Swerve
Cast: Jason Clarke, Emma Booth, David Lyons, Vince Colosimo, Travis McMahon, Roy Billing
trailer for Swerve, directed by Craig Lahiff, screenplay by Craig Lahiff (2011)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Henry And Emma. A Poem.
Upon the Model of The Nut-Brown Maid. To Cloe.
Thou, to whose eyes I bend, at whose command
(Though low my voice, though artless be my hand.
I take the sprightly reed, and sing and play,
Careless of what the censuring world may say;
Bright Cloe! object of my constant vow,
Wilt thou a while unbend thy serious brow?
Wilt thou with pleasure hear thy lover's strains,
And with one heavenly smile o'erpay his pains?
No longer shall the Nut-brown Maid be old,
Though since her youth three hundred years have roll'd:
At thy desire she shall again be raised,
And her reviving charms in lasting verse be praised.
No longer man of woman shall complain,
That he may love and not be loved again;
That we in vain the fickle sex pursue,
Who change the constant lover for the new.
Whatever has been writ, whatever said
Henceforth shall in my verse refuted stand,
Be said to winds, or writ upon the sand:
And while my notes to future times proclaim
Unconquer'd love and ever-during flame,
O, fairest of the sex, be thou my muse;
Deign on my work thy influence to diffuse:
Let me partake the blessings I rehearse,
And grant me love, the just reward of verse.
As beauty's potent queen with every grace
That once was Emma's has adorn'd thy face,
And as her son has to my bosom dealt
That constant flame which faithful Henry felt,
O let the story with thy life agree,
Let men once more the bright example see;
What Emma was to him be thou to me:
Nor send me by thy frown from her I love,
Distant and sad, a banish'd man to rove:
But, oh! with pity long entreated crown
My pains and hopes: and when thou say'st that one
Of all mankind thou lovest, oh! think on me alone.
Where beauteous Isis and her husband Thame
With mingled waves for ever flow the same,
In times of yore an ancient baron lived,
Great gifts bestowed, and great respect received.
When dreadful Edward, with successful care
Led his free Britons to the Gallic war,
[...] Read more
poem by Matthew Prior
Added by Poetry Lover
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Absalom and Achitophel
In pious times, e'er Priest-craft did begin,
Before Polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multiply'd his kind,
E'r one to one was, cursedly, confind:
When Nature prompted, and no law deny'd
Promiscuous use of Concubine and Bride;
Then, Israel's monarch, after Heaven's own heart,
His vigorous warmth did, variously, impart
To Wives and Slaves; And, wide as his Command,
Scatter'd his Maker's Image through the Land.
Michal, of Royal blood, the Crown did wear,
A Soyl ungratefull to the Tiller's care;
Not so the rest; for several Mothers bore
To Godlike David, several Sons before.
But since like slaves his bed they did ascend,
No True Succession could their seed attend.
Of all this Numerous Progeny was none
So Beautifull, so brave as Absalon:
Whether, inspir'd by some diviner Lust,
His father got him with a greater Gust;
Or that his Conscious destiny made way
By manly beauty to Imperiall sway.
Early in Foreign fields he won Renown,
With Kings and States ally'd to Israel's Crown
In Peace the thoughts of War he could remove,
And seem'd as he were only born for love.
What e'er he did was done with so much ease,
In him alone, 'twas Natural to please.
His motions all accompanied with grace;
And Paradise was open'd in his face.
With secret Joy, indulgent David view'd
His Youthfull Image in his Son renew'd:
To all his wishes Nothing he deny'd,
And made the Charming Annabel his Bride.
What faults he had (for who from faults is free?)
His Father could not, or he would not see.
Some warm excesses, which the Law forbore,
Were constru'd Youth that purg'd by boyling o'r:
And Amnon's Murther, by a specious Name,
Was call'd a Just Revenge for injur'd Fame.
