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22 Jump Street

Cast: Channing Tatum, Jonah Hill, Ice Cube, Dave Franco, Nick Offerman, Peter Stormare, Sal Longobardo, Ashlyn McEvers

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Peter Bell, A Tale

PROLOGUE

There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like the crescent-moon.

And now I 'have' a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up--and you shall see me soon!

The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring,
Rocking and roaring like a sea;
The noise of danger's in your ears,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for my little Boat and me!

Meanwhile untroubled I admire
The pointed horns of my canoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you!

Away we go, my Boat and I--
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive,
Or deep into the clouds we dive,
Each is contented with the other.

Away we go--and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scattered stars.

Up goes my Boat among the stars
Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright!

The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull--
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-haired race of Mars,
Covered from top to toe with scars;
Such company I like it not!

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Peter Bell The Third

BY MICHING MALLECHO, Esq.

Is it a party in a parlour,
Crammed just as they on earth were crammed,
Some sipping punch-some sipping tea;
But, as you by their faces see,
All silent, and all-damned!

Peter Bell, by W. Wordsworth.


Ophelia.-What means this, my lord?
Hamlet.-Marry, this is Miching Mallecho; it means mischief.
~Shakespeare.

PROLOGUE
Pet er Bells, one, two and three,
O'er the wide world wandering be.-
First, the antenatal Peter,
Wrapped in weeds of the same metre,
The so-long-predestined raiment
Clothed in which to walk his way meant
The second Peter; whose ambition
Is to link the proposition,
As the mean of two extremes-
(This was learned from Aldric's themes)
Shielding from the guilt of schism
The orthodoxal syllogism;
The First Peter-he who was
Like the shadow in the glass
Of the second, yet unripe,
His substantial antitype.-
Then came Peter Bell the Second,
Who henceforward must be reckoned
The body of a double soul,
And that portion of the whole
Without which the rest would seem
Ends of a disjointed dream.-
And the Third is he who has
O'er the grave been forced to pass
To the other side, which is,-
Go and try else,-just like this.
Peter Bell the First was Peter
Smugger, milder, softer, neater,
Like the soul before it is
Born from that world into this.
The next Peter Bell was he,
Predevote, like you and me,
To good or evil as may come;
His was the severer doom,-

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Dagenham Dave

Head in the clouds, and a mouthful of pie
Head in a blouse, everybody loves him
I see why
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dagenham dave
I love karen, I love sharon on the windowscreen
With never the need to fight or to question a single thing
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave
Hed love to touch, hes afraid that he might self-combust
I could say more, but you get the general idea
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Dagenham, dagenham
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Dagenham, dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dave, oh, dagenham, dagenham
Dagenham dave
Dagenham dave, dagenham dave
Oh, dave, oh, dave, oh, dave
Oh, dave

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The peter-bird

Out of the woods by the creek cometh a calling for Peter,
And from the orchard a voice echoes and echoes it over;
Down in the pasture the sheep hear that strange crying for Peter,
Over the meadows that call is aye and forever repeated.
So let me tell you the tale, when, where, and how it all happened,
And, when the story is told, let us pay heed to the lesson.

Once on a time, long ago, lived in the State of Kentucky
One that was reckoned a witch--full of strange spells and devices;
Nightly she wandered the woods, searching for charms voodooistic--
Scorpions, lizards, and herbs, dormice, chameleons, and plantains!
Serpents and caw-caws and bats, screech-owls and crickets and adders--
These were the guides of that witch through the dank deeps of the forest.
Then, with her roots and her herbs, back to her cave in the morning
Ambled that hussy to brew spells of unspeakable evil;
And, when the people awoke, seeing that hillside and valley
Sweltered in swathes as of mist--"Look!" they would whisper in terror--
"Look! the old witch is at work brewing her spells of great evil!"
Then would they pray till the sun, darting his rays through the vapor,
Lifted the smoke from the earth and baffled the witch's intentions.

