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The Two Samaritans and the Tramp

A TRAMP was trampin’ on the road—
The afternoon was warm an’ muggy—
And by-and-by he chanced to meet
A parsin ridin’ in a buggy.
Said he: “As follerers ov the Loard,
To do good offices we oughter!”
An’ from a water-bag he poured,
An’ guv the tramp, a drink er water.

The parsin he went rattlin’ ’ome
To ware his fam-i-lee was thrivin’,
The tramp went on until he met
A bullick-driver, bullick drivin’—
“It’s bilin’ ’ot,” the driver sed
As soon’s the dirty tramp drawed nearer,
And from a little keg he poured,
And giv the tramp a pint of beer—“ah!”

(P.S.—The “ah” is meant to stand for the tramp a-drinking ov it.)

I ain’t agin the temperance cause,
Nor yet no advocate ov drinkin’—
I only tells the yarn because—
Well, at the time it somehow seemed
Ter kind ov set me thinkin’.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Handles Bermuda

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Luggage Canada

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Adrienne Vittadini

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Healthy Back Bag

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Trash Bag

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Knocked Up

I'm lyin' on the barren ground that's baked and cracked with drought,
And dunno if my legs or back or heart is most wore out;
I've got no spirits left to rise and smooth me achin' brow --
I'm too knocked up to light a fire and bile the billy now.

Oh it's trampin', trampin', tra-a-mpin', in flies an' dust an' heat,
Or it's trampin' trampin' tra-a-a-mpin'
through mud and slush 'n sleet;
It's tramp an' tramp for tucker -- one everlastin' strife,
An' wearin' out yer boots an' heart in the wastin' of yer life.

They whine o' lost an' wasted lives in idleness and crime --
I've wasted mine for twenty years, and grafted all the time
And never drunk the stuff I earned, nor gambled when I shore --
But somehow when yer on the track yer life seems wasted more.

A long dry stretch of thirty miles I've tramped this broilin' day,
All for the off-chance of a job a hundred miles away;
There's twenty hungry beggars wild for any job this year,
An' fifty might be at the shed while I am lyin' here.

The sinews in my legs seem drawn, red-hot -- 'n that's the truth;
I seem to weigh a ton, and ache like one tremendous tooth;
I'm stung between my shoulder-blades -- my blessed back seems broke;
I'm too knocked out to eat a bite -- I'm too knocked up to smoke.

The blessed rain is comin' too -- there's oceans in the sky,
An' I suppose I must get up and rig the blessed fly;
The heat is bad, the water's bad, the flies a crimson curse,
The grub is bad, mosquitoes damned -- but rheumatism's worse.

I wonder why poor blokes like me will stick so fast ter breath,
Though Shakespeare says it is the fear of somethin' after death;
But though Eternity be cursed with God's almighty curse --
What ever that same somethin' is I swear it can't be worse.

For it's trampin', trampin', tra-a-mpin' thro' hell across the plain,
And it's trampin' trampin' tra-a-mpin' thro' slush 'n mud 'n rain --
A livin' worse than any dog -- without a home 'n wife,
A-wearin' out yer heart 'n soul in the wastin' of yer life.

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Army of the Rear

I listened through the music and the sounds of revelry,
And all the hollow noises of that year of Jubilee;
I heard beyond the music and beyond the local cheer,
The steady tramp of thousands that were marching in the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
They seem to shake the air,
Those never-ceasing footsteps of the outcasts in the rear.
I heard defiance ringing from the men of rags and dirt,
I heard wan woman singing that sad “Song of the Shirt”,
And o’er the sounds of menace and moaning low and drear,
I heard the steady tramping of their feet along the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
Vibrating in the air —
They’re swelling fast, those footsteps of the Army of the Rear!

I hate the wrongs I read about, I hate the wrongs I see!
The tramping of that army sounds as music unto me!
A music that is terrible, that frights the anxious ear,
Is beaten from the weary feet that tramp along the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
In dogged, grim despair —
They have a goal, those footsteps of the Army of the Rear!

I looked upon the nobles, with their lineage so old;
I looked upon their mansions, on their acres and their gold,
I saw their women radiant in jewelled robes appear,
And then I joined the army of the outcasts in the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
We’ll show what Want can dare,
My brothers and my sisters of the Army of the Rear!