Thus Prais'd, and Lov'd, the Noble Youth remain'd,
While David, undisturb'd, in Sion raign'd.
But Life can never be sincerely blest:
Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews, a Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring race,
As ever try'd th' extent and stretch of grace;
God's pamper'd people whom, debauch'd with ease,
No King could govern, nor no God could please;
(Gods they had tri'd of every shape and size
That Gods-smiths could produce, or Priests devise.)
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh
THE Argonauts now stemm'd the foaming tide,
And to Arcadia's shore their course apply'd;
Where sightless Phineus spent his age in grief,
But Boreas' sons engage in his relief;
And those unwelcome guests, the odious race
Of Harpyes, from the monarch's table chase.
With Jason then they greater toils sustain,
And Phasis' slimy banks at last they gain,
Here boldly they demand the golden prize
Of Scythia's king, who sternly thus replies:
That mighty labours they must first o'ercome,
Or sail their Argo thence unfreighted home.
The Story of Meanwhile Medea, seiz'd with fierce desire,
Medea and By reason strives to quench the raging fire;
Jason But strives in vain!- Some God (she said)
withstands,
And reason's baffl'd council countermands.
What unseen Pow'r does this disorder move?
'Tis love,- at least 'tis like, what men call love.
Else wherefore shou'd the king's commands appear
To me too hard?- But so indeed they are.
Why shou'd I for a stranger fear, lest he
Shou'd perish, whom I did but lately see?
His death, or safety, what are they to me?
Wretch, from thy virgin-breast this flame expel,
And soon- Oh cou'd I, all wou'd then be well!
But love, resistless love, my soul invades;
Discretion this, affection that perswades.
I see the right, and I approve it too,
Condemn the wrong- and yet the wrong pursue.
Why, royal maid, shou'dst thou desire to wed
A wanderer, and court a foreign bed?
Thy native land, tho' barb'rous, can present
A bridegroom worth a royal bride's content:
And whether this advent'rer lives, or dies,
In Fate, and Fortune's fickle pleasure lies.
Yet may be live! for to the Pow'rs above,
A virgin, led by no impulse of love,
So just a suit may, for the guiltless, move.
Whom wou'd not Jason's valour, youth and blood
Invite? or cou'd these merits be withstood,
At least his charming person must encline
The hardest heart- I'm sure 'tis so with mine!
Yet, if I help him not, the flaming breath
Of bulls, and earth-born foes, must be his death.
Or, should he through these dangers force his way,
At last he must be made the dragon's prey.
If no remorse for such distress I feel,
I am a tigress, and my breast is steel.
Why do I scruple then to see him slain,
[...] Read more
I Need Thee Every Hour / Nothing But The Blood
(Duet with Vince Gill)
(Amy)
I need Thee every hour, most gracious Lord;
No tender voice like Thine can peace afford.
I need Thee, O I need Thee;
Every hour I need Thee;
O bless me now, my Savior,
I come to Thee.
(Amy)
What can wash away my sin?
(Amy and Vince)
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
(Vince)
What can make me whole again?
(Amy and Vince)
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
(Amy Vince and background vocals)
Oh! Precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
(Amy)
For my pardon, this I see,
(Amy and Vince)
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
(Vince)
For my cleansing, this my plea,
(Amy and Vince)
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
(Amy Vince and background vocals)
Oh! Precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Oh! Precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Oh! Precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
song performed by Amy Grant
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peace On Earth - Little Drummer Boy
David: hello...... youre the new butler?
Bing: hahaha! well, its been a long time since Ive been the new anything!
David: whats happened to hudson?
Bing: I guess hes changing.
David: yeah, he does that a lot, doesnt he? uhm... oh, Im david bowie, I live
Down the road.
Bing: oh!
David: sir percival lets me use his piano if he not around. hes not around, is
He?
Bing: I can honestly say I havent seen him, but come on in! come in!
David: but uh...
Bing: come on in!
David: are you related to sir percival?
Bing: well, distantly...
