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The Fire At Ross's Farm

The squatter saw his pastures wide
Decrease, as one by one
The farmers moving to the west
Selected on his run;
Selectors took the water up
And all the black soil round;
The best grass-land the squatter had
Was spoilt by Ross's Ground.

Now many schemes to shift old Ross
Had racked the squatter's brains,
But Sandy had the stubborn blood
Of Scotland in his veins;
He held the land and fenced it in,
He cleared and ploughed the soil,
And year by year a richer crop
Repaid him for his toil.

Between the homes for many years
The devil left his tracks:

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Bloke from Mullumbimby

You won’t know this fella, till I get on with me prose.
But I’ll tell ya this my friends, I think he’s one of those.

Now before you howl me down and question my social status.
My job here blokes is to tell a story, not just how johnfarls rates us.

They stuck him in the navy, he used to box for sport.
Adds were placed upon his soles you would see these adds quite often, with the gloves my friends he wasn’t good, he should have stuck to golfin.

Milkin cows he tried, roamin from wide and far, his hands will bear the evidence,5 thirty shows the scar.
He has a friend, and, boy is she a cutie, beats me folks how a bloke like him ends with such a beauty.

So that’s a little yarn about this bloke, and not much have you gleans. His place in life aren’t nothing much, that’s as a bloke I means.

But let me tell just how much he makes the AUSSIE bloke, yeah golf’s the go, he didn’t have a clue, played off 87, his goals were for the dough.

Well Bruce and me were average, Ross was good at golf, THE BLOKE had a problem though, his putting, well, was off.

His wallet bulged with ego and one day he laid the claim, you and Bruce and Ross and me will play the noble game.

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poem by John D. Farley
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The Battle Of Harlaw--Evergreen Version

Frae Dunidier as I cam throuch,
Doun by the hill of Banochie,
Allangst the lands of Garioch.
Grit pitie was to heir and se
The noys and dulesum hermonie,
That evir that dreiry day did daw!
Cryand the corynoch on hie,
Alas! alas! for the Harlaw.

I marvlit what the matter meant;
All folks were in a fiery fariy:
I wist nocht wha was fae or freind,
Yet quietly I did me carrie.
But sen the days of auld King Hairy,
Sic slauchter was not hard nor sene,
And thair I had nae tyme to tairy,
For bissiness in Aberdene.

Thus as I walkit on the way,
To Inverury as I went,

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poem by Andrew Lang
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Ferdi Zondagh (06 September 2009)

It’s the night before you were born.
The rain tickled in, bringing a new fresh start with every drop.

It’s a moment i’ve looked forward to my whole life, meeting
my son, Ferdi Ross.

Your mother look’s her radiant self tonight, brimming with excitement
and joy before the birth of her son.

It’s as if the whole world has stopped, for your day.

Your birthday.

There are so many things going through my mind tonight.

Will you be tall,
Will you be strong,
Will you love life,
Will you love me?

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poem by Ross Zondagh
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It Don't Move Me

written by Marv Ross (words) / Marv Ross, Jack Charles & Rindy Ross (music)
The kids are hungry
And they line up and down the street
Just to catch a glimpse
Of the miracle of the week
But I knew there was something wrong
When the king had nothing on
You say that it feels right
You say that it fits tight
You say that it moves light
But it don't move me
You say that it's in time
You say that it feels fine
You say that it moves
But it don't move me-
Excuse me baby,
But I just can't catch the thrill
Of watching some joker
On the big screen make the kill
I'm sorry if it breaks your heart

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song performed by Quarterflash
Added by Lucian Velea
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They tell me that it will be hard to find a man strong enough to love my own strength and independence, and not worry about being Mr. Diana Ross, but I disagree. I know absolutely that that man is somewhere out there.

quote by Diana Ross
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ross Hunter was my assistant on Take Me to Town, He was a young man, an actor before that, and learned a lot on the picture. During shooting, Goldstein left, and Ross was most pleasant. He never interfered.

quote by Douglas Sirk
Added by Lucian Velea
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Unorganised Regimentation

(for Brian Miller Cumbernauld new town artist where I come from)

They stand upright
cast totem poles,
Banners large and stretched,

Standing stone sculptures
rounds and squares,
abstract silhouettes,

dimensions three or four
coloured against concrete grey…,
This unorganised regimentation
This unequivocal expressionism

Copyright © George Ross 2011

poem by Geordie Ross
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This 'n' That

Sometimes, I think about this ‘n’ that,
resurrecting damaged memories,
just to torture my soul.

Sometimes, when lying in bed,
I think about this ‘n’ that,
I doze off to unconsciousness.

Sometimes, this ‘n’ that gets to me,
disemboweling my being,
a cruel unusual punishment.

Sometimes, this ‘n’ that
awakens my demons,
painstakingly I exorcise my fallen angels.

Sometimes, I think about this ‘n’ that,
especially things that don’t matter anymore,
to torture my soul.

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poem by Geordie Ross
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Tea Time Choice

Should I have a biscuit
to help me drink my tea
A digestive or a custard cream
or a ginger nut for me.

I could even have a carmel log
even a chocolate ginger
My tea needs something dipped in it
How about a chocolate finger

Maybe it could be something Nice
Something crunchy I can swallow
I need to compliment my tea
I could try a coconut mallow

Give me that pack of rich teas
Wait! tea and shortbread they go well
I may consider gypsy creams
Im told they taste real swell

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poem by Geordie Ross
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