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A girl who cannot patch man's trousers in between the legs, must not marry at all, because what use does a man have of such a stupid wife.

Estonian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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IV. Tertium Quid

True, Excellency—as his Highness says,
Though she's not dead yet, she's as good as stretched
Symmetrical beside the other two;
Though he's not judged yet, he's the same as judged,
So do the facts abound and superabound:
And nothing hinders that we lift the case
Out of the shade into the shine, allow
Qualified persons to pronounce at last,
Nay, edge in an authoritative word
Between this rabble's-brabble of dolts and fools
Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.
"Now for the Trial!" they roar: "the Trial to test
"The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike
"I' the scales of law, make one scale kick the beam!"
Law's a machine from which, to please the mob,
Truth the divinity must needs descend
And clear things at the play's fifth act—aha!
Hammer into their noddles who was who
And what was what. I tell the simpletons
"Could law be competent to such a feat
"'T were done already: what begins next week
"Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain
"Whereof the first was forged three years ago
"When law addressed herself to set wrong right,
"And proved so slow in taking the first step
"That ever some new grievance,—tort, retort,
"On one or the other side,—o'ertook i' the game,
"Retarded sentence, till this deed of death
"Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat
"Crammed to the edge with cargo—or passengers?
"'Trecentos inseris: ohe, jam satis est!
"'Huc appelle!'—passengers, the word must be."
Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.
To hear the rabble and brabble, you'd call the case
Fused and confused past human finding out.
One calls the square round, t' other the round square—
And pardonably in that first surprise
O' the blood that fell and splashed the diagram:
But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue
Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines?
It makes a man despair of history,
Eusebius and the established fact—fig's end!
Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away
With the leash of lawyers, two on either side—
One barks, one bites,—Masters Arcangeli
And Spreti,—that's the husband's ultimate hope
Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,
Bound to do barking for the wife: bow—wow!
Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here
Would settle the matter as sufficiently

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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III. The Other Half-Rome

Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!

There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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II. Half-Rome

What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet.)
Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd:
This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze:
I'll tell you like a book and save your shins.
Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault?
Lorenzo in Lucina,—here's a church
To hold a crowd at need, accommodate
All comers from the Corso! If this crush
Make not its priests ashamed of what they show
For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse
And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out
The beggarly transept with its bit of apse
Into a decent space for Christian ease,
Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.
Listen and estimate the luck they've had!
(The right man, and I hold him.)

Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this morn
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,
Behind the little marble balustrade;
Disposed them, Pietro the old murdered fool
To the right of the altar, and his wretched wife
On the other side. In trying to count stabs,
People supposed Violante showed the most,
Till somebody explained us that mistake;
His wounds had been dealt out indifferent where,
But she took all her stabbings in the face,
Since punished thus solely for honour's sake,
Honoris causâ, that's the proper term.
A delicacy there is, our gallants hold,
When you avenge your honour and only then,
That you disfigure the subject, fray the face,
Not just take life and end, in clownish guise.
It was Violante gave the first offence,
Got therefore the conspicuous punishment:
While Pietro, who helped merely, his mere death
Answered the purpose, so his face went free.
We fancied even, free as you please, that face
Showed itself still intolerably wronged;
Was wrinkled over with resentment yet,
Nor calm at all, as murdered faces use,
Once the worst ended: an indignant air
O' the head there was—'t is said the body turned
Round and away, rolled from Violante's side
Where they had laid it loving-husband-like.
If so, if corpses can be sensitive,
Why did not he roll right down altar-step,
Roll on through nave, roll fairly out of church,
Deprive Lorenzo of the spectacle,

