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Butcher Boys

Cast: Ali Faulkner, Edwin Neal, Marilyn Burns, Derek Lee Nixon, Karrie Cox, Sonny Carl Davis, John Dugan, Johnny Walter

trailer for Butcher Boys (2012)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Mr. Lee

(emma pought/jannie pought/helen gathers/laurawebb/rether dixon)
One, two, three, look at mr. lee
Three, four, five, look at him jive
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee
I met my sweetie
His name is mr. lee
I met my sweetie
His name is mr. lee
He's the hansomest sweetie
That you ever did see
My heart is achin' for you mr. lee
My heart is achin' for you mr. lee
'cause i love you so
And i'll never let you go
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee
Here comes mr. lee
He's coming for me
Here comes mr. lee
He's coming for me
He's my lover boy
Let's jump for joy
Come on mr. lee and do your stuff
Come on mr. lee and do your stuff
'cause you're gonna be mine
Till the end of time
One, two, three, look at mr. lee
Three, four, five, look at him jive
One, two, three, look at mr. lee
Three, four, five, look at him jive
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee
One, two, three, look at mr. lee
Three, four, five, look at him jive
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee

[...] Read more

song performed by Diana Ross
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tamar

I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.

The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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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

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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Edwin and Eltrada, a Legendary Tale

Where the pure Derwent's waters glide
Along their mossy bed,
Close by the river's verdant side,
A castle rear'd its head.

The antient pile by time is raz'd,
Where gothic trophies frown'd,
Where once the gilded armour blaz'd,
And banners wav'd around.

There liv'd a chief well known to fame,
A bold adven'trous knight,
Renown'd for victory, his name
In glory's annals bright.

Yet milder virtues he possest,
And gentler passions felt,
For in his calm and yielding breast
The soft affections dwelt.

No rugged toils the heart could steel,
By nature form'd to prove
Whate'er the tender mind can feel
In friendship or in love.

He lost the partner of his breast,
Who sooth'd each rising care,
And ever charm'd the pains to rest
She ever lov'd to share.

From solitude he hop'd relief
And this lone mansion sought,
To cherish there his faithful grief,
To nurse the tender thought.

There, to his bosom fondly dear,
A blooming daughter smil'd,
And oft' the mourner's falling tear
Bedew'd his EMMA'S child.

As drest in charms the lonely flower
Smiles in the distant vale,
With beauty gilds the morning hour,
And scents the evening gale;

So liv'd in solitude, unseen,
This lovely, peerless maid;
So grac'd the wild sequester'd scene,
And blossom'd in the shade.

[...] Read more

poem by Helen Maria Williams
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Walter Henry Hagan

Walter, walter henry
I say walter henry hagan
You done gone and broke my heart
Walter, walter henry
You know that I believed you
When you swore wed never part
Well you said you had to have me
And well you dang well did
You took me from my country home
When I was just a kid
And you took me off to boston
Put a baby on my knee
Left me to dangle-dingle
So far from tennessee
Now patrick might have been one
But you aint been no saint
But a good ole irish boy
They say well always have this drink
And you just wont stop chasin
All those other woman around
A ramblin and agamblin
Throwin irish whiskey down
Walter, walter henry
Walter henry hagan
You dont listen when I call
Walter, walter henry
Of all the men Ive ever loved
I loved you best of all
Oh play one for ol walter henry boys
Walter, walter henry
Walter henry hagan
You done left your mark on me
Walter, walter henry
If you ever sober up
Im waitin back in tennessee
If you ever sober up
Im waitin back in tennessee
Walter, walter henry
Yoddle-le-ee-hee
Yoddle-le-ee-hee
Walter henry hagan
You done left your mark on me

song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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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

song performed by 10 Cc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Three Women

My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.

Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.

Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.

Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.

Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.

1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.

Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,

[...] Read more

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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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,

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Rumble in the jungle

Give us some poetry?
Me, we..?
These are the words;
Of Muhammad Ali..!

Ali—baba-booyah! Ali
The emperor of Horus
Sang back the chorus…
Ali—baba-booyah!
Ali—baba-booyah!
Ali—baba-booyah!

The peoples Champion!
A roaring catlike, lion
with long-legs of lynxes
a king of all… the Cobras
With a right leading, paw...
His arm like a ripsaw...
And with words of combat
He was like a buzzing black, gnat...
In the ear of an iron wall-
0f fury, surely, he’s only a Meatball.

Said he a half-crazed; George Forman
He isn’t there, American, Tarzan
surely he isn’t their hero’ this? Muhammad Ali...

Ail—baba-booyah! Ali
The emperor of Horus
Sang back they in chorus
Ali—baba-booyah!
Ali—baba-booyah!
Ali—baba-booyah!

Hellfire’s sharpened inside a mountain beast:
Whose instincts weren’t yet that of a baptized priest?

This only unleashed a thuggish bears raging guffaws…
In a taciturn of natural, laws.
A trudging elephant goes, sleeping…
Wearily on the ropes—he’s just waiting
Tobacco chewing the brawlers
Heart weakening boulders.
His heart thrashing leaf shredding soul…
All this is compounding so all his admirers’ console!
Muhammad Ali...

