Racial Loyalty News

Announcements & General Jabber => General Jabber => Topic started by: Br.IanVonTurpie on 01 November 2016 at 14:26

Title: Australian Culture - Before Political Correctness Killed It
Post by: Private on 01 November 2016 at 14:26
Australian culture thread(old time culture before political correctness)
This is one of my favourite Henry Lawson poems" The Bastard from the bush". It's about "larrikin gangs" based in "The Rocks" historic region of Sydney.

The Bastard from the Bush

As the night was falling slowly over city, town and bush,
From a house in Hogan’s Alley came the Captain of the Push,
And his whistle loud and piercing woke the echoes of the Rocks,
And a dozen ghouls came slouching round the corners of the docks,
Then the Captain jerked a finger at a stranger on the kerb,
Whom he qualified politely with an adjective and verb.

Then he made the introduction, “Here’s a covey from the bush,
F*** me blind, he wants to join us, be a member of the Push!”
Then the stranger made this answer to the Captain of the Push,
“F*** me dead, I’m Foreskin Fred, the Bastard from the Bush!
I’ve been to every two-up school from Darwin to the ’Loo,
I’ve ridden colts and black gins, what more can a Bastard do?”
“Are you game to smash a window?” asked the Captain of the Push;
“I’d knock a f***ing house down,” said the Bastard from the Bush.
“Would you take a maiden’s baby? asked the Captain of the Push;
“I’d take a baby’s maiden,” said the Bastard from the Bush.

“Would you bash a bloody copper, if you caught the c*** alone,
Would you stoush a swell or chinky, split his garret with a stone,
Would you make your wife a harlot, and swear off work for good?”
Again that bastard’s voice rang out, “My f***ing oath, I would!”
“Do you help the girls pick gum leaves?” asked the Captain of the Push;

“No, I hit ’em with the branches!” said the Bastard from the Bush.
“Would you knock me down and rob me?” asked the Captain of the Push;
“I’d knock you down and f*** you!” said the Bastard from the Bush.
“Would you like a cigarette?” asked the Captain of the Push;
“I’ll take the bloody packet,” said the Bastard from the Bush.

Then the Pu*es all took counsel, saying “F*** me, but he’s game.
Let’s make him our star basher, and he’ll live up to his name.”
So they took him to their hide-out, that Bastard from the Bush,
And they gave him all the privileges belonging to the Push;
But soon they found his little ways were more than they could stand,
And finally the Captain thus addressed his little band:
“Now listen here you buggers, we’ve caught a f***ing tartar;
At every kind of bludgin’ that bastard’s got the starter,
At poker and at two-up he shook our f***ing rules,
He swipes our f***ing liquor and he robs our f***ing girls.”

So down in Hogan’s Alley, all the members of the Push
Laid a dark and dirty ambush for the Bastard from the Bush,
And against the wall of Riley’s pub, the Bastard made a stand,
A nasty grin upon his dial, a bike chain in his hand.
They sprang upon him in a bunch, but one by one they fell,
With crack of bone, unearthly groan and agonizing yell,
Till the sorely battered Captain, spitting teeth and coughing blood,
Held an ear all torn and bleeding in a hand bedaubed with mud.

“You low polluted bastard,” snarled the Captain of the Push,
“Get back to where you come from, that’s somewhere in the bush,
And I hope that vile misfortune may tumble down on you,
May some lousy harlot dose you, till your bollocks turn sky blue.
May the pangs of windy spasms through your aching bowels dart,
May you * your bloody trousers, every time you try to fart,
May you take a swig of gin’s piss, mistaking it for beer,
May the Push you next impose on, toss you out on your bloody ear.

May the itching piles torment you, may corns grow on your feet,
May crabs as big as spiders attack your balls a treat.
Then, when you’re down and out, and a hopeless bloody wreck,
May you slip back through your arsehole, and break your bloody neck.”

