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The Bleeding

Cast: Patrick Breen, Alexandra Chando, Charlie Hewson, Betsy Aidem, Nina Lisandrello

trailer for The Bleeding, directed by Philip Gelatt, screenplay by (2010)Report problemRelated quotes
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Narrative [ My Perspective ]

Patrick Jonathan Derilus
Mr. Filie
Period 6/7
Poetry

My Perspective

Patrick Jonathan Derilus is a young boy trying to turn his life around by defeating the demons that continue to destroy him….His life is somewhat different from how society sees everything else….
Feeling as if he is a cursed child …Cursed as if he is forever trapped in a cold cell…”Understanding” reality and how things happen is one of the things that attempts to get the best out of him and ironically it is succeeding…
But Patrick tries to look on the bright side of things and persists to becoming the best of the best…but there are spawns in which the devil created that prevents the young warrior from doing so…
“Depression”, “Doubt” and “Self Confidence” are some of the demons capable of easily annihilating Patrick…addressing these entity’s…Patrick is half way through this mile run..
But not aware of what goes on in his Penetrable temple, Destruction carries on to running amuck..
Patrick can hardly make it through the day when these Demons try to pursue him…Blood is spilled, but the low class warrior is still persistently consistent…
The only things that keep him alive are “Hope”, “Faith”, and the little confidence he has left…Inside the doors of the devil, as a New Jack; Patrick was clueless on how and why he reacts to things a certain way…Also to the way he is to this very day…Feeling like he was being controlled by a puppet master, he foolishly is put into one of Satan’s traps..As years went by, Patrick slowly began to picking up things in his mind and how it worked…
He learned on how to adapt and respond to these subliminal messages… but in time, Satan is able to quickly counteract on anything Patrick optimistically attempted to do. Leaving him with loopholes that would destroy Patrick from the inside…”WHY DOES MY MOOD AND PERSONALITY CONTINUE TO FLUCTUATE…? ” Patrick asks himself. So many questions asked but none of them answered… Satan has Patrick right where he wants him. “If I can’t rid of Patrick any other way, I can only destroy him mentally in which Patrick is easily fooled” Satan says.
Once internally defeated, pessimistic venoms leak into the sanctum of Patrick’s temple and slowly it is melting...”WHY ME? ! ” Patrick asks. Having the ability to even think for himself, Patrick wonders if he shall continue to fight off these Demons or become feasted upon…”Words coming from another voice will not be able to help me” Patrick says. Solutions being formed in his mind are to making the evil Entity’s disappear for good by finding an antidote to purifying Patrick’s mind…
But believing they are “antidotes” is too good to be true…Satan has created a loophole for everything in order to rid of Patrick anyway he can… Then realizing Patrick is seemingly hopeless on what to do for himself to Destroy Satan, He comes to the conclusion that Satan cannot destroy what does not exist… “WHEN MY SHACKLES OF DEPRESSION ARE BROKEN, I SHALL FIND TRUE HAPPINESS” Patrick sadly says. But he does not believe he shall rid of himself… He believes he shall continue to fight this everlasting war with Satan until these Demons are extinguished from the inside...Until he is Mentally Strong and is at peace with his mind…Patrick has vowed to attempting to destroy “Depression”, “Doubt” and “Negativity” in order to becoming the Man that he intends to be…Trying to recover from his internal scars.

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Charlie Mack

Artist: dj jazzy jeff and the fresh prince
[fresh prince]
Everywhere we go, downtown or to a show
We have two necessities, charlie mack and our limo
He's feared by suckers yet he's loved by kids
Pay attention and let me tell you who charlie mack
He is our homeboy from around the block
He's regarded through the city as the hip-hop cop
Height about 6'6", weight about 290
Everywhere i go, charlie mack is right behind me
He never laughs, never smiles nor sweats
He doesn't breaks arms or legs, only spines or necks
He once killed a man cause he would not let go of his eggo
Apollo creed is a sucker, charlie mack could beat drago
He could bench about three-hundred pounds
The cops all take a vacation, when charlie's in town
He's the toughest around, so everywhere that i go, he goes
He's charlie mack and he's the first out the limo
[fresh prince]
I guess you're wonderin why he's the first out
The limo, yo, let me give you this bit of info
So you'll know the things that charlie can do
And you'll know every single reason why he's down with the crew
The limo picks up about a half past six
With the radio blastin our latest hit
It's me, jeff, ready rock, omar and j.l.
Charlie mack is up front as we depart the hotel
First we cause chaos throughout the city streets
Then maybe stop at burger king for a bite to eat
And if somebody gets stupid while we're in the place
Charlie cancels his order and bites off their face
He's not a troublemaker, in fact, he's a troublebreaker
And if somebody gets dumb, well it'll only take a
Second or two, after some fools snaps
Law and order is restored by my hero charlie mack
Wheel off into the limo, and head for the jam
Charlie cracks all the knuckles, on both of his hands
And when we pull up to the show, the routine is unrehearsed
It's just natural that we let charlie hop our first
He clears the crowd without sayin a word
Man, that's the loudest silence i've ever heard
A lot of times guys test him, by tryin to bug
He just, leaves ring imprints, all over their mugs
He's a terminator, a hercules of sorts
Man to hell with chess, he likes physical sports
You may not have known before but now you know
The reason why charlie mack is the first out the limo
[fresh prince]
We'd like to apologize to all of our fans
But please don't touch us when we're at our jams