David: oh, youre not the poor relation from america, right?
Bing: ha! gee... news sure travels fast, doesnt it? Im bing.
David: oh, Im pleased to meet you. youre the one that sings, right?
Bing: well, right or wrong, I sing either way.
David: oh well, I sing too.
Bing: oh good! what kind of singing?
David: mostly the contemporary stuff. do you eh... do you like modern music?
Bing: oh, I think its marvellous! some of its really fine. but tell me, have you ever listened to any of the older fellows?
David: oh yeah, sure. I like ah... john lennon and the other one with eh...harry
Nilsson.
Bing: mmm... you go back that far, uh?
David: yeah, Im not as young as I look.
Bing: haha, none of us is these days!
David: in fact Ive got a six year old son. and he really gets excited around the christmas holiday-thing.
Bing: do you go in for anything of the traditional things in the... boy, household, christmas time?
David: oh yeah, most of them really. presents, tree, decorations, agents sliding down the chimney...
Bing: what? ?
David: oh, I was just seeing if you were paying attention.
Bing: haha!
David: actually, our family do most of the things that other families do. we
Sing the same songs.
Bing: do you?
David: oh, I even have a go at white christmas.
Bing: you do, eh!
David: and this one. this is my sons favourite. do you know this one?
Bing: oh, I do indeed, its a lovely theme.
And they told me pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
A new-born king to see pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Our finest gifts we bring pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Ra-pam-pam-pam, ra-pam-pam-pam
Peace on earth, can it be
Years from now, perhaps well see
See the day of glory
See the day, when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again
Peace on earth, can it be
[...] Read more
song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peace On Earth / Little Drummer Boy (feat. Bing Crosby)
David: Hello...... you're the new butler?
Bing: Hahaha! Well, it's been a long time since I've been the new anything!
David: What's happened to Hudson?
Bing: I guess he's changing.
David: Yeah, he does that a lot, doesn't he? Uhm... Oh, I'm David Bowie, I live
down the road.
Bing: Oh!
David: Sir Percival let's me use his piano if he not around. He's not around, is
he?
Bing: I can honestly say I haven't seen him, but come on in! Come in!
David: But uh...
Bing: Come on in!
David: Are you related to sir Percival?
Bing: Well, distantly...
David: Oh, you're not the poor relation from America, right?
Bing: Ha! Gee... news sure travels fast, doesn't it? I'm Bing.
David: Oh, I'm pleased to meet you. You're the one that sings, right?
Bing: Well, right or wrong, I sing either way.
David: Oh well, I sing too.
Bing: Oh good! What kind of singing?
David: Mostly the contemporary stuff. Do you eh... do you like modern music?
Bing: Oh, I think it's marvellous! Some of it's really fine. But tell me, have you ever listened to any of the older fellows?
David: Oh yeah, sure. I like ah... John Lennon and the other one with eh...Harry
Nilsson.
Bing: Mmm... you go back that far, uh?
David: Yeah, I'm not as young as I look.
Bing: Haha, none of us is these days!
David: In fact I've got a six year old son. And he really gets excited around the Christmas holiday-thing.
Bing: Do you go in for anything of the traditional things in the... boy, household, Christmas time?
David: Oh yeah, most of them really. Presents, tree, decorations, agents sliding down the chimney...
Bing: What??
David: Oh, I was just seeing if you were paying attention.
Bing: Haha!
David: Actually, our family do most of the things that other families do. We
sing the same songs.
Bing: Do you?
David: Oh, I even have a go at 'White Christmas'.
Bing: You do, eh!
David: And this one. This is my son's favourite. Do you know this one?
Bing: Oh, I do indeed, it's a lovely theme.
