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The Old Bark Hut

Oh, my name is Bob the Swagman, before you all I stand,
And I've had many ups and downs while travelling through the land.
I once was well-to-do, my boys, but now I am stumped up,
And I'm forced to go on rations in an old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
I'm forced to go on rations in an old bark hut.
Ten pounds of flour, ten pounds of beef, some sugar and some tea,
That's all they give to a hungry man, until the Seventh Day.
If you don't be moighty sparing, you'll go with a hungry gut
For that's one of the great misfortunes in an old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.
For that's one of the great misfortunes in an old bark hut.
The bucket you boil your beef in has to carry water, too,
And they'll say you're getting mighty flash if you should ask for two.
I've a billy, and a pint pot, and a broken-handled cup,
And they all adorn the table in the old bark hut.

In an old bark hut. In an old bark hut.

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poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Unknown Soldier

Wait until the war is over
And were both a little older
The unknown soldier
Breakfast where the news is read
Television children fed
Unborn living, living, dead
Bullet strikes the helmets head
And its all over
For the unknown soldier
Its all over
For the unknown soldier
Hut
Hut
Hut ho hee up
Hut
Hut
Hut ho hee up
Hut
Hut
Hut ho hee up

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song performed by Doors
Added by Lucian Velea
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Keep your windows open and get connected to the world

My job is to let in sunlight
And to keep inside ventilated
In the process dusts airborne
As vehicles move find their way in
And settle on things kept inside

I am on a mud wall and
And overlooking the paddy field
Across the untopped road by the side
Women and men at home
Peep through me if they hear
Something odd from the road

I am a silent spectator to all that
Happen inside or outside this
Small well kept mud floored hut

At times I breathe air laden with
The fragrance of the paddy field in blossom
And the aroma of garlic

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poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Regardin' Terry Hut

Sence I tuk holt o' Gibbses' Churn
And be'n a-handlin' the concern,
I've travelled round the grand old State
Of Indiany, lots, o' late--!
I've canvassed Crawferdsville and sweat
Around the town o' Layfayette;
I've saw a many a County-seat
I ust to think was hard to beat:
At constant dreenage and expense
I've worked Greencastle and Vincennes--
Drapped out o' Putnam into Clay,
Owen, and on down thataway
Plum into Knox, on the back-track
Fer home ag'in-- and glad I'm back--!
I've saw these towns, as I say-- but
They's none 'at beats old Terry Hut!

It's more'n likely you'll insist
I claim this 'cause I'm prejudist,
Bein' born'd here in ole Vygo

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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Man In A Uniform

Oh, she said
(hut!)
She said c man in a uniform
2night thats what I want u 2 be
She said c 3rd time this week u wore that old suit
But I dont give a damn, u see?
Because man in a uniform do funny things 2 me
And I said c its the 3rd time, but I dont mind
Cuz that sister just so damn fine, ah
Man in a uniform (hut!)
Thats what I am
Man in a uniform, uh
Thats what I am
She said c man in a uniform
Sufferin every stroke of my hand
From the dusk until the early morn
U will grant this girls demands (why? )
Cuz she need 2 be drunk with pride
Wait a minute, Im gon tell u why
2 make up, 2 make up

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song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad of the White Horse

DEDICATION

Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?

Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?

In cloud of clay so cast to heaven
What shape shall man discern?
These lords may light the mystery
Of mastery or victory,
And these ride high in history,
But these shall not return.

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poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Opus Null

1
Ich bin der große Derdiedas
das rigorose Regiment
der Ozonstengel prima Qua
der anonyme Einprozent.
Das P. P. Tit und auch die Po
Posaune ohne Mund und Loch
das große Herkulesgeschirr
der linke Fuß vom rechten Koch.

Ich bin der lange Lebenslang
der zwölfte Sinn im Eierstock
der insgesamte Augustin
im lichten Zelluloserock.

2
Er zieht aus seinem schwarzen Sarg
um Sarg um Sarg um Sarg hervor.
Er weint mit seinem Vorderteil
und wickelt sich in Trauerflor.

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poem by Jean Arp
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My hut

My house in a slum is a hut.
To it I return every night.
In it lives as grown stale my mate.
My hut and my mate are a safe bet
To me who am shut to other huts.
To sleep in I return to my hut.
To sleep with, I return to my mate.
I am used to it, though a hut.
19.03.2007.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Build a Hut

Build a hut
Build a hut
Build hut from bottom to top

Dig a hole
Dig a hole
Dig for the strongest bones

Make a roof
Make a roof
Make it a leakless room

Raise the wall
Raise the wall
Raise till all the wind fall

Lock the door
Lock the door
Lock and keep the wolves outdoor

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poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Disloyalty

Pull down the old hut, d’ye say, girls,
That H.R.H. shan’t see
The common place that used to do,
Years by, for your mother and me?

No!—not for a dozen Princes,
Nor lords nor dukes beside,
Will I pull down the poor old hut,
Where your mother lived and died.

Oh, I know that it’s old and crazy,
I know that it’s shabby and mean;
But it’s going to stand as it is, girls,
And I won’t erect a screen

To shut out the rambling shingle hut
From sight of this handsome place.
I should feel as is I had closed
The door in your mother’s face.

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poem by Inez K Hyland
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