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Father of Invention

Cast: Kevin Spacey, Heather Graham, Camilla Belle, John Stamos, Virginia Madsen, Johnny Knoxville, Michael Rosenbaum, Craig Robinson, Audra Marie, Rhoda Griffis, Christine Quinn

trailer for Father of Invention, directed by Trent Cooper (2010)Report problemRelated quotes
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Twin State

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Christeen Sixteen

She's got me dizzy, she sees me through to the end
She's got me in her hands and there's no use in pretending
Christine sixteen, Christine sixteen
She drives me crazy, I want to give her all I've got
And she's hot every day and night, there is no doubt about it
Christine sixteen, Christine sixteen
"I don't usually say things like this to girls your age, but when I saw you
coming out of the school that day, that day I knew, I knew, I've got to have
you, I've got to have you."
She's' been around, but she's young and clean
I've got to have her, can't live without her, whoo no
Christine sixteen, Christine sixteen
Christine, Christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, yeah
So clean, Christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, Christine, yeah, yeah
Christine, Christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, Christine, yeah, yeah
Christine, Christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Christine, Christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, yeah, yeah
Christine, Christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, yeah, yeah
Christine, Christine, sixteen, sixteen, Christine, yeah, yeah
Christine, Christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, yeah, yeah

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Christine Sixteen

Shes got me dizzy, she sees me through to the end
Shes got me in her hands and theres no use in pretending
Christine sixteen, christine sixteen
She drives me crazy, I want to give her all Ive got
And shes hot every day and night, there is no doubt about it
Christine sixteen, christine sixteen
I dont usually say things like this to girls your age, but when I saw you
Coming out of the school that day, that day I knew, I knew, Ive got to have
You, Ive got to have you.
Shes been around, but shes young and clean
Ive got to have her, cant live without her, whoo no
Christine sixteen, christine sixteen
Christine, christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, yeah
So clean, christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, christine, yeah, yeah
Christine, christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, christine, yeah, yeah
Christine, christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Christine, christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, yeah, yeah
Christine, christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, yeah, yeah
Christine, christine, sixteen, sixteen, christine, yeah, yeah
Christine, christine, sixteen, sixteen
Christine, yeah, yeah, yeah

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Roan Stallion

The dog barked; then the woman stood in the doorway, and hearing
iron strike stone down the steep road
Covered her head with a black shawl and entered the light rain;
she stood at the turn of the road.
A nobly formed woman; erect and strong as a new tower; the
features stolid and dark
But sculptured into a strong grace; straight nose with a high bridge,
firm and wide eyes, full chin,
Red lips; she was only a fourth part Indian; a Scottish sailor had
planted her in young native earth,
Spanish and Indian, twenty-one years before. He had named her
California when she was born;
That was her name; and had gone north.
She heard the hooves and
wheels come nearer, up the steep road.
The buckskin mare, leaning against the breastpiece, plodded into
sight round the wet bank.
The pale face of the driver followed; the burnt-out eyes; they had
fortune in them. He sat twisted
On the seat of the old buggy, leading a second horse by a long
halter, a roan, a big one,
That stepped daintily; by the swell of the neck, a stallion. 'What
have you got, Johnny?' 'Maskerel's stallion.
Mine now. I won him last night, I had very good luck.' He was
quite drunk, 'They bring their mares up here now.
I keep this fellow. I got money besides, but I'll not show you.'
'Did you buy something, Johnny,
For our Christine? Christmas comes in two days, Johnny.' 'By
God, forgot,' he answered laughing.
'Don't tell Christine it's Christmas; after while I get her something,
maybe.' But California:
'I shared your luck when you lost: you lost me once, Johnny, remember?
Tom Dell had me two nights
Here in the house: other times we've gone hungry: now that
you've won, Christine will have her Christmas.
We share your luck, Johnny. You give me money, I go down to
Monterey to-morrow,
Buy presents for Christine, come back in the evening. Next day
Christmas.' 'You have wet ride,' he answered
Giggling. 'Here money. Five dollar; ten; twelve dollar. You
buy two bottles of rye whiskey for Johnny.'
A11 right. I go to-morrow.'
He was an outcast Hollander; not
old, but shriveled with bad living.
The child Christine inherited from his race blue eyes, from his
life a wizened forehead; she watched
From the house-door her father lurch out of the buggy and lead
with due respect the stallion
To the new corral, the strong one; leaving the wearily breathing
buckskin mare to his wife to unharness.