And they told me pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
A new-born king to see pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Our finest gifts we bring pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Ra-pam-pam-pam, ra-pam-pam-pam
Peace on Earth, can it be
Years from now, perhaps we'll see
See the day of glory
See the day, when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again
Peace on Earth, can it be
[...] Read more
song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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David
My thought, on views of admiration hung,
Intently ravish'd and depriv'd of tongue,
Now darts a while on earth, a while in air,
Here mov'd with praise and mov'd with glory there;
The joys entrancing and the mute surprize
Half fix the blood, and dim the moist'ning eyes;
Pleasure and praise on one another break,
And Exclamation longs at heart to speak;
When thus my Genius, on the work design'd
Awaiting closely, guides the wand'ring mind.
If while thy thanks wou'd in thy lays be wrought,
A bright astonishment involve the thought,
If yet thy temper wou'd attempt to sing,
Another's quill shall imp thy feebler wing;
Behold the name of royal David near,
Behold his musick and his measures here,
Whose harp Devotion in a rapture strung,
And left no state of pious souls unsung.
Him to the wond'ring world but newly shewn,
Celestial poetry pronounc'd her own;
A thousand hopes, on clouds adorn'd with rays,
Bent down their little beauteous forms to gaze;
Fair-blooming Innocence with tender years,
And native Sweetness for the ravish'd ears,
Prepar'd to smile within his early song,
And brought their rivers, groves, and plains along;
Majestick Honour at the palace bred,
Enrob'd in white, embroider'd o'er with red,
Reach'd forth the scepter of her royal state,
His forehead touch'd, and bid his lays be great;
Undaunted Courage deck'd with manly charms,
With waving-azure plumes, and gilded arms,
Displaid the glories, and the toils of fight,
Demanded fame, and call'd him forth to write.
To perfect these the sacred spirit came,
By mild infusion of celestial flame,
And mov'd with dove-like candour in his breast,
And breath'd his graces over all the rest.
Ah! where the daring flights of men aspire
To match his numbers with an equal fire;
In vain they strive to make proud Babel rise,
And with an earth-born labour touch the skies.
While I the glitt'ring page resolve to view,
That will the subject of my lines renew;
The Laurel wreath, my fames imagin'd shade,
Around my beating temples fears to fade;
My fainting fancy trembles on the brink,
And David's God must help or else I sink.
[...] Read more
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Little David
Play, little david
Play little david, play
David he would sit in some dark corner
Seemed to melt the shadows with his eyes
And the song that he was playing
Was nothing less than prayin
And nothing more than sayin Im alive.
Wont you play, little david
Play little david, play
David he would send them notes a-flyin
Some that laughed and some that felt like tears
He would play them fast or slowly
Play them high or lowly
But they always come out holy to my ear
Wont you play, little david, play little david, play
I dont need no sunday sermon
Need no sunday shoes
When I hear little david playing
I got religion through and through
David he would send them notes a-flyin
Some that laughed and some that felt like tears
He would play them fast or slowly
Play them high or lowly
But they always come out holy to my ear
Wont you play, little david, play little david, play
I dont need no sunday sermon
Need no sunday shoes
When I hear little david playing
I got religion through and through
David he would send them notes a-flyin
Some that laughed and some that felt like tears
He would play them fast or slowly
Play them high or lowly
But they always come out holy to my ear
Wont you play, little david, play little david, play
Wont you play, little david, play little david, play
song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Death Of President Lincoln
(A Romance.)
December 11th, 1867.
The fleecy clouds had passed away
Before the bright approach of day,
And now the morning's radiance shines
Upon an Army's order'd lines,
And light the glancing sunbeams play'd
On bayonet point and sabre-blade.
Slow rolled the ponderous mass along —
A hundred thousand bayonets strong,
And thirty thousand horses prance
Impatient of the slow advance,
While o'er those glittering groves of steel
The striped and coloured spangles reel
And Hail! Columbia! lofty notes
Peel from the trumpets brazen throats.
From post to post the generals ride.
The army's steady march to guide,
And aides fly swiftly o'er the plain
With bloody spur and slacken'd rein;
And far and wide on every side
The hollow trembling earth replied
To those grim legions measured stride
On dark Virginia's shore —
And many a heart bounds high with pride
That soon shall beat no more.