[...] Read more

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The Ballad Of Betsy

Betsy now pulls the cart towards sweet home that day
Her size makes pulling baby carts as mere child's play
She's huge, a Labrador, obtained from Russian friend
Trained by cop, we'll call Tim - that isn't his real name

Tim can slug between the eyes crooks across the street
His temper's short, but long the distance he'd shoot straight
His baby, Betsy pulls in cart as they would stroll
Today could be the day, she waits maternal call

So many pats, did Tim bestow on Betsy's head
As due reward for deeds of bravery she'd made
To Betsy it's worth all to life and what it brought
And with her newborn pups, she's bound for added worth

One fateful day, as Tim was out, the stork came in,
And for Betsy it looks like Fate did show her grin,
But as her seventh pup was out, a wolf came by
It bit the baby that so loud it now did cry

Still in maternity, she sprang to guard duty
To give battle, protect her tuft, succeed ably
She'd killed the wolf, at last, but not without its price
Bloodied and stained, she hardly moves from where she lies

But worse is for the fox that now nary is seen,
Concealed in undergrowth from where it once had been
The stench of death will fill the air in future days
Or else its rotted corpse thereat forever stays

As Tim arrives, she thought a pat would ease her pain
She whined a bit to point out to where she'd lain
Tim saw the baby bleeding red from dangling arm
And felt the matching blood on Betsy's face still warm

To Tim this meant a smoking gun that he has found
As victim and the culprit were all still around
Ten years of Police work taught him to act now fast
He struck at Betsy who just stared feeling aghast

The pat that Betsy yearned now came, but seemed too hard
It split her skull and felt as though there flew a shard
Her pups, too, Tim held nothing back, he game them all
She watched with mournful eyes as last of them did fall

She stared at Tim with eyes where now fresh blood had sprung
As if to say, "If you'd kill me, please spare my young, "
"I've only done the best I can, if not enough,
Then punish me, but please, let live a single pup."

[...] Read more

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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;


Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

[...] Read more

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Alexandra Leaving

Suddenly the night has grown colder.
The God of love preparing to depart.
Alexandra hoisted on his shoulder,
They slip between the sentries of the heart.
Upheld by the simplicities of pleasure,
They gain the light, they formlessly entwine;
And radiant beyond your widest measure
They fall among the voices and the wine.
Its not a trick, your senses all deceiving,
A fitful dream, the morning will exhaust c
Say goodbye to alexandra leaving.
Then say goodbye to alexandra lost.
Even though she sleeps upon your satin;
Even though she wakes you with a kiss.
Do not say the moment was imagined;
Do not stoop to strategies like this.
As someone long prepared for this to happen,
Go firmly to the window. drink it in.
Exquisite music. alexandra laughing.
Your firm commitments tangible again.
And you who had the honor of her evening,
And by the honor had your own restored c
Say goodbye to alexandra leaving;
Alexandra leaving with her lord.
Even though she sleeps upon your satin;
Even though she wakes you with a kiss.
Do not say the moment was imagined;
Do not stoop to strategies like this.
As someone long prepared for the occasion;
In full command of every plan you wrecked c
Do not choose a cowards explanation
That hides behind the cause and the effect.
And you who were bewildered by a meaning;
Whose code was broken, crucifix uncrossed c
Say goodbye to alexandra leaving.
Then say goodbye to alexandra lost.
Say goodbye to alexandra leaving.
Then say goodbye to alexandra lost.