One of the boys at that time was a certain young person named Peter,
Given too little to work, given too largely to dreaming;
Fonder of books than of chores, you can imagine that Peter
Led a sad life on the farm, causing his parents much trouble.
"Peter!" his mother would call, "the cream is a'ready for churning!"
"Peter!" his father would cry, "go grub at the weeds in the garden!"
So it was "Peter!" all day--calling, reminding, and chiding--
Peter neglected his work; therefore that nagging at Peter!

Peter got hold of some books--how, I'm unable to tell you;
Some have suspected the witch--this is no place for suspicions!
It is sufficient to stick close to the thread of the legend.
Nor is it stated or guessed what was the trend of those volumes;
What thing soever it was--done with a pen and a pencil,
Wrought with a brain, not a hoe--surely 't was hostile to farming!

"Fudge on all readin'!" they quoth; or "that's what's the ruin of
Peter!"

So, when the mornings were hot, under the beech or the maple,
Cushioned in grass that was blue, breathing the breath of the blossoms,
Lulled by the hum of the bees, the coo of the ring-doves a-mating,
Peter would frivol his time at reading, or lazing, or dreaming.
"Peter!" his mother would call, "the cream is a'ready for churning!"
"Peter!" his father would cry, "go grub at the weeds in the garden!"
"Peter!" and "Peter!" all day--calling, reminding, and chiding--
Peter neglected his chores; therefore that outcry for Peter;
Therefore the neighbors allowed evil would surely befall him--
Yes, on account of these things, ruin would come upon Peter!

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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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Its A Mans World

(ice cube)
Women theyre good for nothing no maybe one thing
To serve needs to my ding-a-ling
Im a man who loves the one-night stand
Cause after I do ya
Huh I never knew ya
Cause to kick it man it gives me the fits
They wanna lay with they nose under your armpits
Ice cube wont wait so give it up cow
After we do it you can go home now
Im a brother with a big long...
(yo-yo)
First of all let me tell you my name its yo-yo
When down on a girl first the fist and thats a no-no
Yo-yo thinks the kitchen sink should be thrown in
Niggas be scheming and fiending to stick the bone in
No, yo-yos not a hoe or a whore
And if thats what youre here for
Exit through the door
Theres more
To see of me but youre blind so
Women like me are fading brothers in the 9-0
(ice cube)
Ay what up buttercupper miss yo-yo
I know you like to rap and like to flow so
But when it comes to hip-hop this is a mans world
Stay down and play the playground you little girl
(yo-yo)
What youre saying I dont consider it as rapping
Cause youre on rewind and Im the new whats-happening
It never fails Ill always get respect
And you lose so take a rain check
(ice cube)
Hell no cause you know that Im first and youre second
If it wasnt for me you probably be pregnant
And barefoot complaining that your back is aching
Shaking and faking while Im bringing home the bacon
(yo-yo)
Well youre mistaken
Its not going that far
I make brothers like you play the back yard
You used to flow with the title but I took it
Bring home the bacon but find another hoe to cook it
(ice cube)
Damn it look it
Cause youre talking a lot of bull
(yo-yo)
Well Im not your puppet so dont even try to pull
(ice cube)
This is a mans world thank you very much

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Jonah Forced By God Warms Assyrian Nineveh

Jonah an Old Testament prophet
from Galilee his story takes place
between years 780 B.C to 760 B.C.

Assyria was a powerful evil nation
Israel's most dreaded enemy foreign.
The Lord spoke unto Jonah told him

to go to Nineveh capital of Assyria
to preach to warn sinful Ninevites. Jonah 1: 2.
Jonah by God's word commanded

told to warn the Ninevites to repent
or suffer judgement for wickedness.
But Jonah disobeys the will of God

Jonah plots swiftly high tales it out
180 degrees in opposite direction
Jonah boy child brought back to life

resurrected by Elijah the prophet 1 Kings 17: 17-24.
Jonah son of Amittai the son of truth 2 Kings 14: 25.
Jonah departed not to Nineveh but

to Tarshish with motives of what?
Were Jonah's motives fear revenge?
Assyrians had committed terrible

atrocities against the people of Israel
traveling into their midst was terrifying?
Jonah despised hated the Assyrians

desired in his heart for God to punish
Assyria? Jonah knew God's nature.
Jonah knew if repentance he preached

to the Ninevites they would repent?
God would spare them punishment. Jonah 4: 2.
Jonah disobeyed fled toward Tarshish

because he knew God to be gracious
merciful, slow to anger, and abundant
in loving-kindness, regretting calamity.