Ali—baba-booyah! Ali
The emperor of Horus
Sang back in chorus

[...] Read more

poem by Mark Heathcote
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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

song performed by Don Henley
Added by Lucian Velea
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A New Marilyn

Got one now with a catholic name
A little less righteous she aint quite the same
Walkin the streets under the media moon
Silvery screen paints her sultry tune
She wears her lipstick outside of the lines
Picture on the cover of the new york times
The mole on her cheek looks like her very own
She lives and breathes in a new marilyn home
Chorus
A new marilyn a new marilyn
Everybodys lookin for a new marilyn
Everywhere I go everywhere I been
Everybodys lookin for a new marilyn
Where would she be after twenty five years
What would she think if she were to hear
Everywhere you look theres somebody new
Trying to replace you trying to replace you marilyn
Chorus
A new marilyn a new marilyn
Everybodys lookin for a new you know who
Everywhere I go everywhere I been
Everybodys lookin for a new marilyn
A new marilyn a new marilyn
Everybodys lookin for a new you know who
Everywhere I go everywhere I been
Everybodys lookin for a new marilyn
Isnt this a great party
Chorus
A new marilyn a new marilyn
Everybodys lookin for a new you know who
Everywhere I go everywhere I been
Everybodys lookin for a new marilyn

song performed by Vonda Shepard
Added by Lucian Velea
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[intro]

Yo, my name is Taquell A.K.A Baby Poppa
Told ya I know ali
Yall thought I was playin
I told yall I know the Lunatics
Leezy, Nelly, Spud, Murph AND Kyjuan man
I know all of em since '99
Before Country Grammar before the Free City album
And now, Big Lee got that Heavy Starch out in the streets
It's over fo' real
Now next time Baby Poppa tell you somethin
You better listen
So keep your ears open cuz it's Ali
Heavy Starch let's go
Yo, Ali, Heavy Starch
Heavy Starch
Heavy Starch
Say it again
Heavy Starch
Do it like we do Heavy Starch Big Lee
Big Leezy fo sheezie with Heavy Starcheezy
What's up Ali
Hey Ali Heavy Starch
Peace to Ali comin from Son keepin it real, luv
Yo what's up Ali
Shouts out to Big Lee yea
Ali
Heavy Starch
What's up Ali
Heavy Starch
Big Leezy with the Heavy Starch
What's crack-a-lackin Heavy Starch
Heavy Starch
What's up Ali
Heavy Starch
Hi Ali Heavy Starch
Heavy Starch Big Lee
Big Lee Heavy Starch, Heavy Heavy Heavy Starch hahaha one luv
Right on Ali Right on Heavy Starch
Ali Heavy Starch, whatever you do dirty, keep it St. Louis

song performed by Eels
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Minstrel; Or, The Progress Of Genius : Book I.

I.
Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!
Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Hath felt the influence of malignant star,
And wag'd with Fortune an eternal war!
Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown,
And Poverty's unconquerable bar,
In life's low vale remote hath pin'd alone
Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!

II.
And yet, the languor of inglorious days
Not equally oppressive is to all.
Him, who ne'er listen'd to the voice of praise,
The silence of neglect can ne'er appal.
There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition's call,
Would shrink to hear th' obstreperous trump of Fame;
Supremely blest, if to their portion fall
Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim
Had he, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim.

III.
This sapient age disclaims all classic lore;
Else I should here in cunning phrase display,
How forth The Minstrel far'd in days of yore,
Right glad of heart, though homely in array;
His waving locks and beard all hoary grey:
And, from his bending shoulder, decent hung
His harp, the sole companion of his way,
Which to the whistling wind responsive rung:
And ever as he went some merry lay he sung.

IV.
Fret not yourselves, ye silken sons of pride,
That a poor Wanderer should inspire my strain.
The Muses Fortune's fickle smile deride,
Nor ever bow the knee in Mammon's fane;
For their delights are with the village-train,
Whom Nature's laws engage, and Nature's charms:
They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain;
The parasite their influence never warms,
Nor him whose sordid soul the love of wealth alarms.

V.
Though richest hues the peacock's plumes adorn,
Yet horror screams from his discordant throat.
Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn,
While warbling larks on russet pinions float;
Or seek at noon the woodland scene remote,

[...] Read more

poem by James Beattie
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Hooray! Hooray!

Un lugar halle yo junto al mar
Ali, ali, ho
Si tu quieres ir te llevare
Ali, ali, ho
Hay un manantial que es de cristal
Ali, ali, ho
Tu conmigo ven te escondere
Ali, ali, ho
Hoy es, hoy es,
Una fiesta sin igual
Para todos es sensacional
Hoy la fiesta es
Hoy es, hoy es,
Una fiesta sin igual
Tienes que cantar tu ya lo ves
Hoy la fiesta es
Hoy la fiesta es
Por el campo vas y correras
Ali, ali, ho
Las estrellas hoy nos guiaran
Ali, ali, ho
Yo contigo ire sin temor
Ali, ali, ho
Al lugar auqel te voy a amar
Ali, ali, ho
Hoy es, hoy es,
Una fiesta sin igual
Para todos es sensacional
Hoy la fiesta es
Hoy es, hoy es,
Una fiesta sin igual
Tienes que cantar tu ya lo ves
Hoy la fiesta es
Hoy la fiesta es

song performed by Ricky Martin
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hooray! Hooray! Its A Holi-holiday