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Said Sadly

James iha: you should know that I love you
And I cant help but fall for you
Oh honey Im just a fool
Now you know
Nina gordon: darling, Ill never be true
You see, for so long I was blue
James iha: Im not the lonely one
Nina gordon: and if I hurt, then you will, too
Oh honey I always lose
Now you know
James iha & nina gordon: lover, when will you?
James iha: Im so afraid that noone cares
James iha & nina gordon: lover, cant find you
James iha: I swear to God dont leave me here
James iha & nina gordon: now you know
James iha & nina gordon: only you know that it cant be
When noone else here really means
James iha: anything to me
James iha & nina gordon: if you hurt inside
If you confide in me again
Nina gordon: since you ran away
James iha: hold me now, tell me how
Nothings lost
James iha & nina gordon: lover, when will you?
Im so afraid that noone cares
Lover, cant find you
And noone knows what brings us here
Lover
James iha: hold me now
Nina gordon: hold me now
James iha: tell me how
James iha & nina gordon: nothings lost

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Dancing With Charlie

Charlie was a loser till that sunny day
No-one saw him leaving as he sailed away
Treated like a sinner, no-one gave a damn
Till charlie threw two sixes
Now hes got them in his hand
Now theyre waiting in line to go dancing with charlie
They wanna be seen dancing with charlie
No-one seems to know how
No-one seems to care
Doesnt really matter just as long as you are there
Party in the moonlight, free drinks at the bar
You can bet whats in your pocket that charlie wont be far
Now theyre waiting in line to go dancing with charlie
They wanna be seen dancing with charlie
Charlie bought a jet plane, charlie rides the sky
Friends appear from nowhere, charlie gets them high
Big d was a gambler with everything to lose
Charlie didnt have anything
So he didnt have to choose
And theyre waiting in line to go dancing with charlie
They wanna be seen dancing with charlie
And theyre standing in line to go dancing with charlie
They wanna be seen dancing with charlie

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William Butler Yeats

Narrative And Dramatic The Wanderings Of Oisin

BOOK I

S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.

Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years,
The swift innumerable spears,
The horsemen with their floating hair,
And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,
Those merry couples dancing in tune,
And the white body that lay by mine;
But the tale, though words be lighter than air.
Must live to be old like the wandering moon.

Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds.
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-motmds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found On the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,

But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.

S. Patrick. You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.

Oisin. 'Why do you wind no horn?' she said
'And every hero droop his head?
The hornless deer is not more sad
That many a peaceful moment had,
More sleek than any granary mouse,
In his own leafy forest house
Among the waving fields of fern:
The hunting of heroes should be glad.'

'O pleasant woman,' answered Finn,
'We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,
And on the heroes lying slain

[...] Read more

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The Great Hunger

I
Clay is the word and clay is the flesh
Where the potato-gatherers like mechanised scarecrows move
Along the side-fall of the hill - Maguire and his men.
If we watch them an hour is there anything we can prove
Of life as it is broken-backed over the Book
Of Death? Here crows gabble over worms and frogs
And the gulls like old newspapers are blown clear of the hedges, luckily.
Is there some light of imagination in these wet clods?
Or why do we stand here shivering?
Which of these men
Loved the light and the queen
Too long virgin? Yesterday was summer. Who was it promised marriage to himself
Before apples were hung from the ceilings for Hallowe'en?
We will wait and watch the tragedy to the last curtain,
Till the last soul passively like a bag of wet clay
Rolls down the side of the hill, diverted by the angles
Where the plough missed or a spade stands, straitening the way.
A dog lying on a torn jacket under a heeled-up cart,
A horse nosing along the posied headland, trailing
A rusty plough. Three heads hanging between wide-apart legs.
October playing a symphony on a slack wire paling.
Maguire watches the drills flattened out
And the flints that lit a candle for him on a June altar
Flameless. The drills slipped by and the days slipped by
And he trembled his head away and ran free from the world's halter,
And thought himself wiser than any man in the townland
When he laughed over pints of porter
Of how he came free from every net spread
In the gaps of experience. He shook a knowing head
And pretended to his soul
That children are tedious in hurrying fields of April
Where men are spanning across wide furrows.
Lost in the passion that never needs a wife
The pricks that pricked were the pointed pins of harrows.
Children scream so loud that the crows could bring
The seed of an acre away with crow-rude jeers.
Patrick Maguire, he called his dog and he flung a stone in the air
And hallooed the birds away that were the birds of the years.
Turn over the weedy clods and tease out the tangled skeins.
What is he looking for there?
He thinks it is a potato, but we know better
Than his mud-gloved fingers probe in this insensitive hair.
'Move forward the basket and balance it steady
In this hollow. Pull down the shafts of that cart, Joe,
And straddle the horse,' Maguire calls.
'The wind's over Brannagan's, now that means rain.
Graip up some withered stalks and see that no potato falls
Over the tail-board going down the ruckety pass -
And that's a job we'll have to do in December,

[...] Read more

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William Butler Yeats

The Wanderings of Oisin: Book I

S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.

Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years,
The swift innumerable spears,
The horsemen with their floating hair,
And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,
Those merry couples dancing in tune,
And the white body that lay by mine;
But the tale, though words be lighter than air.
Must live to be old like the wandering moon.

Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds.
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-motmds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found On the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,

But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.

S. Patrick. You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.

Oisin. 'Why do you wind no horn?' she said
'And every hero droop his head?
The hornless deer is not more sad
That many a peaceful moment had,
More sleek than any granary mouse,
In his own leafy forest house
Among the waving fields of fern:
The hunting of heroes should be glad.'

'O pleasant woman,' answered Finn,
'We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,
And on the heroes lying slain
On Gabhra's raven-covered plain;
But where are your noble kith and kin,

[...] Read more

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On the Range

On Nungar the mists of the morning hung low,
The beetle-browed hills brooded silent and black,
Not yet warmed to life by the sun's loving glow,
As through the tall tussocks rode young Charlie Mac.
What cared he for mists at the dawning of day,
What cared he that over the valley stern “Jack,”
The Monarch of frost, held his pitiless sway? -
A bold mountaineer born and bred was young Mac.
A galloping son of a galloping sire -
Stiffest fence, roughest ground, never took him aback;
With his father's cool judgement, his dash, and his fire,
The pick of Manaro rode young Charlie Mac.
And the pick of the stable the mare he bestrode -
Arab-grey, built to stay, lithe of limb, deep of chest,
She seemed to be happy to bear such a load
As she tossed the soft forelock that curled on her
crest.
They crossed Nungar Creek where its span is but
short
At its head, where together spring two mountain rills,
When a mob of wild horses sprang up with a snort -
"By thunder!" quoth Mac, "there's the Lord of
the Hills.
Decoyed from her paddock, a Murray-bred mare
Had fled to the hills with a warrigal band;
A pretty bay foal had been born to her there,
Whose veins held the very best blood in the land -
"The Lord of the Hills" as the bold mountain men
Whose courage and skill he was wont to defy
Had named him, they yarded him once, but since
then
He held to the saying, "Once bitten, twice shy."

The scrubber, thus suddenly roused from his lair,
Struck straight for the timber with fear in his heart;
As Charlie rose up in his stirrups, the mare
Sprang forward, no need to tell Empress to start.
She laid to the chase just as soon as she felt
Her rider's skill’d touch, light, yet firm, on the rein;
Stride for stride, lengthened wide, for the green
timber belt,
The fastest half-mile ever done on the plain.
They reached the low sallee before he could wheel
The warrigal mob; up they dashed with a stir
Of low branches and undergrowth - Charlie could feel
His mare catch her breath on the side of the spur
That steeply slopes up till it meets the bald cone.
'Twas here on the range that the trouble began,

[...] Read more

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Charlie And Fred

The Hollies
Charlie and Fred
(Allan Clarke/Tony Hicks/Graham Nash)
Track 8 on album 'Butterfly' october 1967
He rides on his horse and cart, Charlie does.
working from six until nine.
Collecting old rags and used bicycles,
old iron of description of any kind.
Here comes Charlie, Charlie the Ragman.
Throw out your old clothes for Charlie and Fred.
Earning a living off things we've discarded.
Earning enough for the board and the bed.
You hear him shout "Rags and old iron."
Everyone knows him that way.
Once a week, they come 'round calling.
How long it's been, I can't say.
chorus
They live all alone in a hovel.
He puts his money away.
Taking enough to just live on,
and at the end of the day
he's saving enough
to put Fred out to graze.
(repeat)
Has anyone seen Charlie lately?
Charlie just ain't been around.
Everyone's seen Fred is grazing,
chewing the grass from the ground.
Children say Charlie is happy
giving balloons to the angels instead.
Where is Charlie, Charlie the Ragman?
Don't throw your clothes out.