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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,

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The Idiot Boy

'Tis eight o'clock,--a clear March night,
The moon is up,--the sky is blue,
The owlet, in the moonlight air,
Shouts from nobody knows where;
He lengthens out his lonely shout,
Halloo! halloo! a long halloo!

--Why bustle thus about your door,
What means this bustle, Betty Foy?
Why are you in this mighty fret?
And why on horseback have you set
Him whom you love, your Idiot Boy?

Scarcely a soul is out of bed;
Good Betty, put him down again;
His lips with joy they burr at you;
But, Betty! what has he to do
With stirrup, saddle, or with rein?

But Betty's bent on her intent;
For her good neighbour, Susan Gale,
Old Susan, she who dwells alone,
Is sick, and makes a piteous moan
As if her very life would fail.

There's not a house within a mile,
No hand to help them in distress;
Old Susan lies a-bed in pain,
And sorely puzzled are the twain,
For what she ails they cannot guess.

And Betty's husband's at the wood,
Where by the week he doth abide,
A woodman in the distant vale;
There's none to help poor Susan Gale;
What must be done? what will betide?

And Betty from the lane has fetched
Her Pony, that is mild and good;
Whether he be in joy or pain,
Feeding at will along the lane,
Or bringing faggots from the wood.

And he is all in travelling trim,--
And, by the moonlight, Betty Foy
Has on the well-girt saddle set
(The like was never heard of yet)
Him whom she loves, her Idiot Boy.

And he must post without delay

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Amy Lowell

The Great Adventure Of Max Breuck

1

A yellow band of light upon the street
Pours from an open door, and makes a wide
Pathway of bright gold across a sheet
Of calm and liquid moonshine. From inside
Come shouts and streams of laughter, and a snatch
Of song, soon drowned and lost again in mirth,
The clip of tankards on a table top,
And stir of booted heels. Against the patch
Of candle-light a shadow falls, its girth
Proclaims the host himself, and master of his shop.


2

This is the tavern of one Hilverdink,
Jan Hilverdink, whose wines are much esteemed.
Within his cellar men can have to drink
The rarest cordials old monks ever schemed
To coax from pulpy grapes, and with nice art
Improve and spice their virgin juiciness.
Here froths the amber beer of many a brew,
Crowning each pewter tankard with as smart
A cap as ever in his wantonness
Winter set glittering on top of an old yew.


3

Tall candles stand upon the table, where
Are twisted glasses, ruby-sparked with wine,
Clarets and ports. Those topaz bumpers were
Drained from slim, long-necked bottles of the Rhine.
The centre of the board is piled with pipes,
Slender and clean, the still unbaptized clay
Awaits its burning fate. Behind, the vault
Stretches from dim to dark, a groping way
Bordered by casks and puncheons, whose brass stripes
And bands gleam dully still, beyond the gay tumult.


4

'For good old Master Hilverdink, a toast!'
Clamoured a youth with tassels on his boots.
'Bring out your oldest brandy for a boast,
From that small barrel in the very roots
Of your deep cellar, man. Why here is Max!
Ho! Welcome, Max, you're scarcely here in time.

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Johnny Dont Do It

Johnny dont do it
Johnny dont do it
Johnny dont do it
Johnny dont do it
Johnny was an angel
An angel dressed in black
He used to hang around the guys
Down at the local track
He tried so hard to join them
But they always turned him back
Johnny dont do it
He was an angel
Johnny dont do it
Such an angel
He was only 17
Just got out of school
He stole a bike from joes garage
To prove that he was cool
He didnt know that the brakes were worn
And fate can be so cruel
Johnny dont do it
He was an angel
Johnny dont do it
Such an angel
Johnny dont do it
Johnny dont do it
Johnny dont do it
Johnny dont do it
Well johnny went a riding
With his girlfriend on the back seat
Looking for some action
And they found it down a back street
Suddenly a truck pulled out
He tried to step on the brake
Johnny dont do it (here is a news flash)
Johnny dont do it (today, johnny kowalski, also known as johnny
Angel)
Johnny dont do it (and his young fiance francine, were tragically
Killed)
Johnny dont do it (in a cycle accident)
Dont do it, dont do it (any witnesses please contact)
Dont do it, dont do it (the police at precinct 29)
Now johnnys with the angels
The angels in the sky
I wonder if he thinks of us
As he goes riding by
If only had listened
Oh the number of times we tried
To tell him
Johnny dont do it