Un lugar halle yo junto al mar
Ali, ali, ho
Si tu quieres ir te llevare
Ali, ali, ho
Hay un manantial que es de cristal
Ali, ali, ho
Tu conmigo ven te escondere
Ali, ali, ho
Hoy es, hoy es,
Una fiesta sin igual
Para todos es sensacional
Hoy la fiesta es
Hoy es, hoy es,
Una fiesta sin igual
Tienes que cantar tu ya lo ves
Hoy la fiesta es
Hoy la fiesta es
Por el campo vas y correras
Ali, ali, ho
Las estrellas hoy nos guiaran
Ali, ali, ho
Yo contigo ire sin temor
Ali, ali, ho
Al lugar auqel te voy a amar
Ali, ali, ho
Hoy es, hoy es,
Una fiesta sin igual
Para todos es sensacional
Hoy la fiesta es
Hoy es, hoy es,
Una fiesta sin igual
Tienes que cantar tu ya lo ves
Hoy la fiesta es
Hoy la fiesta es

song performed by Ricky Martin
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sonny

(rod stewart, jim cregan, bernie taupin & kevin savigar)
Sonny, Ive been missing you tonight,
Sonny, something deep inside me has died.
I gave up the purest love
A woman could give to a man.
Evrything I ever had
Has slipped right through my hands
cause she walks like you,
She talks like you,
She feels like you,
But she aint you,
She smiles like you,
Cries like you,
Denies like you,
But shell never be you.
Sonny, she dont move me anymore,
Sonny, Ive never hurt this way before.
Shes trying hard to replace you
But theres something shell never know.
She can borrow all your style
But shell never possess your soul
cause she acts like you,
Attacks like you,
She cracks like you,
But she aint you,
She needs like you,
Pleads like you,
Feels like you,
But shell never be you.
Sonny
Sonny
Im down on my knees
Sonny wont you come back, come back,
Come back to me please.
Someday, well hide the pain away, and
Sonny, I know that ... that we can laugh again.
I should have known and had more sense
Sinking to a childish pride.
All I got was your looking glass
Without your heart in side
cause she craves like you,
Behaves like you,
And lays like you,
But she aint you,
She plays like you,
Prays like you,
Does evrything like you,
But she aint you.
She hides like you,
Denies like you,

[...] Read more

song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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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.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Southey
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Heres Johnny

Heres johnny
There he goes, he drives me crazy
When he says...(hee-eeres johnny!)
Thats his job, its so amazing
All he says is...(hee-eeres johnny!)
I never miss a moment when hes on the tube
His being there has made my life worth living
The chills run down my spine
Each time he says that line
Heres johnny! he says, and laughs in his special way
...johnny! he says, you know I love him
Heres johnny! he says, and second fiddle is his game
Ed mcmahons his name...all right
Dressed so fine, hes such a cool dude
Hear him say...(hee-eeres johnny!)
Watch him selling beer and dog food
Hear him say...(hee-eeres johnny!)
I got a letter from him just the other day
He said, you may already be a winner!
A trooper to the end
A clydesdales best friend
Heres johnny! he says, and laughs in his special way
...johnny! he says, you know I love him
Heres johnny! he says, and thats the way he gets his pay
What a living
Oh...(heres johnny! heres johnny!) wo-o-o, no
(heres johnny! heres johnny!) no no no no no no, I dont believe it
(heres johnny!) he says, and everytime its just the same
Ed mcmahons his name
A very special guy...all right
Hes on every night
Cant change the channel
When hes sitting on the panel
(hee-eeres johnny!)
There he goes, he gives me goose bumps
When he says...(hey-o-hey-hey-o!)
Heres johnny! he says, and laughs in his special way
...johnny! he says, you know I love him
Heres johnny! he says, that seems to be his claim to fame
Ed mcmahons his name

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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poem by Robinson Jeffers
Added by Poetry Lover
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Sir Peter Harpdon's End

In an English Castle in Poictou. Sir Peter Harpdon, a Gascon knight in the English service, and John Curzon, his lieutenant.

John Curzon

Of those three prisoners, that before you came
We took down at St. John's hard by the mill,
Two are good masons; we have tools enough,
And you have skill to set them working.

Sir Peter

So-
What are their names?

John Curzon

Why, Jacques Aquadent,
And Peter Plombiere, but-

Sir Peter

What colour'd hair
Has Peter now? has Jacques got bow legs?

John Curzon

Why, sir, you jest: what matters Jacques' hair,
Or Peter's legs to us?

Sir Peter

O! John, John, John!
Throw all your mason's tools down the deep well,
Hang Peter up and Jacques; they're no good,
We shall not build, man.

John Curzon

going.

Shall I call the guard
To hang them, sir? and yet, sir, for the tools,
We'd better keep them still; sir, fare you well.

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poem by William Morris
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