Return To Waterloo (Demo Recording / Remix)
Look at all the people around me,
Same old faces joining the queue.
For return to waterloo,
Return to waterloo.
Started off this morning as usual,
Checkin out the mail and all the bills to pay.
Maybe something specials gonna happen,
Maybe this is my lucky day.
The forecast says heavy weather,
So take your umbrella just in case.
Will I get away, will I see it through,
On the return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Somehow you feel that the worlds been passin you by.
Cant help thinkin somehow theyre living a lie.
Now Im asking questions, I never thought Id ask them before,
Like "why" or "how" or "what am I doing it for? "
Will I reach my destination,
Or will I get off along the way?
Will I reach my destination?
Will I reach my destination,
Have I stopped or am I only going slow?
Have we got a couple more stations,
Or is this as far as we all go?
The headlines cry out from the papers,
"inflation," "murder," "wars," who really wants to know?
If I return to waterloo,
Itll cost me more in 1992.
Will I get away,
Will I see it through?
And come back home to you,
On the return to waterloo.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Return To Waterloo
Look at all the people around me,
Same old faces joining the queue.
For return to waterloo,
Return to waterloo.
Started off this morning as usual,
Checkin out the mail and all the bills to pay.
Maybe something specials gonna happen,
Maybe this is my lucky day.
The forecast says heavy weather,
So take your umbrella just in case.
Will I get away, will I see it through,
On the return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Somehow you feel that the worlds been passin you by.
Cant help thinkin somehow theyre living a lie.
Now Im asking questions, I never thought Id ask them before,
Like why or how or what am I doing it for?
Will I reach my destination,
Or will I get off along the way?
Will I reach my destination?
Will I reach my destination,
Have I stopped or am I only going slow?
Have we got a couple more stations,
Or is this as far as we all go?
The headlines cry out from the papers,
Inflation, murder, wars, who really wants to know?
If I return to waterloo,
Itll cost me more in 1992.
Will I get away,
Will I see it through?
And come back home to you,
On the return to waterloo.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waterloo Sunset
Dirty old river, must you keep rolling
Flowing into the night
People so busy, makes me feel dizzy
Taxi light shines so bright
But I don't need no friends
As long as I gaze on Waterloo sunset
I am in paradise
Every day I look at the world from my window
Chilly, chilly is the evening time
Waterloo sunset's fine
Terry meets Julie at Waterloo Station
Every Friday night
But I am so lazy, don't want to wander
I stay at home at night
But I don't feel afraid
As long as I gaze on Waterloo sunset
I am in paradise
Every day I look at the world from my window
Chilly, chilly is the evening time
Waterloo sunset's fine
Millions of people swarming like flies 'round Waterloo underground
But Terry and Julie cross over the river
Where they feel safe and sound
And they don't need no friends
As long as they gaze on Waterloo sunset
They are in paradise
Waterloo sunset's fine (Waterloo sunset's fine)
Waterloo sunset's fine (Waterloo sunset's fine)
Waterloo sunset's fine (Waterloo sunset's fine)
Waterloo sunset's fine
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waterloo Sunset
Dirty old river, must you keep rolling
Flowing into the night
People so busy, makes me feel dizzy
Taxi light shines so bright
But I dont need no friends
As long as I gaze on waterloo sunset
I am in paradise
Every day I look at the world from my window
But chilly, chilly is the evening time
Waterloo sunsets fine
Terry meets julie, waterloo station
Every friday night
But I am so lazy, dont want to wander
I stay at home at night
But I dont feel afraid
As long as I gaze on waterloo sunset
I am in paradise
Every day I look at the world from my window
But chilly, chilly is the evening time
Waterloo sunsets fine
Millions of people swarming like flies round waterloo underground
But terry and julie cross over the river
Where they feel safe and sound
And the dont need no friends
As long as they gaze on waterloo sunset
They are in paradise
Waterloo sunsets fine
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Man from Goondiwindi, Q.