Bloody Bloody Darwin/Anon

The bloody town is a bloody cuss
No bloody trams, no bloody bus
And nobody cares for any of us
Oh! Bloody bloody Darwin

The bloody roads are bloody bad
The bloody folks are bloody mad
They even say" you bloody cad"
Oh! Bloody bloody Darwin

All bloody clouds and bloody rain
All bloody stones and no bloody drains
The council has no bloody brains
Oh! Bloody bloody Darwin

And everything is so bloody dear
A bloody bob for a bloody beer
And is it good no bloody fear
Oh bloody bloody Darwin

The bloody flicks are bloody old
The bloody sea is bloody cold
And you can't get in for bloody gold
Oh! Bloody bloody Darwin

The bloody dancers make me smile
The bloody band is bloody vile.
They just cramp your bloody style
Oh! Bloody bloody Darwin

No bloody sports, no bloody games
No bloody fun with bloody Dames
Won't even give their bloody names
oh bloody bloody Darwin

Best bloody place is bloody bed with
A pack of ice upon your head
And then you say " your bloody dead"
Oh! Bloody bloody Darwin

There once was a man from Newcastle he wrapped up a turd in a parcel,
When he put it on the train he had to explain it came from his Grandmother's arsehole.

There once was a man from Old Quorn
He did stunt shows in halls
His only trick was to stand on his dick
And roll off the stage on his balls.

There once was a musical student named Carter
He was a musical farter.
With the strength of a bean he could fart "God save the Queen" and Beethoven's " moonlight Sonata".

My toilet poem

Some come here to sit and think
Others come to * and stink
I came here to write on the walls
And tear the hair off of my balls

And when I sit upon the crapper it always seems I have no paper
Someone comes I musn't linger
Perhaps I'll have to use my finger.

..but as you come to lay a " brown".
Perhaps you will not know if you want to laugh
Or frown?
Title: Re: Australian Culture - Before Political Correctness Killed It
Post by: Private on 02 November 2016 at 10:12
To Be Amused
Henry Lawson, 1906

You ask me to be gay and glad
While lurid clouds of danger loom,
And vain and bad and gambling mad,
Australia races to her doom.
You bid me sing the light and fair,
The dance, the glance on pleasure's wings —
While you have wives who will not bear,
And beer to drown the fear of things.

A war with reason you would wage
To be amused for your short span,
Until your children's heritage
Is claimed for China by Japan.
The football match, the cricket score,
The "scraps", the tote, the mad'ning Cup —
You drunken fools that evermore
"To-morrow morning" sober up!

I see again with haggard eyes,
The thirsty land, the wasted flood;
Unpeopled plains beyond the skies,
And precious streams that run to mud;
The ruined health, the wasted wealth,
In our mad cities by the seas,
The black race suicide by stealth,
The starved and murdered industries!

You bid me make a farce of day,
And make a mockery of death;
While not five thousand miles away
The yellow millions pant for breath!
But heed me now, nor ask me this —
Lest you too late should wake to find
That hopeless patriotism is
The strongest passion in mankind!

You'd think the seer sees, perhaps,
While staring on from days like these,
Politeness in the conquering Japs,
Or mercy in the banned Chinese!
I mind the days when parents stood,
And spake no word, while children ran
From Christian lanes and deemed it good
To stone a helpless Chinaman.

I see the stricken city fall,
The fathers murdered at their doors,
The sack, the massacre of all
Save healthy slaves and paramours —
The wounded hero at the stake,
The pure girl to the leper's* kiss —
God, give us faith, for Christ's own sake
To kill our womankind ere this.

I see the Bushman from Out Back,
From mountain range and rolling downs,
And carts race on each rough bush track
With food and rifles from the towns;
I see my Bushmen fight and die
Amongst the torn blood-spattered trees,
And hear all night the wounded cry
For men! More men and batteries!

I see the brown and yellow rule
The southern lands and southern waves,
White children in the heathen school,
And black and white together slaves;
I see the colour-line so drawn
(I see it plain and speak I must),
That our brown masters of the dawn
Might, aye, have fair girls for their lusts!

With land and life and race at stake —
No matter which race wronged, or how —
Let all and one Australia make
A superhuman effort now.
Clear out the blasting parasites,
The paid-for-one-thing manifold,
And curb the goggled "social-lights"
That "scorch" to nowhere with our gold.

