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Heartless

Cast: Jim Sturgess, Clémence Poésy, Noel Clarke, Luke Treadaway, Justin Salinger

trailer for Heartless, directed by Philip Ridley, screenplay by Philip Ridley (2009)
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The First Noel

The first noel, the angel did say,
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay;
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep,
On a cold winters night that was so deep.
Noel, noel, noel, noel,
Born is the king of israel.
They looked up and saw a star
Shining in the east, beyond them far;
And to the earth it gave great light,
And so it continued both day and night.
Noel, noel, noel, noel,
Born is the king of israel.
And by the light of that same star,
Three wise men came from country far;
To seek for a king was their intent,
And to follow the star wherever it went.
Noel, noel, noel, noel,
Born is the king of israel.
This star drew night to the northwest,
Oer bethlehem it took its rest;
And there it did both stop and stay,
Right over the place where jesus lay.
Noel, noel, noel, noel,
Born is the king of israel.
Then entered in those wise men three,
Full reverently upon their knee;
And offered there in his presence,
Their gold, and myrrh, and frankincense.
Noel, noel, noel, noel,
Born is the king of israel.

song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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The First Nol

The first Noel, the angel did say,
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay;
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep,
On a cold winter's night that was so deep.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel.
They looked up and saw a star
Shining in the the East, beyond them far;
And to the earth it gave great light,
And so it continued both day and night.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel.
And by the light of that same star,
Three wise men came from country far;
To seek for a King was their intent,
And to follow the star wherever it went.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel.
This star drew night to the northwest,
O'er Bethlehem it took its rest;
And there it did both stop and stay,
Right over the place where Jesus lay.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel.
Then entered in those wise men three,
Full reverently upon their knee;
And offered there in his presence,
Their gold, and myrrh, and frankincense.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel.

song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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Not Catchers In The Rye

Pretension, balancing banality with self-
effacement leads to phoniness,
and although Holden Caulfield is not on the shelf,
his author lives in loneliness,
a great observer of all false sophistication,
replacing the imperative
of thought with style and, with comedic contemplation,
the funny nerve of narrative.
For those of us who are not catchers in the rye,
it seems the author dropped the ball
his literature’s epiphanies by leaving, sine die,
Damascus, far more dead than Paul.

Inspired by an article on J. D. Salinger, who turns 90 on New Year’s Day, by Charles McGrath (“Still Paging Mr. Salinger, ” NYT, December 31,2008) :
On Thursday, J. D. Salinger turns 90. There probably won’t be a party, or if there is we’ll never know. For more than 50 years Mr. Salinger has lived in seclusion in the small town of Cornish, N.H. For a while it used to be a journalistic sport for newspapers and magazines to send reporters up to Cornish in hopes of a sighting, or at least a quotation from a garrulous local, but Mr. Salinger hasn’t been photographed in decades now and the neighbors have all clammed up. He’s been so secretive he makes Thomas Pynchon seem like a gadabout. Mr. Salinger’s disappearing act has succeeded so well, in fact, that it may be hard for readers who aren’t middle-aged to appreciate what a sensation he once caused. With its very first sentence, his novel “The Catcher in the Rye, ” which came out in 1951, introduced a brand-new voice in American writing, and it quickly became a cult book, a rite of passage for the brainy and disaffected. “Nine Stories, ” published two years later, made Mr. Salinger a darling of the critics as well, for the way it dismantled the traditional architecture of the short story and replaced it with one in which a story could turn on a tiny shift of mood or tone….. In general what has dated most in Mr. Salinger’s writing is not the prose — much of the dialogue, in the stories especially and in the second half of “Franny and Zooey, ” still seems brilliant and fresh — but the ideas. Mr. Salinger’s fixation on the difference between “phoniness, ” as Holden Caulfield would put it, and authenticity now has a twilight, ’50s feeling about it. It’s no longer news, and probably never was. This is the theme, though, that comes increasingly to dominate the Glass chronicles: the unsolvable problem of ego and self-consciousness, of how to lead a spiritual life in a vulgar, material society. The very thing that makes the Glasses, and Seymour especially, so appealing to Mr. Salinger — that they’re too sensitive and exceptional for this world — is also what came to make them irritating to so many readers.Another way to pose the Glass problem is: How do you make art for an audience, or a critical establishment, too crass to understand it? This is the issue that caused Seymour to give up, presumably, and one is tempted to say it’s what soured Mr. Salinger on wanting to see anything else in print.Sadly, though, Mr. Salinger’s spiritual side is his least convincing. His gift is less for profundity than for observation, for listening and for comedy. Except perhaps for Mark Twain, no other American writer has registered with such precision the humor — and the pathos — of false sophistication and the vital banality of big-city pretension. For all his reclusiveness, moreover, Mr. Salinger has none of the sage’s self-effacement; his manner is a big and showy one, given to tours-de-force and to large emotional gestures. In spite of his best efforts to silence himself or become a seer, he remains an original and influential stylist — the kind of writer the mature Seymour (but not necessarily the precocious 7-year-old) would probably deplore.