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Dare To Be Stupid

Put down your chainsaw and listen to me
Its time for us to join in the fight
Its time to let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Its time to let the bedbugs bite
You better put all your eggs in one basket
You better count your chickens before they hatch
You better sell some wine before its/its time
You better find yourself an itch to scratch
You better squeeze all the charmin you can while mr. wimpoles not around
Stick your head in the microwave and get yourself a tan
Talk with your mouth full
Bite the hand that feeds you
Bite on more than you chew
What can you do
Dare to be stupid
Take some wooden nickles
Look for mr. goodbar
Get your mojo working now
Ill show you how
You can dare to be stupid
You can turn the other cheek
You can just give up the ship
You can eat a bunch of sushi and forget to leave a tip
Dare to be stupid
Come on and dare to be stupid
Its so easy to do
Dare to be stupid
Were all waiting for you
Lets go
Its time to make a mountain out of a molehill
So can I have a volunteer
Theres no more time for crying over spilled milk
Now its time for crying in your beer
Settle down, raise a family, join the pta
Buy some sensible shoes and a chevyrolet
And party till youre broke and they drive you away
Its ok, you can dare to be stupid
Its like spitting on a fish
Its like barking up a tree
Its like I said you gotta buy one if you wanna get one free
Dare to be stupid (yes)
Why dont you dare to be stupid
Its so easy to do
Dare to be stupid
Were all waiting for you
Dare to be stupid
Burn your candle at both ends
Look a gift horse in the mouth
Mashed potatoes can be your friends
You can be a coffee achiever

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song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Forever

Baby I have something that I want to ask you baby so sit back and listen
Hey beloved we are here, to joy each other hand and hand, no more playing house
No ,cause I want to make it real do you understand, to have and to hold (ummm
Umm) until death do us part no one no one could ever interrupt the beats of our
Heart cause this is gonna last
Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever
And ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever
Now there is no one here to speak out and interrupt this ceromony ah baby yeah
(baby just say) all you got to do is say you love me, say that you love me and
We will walk and we will walk down the aisle watching our people smile, flowers
Are everywhere, nothing else can compare, girl you got the kind of love that
Makes a man like me want to settle down a picket fence and a house yeah
Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever
And ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever
Girl Im down on my knees whats its gonna be, whats its gonna be ,whats its
Gonna be, (talk to me) whats its gonna be, whats its gonna be, whats gonna
Be (2 words yeah )whats its gonna be whats gonna be, baby you and me, baby
You and me, baby you and me, baby you and me oh oh oh ohohohohohoh oh oh
Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever
And ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever
4/ever baby, you and me baby, I will be your man you will be my lady, well
Walk hand and hand side by side, I will be the perfect groom youre the perfect
Bride would you just think about it baby, think about it baby, you and me will
Be together girl rain, sleet, snow no matter what the weather just think about
It baby, think about it girl well be making love for eternity raise a family
Girl Ill on my knees, say marry me, (marry me) marry me(cause I love u baby
Marry me),marry me (theres no other baby) marry me, (for u baby) marry me
(said a picket fence), marry me,(a dog and a house) marry me (about 12 kids)u
Cooking me brakfast in the morning and Im taking the garbage out marry me
Marry me, marry me, marry me, marry me, marry me,marry me, marry me, marry me,
Marry me, marry me, marry me, marry me, marry me

song performed by R. Kelly
Added by Lucian Velea
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Girlzilla

Baby Girl, Glamour Girl, Strawberry Girl struts
Candy Girl, Sexy Girl, Bossy Girl fuss
Gansta Girl, Dream Girl, Independent Girl shops
Virtuous Girl, Glitter Girl, Hot Girl pops
Cover Girl, Naughty Girl, Jazzy Girl sings
Phat Girl, Ghetto Girl, Bling Girl blings
Sassy Girl, Cool Girl, Girly Girl rocks
Mama's Girl, Daddy's Girl, Wild Girl stocks
Strong Girl, Sister Girl, Church Girl preach
Flower Girl, Black Girl, American Girl reach
Thick Girl, School Girl, Smart Girl moves
Bad Girl, Spoiled Girl, Bitchy Girl grooves
God's Girl, Quiet Girl, Sweet Girl blessed
Beautiful Girl, Young Girl, Talented Girl impressed
Prom Girl, City Girl, Business Girl works
Play Girl, Outgoing Girl, Dance Girl tworks
Lavish Girl, Promiscuous Girl, Anonymous Girl rolls
Country Girl, Island Girl, Bobby V's Girl controls

poem by Top Notch Glamorous Thick Chick
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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All Different Girls

