I just don't like travelling very much.
quote by Jo Brand
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I Made No Sound
deep in the thoughts I thought
I should be travelling
I should be travelling
travelling for long
but I made no sound
deep in my heart I knew
I should be travelling
I should be travelling
travelling far
but I made no sound
deep in the feet each move there moved
I should be travelling
I should be travelling
travelling forever
but I made no sound
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Trvelling down the memory lane
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all black 'n white.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all lacking light.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not eye filled with tears.
Travelling down the memory lane
brings fresh and soothing air.
Travelling down the memory lane
is college, fun and friend.
Travelling down the memory lane
is full of curves and bends.
Travelling down the memory lane
is a test of time and mind
Travelling down the memory lane
is a joy of it's kind.
Poet: Spandan Bhattacharyya
poem by Spandan Bhattacharyya
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Travelling Man
The lights of the motel shine on to me
This is the land of the brave, sad and the lonely
The last rides
Coming to me I can feel it
A new life
Screaming out and I cant miss it
Travelling man
Travelling man
You get away if you can
My bodys shaking, my bodys tired
Hookers to the left of me, killers on the inside
The last train
Left this station long ago
The headlights
Shine like diamonds in the snow
Like a travelling man
Im a travelling man
Run away if you can
Cruel world keeps turning Im dead on my feet
From the blue icy mountains to white city heat
Factory fire burns like a phoenix tonight
Spread your wings come on darling
And your eyes
Search for me but I cant see them
And your sweet mouth
It speaks to me but I cant hear it
And your - your sweet smile
Two thousand miles for your warm kisses
And your sweet child
I got one last chance and I cant miss it
No no no no
Travelling man
Like a travelling man
Well Im a travelling man
Written by : kerr/burchill/lipson reproduced without permission
song performed by Simple Minds
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Dream-March
'Wasn't it a funny dream!--perfectly bewild'rin'!--
Last night, and night before, and night before that,
Seemed like I saw the march o' regiments o' children,
Marching to the robin's fife and cricket's rat-ta-tat!
Lily-banners overhead, with the dew upon 'em,
On flashed the little army, as with sword and flame;
Like the buzz o' bumble-wings, with the honey on 'em,
Came an eerie, cheery chant, chiming as it came:--
_Where go the children? Travelling! Travelling_!
_Where go the children, travelling ahead_?
_Some go to kindergarten; some go to day-school_;
_Some go to night-school; and some go to bed_!
Smooth roads or rough roads, warm or winter weather,
On go the children, tow-head and brown,
Brave boys and brave girls, rank and file together,
Marching out of Morning-Land, over dale and down:
Some go a-gypsying out in country places--
Out through the orchards, with blossoms on the boughs
Wild, sweet, and pink and white as their own glad faces;
And some go, at evening, calling home the cows.
_Where go the children? Travelling! Travelling_!
_Where go the children, travelling ahead_?
_Some go to foreign wars, and camps by the firelight_--
_Some go to glory so; and some go to bed_!
Some go through grassy lanes leading to the city--
Thinner grow the green trees and thicker grows the dust;
Ever, though, to little people any path is pretty
So it leads to newer lands, as they know it must.
Some go to singing less; some go to list'ning;
Some go to thinking over ever-nobler themes;
Some go anhungered, but ever bravely whistling,
Turning never home again only in their dreams.
_Where go the children? Travelling! Travelling_!
_Where go the children, travelling ahead_?