I looked upon the mass of poor, in filthy alleys pent;
And on rich men’s Edens, that are built on grinding rent;
I looked o’er London’s miles of slums — I saw the horrors there,
And swore to die a soldier of the Army of the Rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
I’ve sworn to do and dare,
I’ve sworn to die a soldier of the Army of the Rear!

“They’re brutes,” so say the wealthy, “and by steel must be dismayed” —
Be brutes among us, nobles, they are brutes that ye have made;
We want what God hath given us, we want our portion here,
And that is why we’re marching — and we’ll march beyond the rear!
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
Awake and have a care,
Ye proud and haughty spurners of the wretches in the rear.

We’ll nurse our wrongs to strengthen us, our hate that it may grow,
For, outcast from society, society’s our foe.
Beware! who grind out human flesh, for human life is dear!

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Roan Stallion

The dog barked; then the woman stood in the doorway, and hearing
iron strike stone down the steep road
Covered her head with a black shawl and entered the light rain;
she stood at the turn of the road.
A nobly formed woman; erect and strong as a new tower; the
features stolid and dark
But sculptured into a strong grace; straight nose with a high bridge,
firm and wide eyes, full chin,
Red lips; she was only a fourth part Indian; a Scottish sailor had
planted her in young native earth,
Spanish and Indian, twenty-one years before. He had named her
California when she was born;
That was her name; and had gone north.
She heard the hooves and
wheels come nearer, up the steep road.
The buckskin mare, leaning against the breastpiece, plodded into
sight round the wet bank.
The pale face of the driver followed; the burnt-out eyes; they had
fortune in them. He sat twisted
On the seat of the old buggy, leading a second horse by a long
halter, a roan, a big one,
That stepped daintily; by the swell of the neck, a stallion. 'What
have you got, Johnny?' 'Maskerel's stallion.
Mine now. I won him last night, I had very good luck.' He was
quite drunk, 'They bring their mares up here now.
I keep this fellow. I got money besides, but I'll not show you.'
'Did you buy something, Johnny,
For our Christine? Christmas comes in two days, Johnny.' 'By
God, forgot,' he answered laughing.
'Don't tell Christine it's Christmas; after while I get her something,
maybe.' But California:
'I shared your luck when you lost: you lost me once, Johnny, remember?
Tom Dell had me two nights
Here in the house: other times we've gone hungry: now that
you've won, Christine will have her Christmas.
We share your luck, Johnny. You give me money, I go down to
Monterey to-morrow,
Buy presents for Christine, come back in the evening. Next day
Christmas.' 'You have wet ride,' he answered
Giggling. 'Here money. Five dollar; ten; twelve dollar. You
buy two bottles of rye whiskey for Johnny.'
A11 right. I go to-morrow.'
He was an outcast Hollander; not
old, but shriveled with bad living.
The child Christine inherited from his race blue eyes, from his
life a wizened forehead; she watched
From the house-door her father lurch out of the buggy and lead
with due respect the stallion
To the new corral, the strong one; leaving the wearily breathing
buckskin mare to his wife to unharness.

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Lament for Ignacio Sánchez Mejías

1. Cogida and death

At five in the afternoon.
It was exactly five in the afternoon.
A boy brought the white sheet
at five in the afternoon.
A frail of lime ready prepared
at five in the afternoon.
The rest was death, and death alone.

The wind carried away the cottonwool
at five in the afternoon.
And the oxide scattered crystal and nickel
at five in the afternoon.
Now the dove and the leopard wrestle
at five in the afternoon.
And a thigh with a desolated horn
at five in the afternoon.
The bass-string struck up
at five in the afternoon.
Arsenic bells and smoke
at five in the afternoon.
Groups of silence in the corners
at five in the afternoon.
And the bull alone with a high heart!
At five in the afternoon.
When the sweat of snow was coming
at five in the afternoon,
when the bull ring was covered with iodine
at five in the afternoon.
Death laid eggs in the wound
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.
At five o'clock in the afternoon.

A coffin on wheels is his bed
at five in the afternoon.
Bones and flutes resound in his ears
at five in the afternoon.
Now the bull was bellowing through his forehead
at five in the afternoon.
The room was iridiscent with agony
at five in the afternoon.
In the distance the gangrene now comes
at five in the afternoon.
Horn of the lily through green groins
at five in the afternoon.
The wounds were burning like suns
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.