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Charlie Parker Loves Me

Silent as a willow tree
This road moves like a, a river to me
Sun goes down on Wisdom Street
Break the glass and throw away the key
Somewhere out where the fates collide (collide)
Cigarettes and candlelight
I sit here in the lone cafe
So stripped away (oh, oh)
So stripped away
Ah, huh
Huhhuh
Oh, ah, oh, ah
Everybody knows
I'm your street corner Romeo
Everybody knows
You're my Juliet in rags
And Charlie Parker loves me
Sit with me forever more
Is the draft too cold when they open door
Seem to me whenever you're drunk
And we'll drift away, drift away (drift away)
Ah, huh
Huhhuh
Oh, ah, oh, ah
Everybody knows (everybody)
I'm your street corner Romeo (oh, yeah)
Everybody knows
You're my Juliet in rags
And Charlie Parker loves me (ooh)
I feel your heart beat underneath my skin
Like a New Orleans night
But the rain can't get in
So red-hot dig the beat up underneath a cool, cool night
And the glass moonlight of spring
Everybody knows (ooh)
I'm your street corner Romeo (oh, yeah)
Everybody knows (know, yeah)
You're my Juliet in rags
Everybody knows (everybody knows)
I'm your street corner Romeo, yes, I am
(Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Everybody knows (yeah)
You're my Juliet in rags
And Charlie Parker loves me (ooh)
Everybody knows
(I'm listenin' to ya, Charlie)
I'm your street corner Romeo
(Bird is fly high tonight)
Everybody knows
Everybody knows

[...] Read more

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I'm Sick Of You

I'm sick of you ( Pop / Williamson )
Goodbye Betsy im goin' away
I'm sick of you and there aint no way
Dont want to know, dont want to see
Dont you ever bother me
Sick of hanging around your pad
Sick of your Mom and sick of your Dad
Yeah and Betsy,
its sad but true,
now im even sick of you.
No way, no way, no way
No way, no way, no way
No way, for our love
No way for our love
Cuz im sick of You.
Good bye Betsy im going away.
Sick of you and i dont wanna stay
Dont want to know, dont want to see
Dont you ever bother me
Sick of hanging around your pad
Sick of your mom and sick of your Dad
Yes and Betsy its sad but true
Now im even sick of you.
No way, no way, no way
No way, no way, no way
No way, for our love,
No way for our love
Cuz im sick of you
Every evening and every day,
Seem to always turn out this way,
To get an end
I better find new love,
then you'll pay,
then youll pay,
aint no way.
Cuz im sick of you.
Goodbye Betsy im going away,
Sick of you and i dont wanna stay
Dont want to know , dont want to see
dont you ever, bother me ....

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Charlie & Fred

(clarke / hicks / nash)
He rides on his horse and cart, charlie does.
Working from six until nine.
Collecting old rags and used bicycles,
Old iron of description of any kind.
Here comes charlie, charlie the ragman.
Throw out your old clothes for charlie and fred.
Earning a living off things weve discarded.
Earning enough for the board and the bed.
You hear him shout rags and old iron.
Everyone knows him that way.
Once a week, they come round calling.
How long its been, I cant say.
Chorus
They live all alone in a hovel.
He puts his money away.
Taking enough to just live on,
And at the end of the day
Hes saving enough
To put fred out to graze.
(repeat)
Has anyone seen charlie lately?
Charlie just aint been around.
Everyones seen fred is grazing,
Chewing the grass from the ground.
Children say charlie is happy
Giving balloons to the angels instead.
Where is charlie, charlie the ragman?
Dont throw your clothes out.

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Luggage Canada

b ean bag stoer
bed liner motorcycle bags
bern aby bag
bed in a bag ty pennington
beetle bags roadstar midnight star
bean bag chairs burbank
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ben hogan golf mystique stand bag
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bean bag shells shotgun

[...] Read more

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Nina Pretty Ballerina

Every day in the morning on her way to the office
You can see as she catches a train
Just a face among a million faces
Just another woman with no name
Not the girl youd remember but shes still something special
If you knew her I am sure youd agree
cause I know shes got a little secret
Friday evening she turns out to be...
Nina, pretty ballerina, now she is the queen of the dancing floor
This is the moment shes waited for
Just like cinderella, just like cinderella
Nina, pretty ballerina, who would ever think she could be this way
This is the part that she likes to play
But she knows the fun would go away
If she would play it every day
So shes back every morning to her work at the office
And another week to live in a dream
And another row of early mornings
In an almost never-ending stream
Doesnt talk very often, kind of shy and uncertain
Everybody seems to think shes a bore
But they wouldnt know her little secret
What her friday night would have in store...
Nina, pretty ballerina, now she is the queen of the dancing floor
This is the moment shes waited for
Just like cinderella, just like cinderella
Nina, pretty ballerina, who would ever think she could be this way
This is the part that she likes to play
She would like to play it every day
Nina, pretty ballerina, now she is the queen of the dancing floor
This is the moment shes waited for
Just like cinderella, just like cinderella
Nina, pretty ballerina, who would ever think she could be this way
This is the part that she likes to play
(fade)

song performed by ABBAReport problemRelated quotes
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Arrival At Santos