All Different Girls
By: Sabrina Smith

Pretty girl, who is to blame
Frightened girl, they don’t know her name
Saddened girl, who cries at night
Distant girl, who’s out of sight
Psycho girl, with scars on her wrists
Fairytale girl, who don’t exist
Silent girl, without a name
Ignored girl, who’s filled with shame
Faking girl, with plastic smiles
Freakish girl, from a thousand miles
Emotionless girl, cant feel much pain
Darkened girl, who brings the rain
Crying girl, tears start to flood
Psychotic girl, who drains her blood
Hated girl, who no one loves
Such a weak girl, who’s no longer though
Angry girl, there is no cure
Happy girl, she is no more
Hidden girl, she covers her scars
Prisoned girl, lived behind her life’s bars
Crazy girl, who bleeds so much
Lonely girl, who’s out of touch
Stupid girl, who no one likes
Beaten girl, who always fights
Pretty girl, don’t give up now
Suicide girl, there’s someway, somehow
Scared girl, don’t be afraid
Distant girl, don’t go away
Morbid girl, don’t die tonight
Worried girl, it'll be alright
Stoner girl, tonight she'll smoke her sorrow
Alcoholic girl, she'll drink tomorrow
Furious girl, who has no more faith
Depressed girl, who cries and aches
Fallen girl, with broken wings
Disturbed girl, fell off the swing
Pretty girl, you are my friend
Aching girl, just try to mend
Ugly girl, not like before
Beautiful girl, she is no more
Pretty girl, who made her life end
Pretty girl...no...Not again...

poem by Sabrina Smith
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All Different Girls

Pretty girl, who is to blame
Frightened girl, they don't know her name
Saddened girl, who cries at night
Distant girl, who's out of sight
Psycho girl, with scars on her wrists
Fairytale girl, who don't exist
Silent girl, without a name
Ignored girl, who's filled with shame
Faking girl, with plastic smiles
Freakish girl, from a thousand miles
Emotionless girl, cant feel much pain
Darkened girl, who brings the rain
Crying girl, tears start to flood
Psychotic girl, who drains her blood
Hated girl, who no one loves
Such a weak girl, who's no longer though
Angry girl, there is no cure
Happy girl, she is no more
Hidden girl, she covers her scars
Prisoned girl, lived behind her life's bars
Crazy girl, who bleeds so much
Lonely girl, who's out of touch
Stupid girl, who no one likes
Beaten girl, who always fights
Pretty girl, don't give up now
Suicide girl, there's someway, somehow
Scared girl, don't be afraid
Distant girl, don't go away
Morbid girl, don't die tonight
Worried girl, it'll be alright
Stoner girl, tonight she'll smoke her sorrow
Alcoholic girl, she'll drink tomorrow
Furious girl, who has no more faith
Depressed girl, who cries and aches
Fallen girl, with broken wings
Disturbed girl, fell off the swing
Pretty girl, you are my friend
Aching girl, just try to mend
Ugly girl, not like before
Beautiful girl, she is no more
Pretty girl, who made her life end
Pretty girl...no...Not again..

poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
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Where Did You Sleep Last Night? (live)

My girl, my girl
Don't lie to me
Tell me where did you sleep last night
In a patch, in a patch
Where the sun never shines
And my body shivered all night
My girl, my girl
Don't lie to me
Tell me where did you sleep last night
In a patch, in a patch
Where the sun never shines
And my body shivered all night
Her husband was a hard working man
Killed a mile and a half from here
His head was found on a driving wheel
And his body never was found
My girl, my girl
Don't lie to me
Tell me where did you sleep last night
In a patch, in a patch
Where the sun never shines
My body shivered all night
My girl, my girl
Where will you go
To a place where the cold wind blows
To a patch, to a patch
Where the sun never shines
And my body shivers all night
My girl, my girl
Don't lie to me
Tell me where did you sleep last night
In a patch, in a patch
Where the sun never shines
And my body shivered all night

song performed by Hole
Added by Lucian Velea
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Used To Be My Girl