_Some go to conquer things; some go to try them_;
_Some go to dream them; and some go to bed_!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Wasted Years
Wasted years been brainwashed by lies
Oh yes I have
Oh wasted years
Im talking about wasted years
Oh Im not seeing eye-to-eye
I just cant see the things I should see
Wasted years, baby
I was taking the wrong advice
I know you was, I know you was
And I was too
All alone Im travelling
Travelling through these wasted years
For so long, so long, so long I was
Oh, I must have gained some wisdom
Down through the years I did
Somewhere along the way
Oh yes, I did, oh yes I did
Thets why there cant be no more
No more
No more wasted years today
I got wise, I got wise to myself
Well baby the great sadness
Oh, youve got to let it all go
Oh yeah, oh yeah van
Live in the present
Live in the future john lee, aint that so
Oh, its a sad feeling, oh yeah
Oh, youve gotta find something
To carry you through, carry you through,
Carry you through
Ive learned my lesson
I aint gonna do it no more, yeah
Now van
Now john
Ive learned my lesson
I should have a long time ago
Thats right
All these wasted years, wasted years
I finally woke up and got wise
I aint gonna be, aint gonna be no fool no more
Now van, now van
Aint gonna be nobodys bodys fool no more
Sing the song van, sing it with me
Well all alone, all alone Ive been travelling
Yeah
Travelling all along through these wasted years
Dark, dark wasted years
So dark here
Dark, dark, dark, dark wasted years
I must have gained something
[...] Read more
song performed by Van Morrison
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Saltbush Bill
Now is the law of the Overland that all in the West obey --
A man must cover with travelling sheep a six-mile stage a day;
But this is the law which the drovers make, right easily understood,
They travel their stage where the grass is bad, but they camp where the grass is good;
They camp, and they ravage the squatter's grass till never a blade remains.
Then they drift away as the white clouds drift on the edge of the saltbush plains:
From camp to camp and from run to run they battle it hand to hand
For a blade of grass and the right to pass on the track of the Overland.
For this is the law of the Great Stock Routes, 'tis written in white and black --
The man that goes with a travelling mob must keep to a half-mile track;
And the drovers keep to a half-mile track on the runs where the grass is dead,
But they spread their sheep on a well-grassed run till they go with a two-mile spread.
So the squatters hurry the drovers on from dawn till the fall of night,
And the squatters' dogs and the drovers' dogs get mixed in a deadly fight.
Yet the squatters' men, thought they haunt the mob, are willing the peace to keep,
For the drovers learn how to use their hands when they go with the travelling sheep;
But this is the tale of a Jackaroo that came from a foreign strand,
And the fight that he fought with Saltbush Bill, the King of the Overland.
Now Saltbush Bill was a drover tough as ever the country knew,
He had fought his way on the Great Stock Routes from the sea to the big Barcoo;
He could tell when he came to a friendly run that gave him a chance to spread,
And he knew where the hungry owners were that hurried his sheep ahead;
He was drifting down in the Eighty drought with a mob that could scarcely creep
(When the kangaroos by the thousand starve, it is rough on the travelling sheep),
And he camped one night at the crossing-place on the edge of the Wilga run;
"We must manage a feed for them here," he said, "or half of the mob are done!"
So he spread them out when they left the camp wherever they liked to go,
Till he grew aware of a Jackaroo with a station-hand in tow.
They set to work on the straggling sheep, and with many a stockwhip crack
The forced them in where the grass was dead in the space of the half-mile track;
And William prayed that the hand of Fate might suddenly strike him blue
But he'd get some grass for his starving sheep in the teeth of that Jackaroo.
So he turned and cursed the Jackaroo; he cursed him, alive or dead,
From the soles of his great unwieldly feet to the crown of his ugly head,
With an extra curse on the moke he rode and the cur at his heels that ran,
Till the Jackaroo from his horse got down and went for the drover-man;
With the station-hand for his picker-up, though the sheep ran loose the while,
They battled it out on the well-grassed plain in the regular prize-ring style.
Now, the new chum fought for his honour's sake and the pride of the English race,
But the drover fought for his daily bread with a smile on his bearded face;
So he shifted ground, and he sparred for wind, and he made it a lengthy mill,
And from time to time as his scouts came in they whispered to Saltbush Bill --
"We have spread the sheep with a two-mile spread, and the grass it is something grand;
You must stick to him, Bill, for another round for the pride of the Overland."
The new chum made it a rushing fight, though never a blow got home,
Till the sun rode high in the cloudless sky and glared on the brick-red loam,
Till the sheep drew in to the shelter-trees and settled them down to rest;
Then the drover said he would fight no more, and gave his opponent best.
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Goodbye Little Columbus
The plane is waiting, you must to go
goodbye Im gonna miss you
And all the things you say at a leaving
Ah just turn your head and walk away
Goodbye little columbus
Goodbye, Ill see you one day
Goodbye little columbus
Travelling, just travelling
That certain moment, the final call
And that desperate search for cest la vie
Oh what youd give to hear of a slight delay
Ah just turn your head and walk away
Walk away, just walk away
Goodbye little columbus
Goodbye, Ill see you one day
Goodbye little columbus
Travelling, just travelling
Youve made up your mind
And youve got to go
song performed by Chris Rea
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Traveller
Traveller
Where did you come from?