Jonah knew God would forgive regret
his decision to destroy Nineveh a city
of more than 120,000 men domestic

animals living in spiritual darkness;
not knowing the difference between

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I Saw It Myself (Short Verse Drama)

Dramatis Personae: Adrian, his wife Ester, his sisters Rebecca and Johanna, his mother Elizabeth, the high priest Chiapas, the disciple Simon Peter, the disciple John, Mary Magdalene, worshipers, priests, two angels and Jesus Christ.

Act I

Scene I.- Adrian’s house in Jerusalem. Adrian has just returned home after a business journey in Galilee, in time to attend the Passover feast. He sits at the table with his wife Ester and his sisters, Rebecca and Johanna. It’s just before sunset on the Friday afternoon.

Adrian. (Somewhat puzzled) Strange things are happening,
some say demons dwell upon the earth,
others angelic beings, miracles take place
and all of this when they had put a man to death,
had crucified a criminal. Everybody knows
the cross is used for degenerates only!

Rebecca. (With a pleasant voice) Such harsh words used,
for a good, a great man brother?
They say that without charge
he healed the sick, brought back sight,
cured leprosy, even made some more food,
from a few fishes and loafs of bread…

Adrian. (Somewhat harsh) They say many things!
That he rode into Jerusalem
to be crowned as the new king,
was a rebel against the state,
even claimed to be
the very Son of God,
now that is blasphemy
if there is no truth to it!

Johanna. I met him once.
He’s not the man
that you make him, brother.
There was a strange tranquilly to Him.
Some would say a divine presence,
while He spoke of love that is selfless,
visited the sick, the poor
and even the destitute, even harlots.

Adrian. (Looks up) There you have it!
Harlots! Tax collecting thieves!
A man is know by his friends,
or so they say and probably
there is some truth to it.

Ester. Husband, do not be so quick to judge.
I have seen Him myself, have seen
Roman soldiers marching Him to the hill
to take His life, with a angry crowd
following and mocking Him.

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22 Jump Street [trailer 2]

Cast: Channing Tatum, Jonah Hill, Ice Cube, Dave Franco, Nick Offerman, Peter Stormare, Sal Longobardo, Ashlyn McEvers

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The Borough. Letter XXII: Peter Grimes

Old Peter Grimes made fishing his employ,
His wife he cabin'd with him and his boy,
And seem'd that life laborious to enjoy:
To town came quiet Peter with his fish,
And had of all a civil word and wish.
He left his trade upon the sabbath-day,
And took young Peter in his hand to pray:
But soon the stubborn boy from care broke loose,
At first refused, then added his abuse:
His father's love he scorn'd, his power defied,
But being drunk, wept sorely when he died.

Yes! then he wept, and to his mind there came
Much of his conduct, and he felt the shame,--
How he had oft the good old man reviled,
And never paid the duty of a child;
How, when the father in his Bible read,
He in contempt and anger left the shed:
"It is the word of life," the parent cried;
--"This is the life itself," the boy replied;
And while old Peter in amazement stood,
Gave the hot spirit to his boiling blood:--
How he, with oath and furious speech, began
To prove his freedom and assert the man;
And when the parent check'd his impious rage,
How he had cursed the tyranny of age,--
Nay, once had dealt the sacrilegious blow
On his bare head, and laid his parent low;
The father groan'd--"If thou art old," said he,
"And hast a son--thou wilt remember me:
Thy mother left me in a happy time,
Thou kill'dst not her--Heav'n spares the double-crime."

On an inn-settle, in his maudlin grief,
This he revolved, and drank for his relief.

Now lived the youth in freedom, but debarr'd
From constant pleasure, and he thought it hard;
Hard that he could not every wish obey,
But must awhile relinquish ale and play;
Hard! that he could not to his cards attend,
But must acquire the money he would spend.