I
This is the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
II
This is the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
III
These are the wealthy uncles -- two,
Part of the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
IV
This is the game, by no means new,
Played by the wealthy uncles -- two,
Part of the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
V
This is the trooper dressed in blue,
Who busted the game by no means new,
Played by the wealthy uncles -- two,
Part of the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
VI
This is the magistrate who knew
Not only the trooper dressed in blue,
But also the game by no means new,
And likewise the wealthy uncles -- two,
And ditto the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
VII
This is the tale that has oft gone through
On western plains where the skies are blue,
Till the native bear and the kangaroo
Have heard of the magistrate who knew
Not only the trooper dressed in blue,
But also the game by no means new,
And likewise the wealthy uncles -- two,
And ditto the Push from Waterloo
That spotted the sunburnt bushman who
Came down from Goondiwindi, Q.
The Evening News, 17 Dec 1904
(This verse was published, copiously illustrated by Lionel Lindsay. Each stanza had its own illustration.)
The pronounciation of many Australian place-names can be quite unexpected. Goondiwindi is a case in point. The town is situated on the border of Queensland and New south Wales, on the banks of the Macintyre River, and its name is pronounced "gun-da-windy", with the main stress on the third syllable, a secondary stress on the first.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Man from Waterloo (With kind Regards to Banjo)
It was the Man from Waterloo,
When work in town was slack,
Who took the track as bushmen do,
And humped his swag out back.
He tramped for months without a bob,
For most the sheds were full,
Until at last he got a job
At picking up the wool.
He found the work was rather rough,
But swore to see it through,
For he was made of sterling stuff—
The Man from Waterloo.
The first remark was like a stab
That fell his ear upon,
’Twas—‘There’s another something scab
‘The boss has taken on!’
They couldn’t let the towny be—
They sneered like anything;
They’d mock him when he’d sound the ‘g’
In words that end in ‘ing.’
There came a man from Ironbark,
And at the shed he shore;
He scoffed his victuals like a shark,
And like a fiend he swore.
He’d shorn his flowing beard that day—
He found it hard to reap—
Because ’twas hot and in the way
While he was shearing sheep.
His loaded fork in grimy holt
Was poised, his jaws moved fast,
Impatient till his throat could bolt
The mouthful taken last.
He couldn’t stand a something toff;
Much less a jackaroo;
And swore to take the trimmings off
The Man from Waterloo.
The towny saw he must be up
Or else be underneath,
And so one day, before them all,
He dared to clean his teeth.
The men came running from the shed,
And shouted, ‘Here’s a lark!’
‘It’s gone to clean its tooties!’ said
The man from Ironbark.
His feeble joke was much enjoyed;
He sneered as bullies do,
And with a scrubbing-brush he guyed
The Man from Waterloo.
The Jackaroo made no remark
But peeled and waded in,
And soon the Man from Ironbark
Had three teeth less to grin!
And when they knew that he could fight
They swore to see him through,
Because they saw that he was right—
The Man from Waterloo.
Now in a shop in Sydney, near
The Bottle on the Shelf,
The tale is told—with trimmings—by
The Jackaroo himself.
‘They made my life a hell,’ he said;
‘They wouldn’t let me be;
They set the bully of the shed
‘To take it out of me.
‘The dirt was on him like a sheath,
‘He seldom washed his phiz;
‘He sneered because I cleaned my teeth—
‘I guess I dusted his!
‘I treated them as they deserved—
‘I signed on one or two!
‘They won’t forget me soon,’ observed
The Man from Waterloo.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The return of the native,
Fully teethed I left you.
Toothless I return to you.
Where from I had come,
There to I want to return
In between, I never came back
Nor did I give you any thought.
Which bird thinks of the nest
When he flies in gay?
In twilight, cows return to shed.
As night falls, I return to you.
In your cradle, I was born,
Only where my roots are known.
On return, I shall dropp to you
What I had earned elsewhere
So that, of me, you are aware
And I can pass away with after care.