The foe, of far inferior force,
Scarce sixty thousand foot and horse,
Stand watching with undaunted glance
The Federal foeman's grim advance;
And turn again their hopeful eyes
To where their own loved banner flies —
That flag of tesselated bars,
That on its checks bore seven white stars
Which waved on many a field before
But now, alas! is seen no more:
Its short and bright career is o'er,
Its light was quenched in streams of gore.
Far on the left, where rank on rank,
Kentucky's footmen held the flank,
A youthful warrior rode alone,
To every Southern soldier known,
For that long falchion by his side
Had turn'd the battle's doubtful tide
In many a dark and desperate fight
[...] Read more
poem by Joseph Furphy
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Within the Alamo
He drew a straight line
Across the dirt floor:
Within, it was death-still--
Without, was a roar
And a scream of the trumpets:
Within, was a Word--
And a line drawn clean
By the sweep of a sword.
No help was coming, now--
That hope was done.
No more the free air,
no more the sun
Bright on the blue leagues
Of buffalo-clover.
Travis drew a line
And they all crossed over.
Travis had a wife at home,
Travis was young;
Travis had a little boy
Whose tight arms clung,
But Travis saw a far light
Shining before:
Travis drew a sword-cut
Across the dirt floor.
And now the old fort stands
Placid and dim,
Blinking and dreaming
Of them and of him;
And now past the Plaza
Other tides roar,
since Travis wrote "Valor"
Across the sand floor,
And the guns they will rust,
And the captains will go,
And an end come at last
To the wars that we know,
But as long as there travails
A Spirit in man,
In a war that was ancient
Before Time began,
Here will the brave come
To read a high Word--
Cut clean in the dust
By the stroke of a sword.
poem by Karle Wilson Baker
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Gallant Peter Clarke
On Walden's Range at morning time
The sun shone brightly down;
It shone across the winding Page
Near Murrurundi town.
It glittered o'er the Burning Mount,
Where murky shadows fell
Across the path to travellers known
To some, alas, too well.
There stands a simple block of stone,
Erected as a mark
To show the spot where he fought and died,
That gallant Peter Clarke.
And if you will but list awhile,
To you I will relate
What happened there to Peter Clarke
And Jimmy Clarke, his mate.
They camped one night close by the range,
In songs the hours flew past,
And little did poor Peter think
That night would be his last.
At dawn they toiled the steep ascent;
They had scarcely reached the top
When a voice in accents stern and cold
Commanded them to stop.
'Hand up your money, watch and chain,'
The robber sternly cried,
'Who takes my money takes my life!'
The angry Clarke replied.
Then laughed the robber loud in scorn
As he his pistol drew.
Said he 'My hand is firm and strong,
And my aim is ever true.
'And he who will my word gainsay,
Though he be earl or knight,
I swear by all I sacred hold
He ne'er shall see morning light.
'So give up your money now, my lad,
And do not idly rave.
Resist and, by the God above,
This night you'll fill the grave.'
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Oceania
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Take Me Home
Theres no place I call height, theres no way in a mean street,
Theres no high, low or medium, theres no little be.
So do your searching, until youre down, then realise, youre on your home ground
(echo off)
Sitting in a white room, dreaming of a life, (emma)
You have got me thinking, what is paradise. (emma)
Should I take an ocean drive, cooling from the sun, (emma)
Silver screen got me thinkin this is how it should be done. (emma)
Take me home, theres no place Id a rather be now, yeah,
Take me home, theres no place Id a rather be now, yeah.
Stand together alone, not knowing who you are, (emma)
Friendly strangely strangely friendly, would you keep me warm? (emma)
Would you keep me warm? you now, you could be your paradise,
Talk and keep me warm (emma), you could have youre own dream life,
Step into your comfort side, comfort side.