12/31/08

poem by Gershon Hepner
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First Noel (I Like Christmas)

The first noel
The angel did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep
On a cold winter's night
That was so deep
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel
HOO, HOO HOO, HOO, broooeee
I like Christmas, i like Christmas,
I like Christmas, Christmas is fun!
I like Christmas, i like Christmas,
I like Christmas, Christmas is fun!
Do you like Christmas?
They looked up and saw a star
Shining in the east beyond them far
And to the herd
It gave grand light
And so it continued both day and night
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel
HOO, HOO HOO, HOO, so
I like Christmas, i like Christmas,
I like Christmas, Christmas is fun!
I like Christmas, i like Christmas,
I like Christmas, Christmas is fun!
Do you like.. do you like Christmas?
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel
SO, So so so, ohooh ooooh
i love you all.
Merry Christmas and a happy new year!

song performed by Eve 6
Added by Lucian Velea
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Michael: A Pastoral Poem

If from the public way you turn your steps
Up the tumultuous brook of Greenhead Ghyll,
You will suppose that with an upright path
Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent
The pastoral mountains front you, face to face.
But, courage! for around that boisterous brook
The mountains have all opened out themselves,
And made a hidden valley of their own.
No habitation can be seen; but they
Who journey thither find themselves alone
With a few sheep, with rocks and stones, and kites
That overhead are sailing in the sky.
It is in truth an utter solitude;
Nor should I have made mention of this Dell
But for one object which you might pass by,
Might see and notice not. Beside the brook
Appears a straggling heap of unhewn stones!
And to that simple object appertains
A story--unenriched with strange events,
Yet not unfit, I deem, for the fireside,
Or for the summer shade. It was the first
Of those domestic tales that spake to me
Of shepherds, dwellers in the valleys, men
Whom I already loved; not verily
For their own sakes, but for the fields and hills
Where was their occupation and abode.
And hence this Tale, while I was yet a Boy
Careless of books, yet having felt the power
Of Nature, by the gentle agency
Of natural objects, led me on to feel
For passions that were not my own, and think
(At random and imperfectly indeed)
On man, the heart of man, and human life.
Therefore, although it be a history
Homely and rude, I will relate the same
For the delight of a few natural hearts;
And, with yet fonder feeling, for the sake
Of youthful Poets, who among these hills
Will be my second self when I am gone.
UPON the forest-side in Grasmere Vale
There dwelt a Shepherd, Michael was his name;
An old man, stout of heart, and strong of limb.
His bodily frame had been from youth to age
Of an unusual strength: his mind was keen,
Intense, and frugal, apt for all affairs,
And in his shepherd's calling he was prompt
And watchful more than ordinary men.
Hence had he learned the meaning of all winds,
Of blasts of every tone; and, oftentimes,
When others heeded not, He heard the South

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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Big Jilm

Rollin and wheelin, stealin and dealin - big jim
Bol weevil, its a pleasel, its a pleasel, my weasel - big jim
Dreamin and schemin, screamin and bleedin - big jim
Froggy in the meadow under the log - big jim
Rollin and wheelin, stealin and dealin - big jim
Bol weevil, its a pleasel, its a pleasel, my weasel - big jim
Big jim
Whats the biggest thing you ever did done see?
Big jim
I mean, whats the biggest, biggest thing you ever did done see?
Big jim
Rollin and wheelin, stealin and dealin - big jim (big jim! big jim!)
(doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo)
Bol weevil, its a pleasel, its a pleasel, my weasel - big jim (big jim!)
Dreamin and schemin, screamin and bleedin - big jim (big jim! big jim!)
Froggy in the meadow under the log - big jim (big jim!)
Big jim
I mean, biggest thing you ever did done see?
Big jim (big jim)
Biggest thing you ever did done see - big jim (big jim! big jim!)
Doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo (big jim)
Doo doo doo

song performed by Ween
Added by Lucian Velea
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First Noel