Good loving, the girl's got plenty good lovin'
Ask me how I know, and I'll tell you so
Used to be my girl
I respect her, when she was mine, I used to neglect her
Oh, she wanted more than I could give
But as long as I live, she'll be my girl
She (She used to be my girl)
Oh (She used to be my girl)
Oh, her personality, the girl was so right for me
She's my girl
And If I had the chance once more, I'd take her back
As a matter a fact, right away (I'd take her back)
I'd take her back
Not only good-lookin'
But lookin' smart, got a thing cooking
Ask me how I know, and I'll tell you so
She used to be my girl
(She used to be my girl) Used to be my girl
(She used to be my girl) My girl, my girl
Oh, her personality, the girl was so right for me
She's my girl
And If I had the chance, I'd take her back
As a matter a fact, right away, right away
Where's my girl?
Don't you know I'm way down, way down
Don't you know, way down, way down
Listen, ooh, good loving, the girl's got plenty good lovin'
Ask me how I know, and I'll tell you so
Used to be my girl, my girl
She used to be (She used to be my girl)
Oh, she used to be (She used to be my girl)
All mine, all mine, all mine (She used to be my girl)
As matter of fact, I want you back, I want you back
(She used to be my girl) Can't you come back right now?
(She used to be my girl) My girl, my girl, my girl
(She used to be my girl) Hmm, too hot to handle
(She used to be my girl) My girl, my girl, my girl
(She used to be my girl) She used to be, she used to be
(She used to be my girl)
(She used to be my girl) Aah, there she goes
(She used to be my girl)
(She used to be my girl)
(She used to be my girl)
(She used to be my girl) Used to be my girl
(She used to be my girl)
Oh, I love her, it's a matter of fact
(She used to be my girl) Too hot to handle

song performed by Hall & Oates
Added by Lucian Velea
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Marry me

My words are dry but can make you wet,
Marry me and i will turn you on,
My heart has no rhythm,
Marry me i will make a hymn
My hands are so cold,
Marry me and i will make you warm

Marry me, i wont leave my socks at the floor
Marry me, i will wash my pants everyday
Marry me, i wont leave pee sticking on toilet walls
Marry me, i will defy manhood

Marry me, i wont go to the beerhall
Marry me, i will call you your first name,
Marry me, i will open the car door for you
Marry me, i will defy masculinity

Marry me, i will bring a chocolate everyday
Marry me, i will help you with the dishes
Marry me, i will cook for you
Marry me, i will write a poem everyday
Marry me, i will be a man, not like a man

poem by Gaylord Munemo
Added by Poetry Lover
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Freedom of Love

(Translated from the French by Edouard Rodti)

My wife with the hair of a wood fire
With the thoughts of heat lightning
With the waist of an hourglass
With the waist of an otter in the teeth of a tiger
My wife with the lips of a cockade and of a bunch of stars of the last magnitude
With the teeth of tracks of white mice on the white earth
With the tongue of rubbed amber and glass
My wife with the tongue of a stabbed host
With the tongue of a doll that opens and closes its eyes
With the tongue of an unbelievable stone
My wife with the eyelashes of strokes of a child's writing
With brows of the edge of a swallow's nest
My wife with the brow of slates of a hothouse roof
And of steam on the panes
My wife with shoulders of champagne
And of a fountain with dolphin-heads beneath the ice
My wife with wrists of matches
My wife with fingers of luck and ace of hearts
With fingers of mown hay
My wife with armpits of marten and of beechnut
And of Midsummer Night
Of privet and of an angelfish nest
With arms of seafoam and of riverlocks
And of a mingling of the wheat and the mill
My wife with legs of flares
With the movements of clockwork and despair
My wife with calves of eldertree pith
My wife with feet of initials
With feet of rings of keys and Java sparrows drinking
My wife with a neck of unpearled barley
My wife with a throat of the valley of gold
Of a tryst in the very bed of the torrent
With breasts of night
My wife with breasts of a marine molehill
My wife with breasts of the ruby's crucible
With breasts of the rose's spectre beneath the dew
My wife with the belly of an unfolding of the fan of days
With the belly of a gigantic claw
My wife with the back of a bird fleeing vertically
With a back of quicksilver
With a back of light
With a nape of rolled stone and wet chalk
And of the drop of a glass where one has just been drinking
My wife with hips of a skiff
With hips of a chandelier and of arrow-feathers
And of shafts of white peacock plumes
Of an insensible pendulum
My wife with buttocks of sandstone and asbestos

[...] Read more

poem by Andre Breton
Added by Poetry Lover
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Jughead