Take me home, theres no place Id a rather be now, yeah,
Take me home, theres no place Id a rather be now, yeah.
(echo next 4 lines in background (emma) )
There nobody to take me home, cause Im here, yes where I belong,
Im nearly, cause Im on my way, at my home it will always stay.
There nobody to take me home, cause Im here, yes where I belong,
Im nearly, cause Im on my way, at my home it will always stay.
So all thats free falling falls, hangs, out of time,
Youve got yours, Ive got mine, should all this be so precious?
Maybe I should be a little humble? slate of fear, cause I could stumble.
So do your searching until your down, cause your on home ground.
(echo off)
(continuous echo: take take take take me home, take take take me home..(emma) )
Take me home, theres no place Id a rather be now, yeah
Take me home, theres no place Id a rather be now, yeah
(repeat last 2 lines x3 and fade )
song performed by Geri Halliwell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mind Is The Magic
Mind Is The Magic
Come in to me
I know mystical garden
Orchards and violets
All mysteries are parted
Life is a mirageghost
Imagination
Pure inspiration called justification
Nothing's impossible
Nothing's concealed
Everything here is for real
What gives fantastic ghouls all in your head?
Who creates wonders like nobody can?
Chorus:
Siegfried & Roy
You know it's
Siegfried & Roy
So be it
Siegfried & Roy
I'm gonna...
Siegfried & Roy
When it's Siegfried & Roy
It's the mind of a magic in true
Your own thoughts play the game
In the magical wonders they do
The mind in the magic is you
Move of the head
And I'll change your emotions
Strange things appear
From euphorics, devotions
Everything's happening
Nothing's unreal
Hallucinating the mind in the real
Seeing black panthers
That suddenly fly
White tigers stalking your mind
Hallucinating the things that you see
This kind of magic's so hard to believe
[Chorus]
'Cause when it's Siegfried & Roy
It's the mind of a magic in true
Your own thoughts play the game
In the magical wonders they do
The mind in the magic is you
When it's Siegfried & Roy
It's the mind of a magic in true
When it's Siegfried & Roy
It's the mind of a magic in true
(Seeing is believin'...)
When it's Siegfried & Roy
[...] Read more
song performed by Michael Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stack A Lee
Hawlin alley on a dark and drizzly night,
Billy lyons and stack-a-lee had one terrible fight.
All about that john b. stetson hat.
Stack-a-lee walked to the bar-room, and he called for a glass of beer,
Turned around to billy lyons, said, what are you doin here?
Waitin for a train, please bring my woman home.
Stack-a-lee, oh stack-a-lee. please dont take my life.
Got three little children and a-weepin, lovin wife.
Youre a bad man, bad man, stack-a-lee.
God bless your children and Ill take care of your wife.
You stole my john b., now Im bound to take your life.
All about that john b. stetson hat.
Stack-a-lee turned to billy lyons and he shot him right through the head,
Only taking one shot to kill billy lyons dead.
All about that john b. stetson hat.
Sent for the doctor, well the doctor he did come,
Just pointed out stack-a-lee, said, now what have you done?
Youre a bad man, bad man, stack-a-lee.
Six big horses and a rubber-tired hack,
Taking him to the cemetery, buy they failed to bring him back.
All about that john b. stetson hat.
Hawlin alley, thought I heard the bulldogs bark.
It must have been old stack-a-lee stumbling in the dark.
Hes a bad man, gonna land him right back in jail.
High police walked on to stack-a-lee, he was lying fast asleep.
High police walked on to stack-a-lee, and he jumped forty feet.
Hes a bad man, gonna land him right back in jail.
Well they got old stack-a-lee and they laid him right back in jail.
Couldnt get a man around to go stack-a lees bail
All about that john b. stetson hat.
Stack-a-lee turned to the jailer, he said, jailer, I cant sleep.
round my bedside billy lyons began to creep.