(The first Noel the angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields where they lay
In fields where lay they're keeping their sheep
On a cold winter's night that was so deep
Noel Noel Noel Noel born is the King of Israel)
The first Noel the angels did say...
For all to see there was a bright star shining in the east beyond them far
And Judia earth it gave great light and so it continued both day and night
Noel Noel Noel Noel born is the King of Israel
Noel Noel Noel Noel born is the King of Israel

song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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The First Noel

Chorus:
The first noel the angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep
On a cold winters night that was so deep.
Noel, noel, noel, noel
Born is the king of israel
Verse1:
They looked up and saw a star
Shining in the east, beyond them far
And to the earth it gave great light
And so it continued both day and night
Noel, noel, noel, noel
Born is the king of israel
(the following 4 verses are not sung on the boney m version)
And by the light of that same star
Three wise men came from country far;
To seek for a king was their intent,
And to follow the star wherever it went.
(chorus)
This star drew nigh to the northwest,
Oer bethlehem it took it rest,
And there it did both stop and stay
Right over the place where jesus lay.
(chorus)
Then entered in those wise men three
Full reverently upon their knee,
And offered there in his presence
Their gold, and myrrh, and frakincense.
(chorus)
Then let us all with one accord
Sing praises to our heavenly lord;
That hath made heaven and earth of naught,
And with his blood mankind hath bought.
(chorus)
The first noel the angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep
On a cold winters night that was so deep.
Noel, noel, noel, noel
Born is the king of israel

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Justin

DEDICATION

O POOR, sad hearts that struggle on and wait,
Like shipwrecked sailors on a spar at sea,
Through deepening glooms, if haply, soon or late,
Some day-dawn glimmer of what is to be,
Not knowing Christ, nor gladdened by His Love
5
And Life indwelling—to you I dedicate
These humble musings, praying that from above,
On you, being faithful found, the light may shine
Of Life incarnate and of Love divine.
Take, then, these thoughts, in loving memory
10
Of those dead hearts that brought it first to me.

DOWN by the sea, in infinite solitude
And wrapt in darkness, save when gleams of light
Broke from the moon aslant the hurrying clouds
That fled the wind, lay Justin, worn with grief,
And heart-sick with vain searching after God.

15
He heeded not the cold white foam that crept
In silence round his feet, nor the tall sedge
That sighed like lonely forest round his head;
His heart was weary of this weight of being,
Weary of all the mystery of life,
20
Weary of all the littleness of men,
And the dark riddle that he could not solve—
Why men should be, why pain and sin and death,
And where were hid the lineaments of God.
No voice was near. Behind, a lofty cape,
25
Whose iron face was scarred by many a storm,
Loomed threatening in the dark, and cleft the main,
And laid its giant hand upon the deep.
One grizzled oak tree crowned it, and the surf
Broke ever at its base, with ceaseless voice
30
Powerless to mar its silent majesty.
Sweet was the loneliness to Justin, sweet
Perturbèd nature, as in harmony
With the dark thoughts that beat upon his soul.
Nor speechless long he lay. The tide of grief,
35

[...] Read more

poem by Frederick George Scott
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The First Noel

(traditional, arranged by elvis presley)
The first noel the angels did sing
Was to certain poor shepherds
In fields as they lay
In fields fields where they lay keeping their sheep
On a cold winters night that was so deep
Noel, noel, noel, noel
Born is the king of israel
And to the earth it gave great light
And so it continued both day and night
Noel, noel, noel, noel
Born is the king of israel
Noel, noel, noel, noel
Born is the king of israel

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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The First Noel

The first noel
The angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds
In fields where they lay
In fields where they
Lay keeping their sheep
On a cold winters night
That was so deep
Noel, noel, noel, noel
Born is the king of israel
They looked up
And saw a star
Shining in the east
Beyond them far
And to the earth
It gave great light
And so it continued both day and night
Noel, noel, noel, noel
Born is the king of israel
And let us all
With one accord
Sing praises to our heavenly lord
That hath in heaven and earth of nought
And with his blood mankind hath bought
Noel, noel, noel, noel
Born is the king of israel
Born is the king
Born is the king
Born is the king

song performed by Air Supply
Added by Lucian Velea
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The First Noel