With greedy eye he look'd on all he saw,
He knew not justice, and he laugh'd at law;
On all he mark'd he stretch'd his ready hand;
He fish'd by water, and he filch'd by land:
Oft in the night has Peter dropp'd his oar,
Fled from his boat and sought for prey on shore;
Oft up the hedge-row glided, on his back

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The Ghost,

There stands a City,-- neither large nor small,
Its air and situation sweet and pretty;
It matters very little -- if at all --
Whether its denizens are dull or witty,
Whether the ladies there are short or tall,
Brunettes or blondes, only, there stands a city!--
Perhaps 'tis also requisite to minute
That there's a Castle and a Cobbler in it.

A fair Cathedral, too, the story goes,
And kings and heroes lie entomb'd within her;
There pious Saints, in marble pomp repose,
Whose shrines are worn by knees of many a Sinner;
There, too, full many an Aldermanic nose
Roll'd its loud diapason after dinner;
And there stood high the holy sconce of Becket,
-- Till four assassins came from France to crack it.

The Castle was a huge and antique mound,
Proof against all th' artillery of the quiver,
Ere those abominable guns were found
To send cold lead through gallant warrior's liver.
It stands upon a gently rising ground,
Sloping down gradually to the river,
Resembling (to compare great things with smaller),
A well-scooped, mouldy Stilton cheese,-- but taller.

The Keep, I find, 's been sadly alter'd lately,
And, 'stead of mail-clad knights, of honour jealous,
In martial panoply so grand and stately,
Its walls are fill'd with money-making fellows,
And stuff'd, unless I'm misinformed greatly,
With leaden pipes, and coke, and coals, and bellows;
In short, so great a change has come to pass,
'Tis now a manufactory of Gas.

But to my tale.-- Before this profanation,
And ere its ancient glories were cut short all,
A poor hard-working Cobbler took his station
In a small house, just opposite the portal;
His birth, his parentage, and education,
I know but little of -- a strange, odd mortal;
His aspect, air, and gait, were all ridiculous;
His name was Mason -- he'd been christen'd Nicholas.

Nick had a wife possessed of many a charm,
And of the Lady Huntingdon persuasion;
But, spite of all her piety, her arm
She'd sometimes exercise when in a passion;
And, being of a temper somewhat warm,

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Ice Ice Baby

(vanilla ice, earthquake, m. smooth)
Yo, vip, lets kick it!
Ice ice baby, ice ice baby
All right stop, collaborate and listen
Ice is back with my brand new invention
Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Then I flow like a harpoon daily and nightly
Will it ever stop? yo -- I dont know
Turn off the lights and Ill glow
To the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal
Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle.
Dance, bum rush the speaker that booms
Im killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom
Deadly, when I play a dope melody
Anything less than the best is a felony
Love it or leave it, you better gain way
You better hit bulls eye, the kid dont play
If there was a problem, yo, Ill solve it
Check out the hook while my dj revolves it
Ice ice baby vanilla, ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla, ice ice baby vanilla
Now that the party is jumping
With the bass kicked in, the vegas are pumpin
Quick to the point, to the point no faking
Im cooking mcs like a pound of bacon
Burning them if theyre not quick and nimble
I go crazy when I hear a cymbal
And a hi hat with a souped up tempo
Im on a roll and its time to go solo
Rollin in my 5.0
With my ragtop down so my hair can blow
The girlies on standby, waving just to say hi
Did you stop? no -- I just drove by
Kept on pursuing to the next stop
I busted a left and Im heading to the next block
That block was dead
Yo -- so I continued to a1a beachfront ave.
Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis
Rockman lovers driving lamborghinis
Jealous cause Im out geting mine
Shay with a gauge and vanilla with a nine
Reading for the chumps on the wall
The chumps acting ill because theyre so full of eight balls
Gunshots ranged out like a bell
I grabbed my nine -- all I heard were shells
Falling on the concrete real fast
Jumped in my car, slammed on the gas
Bumper to bumper the avenues packed
Im trying to get away before the jackers jack
Police on the scene, you know what I mean