Keep it nice and quiet, keep it nice and quiet
What the hell was that?
(hey yall, I thought we bust this new hype before)
All across the land
(new dance commercial take 2)
Rio, marbella - we gettin stupid
Ha, germany, paris france - we gettin stupid
Yeah, stockholm sweden, we love ya
Let me shed, its easier said code red
Bust the new groove just hyped 4 the jughead
Bass thumpin everybodys doin the bumpin
Oops, I slipped on a move
I think its time 2 bust somethin
Sleazy, but cool and easy
(is this the right one? )
Yeah - this is 4 the hood
Better keep it greasy
Better yet on a smooth tip
I dont wanna sweat
I want my slimmie 2 get with this
Move your head and shoulders from side 2 side
Take your back foot, and then u let it slide
Yo, in a fade motion, lots of attitude, coast 2 coast
Then ure floatin homeboys boastin -
U made his skeeze freeze
Uve been chosen, p
Ladies and gentlemen, npg introduces the...
Jughead (jughead)
Yeah, we gettin funky in the house tonite
Kickin the jughead (doin the jughead)
Come on, get stupid, get stupid
Kickin the jughead (jughead)
Oh yeah, we gettin funky in the house tonite
Kickin the jughead, yeah (doin the jughead)
Wait a minute, whats he doin? (get stupid, get stupid)
Well, mack daddy in the house over there
What u doin dawg?
(gettin busy g, kickin the jughead)
Yeah, babys gettin busy in my face
Cold housin a future
Everything has been well placed
This daddys 2 fly
He bust the jughead as he floats to the other side
U watch the rotation, theres a bit of hesitation
This is some new hype stuff ure facin
U gotta come with a new git
The j-u-g-h-e-a-d, and Im flowin with it
U could say Im on a roll
Npg and yall, and were gettin bold, oh
Yes - bold steps must be taken

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stupid

So sad to hear that you dont want to hang around with me
So lame to see you leave and to know that you believe that its over
Cause when your weak I feel the need to get underneith your skin
And when you start to tweak I find a way to get up beside you
Stupid, stupid, stupid
Stupid, stupid, stupid
In time youll learn to love me as much as you love yourself
Oh in time youll learn to hate me
Cause when I feel the need to have you back by my side
I am sweet it makes me sick to know that I can be so blind
Stupid, stupid, stupid
Stupid, stupid, stupid
Stupid, stupid, stupid
Stupid, stupid, stupid

song performed by Oleander
Added by Lucian Velea
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Athena

Athena, I had no idea how much Id need her
Athena, I had no idea how much Id need her
In peaceful times I hold her close and I feed her
In peaceful times I hold her close and I feed her
My heart starts palpitating when I think my guess was wrong
My heart starts palpitating when I think my guess was wrong
But I think Ill get along
But I think Ill get along
Shes just a girl - shes a bomb
Shes just a girl - shes a bomb
Athena, all I ever want to do is please her
Athena, all I ever want to do is please her
My life has been so settled and shes the reason
My life has been so settled and shes the reason
Just one word from her and my troubles are long gone
Just one word from her and my troubles are long gone
But I think Ill get along
But I think Ill get along
Shes just a girl - shes a bomb
Shes just a girl - shes a bomb
Just a girl just a girl
Just a girl just a girl
Just a girl just a girl
Just a girl just a girl
Just a girl just a girl
Just a girl just a girl
Shes just a girl
Shes just a girl
Athena, my heart felt like a shattered glass in an acid bath
Athena, my heart felt like a shattered glass in an acid bath
I felt like one of those flattened ants you find on a crazy path
I felt like one of those flattened ants you find on a crazy path
Id of topped myself to give her time she didnt need to ask
Id of topped myself to give her time she didnt need to ask
Was I a suicidal psychopath?
Was I a suicidal psychopath?
Shes just a girl - shes a bomb
Shes just a girl - shes a bomb
Consumed, there was a beautiful white horse I saw on a dream stage
Consumed, there was a beautiful white horse I saw on a dream stage
He had a snake the size of a sewer pipe living in his rib cage
He had a snake the size of a sewer pipe living in his rib cage
I felt like a pickled priest who was being flambed
I felt like a pickled priest who was being flambed
You were requisitioned blondie
You were requisitioned blondie
Shes just a girl - shes a bomb
Shes just a girl - shes a bomb
Im happy, Im ecstatic
Im happy, Im ecstatic

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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