goes down.
A horse is a weathered rock that stays around.
A horse is ancient.
What is a horse?
A horse waltzes like breeze over rivers.
She curvets and leaps like rain shivers.
A horse is a marionette.
What is a horse?
A horse is determination, that never stops flowing.
A horse is fondness, that never stops growing.
A horse is poetic power.
poem by Lily Whittaker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hats divide generally into three classes: offensive hats, defensive hats, and shrapnel.
quote by Katharine Whitehorn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Between My Horse's Wings (Expanded)
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
The wind rushing forcefully
Through my long dark hair
The feel of the cool air
Beneath the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy
The muscles work powerfully
To drive us into the night
The stars wink like little lights
Above the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As I ride over the ocean and sea
My muscles tense as I hold
My skin red from the windy cold
Flowing past the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
I revel in this dangerous ecstasy
A silvery mane blows in my face
Blown back, by the wind we race
Born on by the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
As we fly through the air swiftly
My face is lifted toward the sky
Arms outstretched, wind rushing by
The beating of the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
Faster and faster, we seem to fly
The wind tugging at my body
As I look to the heavenly bodies
Shining on the horse’s wings
Is this real, or is this fantasy?
My horse flies gracefully
Over the fields and streams
Are these things only my dreams?
Sitting between the horse’s wings