[...] Read more

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Goodbye Marie

I woke up this mornin'
All cotton mouthed from drinkin'
Wonderin' how I'd make it through the day-ay
Wild eyed and crazy
All burned out from thinkin'
Wonderin' how the hell I's gonna say
Goodbye Marie, oh goodbye Marie-ie
Out the window there's a lonesome highway callin' me
It was fun Marie, but I got to ru-un Marie
If I can not keep your love
At least I'll have your memory
Goodbye Marie
Wakin' up beside you
On a Tijuana mornin'
With that ocean breeze to keep us cool
Three weeks of lovin'
Twenty-one nights of heaven
I stayed just long enough to be your fool
Oh goodbye Marie, oh goodbye Marie-ie
Out the window there's a lonesome highway callin' me
It was fun Marie, but I got to ru-un Marie
If I can not keep your love
At least I'll have your memory
Goodbye Marie
Por favor, pour me
One more tequila
I need all the courage I can fi-ind
This time tomorrow
I'll be back in Houston
Thinkin' about the girl I left behi-ind
So goodbye Marie, oh good Marie-ie
Out the window there's a lonesome highway callin' me
It was fun Marie and I got to ru-un Marie
If I can not keep your love
At least I'll have your memory
Goodbye Marie
Goodbye Marie, oh good Marie
Out the window there's a lonesome highway callin' me
It was fun Marie, but I got to ru-un Marie
If I can not keep your love
At least I'll have your memory
Goodbye Marie [fade]

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Robin Hood and the Monk

In somer, when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and long,
Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song,

To se the dere draw to the dale,
And leve the hilles hee,
And shadow hem in the leves grene,
Under the grene wode tre.

Hit befel on Whitson
Erly in a May mornyng,
The son up feyre can shyne,
And the briddis mery can syng.

'This is a mery mornyng,' seid Litull John,
'Be Hym that dyed on tre;
A more mery man then I am one
Lyves not in Cristianté.

'Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,'
Litull John can sey,
'And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme
In a mornyng of May.'

'Ye, on thyng greves me,' seid Robyn,
'And does my hert mych woo:
That I may not no solem day
To mas nor matyns goo.

'Hit is a fourtnet and more,' seid he,
'Syn I my Savyour see;
To day wil I to Notyngham,' seid Robyn,
'With the myght of mylde Marye.'

Than spake Moche, the mylner sun,
Ever more wel hym betyde!
'Take twelve of thi wyght yemen,
Well weppynd, be thi side.
Such on wolde thi selfe slon,
That twelve dar not abyde.'

'Of all my mery men,' seid Robyn,
'Be my feith I wil non have,
But Litull John shall beyre my bow,
Til that me list to drawe.'

'Thou shall beyre thin own,' seid Litull Jon,
'Maister, and I wyl beyre myne,
And we well shete a peny,' seid Litull Jon,

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Johnny Cant Read

Johnny cant read
Football, baseball, basket ball games
Drinkin bear, kickin ass and takin down names
With the top down, get-a-round, shootin the line
Summer is here and johnnys feelin fine
But johnny cant read
Summer is over and hes gone to seed
Johnny cant read
He never learned nothin that hell ever need
Well, johnny can dance and johnny can love
Johnny can push and johnny can shove
Johnny can hang out; johnny can talk tough
Johnny can get down and johnny can throw up
But johnny cant read
Summer is over and hes gone to seed
(you know that), johnny cant read
He never learned nothin that hell ever need
Well, is it teachers fault? oh no!
Is it mommys fault? oh no!
Is it societys fault? oh no!
Well is it johnnys fault? ohhhhh nooooo!
Couple years later, johnnys on the run
Johnny got confused and he bought himself a gun
Well, he went and did something that he shouldnt
Oughta done
F.b.i. on his tail
Use a gun-go to jail
But johnny cant read
Summer is over and hes gone to seed
(you know that), johnny cant read
He never learned nothin that hell ever need
Well is is teachers fault? oh no
Is it mommies fault? oh no
Is it the presidents fault? oh no
Well is it johnnys fault? ohhhhh nooooo!
Johnny can dance and johnny can love
Johnny can push and johnny can shove
Johnny can pinball; johnny can talk tough
Johnny can get down and johnny can throw up
Well, recess is over
Recess is over!
Sitcoms, t.&a.
Johnnys mind is blown away
Cop shows, horror flicks
Johnnys brain is full of bricks
Rock show, video
Boob tube, rubiks cube
Game fools, sunday school
Gain fans(? ), gobble gangs(? )
Wonka wonka wonka