Where are you going?
What do you have in your pack?
Traveller
Who are you travelling with?
Who is your enemy?
Who is your ally?
Traveller
Are you not tired?
Are you not lonely?
Are you not giving up?
Traveller
Can you tell me
where the dangerous roads are?
Can you tell me
where the safe roads are?
Can you tell me
where the harvests are?
Can you tell me
where the springs are?
Traveller
Up to where
will you be travelling?
Untill when
will you be travelling?
For whom
are you travelling?
Traveller
Who are you? ...
Traveller
Will you take me...
with you?
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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This Fire Burns Tonight
White lines on the highway
Rolling out into the night
Got no bag to slow us down
Were travelling light, travelling light tonight
Feel the wheels roll away
How many miles have I been gone
Listen girl you never knew
The road goes on all night long
*this fire burns tonight
The streets are alight
Out on this town we are bursting
This fire burns tonight
The streets are alight
(and) out on this town we are bursting
Now me and my partners are moving
We run on from town to town
And this here road surface
Is setting them up rolling them down
Theres girls out in the neon
Singing blues every night
And you that theyll never love you
Theyre travelling light, travelling light
(repeat* 3 times)
song performed by Ufo
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In the spirit of Shabistari - 1
When I was young, I dreamed all day of travel
When I was old enough, I spent all day travelling
When I had travelled much, I called myself a traveller
Now I sit here, still and silent on the cushions
while the roses release their perfume,
the peacock cries upon the wall,
and in the courtyard, the fountain plays;
and all my travel has returned to me,
all my travelling is within me,
travel, travelling and traveller are one;
and my mind travels to places I had never imagined
and I sense the world turning on its axis,
travelling around my self.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Time Travel
Time Travel
Walking slowly quickly threw the desert looking
wanting water finding sand
finding sand but wanting water looking quickly
travelling in time
time travelling
making way to way of time
making tao to tao of time
day is gone nite is ici
cold is here to stay love is cold
and gone away
time travelling
travelling in time
finding sand but wanting water quickly looking
wanting water finding sand
Walking slowly quickly threw the desert looking
For ewe love.
Time.
poem by Charles Hice
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Saltbush Bill's Second Flight
The news came down on the Castlereagh, and went to the world at large,
That twenty thousand travelling sheep, with Saltbush Bill in charge,
Were drifting down from a dried-out run to ravage the Castlereagh;
And the squatters swore when they heard the news, and wished they were well away:
For the name and the fame of Saltbush Bill were over the country-side
For the wonderful way that he fed his sheep, and the dodges and tricks he tried.
He would lose his way on a Main Stock Route, and stray to the squatters' grass;
He would come to a run with the boss away, and swear he had leave to pass;
And back of all and behind it all, as well the squatters knew,
If he had to fight, he would fight all day, so long as his sheep got through:
But this is the story of Stingy Smith, the owner of Hard Times Hill,
And the way that he chanced on a fighting man to reckon with Saltbush Bill.
'Twas Stingy Smith on his stockyard sat, and prayed for an early Spring,
When he started at sight of a clean-shaved tramp, who walked with a jaunty swing;
For a clean-shaved tramp with a jaunty walk a-swinging along the track
Is as rare a thing as a feathered frog on the desolate roads out back.
So the tramp he made for the travellers' hut, to ask could he camp the night;
But Stingy Smith had a bright idea, and called to him, "Can you fight?"
"Why, what's the game?" said the clean-shaved tramp, as he looked at him up and down;
"If you want a battle, get off that fence, and I'll kill you for half-a-crown!
But, Boss, you'd better not fight with me -- it wouldn't be fair nor right;
I'm Stiffener Joe, from the Rocks Brigade, and I killed a man in a fight:
I served two years for it, fair and square, and now I'm trampin' back,
To look for a peaceful quiet life away on the outside track."