All about that john b. stetson hat.
song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Tale of Emma Chissett - for Dan Dan the Betcha Man
Emma Chissett’s
missed out lunch;
she’s suffering
a credit crunch;
Emma Chissett
checks out who
today is offering
three-for-two;
Emma checks
the cornbeef tins
in those illegal
‘sell by’ bins;
finds ‘eat by’ dates
passed (hard to see..):
mentions this;
and gets them free;
Emma’s icebox
shelves for meat
holds tougher cuts:
chew first, then eat..
Emma’s sharp eye
spots bruised fruit;
negotiates
a price to suit;
Emma does
these shops a good turn:
avoids some angry
customer return;
she’s there before
every Church bazaar:
spots the mispriced
from afar;
turns the expensive
fashion gown
to show the tear or stain;
brings the price right down;
and woe betide
a market stall:
‘emmachissett? ’..
and prices fall..
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Roy The Christian
At first, poor Roy could not enjoy
The Bible in his hand,
For phrases there would oft annoy,
Quite hard to understand...
Yet with concordance, Roy began
His private Holy Grail,
It was his quest to test God's plan,
Forgiveness to avail...
So Roy took notes from day-to-day
And also night-to-night
And sometimes Roy would kneel and pray,
For such was his delight...
To think, God's treasure chest was here,
With prophecies galore
And thus, in time, faith conquered fear...
Roy wanted more, more, more!
God's Holy Spirit blessed his heart,
To heal his empty soul,
With wondrous truths God would impart
To saints that He makes whole...
No wonder, Roy began to preach
And write new poetry,
As if the whole wide world to teach
Of Christ and Calvary!
The decades past and verses penned
Would help lost souls find Christ,
Such that they would call Roy their friend,
A brother highly prized...
Lord Jesus promised him a crown
To wear most joyfully...
In truth, one day to wear a gown,
For Roy was royalty...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital 581
as well as the WATCH NOW link on
the revelationtv-dot-com website...
poem by Denis Martindale
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General William Booth Enters into Heaven
[To be sung to the tune of The Blood of the Lamb with indicated instrument]
I
[Bass drum beaten loudly.]
Booth led boldly with his big bass drum --
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)
The Saints smiled gravely and they said: "He's come."
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)
Walking lepers followed, rank on rank,
Lurching bravoes from the ditches dank,
Drabs from the alleyways and drug fiends pale --
Minds still passion-ridden, soul-powers frail: --
Vermin-eaten saints with mouldy breath,
Unwashed legions with the ways of Death --
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)
[Banjos.]
Every slum had sent its half-a-score
The round world over. (Booth had groaned for more.)
Every banner that the wide world flies
Bloomed with glory and transcendent dyes.
Big-voiced lasses made their banjos bang,
Tranced, fanatical they shrieked and sang: --
"Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?"
Hallelujah! It was queer to see
Bull-necked convicts with that land make free.
Loons with trumpets blowed a blare, blare, blare
On, on upward thro' the golden air!
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)
II
[Bass drum slower and softer.]
Booth died blind and still by Faith he trod,
Eyes still dazzled by the ways of God.
Booth led boldly, and he looked the chief
Eagle countenance in sharp relief,
Beard a-flying, air of high command
Unabated in that holy land.
[Sweet flute music.]
Jesus came from out the court-house door,
Stretched his hands above the passing poor.
Booth saw not, but led his queer ones there
[...] Read more
song, lyrics by Vachel Lindsay
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Goin Down Geneva
Goin down geneva, give me a helping hand
Im goin down geneva, give me a helping hand
Its not easy baby, living on the exile plan
Down on the bottom, down to my new pair of shoes
Down on the bottom, down to my new pair of shoes
Im down by the lakeside, thinking bout my baby blue
Last night I played a gig in salzburg, outside in the pouring rain
Last night I played a gig in salzburg, outside in the pouring rain
Flew from there to montreux and my heart was filled with pain
Look out my window, back at the way things are
Look out my window pane, back at the way things are
Just wonder how, how did things ever get this far
Vince taylor used to live here, nobodys ever heard of him
Vince taylor used to live here, but nobodys heard of him, aint that a shame
Just who he was, just where he fits in
He was goin down geneva. give him helping hand
He was goin down geneva, give him helping hand
It wasnt easy living on the exile plan
Vince taylor used to live here, nobodys even heard of him
Vince, vince taylor lives here, nobodys even heard of him
Just who he was, just where he fits in
Just who he was, just where he fits in
song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 X. Rob Roy’s Grave .