24.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Return Trip
I will return to my place of Birth
To that place before Mother Earth
I will return to that Day of Awakening
To that Day of a New Beginning
I will return to my very first Sun
My very first Moon, my very first Star
I will return to that place that never was far
I will return to the land of the Beautiful,
the Good, the Grateful
Where there is nothing to forgive
For there is no sin
Where there is no regret
Life is what you dream
Where Innocence is never put to test
Where all is Sacred and blessed with Happiness
I will return to my place and time of Birth
I will return
I am not Cursed
poem by Sonya Florentino
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My Waterloo
I came a long long way from home
I travelled far just to be here today
Across an endless sea of salty tears
Behind the divided line of eighteen years
You gotta walk that road alone
You gotta walk that lonely
I wear my heart out on my sleeve
A sight you surely must have spied by now
I admit that I dont even know your name
I feel like I could know you all the same
Are you gonna walk that road with me sometime
Or is it gonna be that lonely
Are you gonna walk that road with me this time
Dont make me be that lonely
Its still no easy thing to hold your head up high
When every time you turn around
Somebody kicks your statue down
I tried my best to hold my ground
I swore Id never let it be this way
But now I broke my sword, dropped my gun
Just like some tragic beat napoleon
Now I gotta walk that road again
Now I gotta walk that lonely
Now I gotta walk that road one time
Now I gotta be that lonely
What with no better way to go
As long as Im still kicking that gong around
I see this time I met my match in you
I know now that you are my waterloo
My waterloo
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Journey Home
I arrive back at Gare Du Nord
Only to discover that I'm already off to a bad start.
Due to the heavy snowfall in the UK,
It's hours till my train will finally depart.
I join the already snaking queue,
And I can feel the panic rise inside,
But there's nothing I can do about it,
So my time, I just have to bide.
I listen to the bi-lingual announcements
Telling us there's at least a four hour delay.
I stand there feeling tense and tearful,
And in my head, I'm worrying away.
During my stay in Paris,
I didn't come across many Brits,
But now, stood here in this queue,
I realise many people here are my fellow citz.
I get talking to two ladies,
Named Deborah and Sue,
Who take me under their wing,
And, the experience, they help me through.
Having finally made it to the departure lounge,
My anxiety has begun to melt away.
By this point, I'm feeling pretty sure
That I'll be on a train which leaves today.
In the lounge, there's a real sense of camaraderie,
With everyone chatting to people they've never met.
They discuss their present predicament -
Well aware that it's far from over yet.
The journey back to London,
Seems to take forever and a day.
I sit in my seat, concentrating on keeping calm,
But it's difficult to keep the worry at bay.
There's an audible sound of relief around me,
As we exit the tunnel back into the UK.
We're thrilled to have been repatriated,
But it's been just the most stressful day.
We arrive back at St Pancras.
I grab my case and dash to the Underground.
I rush across London as fast as I can
To Waterloo, which is where I am bound.
I've already heard that train services
Are finishing early due to the snow.
I arrive, out of breath, at Waterloo.
The last train has left, as far as I know.
But, due to a total stroke of luck,
I discover there's been a delay.
Onboard my train, I cry tears of relief,
Glad that things are finally going my way.
It's at half past ten at night,
That I finally reach home,
And tell the tale to my family
Of my experience I endured alone.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Probably the battle of Waterloo was won on the playing-fields of Eton, but the opening battles of all subsequent wars have been lost there.
quote by George Orwell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Return.
For the ones who would return from the hell,
Some unable to talk, others, tales to tell.
Of heroism and loud glories,
Or of sadder muted stories.
Boys return as men,
Men return never the same.
All return with some sort of pain.
27/06/92
poem by Guy Lipmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The press has met their Waterloo, and it's Obama.
quote by Rush Limbaugh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My destination
My destination is life at the end of the line
My destination is graduation when it’s time
My destination is my diploma I bet I get mine
My destination is to stop with the lay back being cool
My destination is to reach to top of the school
When you reach the top I want you to look over and have in your hand a four leaf clover
As you step on the edge and start to look down turn around fall back make no sound
So the next destination you reach is the ground
poem by Jacob Valentine
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The Poems Return
THE POEMS RETURN
The poems return
And with them
I to myself-
Life begins again
I begin to believe
There is hope-
Somehow in some way
Something good will happen-
The poems return
I return
Thank God
I am alive again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Before You Go Away
before you go away
please return
everything that i
have given you.
return my kisses
my hugs and embraces
return my blanket
the warmth
i have shared with you
when you were
so cold
on that damp
room. Please return
them immediately
before you go away
please account
all the moments
i have given you
and if you are finished
all these undoing
you may go
rest assured
i am whole again
and love another one
much better than
you: ingrate!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton.
quote by Arthur Wellesley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Write by Return
Clerk, corresponding,
“Rooster and Comb”,
Here I sit idle
“Thinking of home”;
I must be grafting—
Living to earn,
More correspondence,
“Write by return.”
Clerk in employ of
“Shoddy and Woods”,
Thinks that we have not
Forwarded goods.