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Ice Ice Baby

(vanilla ice, earthquake, m. smooth)
Yo, vip, lets kick it!
Ice ice baby, ice ice baby
All right stop, collaborate and listen
Ice is back with my brand new invention
Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Then I flow like a harpoon daily and nightly
Will it ever stop? yo -- I dont know
Turn off the lights and Ill glow
To the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal
Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle.
Dance, bum rush the speaker that booms
Im killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom
Deadly, when I play a dope melody
Anything less than the best is a felony
Love it or leave it, you better gain way
You better hit bulls eye, the kid dont play
If there was a problem, yo, Ill solve it
Check out the hook while my dj revolves it
Ice ice baby vanilla, ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla, ice ice baby vanilla
Now that the party is jumping
With the bass kicked in, the vegas are pumpin
Quick to the point, to the point no faking
Im cooking mcs like a pound of bacon
Burning them if theyre not quick and nimble
I go crazy when I hear a cymbal
And a hi hat with a souped up tempo
Im on a roll and its time to go solo
Rollin in my 5.0
With my ragtop down so my hair can blow
The girlies on standby, waving just to say hi
Did you stop? no -- I just drove by
Kept on pursuing to the next stop
I busted a left and Im heading to the next block
That block was dead
Yo -- so I continued to a1a beachfront ave.
Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis
Rockman lovers driving lamborghinis
Jealous cause Im out geting mine
Shay with a gauge and vanilla with a nine
Reading for the chumps on the wall
The chumps acting ill because theyre so full of eight balls
Gunshots ranged out like a bell
I grabbed my nine -- all I heard were shells
Falling on the concrete real fast
Jumped in my car, slammed on the gas
Bumper to bumper the avenues packed
Im trying to get away before the jackers jack
Police on the scene, you know what I mean

[...] Read more

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Jonah and the Grampus

I'll tell you the story of Jonah,
A really remarkable tale;
A peaceful and humdrum existence he had
Until one day he went for a sail.

The weather were grand when they started,
But later at turn of the tide
The wind started blowing, the water got rough,
And Jonah felt funny inside.

When the ship started pitching and tossing
He tried hard his feelings to smother,
At last he just leant his head over the side
And one thing seemed to bring up another.

When the sailors saw what he were doing
It gave them a bit of a jar;
They didn't mind trippers enjoying theirselves,
But thowt this 'ere were going too far.

Said one "Is there nowt you can think on
To stop you from feelin' so bad?"
And Jonah said "Aye, lift me over the side
And chuck me in, there's a good lad."

The sailor were not one to argue,
He said "Happen you know what's best."
Then he picked Jonah up by the seat of his pants
And chucked him in, as per request.

A Grampus came up at that moment,
And seeing the old man hard set,
It swam to his side and it opened its mouth
And said "Come in lad, out of the wet."

Its manner were kindly and pleading,
As if to say R.S.V.P.
Said Jonah "I've eaten a kipper or two,
But I never thowt one would eat me."

The inside of Grampus surprised him,
'Twere the first time he'd been behind scenes;
He found 'commodation quite ample for one
But it smelled like a tin of sardines.

Then over the sea they went cruising,
And Jonah were filled with delight;
With his eye to the blow-'ole in t'Grampus's head
He watched ships that passed in the night.

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Little Saint Nick

Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Oooooooo oooooooo
Well, way up north where the air gets cold
Theres a tale about christmas that youve all been told
And a real famous cat all dressed up in red
And he spends the whole year workin out on his sled
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Just a little bobsled we call it old saint nick
But shell walk a toboggan with a four speed stick
Shes candy-apple red with a ski for a wheel
And when santa hits the gas, man, just watch her peel
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Run run reindeer
Run run reindeer
Whoaa
Run run reindeer
Run run reindeer
He dont miss no one
And haulin through the snow at a frightenin speed
With a half a dozen deer with rudy to lead
Hes gotta wear his goggles cause the snow really flies
And hes cruisin every pad with a little surprise
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year

