As there is Easter, so there are meager times.
Corsican proverbs
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East At Easter
We go walking, hand in hand
All across the land its east at easter
People walking hand in hand
When ships are moving south it will be east at easter
We will rock you, rock you little child
We will rock you, rock you little child
All across the land its east at easter
All across the land its east at easter
Things will lighten up the sky, east at easter
Things will lighten up the sky, east at easter
Well go walking hand in hand
cause all across the land it will be east at easter
Ah, we will rock you, rock you little child
We will rock you, rock you little child
All across the land its east at easter
When ships go moving south it will be east at easter
Theyre gonna lighten up the sky
Theyre gonna lighten up the sky
Theyre gonna lighten up the sky
East at easter
Ah, well go walking hand in hand
Well go walking hand in hand, yes
We will rock you, rock you little child
We will rock you, rock you
Rock you little child
Theyre gonna lighten up the sky
When they lighten up the sky it will be east at easter
We will rock you, rock you, rock you
Words & music : james kerr, charlie burchill, mel gaynor, derek forbes, michael macneil (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by Simple Minds
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White Angel the Easter Rabbit
Out of a lovely fantasy…..,
She appeared one Springtime day…..,
And made our world……,
So happy in every way……,
It was a vision so wondrous……,
As we colored our eggs…..,
For the Easter Holiday
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
When it came to joy we had it…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
She’d hop, hop, hop….,
All day long…..,
Be dancin’ around……,
And singin’ a song…..,
As Easter came so merrily…..,
She was so much fun for us to see……,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
Lovin’ her was a tireless habit……,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
But poof just like each night and day……,
Her visit soon had to end …..,
So she hop, hop, hopped on her way……,
Off to visit her fairytale friends……,
As we sadly bid farewell to her…….,
She said, “Come on now, don’t cry…..,
I’ll be back again some Easter Day”…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
When it came to joy we had it…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Pure white gold in 24 karat…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit….! ! !
(2011)
poem by Trade Martin
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Booger McNulty and Me
In 1948 Booger McNulty's coal yard stirred
constant gossip among the citizens who lived
in little bungalows on narrow blocks
in my far corner of Chicago.
That was more than 60 years ago,
a time when families took Sunday walks
and went back home in time to hear
Jack Benny on the radio.
A Sunday walk didn't cost a cent,
a price my parents could afford.
When my parents took a Sunday walk,
my sister and I always had to go along,
and every time we'd pass Booger's place,
I'd hear my mother ask my father
what could possibly be on the other side
of Booger's 10-foot fence.
Hoping to avoid a conversation,
my father always said he didn't know
but he believed it couldn't just be coal.
Back then, every kid in the neighborhood
wanted to climb that fence and look around.
But Booger didn't feature visitors.
According to the boy whose keister caught
a chunk of coal from Booger's slingshot,
there was nothing on the other side
except for pigeons and a lot of coal.
In the bungalows surrounding Booger's place,
immigrants from everywhere slept off beer and garlic
when they weren't working, which was pretty often,
according to my mother. My father always worked,
digging graves with the other men,
most of them, like him, from Ireland.
He dug graves because some Bulgarian
broke his nose, after which my mother ruled
no more boxing. He'd been undefeated until then.
I was ten in 1948 and I'd climb Booger's fence
when I was certain he was gone for the night.
Inside the yard I'd climb the piles of coal
until I got tired and then I'd go home
and take a bath before my father saw me.