Here is a coast; here is a harbor;
here, after a meager diet of horizon, is some scenery:
impractically shaped and--who knows?--self-pitying mountains,
sad and harsh beneath their frivolous greenery,

with a little church on top of one. And warehouses,
some of them painted a feeble pink, or blue,
and some tall, uncertain palms. Oh, tourist,
is this how this country is going to answer you

and your immodest demands for a different world,
and a better life, and complete comprehension
of both at last, and immediately,
after eighteen days of suspension?

Finish your breakfast. The tender is coming,
a strange and ancient craft, flying a strange and brilliant rag.
So that's the flag. I never saw it before.
I somehow never thought of there being a flag,

but of course there was, all along. And coins, I presume,
and paper money; they remain to be seen.
And gingerly now we climb down the ladder backward,
myself and a fellow passenger named Miss Breen,

descending into the midst of twenty-six freighters
waiting to be loaded with green coffee beaus.
Please, boy, do be more careful with that boat hook!
Watch out! Oh! It has caught Miss Breen's

skirt! There! Miss Breen is about seventy,
a retired police lieutenant, six feet tall,
with beautiful bright blue eyes and a kind expression.
Her home, when she is at home, is in Glens Fall

s, New York. There. We are settled.
The customs officials will speak English, we hope,
and leave us our bourbon and cigarettes.
Ports are necessities, like postage stamps, or soap,

but they seldom seem to care what impression they make,
or, like this, only attempt, since it does not matter,
the unassertive colors of soap, or postage stamps--
wasting away like the former, slipping the way the latter

do when we mail the letters we wrote on the boat,
either because the glue here is very inferior
or because of the heat. We leave Santos at once;
we are driving to the interior.

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Mister Charlie

I take a little powder, take a little salt, put it in my shotgun, I go walkin
Jubba jubba, wolly bully, looking high, looking low,
Gonna scare you up and shoot ya, mister charlie told me so.
I wont even take your life, wont even take a limb,
Just unload my shotgun, take a little skin.
Jubba jubba, wolly bully, looking high, looking low,
Gonna scare you up and shoot ya, mister charlie told me so.
Well you take my silver dollar, take those silver dimes,
Fix it up together in some alligator wine.
I can hear the drums, voodoo all night long,
Mister charlie tells me I cant do nothing wrong.
Jubba jubba, wolly bully, looking high, looking low,
Gonna scare you up and shoot ya, mister charlie told me so.
Now mister charlie told me, wont you like to know,
Give you little warning before I let you go.
Jubba jubba, wolly bully, looking high, looking low,
Gonna scare you up and shoot ya, mister charlie told me so.
Gonna scare you up and shoot ya, mister charlie, mister charlie told me so.

song performed by Grateful DeadReport problemRelated quotes
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Mr. Charlie

I take a little powder, take a little salt, put it in my shotgun, I go walkin'
Jubba jubba, wolly bully, looking high, looking low,
Gonna scare you up and shoot ya, Mister Charlie told me so.
I won't even take your life, won't even take a limb,
Just unload my shotgun, take a little skin.
Jubba jubba, wolly bully, looking high, looking low,
Gonna scare you up and shoot ya, Mister Charlie told me so.
Well you take my silver dollar, take those silver dimes,
Fix it up together in some alligator wine.
I can hear the drums, voodoo all night long,
Mister Charlie tells me I can't do nothing wrong.
Jubba jubba, wolly bully, looking high, looking low,
Gonna scare you up and shoot ya, Mister Charlie told me so.
Now Mister Charlie told me, won't you like to know,
Give you little warning before I let you go.
Jubba jubba, wolly bully, looking high, looking low,
Gonna scare you up and shoot ya, Mister Charlie told me so.
Gonna scare you up and shoot ya, Mister Charlie, Mister Charlie told me so.

song performed by Grateful DeadReport problemRelated quotes
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