(TraditionalBrian Ahern)
The first Noel, the angel did say,
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay;
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep,
On a cold winter's night that was so deep.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel.
They looked up and saw a star
Shining in the the East, beyond them far;
And to the earth it gave great light,
And so it continued both day and night.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel.
This star drew night to the northwest,
O'er Bethlehem it took its rest;
And there it did both stop and stay,
Right over the place where Jesus lay.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel,
Born is the King of Israel.

song performed by Emmylou Harris
Added by Lucian Velea
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James Holladay (Demo)

James Holladay was a working man
He made his living on the land
But living alone was too much to stand
So Jim found a woman to understand
Two years passed living in joy
When out of the blue came a baby boy
Just to keep up the family name
Mister Holladay said we'll call him little James
So you better run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
You better better run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
You better better run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away (Jim you gotta get away)
Little James became a working man
He followed his pa right across the land
At the end of the day when his work was done
He'd sit and watch the setting southern sun
Nineteen years had come and gone
Little Jimmy had grown up big and strong
He didn't know that his time had come
When they handed him a shiny black gun
So his pa said, run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta getaway
So you better run, run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
So you better run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away (Jim you gotta get away)
Run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta getaway
You better better run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
You better better run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
(fade)

song performed by America
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Mylora Elopement

By the winding Wollondilly where the weeping willows weep,
And the shepherd, with his billy, half awake and half asleep,
Folds his fleecy flocks that linger homewards in the setting sun
Lived my hero, Jim the Ringer, "cocky" on Mylora Run.
Jimmy loved the super's daughter, Miss Amelia Jane McGrath.
Long and earnestly he sought her, but he feared her stern papa;
And Amelia loved him truly -- but the course of love, if true,
Never yet ran smooth or duly, as I think it ought to do.

Pondering o'er his predilection, Jimmy watched McGrath, the boss,
Riding past his lone selection, looking for a station 'oss
That was running in the ranges with a mob of outlaws wild.
Mac the time of day exchanges -- off goes Jim to see his child;

Says, "The old man's after Stager, which he'll find is no light job,
And tomorrow I will wager he will try and yard the mob.
Will you come with me tomorrow? I will let the parson know,
And for ever, joy or sorrow, he will join us here below.

"I will bring the nags so speedy, Crazy Jane and Tambourine,
One more kiss -- don't think I'm greedy -- good-bye, lass, before I'm seen --
Just one more -- God bless you, dearie! Don't forget to meet me here,
Life without you is but weary; now, once more, good-bye, my dear."

* * * * *
The daylight shines on figures twain
That ride across Mylora Plain,
Laughing and talking -- Jim and Jane.
"Steady, darling. There's lots of time,
Didn't we slip the old man prime!
I knew he'd tackle that Bowneck mob,
I reckon he'll find it too big a job.
They've beaten us all. I had a try,
But the warrigal devils seem to fly.
That Sambo's a real good but of stuff
No doubt, but not quite good enough.
He'll have to gallop the livelong day,
To cut and come, to race and stay.
I hope he yards 'em, 'twill do him good;
To see us going I don't think would."
A turn in the road and, fair and square,
They meet the old man standing there.
"What's up?" "Why, running away, of course,"
Says Jim, emboldened. The old man turned,
His eye with wild excitement burned.
"I've raced all day through the scorching heat
After old Bowneck: and now I'm beat.
But over that range I think you'll find
The Bowneck mob all run stone-blind.

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Jim

'Now, be the Hokey Fly!' sez Peter Begg.
'Suppose 'e comes 'ome with a wooden leg.
Suppose 'e isn't fit to darnce at all,
Then, ain't we 'asty fixin' up this ball?
A little tournament at Bridge is my
Idear,' sez Peter. 'Be the Hokey Fly!'

Ole Peter Begg is gettin' on in years.
'E owns a reel good farm; an' all 'e fears
Is that some girl will land 'im, by an' by,
An' shar it with 'im - be the Hokey Fly.
That's 'is pet swear-word, an' I dunno wot
'E's meanin', but 'e uses it a lot.

'Darncin'!' growls Begg. We're fixin' up the 'all
With bits uv green stuff for a little ball
To welcome Jim, 'oo's comin' 'ome nex' day.
We're 'angin' flags around to make things gay,
An' shiftin' chairs, an' candle-greasin' floors,
As is our way when blokes comes 'ome from wars.