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poem by Federico García Lorca
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Dying Daze

Are ya living to live?
Are you living to die
Are you living a tale?
Are you living a lie?
You got one life to life
Are you living it right?
You've got one life to live
Who wants to ride?
Everyday, I do it my way
Live my life my way, but don't care what they say
Dying daze
Dying daze
Dying daze
Dying daze
Ridin till my dyin daze
I'm sick of watchin birds spill
I'm sick of chasin dollar bills
I'm sick of systems tryin to seal my fate (Oh, oh, oh)
I'd rather taste the sunshine with some endo in my ride
I wanna climb waterfalls all day (Oh, oh, oh)
I wanna break the open sky with my psychedelic eye
I wanna ride around the world today (Oh, oh, oh)
And if I never make it home I know my soul is gonna roam
I'm gonna ride until my dying day
Ridin till my dyin daze
Ridin till my dyin daze
Ridin till my dyin daze
Ridin till my dyin daze
I've been all around the world from the east to the west
Japan to LA, I said damn take a breath
Livin life fast put the rest in the past
Till my dyin daze I'll go ridin to the last
And until my dying days I'm living life to the fullest
Staring at the ripcord wondering when I should pull it
Thinkin I wanna stop but no I gotta go faster
Gonna go till I'm broke then throw me out to pasture
Alright Johnny Ric' need to stick to the picture
Knowin damn well how we flip these scriptures
The beats gonna hit ya, ya feel that vibe
It's a dance hall funk with the punk rock rhyme
So get down to pit cause its gonna explode
Circle gonna blow from the first distant go
Whether hittin 5th wide or chargin 12 step
Gaps, that's it when you commit cause there's no turning back.
That's it when you commit cause there's no turning back
That's it when you commit cause there's no turning back
Ridin till my dyin
Ridin till my dyin daze
Dyin daze
Dyin daze

[...] Read more

song performed by Kottonmouth Kings
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Red Retreat

Tramp, tramp, the grim road, the road from Mons to Wipers
(I've 'ammered out this ditty with me bruised and bleedin' feet);
Tramp, tramp, the dim road -- we didn't 'ave no pipers,
And bellies that was 'oller was the drums we 'ad to beat.
Tramp, tramp, the bad road, the bits o' kiddies cryin' there,
The fell birds a-flyin' there, the 'ouses all aflame;
Tramp, tramp, the sad road, the pals I left a-lyin' there,
Red there, and dead there. . . . Oh blimy, it's a shame!

A-singin' "'Oo's Yer Lady Friend?" we started out from 'Arver,
A-singin' till our froats was dry -- we didn't care a 'ang;
The Frenchies 'ow they lined the way, and slung us their palaver,
And all we knowed to arnser was the one word "vang";
They gave us booze and caporal, and cheered for us like crazy,
And all the pretty gels was out to kiss us as we passed;
And 'ow they all went dotty when we 'owled the Marcelaisey!
Oh, Gawd! Them was the 'appy days, the days too good to last.

We started out for God Knows Where, we started out a-roarin';
We 'ollered: "'Ere We Are Again", and 'struth! but we was dry.
The dust was gummin' up our ears, and 'ow the sweat was pourin';
The road was long, the sun was like a brazier in the sky.
We wondered where the 'Uns was -- we wasn't long a-wonderin',
For down a scruff of 'ill-side they rushes like a flood;
Then oh! 'twas music 'eavenly, our batteries a-thunderin',
And arms and legs went soarin' in the fountain of their blood.

For on they came like bee-swarms, a-hochin' and a-singin';
We pumped the bullets into 'em, we couldn't miss a shot.
But though we mowed 'em down like grass, like grass was they a-springin',
And all our 'ands was blistered, for our rifles was so 'ot.
We roared with battle-fury, and we lammed the stuffin' out of 'em,
And then we fixed our bay'nets and we spitted 'em like meat.
You should 'ave 'eard the beggars squeal; you should 'ave seen the rout of 'em,
And 'ow we cussed and wondered when the word came: Retreat!