My mother never let my father see me
cloaked in the soot of Booger's coal
[...] Read more
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Hard Times
(jimmy dean/lyrics by myles goodwyn)
Published by acuff rose music, inc. - bmi
Hard times, hard times, hard times, hard times
When the college professor has no class
And the quarterback would rather pass
And the pump jockey complains of gas
Its hard times, hard times
When the taxi driver he cant hack it
And the tennis player cant stand the racket
When allies refuse to pack it, its hard times
Hard times, hard times, real hard times
When the elevator cant find the floor
And the doorman he cant find the door
When they give to the rich what they take from the poor, its hard times
Seems your moneys gone before its spent
If youre not busted then youre badly bent
To give it away doesnt make any sense, its hard times
Hard times, hard times, real hard times, hard times
Now grandma forgets how to knit
And the wise man has lost his wit
And my tailor feels unfit, its hard times, hard times
When the fashion models lost her poise
And santa clause smashes all the toys
When boys could be girls, and girls could be boys, its hard times
Hard times, hard times, real hard times, hard times
When the clock on the walls got no time for jokes
And kreskin says its all a hoax
When the surgeon general chain smokes, its hard times
When the truck driver dont wanna truck
And the hockey player wont touch the puck
And the rock musician dont wanna fool around, its hard times
Hard times, hard times, real hard times
Harder times, hard times
I was talking to this lady the other day and she was telling me..........
song performed by April Wine
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Happy Easter!
Palm Sunday has gone,
Holy week has begun,
The week with events
Leading to Jesus torments,
To His Resurrection,
Showing the spirits domination.
Glory to Jesus Christ!
Easter Sunday today,
The greatest holiday.
We pray and say,
All around the world,
The words of love to our Lord
Showing that his death was not in vain.
Glory to Jesus Christ!
We light the candles
As a symbol of the rising sun,
And their light resembles
Jesus was really God’s Son.
The light comes back to the world
With the risen Jesus.
Glory to Jesus Christ!
The church bells ring,
The whole world sings Alleluia!
Easter eggs we bring
As a symbol of spring
With pretty small limes
Since the ancient times.
Glory to Jesus Christ!
Easter Rabbits or Easter Bunny
Look today happy and sunny.
They represent a new life
Full of presents and so nice.
We wear new clothes to look the best,
We’d like to follow His behest.
Glory to Jesus Christ!
The history of Sunday Easter has a long story,
And today we proclaim Jesus Christ Day
And say: Glory to our Lord!
Glory to the King of all Christians:
Ukrainians and Indians,
[...] Read more
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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A Healthier Easter
This is the first Easter
No candy baskets will be here
But we had so many baskets
Each and every year.
The kids are older now
Candy they don’t want anymore
So this Easter the baskets sit empty
Behind the closet door.
Somehow I want the Easter Bunny here
Want those baskets filled with eggs so bright
But my teens want to be healthier
So they make sure that they eat right.
They forfeit sugar and junk
No more Peeps or a big chocolate bunny
But being without Easter Baskets on Easter
Seems to be very odd and funny.
So I am putting the word out
To the Easter Bunny in my town
That I don’t think the teens will mind
If you decide to come around.
Maybe you could leave some health bars
Perhaps some fruit and veggies too
And maybe you could put some books in there
Those things could still say “I love you”.
poem by Connie Webb
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Loving You's A Dirty Job But Somebody's Gotta Do It
(jim steinman)
Producer for bonnie: jim steinman
Girl:
When the sky is falling and you're looking round for somewhere to hide
Did you ever call out to someone
Did you ever call out to me, i've never been gone-
I've been right here by your side
There ain't nothin' but clouds
There ain't nothin' but clouds in your eyes
Why don't you believe it when you finally found the truth
Youve been drinking poison water from the fountain of youth
Why don't you stop tearing up everyone you need the most
You're so busy trying to get even
You never even try to get close
I can't explain it away
It doesn't make any sense
To know what it's like
I guess you gotta go through it
It doesn't matter baby
Loving you's a dirty job
But somebody's gotta do it
Boy:
There were times when we'd never fake it
There were times when we'd always make it
There were times when we'd take it to the limit
And we'd never, never, ever leave each other alone
We were flesh and blood and bone
There were times we had it all
There were times we had it all
(alt/ same)
Both:
There were times when we took our chances
There were times we were damn good dancers
There were times when we heard all the answers
In the beating of the drummer and the riches of the rock and the roll
