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Red Rover

Why do you come around?
So very much
You know it just brings you down
Its just something you can touch
You dont belong here
I guess you never did
Whisper look up in your ear
You just keep it so well hid
Anyone at all
Could see what was missin
Could see you were dyin
But no one was cryin
And I did hear what you said
Now I can go home
All my days are blue
All my days are bright
Red rover, red rover, red rover
We come, we come, we come, we come
To take you over
Take you over

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song performed by Fleetwood Mac
Added by Lucian Velea
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Red Rover, Red Rover

Red Rover, Red Rover, send Missy on over.
I hear the cries on the playground of my childhood, but many years ago my childhood was over.
Red Rover, Red Rover send age to make me older.
I feel with age that wisdom makes me sober.
I hear the orders of youth recalling.
I'm falling and falling into the abyss and stalling.
As I hear the cries of childhood.
Let it be always understood.
Red Rover, Red Rover send death away forever more.
But alas as a line in a song once asked; What is forever for?
I do not know the answer moreover.
So, Red Rover, Red Rover this poem is now over!

poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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Cuppacumalonga

'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, where go you to-day?'
I go to Cuppacumalomga, fifty miles away;
Over plains where Summer rains have sung a song of glee,
Over hills where laughing rills go seeking for the sea,
I go to Cuppacumalonga, to my brother Bill.
Then come along, ah, come along!
Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga!
Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!

'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, how do you get there?'
For twenty miles I amble on upon my pony mare,
The walk awhile and talk awhile to country men I know,
Then up to ride a mile beside a team that travels slow,
And last to Cuppacumalonga, riding with a will.
Then come along, ah, come along!
Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga!
Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!

'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, what do you do then?'
I camp beneath a kurrajong with three good cattle-men;

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Inchcape Rock

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The Ship was still as she could be;
Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock,
The waves flow’d over the Inchcape Rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not move the Inchcape Bell.

The Abbot of Aberbrothok
Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
And over the waves its warning rung.

When the Rock was hid by the surge’s swell,
The Mariners heard the warning Bell;
And then they knew the perilous Rock,
And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok

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poem by Robert Southey
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One Irish Rover

Tell me the story now
Now that its over
Wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
Tell me you wiser now
Tell me you older
Wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
Bridge:
I can tell by the light in your eye
That youre so far away
Like a ship out on the sea
Without a sail, youve gone astray
Tell me the facts real straight
Dont make me over
Make it come out alright
And wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
For one irish rover
One irish rover

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song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Greenie

A frog, dark green, sat in the gutter
and waited for the frightened flutter
of insects native to these parts.
He heard, that evening, just farts.

He had been raised by his grandmother
together with a younger brother.
His mom had died when she was two
inside the cistern of a loo.

The plumber had installed within
and fastened by a stainless pin
a reservoir that would dispense
blue liquid here to recompense

for odours, stains and other matters
like flying pieces, even splatters.
Yet no one had observed the critter
who spent her days inside the shitter.

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poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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The Irish Rover

On the fourth of july, 1806
We set sail from the sweet cove of cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in new york
'twas a wonderful craft
She was rigged fore and aft
And oh, how the wild wind drove her
She stood several blasts
She had twenty seven masts
And they called her the irish rover
We had one million bags of the best sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stone
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides
We had four million barrels of bones
We had five million hogs
And six million dogs
Seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million bails of old nanny-goats' tails
In the hold of the irish rover
There was awl mickey coote

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song performed by Pogues
Added by Lucian Velea
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Irish Rover

On the Fourth of July, 1806
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the Grand City Hall in New York
'Twas a wonderful craft
She was rigged fore and aft
And oh, how the wild wind drove her
She stood several blasts
She had twenty seven masts
And they called her The Irish Rover
We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stone
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides
We had four million barrels of bones
We had five million hogs
And six million dogs
Seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million bails of old nanny-goats' tails
In the hold of the Irish Rover
There was awl Mickey Coote

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song performed by Pogues
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sir Andrew Barton

The First Part
'When Flora with her fragrant flowers
Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye,
And Neptune with his daintye showers
Came to present the monthe of Maye;
King Henrye rode to take the ayre,
Over the river of Thames past hee;
When eighty merchants of London came,
And downe they knelt upon their knee.

'O yee are welcome, rich merchants,
Good saylors, welcome unto mee.'
They swore by the rood, they were saylors good,
But rich merchants they cold not bee.
'To France nor Flanders dare we pass,
Nor Bordeaux voyage dare we fare;
And all for a rover that lyes on the seas,
Who robbs us of our merchant ware.'

King Henrye frownd, and turned him rounde,

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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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At Baobab Stop Over

Sun rise at Chikhwawa triangle stop over
Near and under the roof of baobab tree
Tossing and sweeping arms' thirsty rover
Laughing, gaping ashort freedom trip

Fused in the king waiting his assent
But he came and tested the rover
The Mr GPS under hungry lion
The Baobab tree calling to silence
It quenched undernearth and reappeared

That was an exchange the rover story
Stopped it turned to work grave haze
And seriously absorbed the change
That's another move, but at baobab stop over
It cared lives below supper shades!

poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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