P Propelled into the war after tora, tora, tora.
E Escalation arrives in Oahu, paradise explodes.
A Amorous and hula skirts set aflame at once.
R Reveal of a takeover plan, pot shots extreme.
L Lucid nightmare lit with oil and screams.
H Hear it! Smell the scent that still reminds us
A About the cost of freedom; the belch of deep
R Roustabouts who have settled into their sleep.
B Bust out! Ring the knell until it comes alive.
O Odor lingers! We must bring it to the surface.
R Round up the freedom fighters of the deep!
They had traveled to the dismal streets of Glasgow
Where these Scottish folk had come in good faith
The roustabouts who worked to save their bawbees
The Stewarts and McLallen clan had sold their Mains
They came to change their destiny
To leave this land of despair
Taking their life savings, their families and small treasures
Buying their passage to leave all they had known
Down to the lights at Glasgow harbor
Where the great ships sailed the mighty seas
Where stood the tallship Glen Lee waiting to leave in the morn
To venture across the great Atlantic taking them
To the teeming shores of America
To breathe the air of chosen promises
Where the sun rises on its golden shore
The light from the harbor burned bright in their spirits
They gathered closely as loyals and friends do
Expecting to see a sign shining like a bright star to lead the way
As morning light lay on the horizon of their dreams
But alas each heart lay broken and silent
For the swift Glen Lee was afire
And sank like the hopes they carried within them
As they huddled on those foresaken shores
Give me
A quiet camp
In a remote national park
Any day
Over a caravan park
Where the snakes
Bake quietly
And roo's abound
Fleeting qlimpse'es
Of things between the gums
And dingos howl
From across the other ridge
With the setting sun
Give me
A quiet camp
Out where
Bushman still roam
They stand tall
On a low hill
And watch
The goings on
Give me
A quiet camp
Where the silence
And cicadas
Are deafening
The stars
Shine brighter
Than any street lamp
Give me
A quiet camp
Where theres
No rubbish lying about
And white toilet paper
Dots the ground
Give me
A quiet camp
Where theres
No people around
And i will show you
The bush
Where animals abound
Give me
A quiet camp
Out where the roustabouts
Made a push
Near where
The dead men lie
And the pioneers
They still whisper
On the wind
Give me
A quiet camp
So i can
Lay my head down
I fondle the brush strokes of a brown afternoon,
inviting me along, to the land of down under.
I will take a small journey, under gunmetal skies,
through country as rough as the crackled veneer.
On the trail of the outback, while the afternoon sighs,
there are three saddled horses, two men, and their packs.
Roustabouts are riding, with the sun at their backs.
A pall of white petals drift over their heads,
from a rift in the cottonwoods, that frame the river’s bed.
I will drink in illusion, as the horses refresh,
as they prance through deep waters,
on that calm, summer's day.
I am thirsty, and eager, to reach out and touch,
and to ride in the outback, beneath silver skies,
on the one extra horse, that lingers nearby...
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Based on the Painting "A Lil' Bit of Aus..."
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