I can see right through your soul
There were times we had it all
There were times we had it all
Boy:
If your fears could only be forgotten
We could pull all of the barriers down
Would you follow your dreams' desire
Would you follow your secret dreams and forbidden fire
Let's just peel out of this town
Both:
It's been nothing but dreams
It's been nothing but dreams until now
Boy:
You're never gonna see it
Both:
[...] Read more
song performed by Bonnie Tyler
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Good Times Roll
Let the good times roll
Let them knock you around
Let the good times roll
Let them make you a clown
Let them leave you up in the air
Let them brush your rock and roll hair
Let the good times roll
Let the good times roll
Let the good times roll
Let the stories be told
They can say what they want
Let the photos be old
Let them show what they want
Let them leave you up in the air
Let them brush your rock and roll hair
Let the good times roll
Let the good times roll-oll
Wont you let the good times roll
Good times roll
If the illusion is real
Let them give you a ride
If they got thunder appeal
Let them be on your side
Let them leave you up in the air
Let them brush your rock and roll hair
Let the good times roll
Wont you let the good times roll-oll
Let the good times roll
Let the good times roll
Wont you let the good times roll
Well let the good times roll
Let =91em roll (good times roll)
Let the good times roll
Oo let the good times roll
Oo let the good times roll
Let =91em roll (good times roll)
Well, let the good times roll
(let the good times roll)
Well let the good times roll
Good times roll
(let the good times roll)
Let the good times roll
Let =91em roll
song performed by Cars
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A Hundred Times Over
A hundred times over words have flowed through my fingers to the keys
A hundred times over I have released the freedom that is in my mind,
A hundred times over I have become one with my inter most longing,
A hundred times over I have taken a journey to show you my own world.
A hundred times over I have written of pain and life, of sorrow and joy,
A hundred times over I have used my art to show you what's in my mind
A hundred times over again I will show you.
A hundred times over I have cried for those, whose names are untold,
A hundred times over I have showed you their pain.
A hundred times over I have become their connection to you,
A hundred times over I have showed you the beauty of our world,
A hundred times over I have taken you somewhere you may never see,
A hundred times over my words have screamed the horror of darkness,
A hundred times over I have sung to you the beauty of light,
A hundred times over I have taken your hand to lead you to a new place
A hundred time over I have written for those who have no words to write
A hundred times over I have tried to show truth in a world of lies,
A hundred times over I have have tried to show the world's beauty,
A hundred times over again I will lead down these paths,
A hundred times over and over again I will show you reality,
A hundred times over and over again I shall show you my world,
A hundred times over and over again until you have memorised truth,
A hundred times over again until you can repeat what I have told,
A hundred times over again shall I create an art of words, time, of life.
A hundred times over again I shall do this,
A hundred times over again.
A hundred times over.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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My Repetitious Future....[LONG; My Life/Personal; Math]
What do I have to look forward to the rest of my fine life?
It depends, to some degree at least, on my dear wife.
If she stays alive and somehow keeps on putting up with me,
I may live twenty more years (ten more than I 'should') . We'll see.
To make the math simple let's say my years left are ten.
So how many times might I repeat things between this day and then?
I mean some of the daily, weekly, monthly, or yearly things I do.
Some are necessary and some I enjoy, but some I don't look forward to.
Sleep: Let's say 10x365x10=36,500 hours, give or take.
That's about two-fifths as many hours as I'll be awake!
How many movie DVDs watched at night from our couch?
That's 5x52x10=2600 movies we'll see. Ouch.
At only two real meals a day, that's still 7300 sittings to dine,
but with an equal number of snacks I think that I'll be fine.
And while Aki slaves to prepare about 3400 dinners
I'll be reading to us aloud from 130 novels of murder, losers, and winners.
If my body cooperates I'll take 2600 walks, give or take.
Some will be near Bay, but most will be near home that I'll make.
And walking my town's streets I'll take down 300 outdated signs,
and trim 200 overhanging branches as long as no one whines.
I'll practice Happy Birthday on piano 3000 times, most times while standing,
and do perhaps 200 little home projects, which may include some sanding.
I'll fill bird feeders 120 times or more, depending on the birds,
and 2000 times add water to bird dishes, removing first their turds.