Retreat! That was the 'ell of it. It fair upset our 'abits,
A-runnin' from them blighters over 'alf the roads of France;
A-scurryin' before 'em like a lot of blurry rabbits,
And knowin' we could smash 'em if we just 'ad 'alf a chance.
Retreat! That was the bitter bit, a-limpin' and a-blunderin';
All day and night a-hoofin' it and sleepin' on our feet;
A-fightin' rear guard actions for a bit o' rest, and wonderin'
If sugar beets or mangels was the 'olesomest to eat.

Ho yus, there isn't many left that started out so cheerily;
There was no bands a-playin' and we 'ad no autmobeels.
Our tummies they was 'oller, and our 'eads was 'angin' wearily,
And if we stopped to light a fag the 'Uns was on our 'eels.
That rotten road! I can't forget the kids and mothers flyin' there,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
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Sobre Horizontes

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Road Block

Yeah!, all right!
Oh, ain't no problem
Carry no heavy load
Lord, no!
Why can't i love you, baby ?
You try to block my road.
You try to block my road. hey!
Oh, better off to hand you
Everything i own, ha ha ha ha!
Strange to see you waiting for me,
You try to block my road, yeah yeah,
Try to block my road
Hey, hey, hey, hey.
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block daddy daddy daddy
Road block
Road block
Alright on the road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Yeah! road block
Road block, alright, alright, alright!
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Whoa road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Yeah!
Try to block my road, daddy daddy daddy
I said now every time i turn around

[...] Read more

song performed by Janis Joplin
Added by Lucian Velea
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Picking From A Grab Bag

Pick one.
Go ahead and pick one.
Just only pick one...
And pull it from the grab bag.

Pick one.
Why don't you pick one.
Just pick up any one,
And...
Pull it from the grab bag.

Do the children learn their ABC's,
Picking from a grab bag.
Is this the best that it can be,
To...
Pick from a grab bag.
What's learn by,
Picking from a grab bag.
What's earned by,
Picking from a grab bag.
Who teaches,
Picking from a grab bag.
Who preaches,
Picking from a grab bag.
And what lessons are really learned?

Who,
Teaches...
Picking from a grab bag.
Who preaches,
Picking from a grab bag.
What's learn by,
Picking from a grab bag.
What's earned by,
Picking from a grab bag.
And...
What lessons are really learned,
Picking from a grab bag.
Picking from a grab bag.
Picking from a grab bag.
Picking from a grab bag.

Who teaches,
Picking from a grab bag.
Who preaches,
Picking from a grab bag.
And...
What lessons are really learned,
Picking from a grab bag.
And...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cool, Cool Water

Coolin so coolin coolin me
Coolin so coolin coolin me
Have some cool clear water
(drink a little drip drip drip drip drink a little)
(water coolin me)
Have some cool clear water
(drink a little drip drip drip drip drink a little)
(water coolin me)
Have some cool clear water
Have some cool clear water
Have some cool clear water
(drink a little drip drip drip drip drink a little)
Have some water
Coolin so coolin coolin me
Coolin so coolin coolin me
Have some cool clear water
(drink a little drip drip drip drip drink a little)
(water coolin me)
Have some cool clear water
Have some cool clear water
(drink a little drip drip drip drip drink a little)
Have some cool clear water
Have some cool clear water
(drink a little drip drip drip drip drink a little)
Have some water
Water water water water water water
Now now-now-now-now
Now now-now-now-now
Now now-now-now-now
Now now-now-now-now
Now now-now-now-now
Now now-now-now-now
Now now-now-now-now
Ah ah ah ah
Wa ah ah wa ah oo oo oo oo ah ah
Coolin so cool coolin me
Coolin so cool coolin me
(drip drip drip drip drink a little drip drip drip drip)
Coolin so cool coolin me
(drip drip drip drip drink a little drip drip drip drip)
Coolin so cool coolin me
(drip drip drip drip drink a little drip drip drip drip)
Coolin so cool coolin me
(drip drip drip drip drink a little drip drip drip drip)
When the heats got you down
Heres what you oughta
Get yourself in that cool cool water
(coolin so cool coolin me)
Cool cool water
Get yourself in that cool cool water

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song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Afternoon Tea