'A little game uv Bridge,' sez Peter Begg.
'Would be more decent like, an' p'r'aps a keg
Uv somethin' if the 'ero's feelin' dry.
But this 'ere darncin'! Be the Hokey Fly,
These selfish women never thinks at all
About the guest; they only wants the ball.

'Now, cards,' sez Begg, 'amuses ev'ry one.
An' then our soldier guest could 'ave 'is fun
If 'e'd lost both 'is legs. It makes me sick
'Ere! Don't spread that candle-grease too thick
Yeh're wastin' it; an' us men 'as to buy
Enough for nonsense, be the Hokey Fly!'

Begg, 'e ain't never keen on wastin' much.
'Peter,' I sez, 'it's you that needs a crutch.
Why don't yeh get a wife, an' settle down?'
'E looks reel fierce, an' answers, with a frown,
'Do you think I am goin' to be rooked
For 'arf me tucker, jist to get it cooked?'

I lets it go at that, an' does me job;
An' when a little later on I lob
Along the 'omeward track, down by Flood's gate
I meet ole Digger Smith, an' stops to state
Me views about the weather an' the war…
'E tells me Jim gets 'ere nex' day, at four.

An' as we talk, I sees along the road

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Runaway Jim

I had a dog.
His name was Jim
(Runaway, runaway, runaway)
Took all of my old clothes with him.
(Runaway, runaway, runaway)
Whoa-ooooooooooooooo oh Runaway Jim
Whoa-ooooooooooooooo oh Runaway Jim
He was twelve years old when his trip began,
(Runaway, runaway, runaway)
Hauling down the highway in my old sedan.
(Runaway, runaway, runaway.)
Whoa-ooooooooooooooo oh Runaway Jim
Whoa-ooooooooooooooo oh Runaway Jim
Now I wish someone'd tell me where old Jim went,
(Runaway, runaway, runaway)
'Cause he took all the money that I saved for rent.
(Runaway, runaway, runaway)
Whoa-ooooooooooooooo oh Runaway Jim
Whoa-ooooooooooooooo oh Runaway Jim
By the time he came home he was seventeen.
(Runaway, runaway, runaway)
That's a hundred nineteen to you and me.
(Runaway, runaway, runaway)
Whoa-ooooooooooooooo oh Runaway Jim
Whoa-ooooooooooooooo oh Runaway Jim
Now I'm gonna go up to the mountain.
(Runaway, runaway, runaway)
Singing for Jim who's swimming in the fountain.
(Runaway, runaway, runaway)
Whoa-ooooooooooooooo oh Runaway Jim
Whoa-ooooooooooooooo oh Runaway Jim
"By the time he came home..."
before the 1st break, and comes out of it with:
He ran away again on the night he died
(Runaway, runaway, runaway)
'Cause I knew I would miss him from the other side *
(Runaway, runaway, runaway)*
or
"Cause I knew I'd be with him on the other side

song performed by Phish
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jim

Never knew Jim, did you? Our boy Jim?
Bless you, there was the likely lad;
Supple and straight and long of limb,
Clean as a whistle, and just as glad.
Always laughing, wasn't he, dad?
Joy, pure joy to the heart of him,
And, oh, but the soothering ways he had,
Jim, our Jim!

But I see him best as a tiny tot,
A bonny babe, though it's me that speaks;
Laughing there in his little cot,
With his sunny hair and his apple cheeks.
And my! but the blue, blue eyes he'd got,
And just where his wee mouth dimpled dim
Such a fairy mark like a beauty spot --
That was Jim.

Oh, the war, the war! How my eyes were wet!
But he says: "Don't be sorrowing, mother dear;
You never knew me to fail you yet,
And I'll be back in a year, a year."
'Twas at Mons he fell, in the first attack;
For so they said, and their eyes were dim;
But I laughed in their faces: "He'll come back,
Will my Jim."

Now, we'd been wedded for twenty year,
And Jim was the only one we'd had;
So when I whispered in father's ear,
He wouldn't believe me -- would you, dad?
There! I must hurry . . . hear him cry?
My new little baby. . . . See! that's him.
What are we going to call him? Why,
Jim, just Jim.

Jim! For look at him laughing there
In the same old way in his tiny cot,
With his rosy cheeks and his sunny hair,
And look, just look . . . his beauty spot
In the selfsame place. . . . Oh, I can't explain,
And of course you think it's a mother's whim,
But I know, I know it's my boy again,
Same wee Jim.