[...] Read more

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marie Devereaux

There once was a girl named Marie Devereaux
Who was born in a small village near Bordeaux
Marie’s Papa was master-maker of fine wine
He made nectar from “The fruit of the vine”

Marie dreamed of one day going to Paris
To dance the “cancan” in some fine cabaret
She’d take her best friend Margeaux with her
Altho Papa longed for Marie to learn ballet

At only 16 Marie looked more like twenty
A dark haired beauty with beautiful legs
She ran across town to fetch Margeaux
Nearly tripped on one of Papa’s wine kegs

Margeaux bowed out at the last minute
“I can’t leave my widowed Mom Alone
I’m the oldest of 9 children Marie
They’d starve if I were to leave home”

Marie ran home, packed and set out
Before “cold feet” changed her mind
Behind Marie someone called out
“Don’t leave Marie” Papa whined

Marie stepped off the train at Lyon station
Overwhelmed by the crowd and loud noise
Marie held her worn suitcase close
When approached by 3 tough looking boys

“Please tell me how to get to Les Folies Bergere”
Marie inquired with a half-hearted smile
One of the boys answered “Too far to walk”
“Go by taxi, because it’s more than 3 miles”

Marie hailed a cab and said “Les Folies Bergere”
The cabbie smiled n’ thought “Another dreamer”
He’d taxied many a Dewey-eyed girl there before
He didn’t care, as it was not his to dissuade her

The cab pulled up to Les Folies Bergere
Marie paid cabbie the fare
But to her despair…
A sign on the door read “Closed for repair”

In but a moment Marie’s dream was shattered
With eyes full of tears she started to cry
A dancing career was all that had mattered
A nearby voice said “Here Mademoiselle, dry your eyes”

[...] Read more

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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 11

SCARCE had the rosy Morning rais’d her head
Above the waves, and left her wat’ry bed;
The pious chief, whom double cares attend
For his unburied soldiers and his friend,
Yet first to Heav’n perform’d a victor’s vows: 5
He bar’d an ancient oak of all her boughs;
Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac’d,
Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac’d.
The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,
Now on a naked snag in triumph borne, 10
Was hung on high, and glitter’d from afar,
A trophy sacred to the God of War.
Above his arms, fix’d on the leafless wood,
Appear’d his plumy crest, besmear’d with blood:
His brazen buckler on the left was seen; 15
Truncheons of shiver’d lances hung between;
And on the right was placed his corslet, bor’d;
And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.
A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,
Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began: 20
“Our toils, my friends, are crown’d with sure success;
The greater part perform’d, achieve the less.
Now follow cheerful to the trembling town;
Press but an entrance, and presume it won.
Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies, 25
As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.
Turnus shall fall extended on the plain,
And, in this omen, is already slain.
Prepar’d in arms, pursue your happy chance;
That none unwarn’d may plead his ignorance, 30
And I, at Heav’n’s appointed hour, may find
Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.
Meantime the rites and fun’ral pomps prepare,
Due to your dead companions of the war:
The last respect the living can bestow, 35
To shield their shadows from contempt below.
That conquer’d earth be theirs, for which they fought,
And which for us with their own blood they bought;
But first the corpse of our unhappy friend
To the sad city of Evander send, 40
Who, not inglorious, in his age’s bloom,
Was hurried hence by too severe a doom.”
Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way,
Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay.
Acoetes watch’d the corpse; whose youth deserv’d 45
The father’s trust; and now the son he serv’d
With equal faith, but less auspicious care.
Th’ attendants of the slain his sorrow share.
A troop of Trojans mix’d with these appear,
And mourning matrons with dishevel’d hair. 50

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Aspects Of Robinson

Robinson at cards at the Algonquin; a thin
Blue light comes down once more outside the blinds.
Gray men in overcoats are ghosts blown past the door.
The taxis streak the avenues with yellow, orange, and red.
This is Grand Central, Mr. Robinson.


