Cartaxo (Portuguese pronunciation: [kɐɾˈtaʃu]) is a municipality in the district of Santarém in continental Portugal. The population in 2011 was 24,462, in an area of 158.17 km². The urbanized centre of Cartaxo had a population of 9,507 in 2001.
In written and oral history, the territory of Cartaxo was an important point in the interior of the country. A Roman road, crossing Alenquer (Lerabriga), connected ancient Olissipo (Lisbon) to Santarém (Scallabis) through the territory of Cartaxo. Yet, before the Romans, other civilizations settled in the region, establishing castros in Vila Nova de São Pedro, Vale do Tejo or in the areas of Muge.
Situated in the plains of the Ribatejo, Cartaxo was a battleground between Muslim and the Christians. Due to its proximity to Santarém, it was one of the centres disputed between Muslim and Christian forces for years, resulting in the destruction of Cartaxo. King Sancho II of Portugal found it necessary to repopulate the area, since it was located in a privileged position with fertile lands. He, therefore, assigned the land of Cartaxinho (today Ribeira do Cartaxo) to Pedro Pacheco, who was responsible for constructing a shelter for the poor, a task that neither Pedro Pacheco nor his descendants would accomplish.
All fear and power
All ready for warning me
Askew with red jetted eye
All as a day in sand (and rain)
And when you're near all me now
And then think never before did it seem so far away
All hostile to me
The nerve is bared the sense is real
There's places and houses fired
Inspires all fire in the inside you
Times are fine find all nine
And nurses find me in again
Treating our matey kiteman
Boiling off his belly
Papering his length all off his swing
He mask his hand and he grin to stay here
Or even to play here
Rather than be kept in on his own
We only know what doesn't show
What do don't ask me why
Oh we're in again and we're all the same
Red as egg laid on the page
Don't mind the unbalanced mind
It's fine and mine and yours too
Share with me and me is clean and
Treating our matey kiteman
Boiling off his belly
Papering his length all off his swing
But I don't really think so
Maybe I don't think I care
So no one else can know
Ah well another day