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Franco Un-american

I never thought about the universe, it made me feel small
Never thought about the problems of this planet at all
Global warming, radio-active sites
Imperialistic wrongs and animal rights! no!
Why think of all the bad things when life is so good?
Why help with an am when theres always a could?
Let the whales worry about the poisons in the sea
Outside of california, its foreign policy
I dont want changes, I have no reactions
Your dilemmas are my distractions
Thats no way to go, franco un-american
No way to go, franco un-american
No way to go, franco un-american
No way to go, franco, franco un-american
I never looked around, never second-guessed
Then I read some howard zinn now Im always depressed
And now I cant sleep from years of apathy
All because I read a little noam chomsky
Im eating vegetation, cause of fast food nation
Im wearing a couple of shoes cause of globalization
Im watching michael moore expose the awful truth
Im listening to public enemy and reagan youth
I see no world peace cause of zealous armed forces
I eat no breath-mints cause their from de-hoofed horses
Now I cant believe; what an absolute failure
The presidents laughing cause we voted for nader
Thats no way to go, franco un-american
No way to go, franco un-american
No way to go, franco un-american
Where can we go, franco un-american
I want to move north and be a canadian
Or hang down low with the nice australians
I dont want to be another i-dont-care-ican
What are we gonna do franco, franco un-american

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Peter Anderson And Co.

He had offices in Sydney, not so many years ago,
And his shingle bore the legend `Peter Anderson and Co.',
But his real name was Careless, as the fellows understood --
And his relatives decided that he wasn't any good.
'Twas their gentle tongues that blasted any `character' he had --
He was fond of beer and leisure -- and the Co. was just as bad.
It was limited in number to a unit, was the Co. --
'Twas a bosom chum of Peter and his Christian name was Joe.

'Tis a class of men belonging to these soul-forsaken years:
Third-rate canvassers, collectors, journalists and auctioneers.
They are never very shabby, they are never very spruce --
Going cheerfully and carelessly and smoothly to the deuce.
Some are wanderers by profession, `turning up' and gone as soon,
Travelling second-class, or steerage (when it's cheap they go saloon);
Free from `ists' and `isms', troubled little by belief or doubt --
Lazy, purposeless, and useless -- knocking round and hanging out.
They will take what they can get, and they will give what they can give,
God alone knows how they manage -- God alone knows how they live!
They are nearly always hard-up, but are cheerful all the while --
Men whose energy and trousers wear out sooner than their smile!
They, no doubt, like us, are haunted by the boresome `if' or `might',
But their ghosts are ghosts of daylight -- they are men who live at night!

Peter met you with the comic smile of one who knows you well,
And is mighty glad to see you, and has got a joke to tell;
He could laugh when all was gloomy, he could grin when all was blue,
Sing a comic song and act it, and appreciate it, too.
Only cynical in cases where his own self was the jest,
And the humour of his good yarns made atonement for the rest.
Seldom serious -- doing business just as 'twere a friendly game --
Cards or billiards -- nothing graver. And the Co. was much the same.

They tried everything and nothing 'twixt the shovel and the press,
And were more or less successful in their ventures -- mostly less.
Once they ran a country paper till the plant was seized for debt,
And the local sinners chuckle over dingy copies yet.

They'd been through it all and knew it in the land of Bills and Jims --
Using Peter's own expression, they had been in `various swims'.
Now and then they'd take an office, as they called it, -- make a dash
Into business life as `agents' -- something not requiring cash.
(You can always furnish cheaply, when your cash or credit fails,
With a packing-case, a hammer, and a pound of two-inch nails --
And, maybe, a drop of varnish and sienna, too, for tints,
And a scrap or two of oilcloth, and a yard or two of chintz).
They would pull themselves together, pay a week's rent in advance,
But it never lasted longer than a month by any chance.