A FAMOUS man is Robin Hood,
The English ballad-singer's joy!
And Scotland has a thief as good,
An outlaw of as daring mood;
She has her brave ROB ROY!
Then clear the weeds from off his Grave,
And let us chant a passing stave,
In honour of that Hero brave!
Heaven gave Rob Roy a dauntless heart
And wondrous length and strength of arm:
Nor craved he more to quell his foes,
Or keep his friends from harm.
Yet was Rob Roy as wise as brave;
Forgive me if the phrase be strong;--
A Poet worthy of Rob Roy
Must scorn a timid song.
Say, then, that he was 'wise' as brave;
As wise in thought as bold in deed:
For in the principles of things
'He' sought his moral creed.
Said generous Rob, 'What need of books?
Burn all the statutes and their shelves:
They stir us up against our kind;
And worse, against ourselves.
'We have a passion--make a law,
Too false to guide us or control!
And for the law itself we fight
In bitterness of soul.
'And, puzzled, blinded thus, we lose
Distinctions that are plain and few:
These find I graven on my heart:
'That' tells me what to do.
'The creatures see of flood and field,
And those that travel on the wind!
With them no strife can last; they live
In peace, and peace of mind.
'For why?--because the good old rule
Sufficeth them, the simple plan,
That they should take, who have the power,
And they should keep who can.
'A lesson that is quickly learned,
[...] Read more
poem by William Wordsworth
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. The Student's Tale; Emma and Eginhard
When Alcuin taught the sons of Charlemagne,
In the free schools of Aix, how kings should reign,
And with them taught the children of the poor
How subjects should be patient and endure,
He touched the lips of some, as best befit,
With honey from the hives of Holy Writ;
Others intoxicated with the wine
Of ancient history, sweet but less divine;
Some with the wholesome fruits of grammar fed;
Others with mysteries of the stars o'er-head,
That hang suspended in the vaulted sky
Like lamps in some fair palace vast and high.
In sooth, it was a pleasant sight to see
That Saxon monk, with hood and rosary,
With inkhorn at his belt, and pen and book,
And mingled lore and reverence in his look,
Or hear the cloister and the court repeat
The measured footfalls of his sandaled feet,
Or watch him with the pupils of his school,
Gentle of speech, but absolute of rule.
Among them, always earliest in his place.
Was Eginhard, a youth of Frankish race,
Whose face was bright with flashes that forerun
The splendors of a yet unrisen sun.
To him all things were possible, and seemed
Not what he had accomplished, but had dreamed,
And what were tasks to others were his play,
The pastime of an idle holiday.
Smaragdo, Abbot of St. Michael's, said,
With many a shrug and shaking of the head,
Surely some demon must possess the lad,
Who showed more wit than ever schoolboy had,
And learned his Trivium thus without the rod;
But Alcuin said it was the grace of God.
Thus he grew up, in Logic point-device,
Perfect in Grammar, and in Rhetoric nice;
Science of Numbers, Geometric art,
And lore of Stars, and Music knew by heart;
A Minnesinger, long before the times
Of those who sang their love in Suabian rhymes.
The Emperor, when he heard this good report
Of Eginhard much buzzed about the court,
Said to himself, 'This stripling seems to be
Purposely sent into the world for me;
He shall become my scribe, and shall be schooled
In all the arts whereby the world is ruled.'
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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