Store guns and ammunition first,
Build forts and warlike factories,
Sink bores and tanks where drought is worst,
Give over time to industries.
The outpost of the white man's race,
Where next his flag shall be unfurled,
Make clean the place! Make strong the place!
Call white men in from all the world!
Title: Re: Australian Culture - Before Political Correctness Killed It
Post by: Private on 02 November 2016 at 19:10

Henry Lawson - A Short Biography

Born in 1867, the son of a Norwegian born miner and a feminist, Lawson, by the standards of the day was a Socialist. Unlike his contemporary, Banjo Patterson, Lawson rejected the romantic notions of life in the outback. i.e. Beautiful sweeping landscapes, the ease of life in the saddle herding cattle and sheep, camp-fire sing-alongs and friendly natives. To Lawson, the outback was disease and danger wrapped in drought and flood.

Being of Norwegian stock and of a Socialist bent, Lawson typically avoided the popular and official stance that Australia was England in the antipodes (England Downunder), and instead took the stance of the Pan-European, White Australian Nationalist. Like other prominent Socialists of his time, Lawson advocated for an independent White Australia, free of the bonds of colonialism; an Australia where the White Man would be free to earn his living without the threat of being forced under the yoke of Asiatic servitude. The very same ideals of Australia's Founding Fathers, that eventually brought about Federation and independence in 1901.

Dying in 1922, Lawson was awarded a State Funeral, which was attended by Prime Minister Billy Hughes and the state Premier of New South Wales, Jack Lang. A bronze statue was later unveiled in 1931 by the Governor of New South Wales. Once featured on the Australian ten dollar note, Lawson was later removed in favour of the politically correct Banjo Patterson and a crude but culturally appropriate caricature of an Abo.

Undeniably the most celebrated Australian poet of his time - like many of his nationalist contemporaries - Lawson is today largely ignored or deliberately misquoted in order to present him as a purveyor of modern politically correct, nationally and ethnically suicidal multi-cultural values. While today's politically correct would prefer that Australia's greatest social justice warrior of Federation be entirely forgotten, there has been a revival of the poetry and stories of Henry Lawson amongst true Australian Nationalists and White Racial Loyalists.

Australian $10 Decimal Currency (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australian_ten-dollar_note): Henry Lawson 1966 to 1988 - Abo 1988 to 1993 - Banjo Patterson 1993 to 2015

Quote from: Private
With Land and Life and Race at stake —
Let all and one Australia make
A superhuman effort now.

The outpost of the White Man's race,
Where next his flag shall be unfurled,
Make clean the place! Make strong the place!
Call White Men in from all the world!
Title: Re: Australian Culture - Before Political Correctness Killed It
Post by: Private on 04 November 2016 at 15:15
Don't Call Me Lad from Bow Tie & Tails /Geoff Goodfellow

Don't call me lad
just don't call me lad
got more hair on my balls dad
than y'v got had
i'm eighteen years old man
& i'll sink or i'll swim
just don't call me lad
my name is James
aor just Jim
& now that i vote dad
my party is green
get away with those flags dad
red & blue are both mean
y' can roll up y'r sleeves dad
& slip on y'r tie
y' can rant & lay guilt trips
but i'll spit in y'r eye
yeah i grow some plants dad
but i'm keeping it cool
four's not a plantation
i'm not such a fool
i just can't find a job dad
year twelve was a waste
two friends have just died dad
too much of a taste
yeah i get the dole dad
though it don't do much good
but don't call me lad
i'd work if i could
now i'm mellowing out man
this home-grown is just wild
so don't call me lad
a dad
i'm no longer a child
so don't call me lad
a dad
i'm no longer a child.
Title: Re: Australian Culture - Before Political Correctness Killed It
Post by: Private on 06 January 2017 at 06:27

Adelaide based oi band. For those who don't know Maslins beach is a nude beach and Modbury is a suburb they get chased to across town for peeving at people at the beach.