Tea time wont be the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I think about that small cafe
Thats where we used to meet each day
And then we used to sit a while
And drink our afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take sugar with tea (afternoon tea)
You take milk if you please (afternoon tea)
Like you talking to me
Because you ease my mind
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Tea time still aint the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I went to our cafe one day
They said that donna walked away
Youd think at least she might have stayed
To drink her afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
Every day of the week (afternoon tea)
Please come along if you like
Because I like you, girl
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Soul Standing By

Oo, babe.
Oh moon light, cool angel, be on us tonight.
Oh baby, pretty baby, Im wild for you alright.
You want sunlight, you get moonlight.
Splendor in the past.
Kiss of lip, oh baby, conceive a passion,
Oo, born to us tonight, oh.
Hold me tight, babe, treat me right, babe,
So deep and hot tonight, yeah.
Oh baby, pretty baby, Ill make it last all night.
Soul standing by.
Im gonna be there anytime.
Im gonna be there if you cry.
Anytime, any way, any how, right now!
Are you ridin high? well, Im ridin high.
Soul standin by, soul standin by.
Oh, Im ridin high, well, Im ridin high.
Soul standin by, soul standin by,
Soul standin by, yeah Ill never die. guitar!
Yeah baby, she said.
Oo baby, oo love me, come on and love me, yes,
Invade me.
Row your boat, baby, through my water, oo, out
Into my light, oh.
Hold me, sunlight; come on me, moonlight,
So deep and so wide.
Seek you here, baby,
Be-ah-uh baby, in my arms all night.
Soul standing by.
Yes, Ill be there anytime.
Yes, Ill be there if you cry.
Anywhere, any how, anytime, right now!
Are you ridin high? well, Im ridin high.
Soul standin by, soul standin by.
Oh, Im ridin high, well, Im ridin high.
Soul standin by, soul standin by.
Oo, Im ridin high, well, Im ridin high.
Soul standin by, soul standin by.
Yeah, ridin high.
Soul standin by, soul standin by,
Soul standin by. ow! Ill never die.
Soul standin by, oh yeah.
Soul standin by, no tears you cry.
Oo yeah, oh yeah.
Oo oo oo oo baby, oo, love me,
Oo baby, oh inside me.
Come on, come on baby, come on love me,
We splendor in the night.

song performed by Billy Idol
Added by Lucian Velea
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III. The Other Half-Rome

Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!

There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Kavya-2

The afternoon of 2nd April was profusely bountiful; as
the Sun cast its flamboyantly Omnipotent spell; upon
even the most penuriously obsolete granules of soil,

The afternoon of 2nd April was unbelievably rhapsodic;
as vivaciously striped butterflies; melodiously
philandered over the; perennially blooming lotuses,

The afternoon of 2nd April was exotically enchanting;
as gorgeous waterfalls cascaded harmoniously from the
mountains; euphorically titillating dreary earth,

The afternoon of 2nd April was blissfully bestowing;
as fountains of ever pervading beauty; sprang in
ebulliently untamed unison; from the aisles of
orphaned nothingness,

The afternoon of 2nd April was blisteringly patriotic;
as unflinchingly scintillating soldiers fearlessly
marched forward; to impregnably defend their
ruthlessly imprisoned motherland,

The afternoon of 2nd April was ingratiatingly
heavenly; as gigantically enamoring festoons of
leaves; exotically placated all those aimlessly
loitering without the most insipid of roof,

The afternoon of 2nd April was marvelously majestic;
as a blanket of vividly fascinating rainbows;
poignantly enshrouded the fathomless firmament of blue
sky,

The afternoon of 2nd April was stupendously royal; as
an unsurpassable fleet of kingly eagles; indefatigably
encircled the gloriously misty cocoon of satiny
clouds,

The afternoon of 2nd April was impeccably candid; as
even the most disastrously beleaguered of
conscience’s; irrefutably drifted towards the
corridors of unassailable truth,

The afternoon of 2nd April was exhilaratingly
adventurous; as torrentially frosty winds of
timelessness; ecstatically gushed past the
unsurpassably grandiloquent landscapes,

The afternoon of 2nd April was incredulously mystical;
as the endless undulations of the ravishing forests;
incessantly reverberated; with an ocean of melodious

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poem by Nikhil Parekh
Added by Poetry Lover
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