In the country the darkness of night is friendly and familiar, but in a city, with its blaze of lights, it is unnatural, hostile and menacing.
It is like a monstrous vulture that hovers, biding its time.
W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965)
2006 Discovery 3 TDV6 SE Auto - 2008 23ft Golden Eagle HunterSome people feel the rain - the others just get wet - Bob Dylan
rockylizard wrote:In the country the darkness of night is friendly and familiar, but in a city, with its blaze of lights, it is unnatural, hostile and menacing.It is like a monstrous vulture that hovers, biding its time.W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965)
Yes....
Aussie Paul.
Live Life On Your Terms
DOUG Chief One Feather (Losing feathers with age)
TUG.......2014 Holden LT Colorado Twin Cab Ute with Canopy
DEN....... 2014 "Chief" Arrow CV (with some changes)
Sama Sama here Rocky.....give me the country anytime....
Banjo Paterson described it best, the longing for the bush in one of my favorite verses
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just on spec, addressed as follows, Clancy, of The Overflow.
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
Clancys gone to Queensland droving, and we dont know where he are.
. . . . .
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving down the Cooper where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drovers life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.
And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wondrous glory of the everlasting stars.
I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all
And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.
And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.
And I somehow rather fancy that Id like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal
But I doubt hed suit the office, Clancy, of The Overflow.
Cheers
The Hats
Ron
It is better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. :D
In Memoryof my Dad
Gday...
Me ole mate Johnno sums it up pretty well too ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1EI4v9zmwA0
Cheers - John