"Oh, it's not myself, but a drover chap," said Stingy Smith with glee,
"A bullying fellow called Saltbush Bill, and you are the man for me.
He's on the road with his hungry sheep, and he's certain to raise a row,
For he's bullied the whole of the Castlereagh till he's got them under cow --
Just pick a quarrel and raise a fight, and leather him good and hard,
And I'll take good care that his wretched sheep don't wander a half a yard.
It's a five-pound job if you belt him well -- do anything short of kill,
For there isn't a beak on the Castlereagh will fine you for Saltbush Bill."
"I'll take the job," said the fighting man; "and, hot as this cove appears,
He'll stand no chance with a bloke like me, what's lived on the game for years;
For he's maybe learnt in a boxing school, and sparred for a round or so,
But I've fought all hands in a ten-foot ring each night in a travelling show;
They earned a pound if they stayed three rounds, and they tried for it every night.
In a ten-foot ring! Oh, that's the game that teaches a bloke to fight,
For they'd rush and clinch -- it was Dublin Rules, and we drew no colour line;
And they all tried hard for to earn the pound, but they got no pound of mine.
If I saw no chance in the opening round I'd slog at their wind, and wait
Till an opening came -- and it always came -- and I settled 'em, sure as fate;
Left on the ribs and right on the jaw -- and, when the chance comes, make sure!
And it's there a professional bloke like me gets home on an amateur:
For it's my experience every day, and I make no doubt it's yours,
That a third-class pro is an over-match for the best of the amateurs --"
"Oh, take your swag to the travellers' hut," said Smith, "for you waste your breath;
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Timeworm
Oh brother please
We are born to this world again
How can we see
When we're travelling in time
Love is the key
And the key is the name my friend
When will we see that we're
Travelling in time
Know that your soul
Is on fire
Like a million suns
Burn like a star
And be travelling in time
song performed by Kula Shaker
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To Cambridge
and beside me
and travelling
Studying notes
Grasping the fact
The fraught features
Looks again reads
and so beyond
and travelling
After hedges
The so blue sky
Lets planes and clouds
Each one some space
and so onward
and travelling
poem by Michael Oliver
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What About Livingstone
Went to buy me a paper at the local news-stand
And then I heard them laugh and say
Look, theyre gonna go flying way up to the moon now
Hey, whats it good for anyway?
So I said
Fellas, like to ask you a thing if I may
What about livingstone?
What about all those men?
Who have sacrificed their lives to lead the way
Tell me, wasnt it worth the while
Travelling up the nile
Putting themselves on test
Didnt that help the rest?
Wasnt it worth it then?
What about livingstone?
And all of those fellas at the local news-stand
Didnt know what to answer or what to say
So I told them about him, that he was just like
One of those spacemen in his way
And if you laugh at them
Then theres only a thing I can say
What about livingstone?
What about all those men?
Who have sacrificed their lives to lead the way
Tell me, wasnt it worth the while
Travelling up the nile
Putting themselves on test
Didnt that help the rest?
Wasnt it worth it then?
What about livingstone?
(didnt he do it, well didnt he? )
What about all those men?
(didnt he do it, well didnt he? )
Who have sacrificed their lives to lead the way
Tell me, wasnt it worth the while
(didnt he do it, well didnt he? )
Travelling up the nile
(didnt he do it? )
Putting themselves on test
Didnt that help the rest?
(didnt that help them? well, didnt it? )
Wasnt it worth it then?
What about livingstone?
(didnt he do it, well didnt he? )
What about all those men?
(didnt he do it, well didnt he? )
(fade)
song performed by ABBA
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Bitter Glass
The thought of never knowing
Would kill me just the same
The solitary blossom
Reminders of a friend
Gone somewhere
You've got nothing to live for
You're travelling broken
You just can't free yourself
An' all the words we've spoken
Are buried in the sand
The ruptured and the broken
The taste of bitter glass
Gone somewhere
You've got nothing to live for
You're travelling broken
You just can't free yourself
What are you saying
It's just the thought of rejection
It's pulling you deep in
You just can't free yourself
Your voluntary loving
Apologies have passed
I'm coming 'round again
The fragments of a reason
The taste of bitter glass
So what are you saying
You've got nothing to live for
You're travelling broken
You just can't free yourself
What are you saying
It's just the thought of rejection
It's pulling you deeper
You just can't be yourself
song performed by Feeder
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Eternity Road
Hark listen here he comes
Hark listen here he comes
Turning, spinning, catherine wheeling
For ever changing
Theres no beginning
Speeding through a charcoal sky
Observe the truth we cannot lie
Travelling eternity road
What will you find there?