The office was their haven, for they lived there when hard-up --

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Time Is An Ocean

Sal
I speak to you in jesuss name
As jesus speaks through me,
The evil we do cant be blamed upon our destiny
I have walked through the valley of death-row to the shore
I have stumbled through silvery water to my savior, my salvador!
Salvador
It took me four years to learn
I was in prison not in church.
And two more to begin the book of my souls search.
Sal & salvador
Time is an ocean of endless tears
Sal
A wild boy from the streets of el barrio
An orphan from the hills of mayagez
Salvador
And when I wrote my story
The words flew from the page
And my soul in solitary
Escaped its iron cage.
Sal & salvador
Time is an ocean of endless tears
Sal
Mama, I got your letter today
The next time that you write Ill be transferred far away.
Im leaving greenhavens towers of stone
Where the latin population will soon be minus one.
Salvador
Time is an ocean of endless tears.
Sal
I know how hard its been for you these many years,
You say the aguinaldo makes you dream of home
Where once we strolled the beach at el malecon
Go back dont you worry, I am your grown-up son.
Salvador
The politics of prison are a mirror of the street.
The poor endure oppression
The police control the state.
Correctional facility
Thats what they call this place
But look around and you will see
The politics of race.
Sal
A forest and a prison
Where the snow and guards are white
Salvador
If you want to keep your sanity
Youll teach yourself to write.
You were a child of sixteen
With a twelve-year-old mind

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Bernadette

Sal
Whoa------i got time on my hands tonight
Youre the girl of my dreams
When Im near you my future seems bright
Oo------i want you to be my girl
I want you to be my movie
I am sal mineo and I need you so
Sweet bernadette
Whoa------you got style from your hair to your heels
Though my words may be jumbled
Still Im telling you just how it feels
I love you
Sal & bernadette
I love you
And the breeze that wraps around you
Sal
Satin summer nights
Bernadette
Satin summer nights
Sal & bernadette
A girl I cant forget
Sal
Whoa------youre the smile of the moon bernadette
Sal & bernadette
Dom dom dom doo
Well-a well Im home
Dom dom dom doo
Well-a well Im home
Sal
Wop, wop, wop, wop
Come with me
Theres a place I want you to see
When the leaves are dark
Ive got a hiding place in central park
And the sky is a coat of diamonds
Theres a wooden cross over my bed
The city is lit with candles
Theyre shining for you bernadette.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Oo oo, bernadette
Sal & bernadette
Dom dom dom doo
Well-a well Im home
Dom dom dom doo
Well-a well Im home
Sal
Wop, wop, wop, wop, wop.
Lead, background vocal, hi string and acoustic guitar-paul simon
Background vocal-milton cardona
Background vocal-ray de la paz

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Jonah

Thus sung the king—some angel reach a bough
From Eden's tree to crown the wisest brow;
And now thou fairest garden ever made,
Broad banks of spices, blossom'd walks of shade,
O Lebanon! where much I love to dwell,
Since I must leave thee Lebanon, farewel!

Swift from my soul the fair Idea flies,
A wilder sight the changing scene supplies,
Wide seas come rolling to my future page,
And storms stand ready when I call, to rage.
Then go where Joppa crowns the winding shore,
The prophet Jonah just arrives before,
He sees a ship unmooring, soft the gales,
He pays, and enters, and the vessel sails.

Ah wou'dst thou fly thy God? rash man forbear,
What land so distant but thy God is there?
Weak reason, cease thy voice.—They run the deep,
And the tir'd prophet lays his limbs to sleep.
Here God speaks louder, sends a storm to sea,
The clouds remove to give the vengeance way;
Strong blasts come whistling, by degrees they roar
And shove big surges tumbling on to shore;
The vessel bounds, then rolls, and ev'ry blast
Works hard to tear her by the groaning mast;
The sailors doubling all their shouts and cares
Furl the white canvas, and cast forth the wares,
Each seek the God their native regions own,
In vain they seek them, for those Gods were none.
Yet Jonah slept the while, who solely knew,
In all that number, where to find the true.
To whom the pilot: sleeper, rise and pray,
Our Gods are deaf; may thine do more than they.

But thus the rest: perhaps we waft a foe
To heav'n itself, and that's our cause of woe;
Let's seek by lots, if heav'n be pleas'd to tell;
And what they sought by lots, on Jonah fell:
Then whence he came, and who, and what, and why
Thus rag'd the tempest, all confus'dly cry,
Each press'd in haste to get his question heard,
When Jonah stops them with a grave regard.

An Hebrew man you see, who God revere,
He made this world, and makes this world his care,
His the whirl'd sky, these waves that lift their head,
And his yon land, on which you long to tread.
He charg'd me late, to Nineveh repair,
And to their face denounce his sentence there:

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