Robinson on a roof above the Heights; the boats
Mourn like the lost. Water is slate, far down.
Through sounds of ice cubes dropped in glass, an osteopath,
Dressed for the links, describes an old Intourist tour.
—Here’s where old Gibbons jumped from, Robinson.


Robinson walking in the Park, admiring the elephant.
Robinson buying the Tribune, Robinson buying the Times. Robinson
Saying, “Hello. Yes, this is Robinson. Sunday
At five? I’d love to. Pretty well. And you?”
Robinson alone at Longchamps, staring at the wall.


Robinson afraid, drunk, sobbing Robinson
In bed with a Mrs. Morse. Robinson at home;
Decisions: Toynbee or luminol? Where the sun
Shines, Robinson in flowered trunks, eyes toward
The breakers. Where the night ends, Robinson in East Side bars.


Robinson in Glen plaid jacket, Scotch-grain shoes,
Black four-in-hand and oxford button-down,
The jeweled and silent watch that winds itself, the brief-
Case, covert topcoat, clothes for spring, all covering
His sad and usual heart, dry as a winter leaf.

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The Queen's Marie

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane,
Wi ribbons in her hair;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton,
Than ony that were there.

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane,
Wi ribbons on her breast;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton,
Than he listend to the priest.

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane,
Wi gloves upon her hands;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton,
Than the queen and a' her lands.

She hadna been about the king's court
A month, but barely one,
Till she was beloved by a' the king's court,
And the king the only man.

She hadna been about the king's court
A month, but barely three,
Till frae the king's court Marie Hamilton,
Marie Hamilton durst na be.

The king is to the Abbey gane,
To pu the Abbey tree,
To scale the babe frae Marie's heart;
But the thing it wadna be.

O she has rowd it in her apron,
And set it on the sea:
'Gae sink ye, or swim ye, bonny babe,
Ye's get na mair o me.'

Word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha,
And word is to the noble room,
Amang the ladyes a',
That Marie Hamilton's brought to bed,
And the bonny babe's mist and awa.

Scarcely had she lain down again,
And scarcely faen asleep,
When up then started our gude queen,
Just at her bed-feet,
Saying 'Marie Hamilton, where's your babe?
For I am sure I heard it greet.'

'O no, O no, my noble queen!

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The Queen's Marie

MARIE HAMILTON 's to the kirk gane,
   Wi' ribbons in her hair;
The King thought mair o' Marie Hamilton
   Than ony that were there.

Marie Hamilton 's to the kirk gane
   Wi' ribbons on her breast;
The King thought mair o' Marie Hamilton
   Than he listen'd to the priest.

Marie Hamilton 's to the kirk gane,
   Wi' gloves upon her hands;
The King thought mair o' Marie Hamilton
   Than the Queen and a' her lands.

She hadna been about the King's court
   A month, but barely one,
Till she was beloved by a' the King's court
   And the King the only man.

She hadna been about the King's court
   A month, but barely three,
Till frae the King's court Marie Hamilton,
   Marie Hamilton durstna be.

The King is to the Abbey gane,
   To pu' the Abbey tree,
To scale the babe frae Marie's heart;
   But the thing it wadna be.

O she has row'd it in her apron,
   And set it on the sea--
'Gae sink ye or swim ye, bonny babe,
   Ye'se get nae mair o' me.'

Word is to the kitchen gane,
   And word is to the ha',
And word is to the noble room
   Amang the ladies a',
That Marie Hamilton 's brought to bed,
   And the bonny babe 's miss'd and awa'.

Scarcely had she lain down again,
   And scarcely fa'en asleep,
When up and started our gude Queen
   Just at her bed-feet;
Saying--'Marie Hamilton, where 's your babe?
   For I am sure I heard it greet.'

'O no, O no, my noble Queen!

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The Bonnie Lass o' Ruily

'Twas in the village of Ruily there lived a bonnie lass
With red, pouting lips which few lasses could surpass,
And her eyes were as azure the blue sky,
Which caused Donald McNeill to heave many a love sigh

Beyond the township of Ruily she never had been,
This pretty maid with tiny feet and aged eighteen;
And when Donald would ask her to be his wife,
"No," she would say, "I'm not going to stay here all my life."