Carrying your heavy load
Searching to find a peace of mind.
Youll see us all around
Youll see us all around
Turning, spinning, catherine wheeling
For ever changing
Theres no beginning
Youre so very far from home
And so very much alone
Travelling eternity road
What will you find there?
Carrying your heavy load
Searching to find a peace of mind.
Travelling eternity road
What will you find there?
Carrying your heavy load
Searching to find a peace of mind.
song performed by Moody Blues
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Brother Loves Travelling Salvation Show
Written by: neil diamond
Hot august night
And the leaves hanging down
And the grass on the ground smelling sweet
Move up the road
To the outside of town
And the sound of that good gospel beat
Sits a ragged tent
Where there aint no trees
And that gospel group
Telling you and me
Its love, love
Brother loves travelling salvation show
Pack up the babies
Grab the old ladies
Everyone goes
Everyone knows
Brother loves show
Room gets suddenly still
And when youd almost bet
You could hear yourself sweat, he walks in
Eyes black as coal
And when he lifts his face
Every ear in the place is on him
Starting soft and slow
Like a small earthquake
And when he lets go
Half the valley shakes
Its love, love
Brother loves travelling salvation show
Pack up the babies
Grab the old ladies
Everyone goes
Everyone knows
Brother loves show
(sermon)
Take my hand in your hand
Walk with me this day
In my heart I know
I will never stray
Halle, halle, halle, halle, halle, halle, halle
Its love, love
Brother loves travelling salvation show
Pack up the babies
Grab the old ladies
Everyone goes
Everyone knows
Brother loves show
Amen
song performed by Neil Diamond
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Girl From The North Country
(bob dylan)
If youre travelling in the north country fair
Where the wind sweeps heavy on the border line
Remember me to the one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
If youre travelling in the snow-flake storm
Where the rivers freeze and the summer ends
See for me that shes wearing a cloak that is warm
To keep her from the howlin wind
See for me if her hair is hanging low
If it curls and it tumbles all the way to her breast
See for me if her hair is hanging low
cos thats the way that I remember her best
Im wondering if she remembers me at all
The many times Ive often strayed
In the stillness of my night
And in the darkness of my day
So if youre travelling in the north country fair
Where the wind sweeps heavy on the border line
Remember me to the one who lives there
For she once was a true love of mine
song performed by Waterboys
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The Idiot Boy
'Tis eight o'clock,--a clear March night,
The moon is up,--the sky is blue,
The owlet, in the moonlight air,
Shouts from nobody knows where;
He lengthens out his lonely shout,
Halloo! halloo! a long halloo!
--Why bustle thus about your door,
What means this bustle, Betty Foy?
Why are you in this mighty fret?
And why on horseback have you set
Him whom you love, your Idiot Boy?
Scarcely a soul is out of bed;
Good Betty, put him down again;
His lips with joy they burr at you;
But, Betty! what has he to do
With stirrup, saddle, or with rein?
But Betty's bent on her intent;
For her good neighbour, Susan Gale,
Old Susan, she who dwells alone,
Is sick, and makes a piteous moan
As if her very life would fail.
There's not a house within a mile,
No hand to help them in distress;
Old Susan lies a-bed in pain,
And sorely puzzled are the twain,
For what she ails they cannot guess.
And Betty's husband's at the wood,
Where by the week he doth abide,
A woodman in the distant vale;
There's none to help poor Susan Gale;
What must be done? what will betide?
And Betty from the lane has fetched
Her Pony, that is mild and good;
Whether he be in joy or pain,
Feeding at will along the lane,
Or bringing faggots from the wood.
And he is all in travelling trim,--
And, by the moonlight, Betty Foy
Has on the well-girt saddle set
(The like was never heard of yet)
Him whom she loves, her Idiot Boy.
And he must post without delay
[...] Read more
poem by William Wordsworth
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