Parcel we sent them—
Missing, I learn,
Says in his postscript:
“Write by return.”
Here is another
Letter from Bland—
“Cheque he expected
Isn’t to hand.”
How we forgot it
Cannot discern,
“Forward remittance,
Write by return.”
Here is another—
O how they come?
Treats of a “Bender”
Planned by a chum.
See on the margin,
Big letters: “Burn
After perusal—
Write by return.”
Mail in from England,
Letters for me—
Dear little sweetheart
Over the sea.
“Quite broken-hearted,
O how I yearn
Only to see you. . . .
Write by return.”
One who will “never
Think that I’m bad”
Writes me a letter
Tearful and sad.
Thinks that I’m starving,
Filled with concern,
Sends me some money—
“Write by return.”
Letter from father,
Sent to his son,
“All is forgiven—
Fat calf for one.”
O that I ever
Thought he was stern—
Money for passage—
Write by return.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Return Sonata
Return the dust that is in my home to the streets at home
So that I can have a dust free home
Return the mice to the streets at home
So that I can have no mice in my home
Return some warmth to my home
So that my home can be warm also
Return peace to my home
So that I can live in peace at home
Return freedom to me
So that I can live free
Return the fresh air to my home
So that I can be able to breathe the fresh air
Return the sound of silence to my home
So that I can have some silence while I sleep
poem by Aldo Kraas
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On Christmas Day
A young gentleman came riding past
On a snow blue winters day
He asked to drink, by our fire,
And I was pleased to let him stay
He drank there quietly for a while,
Then he turned and said to me
Your eyes are green, like summer grass,
Your lips are red like a fresh cut rose,
Your hair is soft like an irish stream
And your voice is filled with sweet beauty
And the last words I heard him say
Were I shall return, for you, my love, on christmas day
The night will come but I wont sleep,
As I watch the stars that lead him,
I cannot place where his is,
But still my heart goes with him,
Im savin all my sunday clothes
For the day the day that Ill be leavin
Father knows, my sister knows,
And my friends, theyre happy for me
And the priest he says, you should thank god,
For the blessing of such beauty,
And the last words I heard him say
Were I shall return for you, my love, on christmas day
I shall return for you, my love, on christmas day.
And the last words I heard him say
Were the last words I ever heard him say
I shall return for you, my love, on christmas day
I swear, I will return on christmas day,
And yes, I shall return on christmas day
I shall return, for you, on christmas day,
My love I will return on christmas day,
I shall return, my love on christmas day
On christmas day...
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Touches A Sad String Of Soft Recall
Return, return! all night my lamp is burning,
All night, like it, my wide eyes watch and burn;
Like it, I fade and pale, when day returning
Bears witness that the absent can return,
Return, return.
Like it, I lessen with a lengthening sadness,
Like it, I burn to waste and waste to burn,
Like it, I spend the golden oil of gladness
To feed the sorrowy signal for return,
Return, return.
Like it, like it, whene'er the east wind sings,
I bend and shake; like it, I quake and yearn,
When Hope's late butterflies, with whispering wings,
Fly in out of the dark, to fall and burn-
Burn in the watchfire of return,
Return, return.
Like it, the very flame whereby I pine
Consumes me to its nature. While I mourn
My soul becomes a better soul than mine,
And from its brightening beacon I discern
My starry love go forth from me, and shine
Across the seas a path for thy return,
Return, return.
Return, return! all night I see it burn,
All night it prays like me, and lifts a twin
Of palmèd praying hands that meet and yearn-
Yearn to the impleaded skies for thy return.
Day, like a golden fetter, locks them in,
And wans the light that withers, tho' it burn
As warmly still for thy return;
Still thro' the splendid load uplifts the thin
Pale, paler, palest patience that can learn
Nought but that votive sign for thy return-
That single suppliant sign for thy return,
Return, return.
Return, return! lest haply, love, or e'er
Thou touch the lamp the light have ceased to burn,
And thou, who thro' the window didst discern
The wonted flame, shalt reach the topmost stair
To find no wide eyes watching there,
No withered welcome waiting thy return!
A passing ghost, a smoke-wreath in the air,
The flameless ashes, and the soulless urn,
Warm with the famished fire that lived to burn-
Burn out its lingering life for thy return,
Its last of lingering life for thy return,
Its last of lingering life to light thy late return,
Return, return.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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