Just come back as he said he would;
Come with his love and his heart of glee.
Oh, I cried and I cried, but the Lord was good;
From the shadow of Death he set Jim free.
So I'll have him all over again, you see.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
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Tambaroora Jim

He never drew a sword to fight a dozen foes alone,
Nor gave a life to save a life no better than his own.
He lived because he had been born—the hero of my song—
And fought the battle with his fist whene’er he fought a wrong.
Yet there are many men who would do anything for him—
A simple chap as went by name of ‘Tambaroora Jim.’
He used to keep a shanty in the ‘Come-and-find-it Scrub,’
And there were few but knew the name of Tambaroora’s pub.
He wasn’t great in lambing down, as many landlords are,
And never was a man less fit to stand behind a bar—
Off-hand, as most bush natives are, and freckled, tall, and slim,
A careless native of the land was ‘Tambaroora Jim.’

When people said that loafers took the profit from his pub,
He’d ask them how they thought a chap could do without his grub;
He’d say, ‘I’ve gone for days myself without a bite or sup—
‘Oh! I’ve been through the mill and know what ’tis to be hard-up.’
He might have made his fortune, but he wasn’t in the swim,
For no one had a softer heart than ‘Tambaroora Jim.’

One dismal day I tramped across the Come-and-find-it Flats,
With ‘Ballarat Adolphus’ and a mate of ‘Ballarat’s’;
’Twas nearly night and raining fast, and all our things were damp,
We’d no tobacco, and our legs were aching with the cramp;
We couldn’t raise a cent, and so our lamp of hope was dim;
And thus we struck the shanty kept by ‘Tambaroora Jim.’

We dropped our swags beneath a tree, and squatted in despair,
But Jim came out to watch the rain, and saw us sitting there;
He came and muttered, ‘I suppose you haven’t half -a-crown,
‘But come and get some tucker, and a drink to wash it down.’
And so we took our blueys up and went along with him,
And then we knew why bushmen swore by ‘Tambaroora Jim.’

We sat beside his kitchen fire and nursed our tired knees,
And blessed him when we heard the rain go rushing through the trees.
He made us stay, although he knew we couldn’t raise a bob,
And tuckered us until we made some money on a job.
And many times since then we’ve filled our glasses to the brim,
And drunk in many pubs the health of ‘Tambaroora Jim.’

A man need never want a meal while Jim had ‘junk’ to carve,
For ‘Tambaroora’ always said a fellow couldn’t starve.
And this went on until he got a bailiff in his pub,
Through helping chaps as couldn’t raise the money for their grub.
And so, one rainy evening, as the distant range grew dim,
He humped his bluey from the Flats—did ‘Tambaroora Jim.’

I miss the fun in Jim’s old bar—the laughter and the noise,
The jolly hours I used to spend on pay-nights with the boys.

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Gallant Peter Clarke

On Walden's Range at morning time
The sun shone brightly down;
It shone across the winding Page
Near Murrurundi town.

It glittered o'er the Burning Mount,
Where murky shadows fell
Across the path to travellers known
To some, alas, too well.

There stands a simple block of stone,
Erected as a mark
To show the spot where he fought and died,
That gallant Peter Clarke.

And if you will but list awhile,
To you I will relate
What happened there to Peter Clarke
And Jimmy Clarke, his mate.

They camped one night close by the range,
In songs the hours flew past,
And little did poor Peter think
That night would be his last.

At dawn they toiled the steep ascent;
They had scarcely reached the top
When a voice in accents stern and cold
Commanded them to stop.

'Hand up your money, watch and chain,'
The robber sternly cried,
'Who takes my money takes my life!'
The angry Clarke replied.

Then laughed the robber loud in scorn
As he his pistol drew.
Said he 'My hand is firm and strong,
And my aim is ever true.

'And he who will my word gainsay,
Though he be earl or knight,
I swear by all I sacred hold
He ne'er shall see morning light.

'So give up your money now, my lad,
And do not idly rave.
Resist and, by the God above,
This night you'll fill the grave.'

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Oceania
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The First Noel

The first noel, the angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds,
In fields as they lay
In fields where they
Lay keeping their sheep
On a cold winters night, that was so deep
Chorus:
Noel, noel
Noel, noel
Born is the king of israel
When they looked up, and saw a star
Shining in the east, beyond them far
And to the earth, it gave great light
And so it continued both day, and night
Chorus (2x)
(noel, noel)
Chorus (4x)

song performed by Vanessa Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
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