"I'm sick of this life," she said to Donald one day,
"By making the parridge and carrying peats from the bog far away."
"Then marry me, Belle, and peats you shall never carry again,
And we might take a trip to Glasgow and there remain."

Then she answered him crossly, "I wish you wouldn't bother me,
For I'm tired of this kind of talk, as you may see."
So at last there came a steamer to Ruily one day,
So big that if almost seemed to fill the bay.

Then Belle and Effie Mackinnon came to the door with a start,
While Belle's red, pouting lips were wide apart;
But when she saw the Redcoats coming ashore
She thought she had never seen such splendid men before.

One day after the steamer "Resistless" had arrived,
Belle's spirits seemed suddenly to be revived;
And as Belle was lifting peats a few feet from the door
She was startled by a voice she never heard before.

The speaker wore a bright red coat and a small cap,
And she thought to herself he is a handsome chap;
Then the speaker said, "'Tis a fine day," and began to flatter,
Until at last he asked Belle for a drink of watter.

Then she glanced up at him shyly, while uneasy she did feel,
At the thought of having to hoist the peat-creel;
And she could see curly, fair hair beneath his cap,
Still, she thought to herself, he is a good-looking chap.

And his eyes were blue and sparkling as the water in the bay,
And he spoke in a voice that was pleasant and gay;
Then he took hold of the peat-creel as he spoke,
But Belle only laughed and considered it a joke.

Then Belle shook her head and lifted the peats on her back,
But he followed her home whilst to her he did crack;
And by and by she brought him a drink of watter,
While with loving words he began Belle to flatter.

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This Friendly World

R.E.M., Andy, Tony---This Friendly World
ANDY: Hi, Michael.
MICHAEL: Hi, Andy. Thanks for joining us. Do you
wanna ... you wanna sing a song together?
ANDY: Sure! Is it a sweet song?
MICHAEL: Yeah, it's real sweet.
ANDY: O.K.!
[They laugh.]
MICHAEL:
In this friendly, friendly world
With each day so full of joy
Why should any heart be lonely?
ANDY: My turn!
In this friendly, friendly world
With each night so full of dreams
Why should any heart be afraid?
The world is ...
MICHAEL ANDY:
... such a wonderful place
To wander through
When you've got someone you love
MICHAEL:
To wander along with you
ANDY: O.K., now take every second word! With ...
MICHAEL: ... the ...
ANDY: ... sky ...
MICHAEL: ... so ...
ANDY: ... full ...
MICHAEL: ... of ...
ANDY: ... stars
MICHAEL: And ...
ANDY: ... the ...
MICHAEL: ... river ...
ANDY: ... so ...
MICHAEL: ... full ...
ANDY: ... of ...
MICHAEL: ... song, Every ...
ANDY: ... heart ...
MICHAEL: ... should ...
ANDY: ... be ...
MICHAEL: ... so ...
ANDY: ... thankful
It's a friendly world! Don't you think so, Michael?
MICHAEL: Yup!
TONY: Oh yeah?! What's so friendly about it?!!
This is Tony Clifton, and, and I demand a part in
this song! I'm just as big a part of the movie as
these guys are! And, and I will not sit back while
some sought-after Colonel Kurtz wanna-be, uh, uh
has his day in the sun! I think he's enough

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Wat Tyler - Act III

ACT III.


SCENE—SMITHFIELD.


PIERS (meeting JOHN BALL.)

You look disturb'd, my father?


JOHN BALL.

Piers, I am so.
Jack Straw has forced the Tower: seized the Archbishop,
And beheaded him.


PIERS.

The curse of insurrection!


JOHN BALL.

Aye, Piers! our nobles level down their vassals—
Keep them at endless labour like their brutes,
Degrading every faculty by servitude:
Repressing all the energy of the mind.
We must not wonder then, that like wild beasts,
When they have burst their chains, with brutal rage
They revenge them on their tyrants.


PIERS.

This Archbishop!
He was oppressive to his humble vassals:
Proud, haughty, avaricious.—


JOHN BALL.

A true high-priest!
Preaching humility with his mitre on!
Praising up alms and Christian charity
Even whilst his unforgiving hand distress'd
His honest tenants.

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