I'll romance my wife 520 times; that figure may be high.
I'll shave my face a thousand times unless I give beard, again, a try.
Trim toenails 60 times and fingernails about one-o-five.
3650 showers I'll take as long as wife's alive.
I'll have an untold number of bowel movements. Wait and see.
And ‘bout eighteen thousand times, usually without flushing, I'll pee.
I'll have 10 to 100 doctor appointments. Who really knows?
I'll go to dental office twice yearly, though their current business staff blows.
I'll brush my teeth six or seven thousand times, but with no flossing.
I'll punch a time clock no more times; except for from my wife, I'll have no bossing.
Ten or twenty shirts I'll wear out completely, while getting countless others dirty.
I'll call my siblings about 400 times, especially my sister Birdie.
I'll call friends about 2500 times, plus emails, but few letters.
I might wear an outdoor jacket 400 times, but I'll rarely wear a sweater.
I'll take 3600 doses of aspirin, and twice-that of flaxseed oil,
and 500 bottles of red wine to, hopefully, bad health foil.
[...] Read more
poem by Bri Edwards
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Easter-Day
HOW very hard it is to be
A Christian! Hard for you and me,
—Not the mere task of making real
That duty up to its ideal,
Effecting thus complete and whole,
A purpose or the human soul—
For that is always hard to do;
But hard, I mean, for me and you
To realise it, more or less,
With even the moderate success
Which commonly repays our strife
To carry out the aims of life.
“This aim is greater,” you may say,
“And so more arduous every way.”
—But the importance of the fruits
Still proves to man, in all pursuits,
Proportional encouragement.
“Then, what if it be God’s intent
“That labour to this one result
“Shall seem unduly difficult?”
—Ah, that’s a question in the dark—
And the sole thing that I remark
Upon the difficulty, this;
We do not see it where it is,
At the beginning of the race:
As we proceed, it shifts its place,
And where we looked for palms to fall,
We find the tug’s to come,—that’s all.
II.
At first you say, “The whole, or chief
“Of difficulties, is Belief.
“Could I believe once thoroughly,
“The rest were simple. What? Am I
“An idiot, do you think? A beast?
“Prove to me only that the least
“Command of God is God’s indeed,
“And what injunction shall I need
“To pay obedience? Death so nigh
“When time must end, eternity
“Begin,—and cannot I compute?
“Weigh loss and gain together? suit
“My actions to the balance drawn,
“And give my body to be sawn
“Asunder, hacked in pieces, tied
“To horses, stoned, burned, crucified,
“Like any martyr of the list?
“How gladly,—if I made acquist,
“Through the brief minutes’ fierce annoy,
“Of God’s eternity of joy.”
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning
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I Don't Think So
I Don't Think So
We've been through this time together
AlI in my mind the love was so alive
Oh I never wanted for another
Then I saw the beginnings of a Iie
Good times and the bad times
Through the good times and the bad times with me
Good times and the bad times
Yeah I wonder why I never see
Good times and the bad times
Oh maybe there was always something wrong
Good times and the bad times
Did l wait too long
Chorus:
You said you'd love me for all of your life
I don't think so
Through the best of the best and the worst of the times
I don't think so
You said the world was a beautiful place
l don't think so
You swore the love was perfectly sale
I don't think so
People can only stay together
If in their hearts they know they can say what's on their minds
Would you say
Good times and the bad times
If it can't really be then I gotta move on
Good times and the bad times
Is it really time
Chorus: (repeat)
Said the check's in the mail and the maiI's on time
I don't think so
Said out of touch ain't out of mind
I don't think so
Couldn't live without me, and that's a fact
I don't think so
Love is real and it's not an act
I don't think so
Come on
Good times and the bad times
I don't think so
Good times and the bad times
Baby our love was a beautiful thing
I don't think so
Good times and the bad times
You said you'd love me for all of your life
I don't think so
Good times and the bad times
Through the best of the best and the worst of times
I don't think so
[...] Read more
song performed by Hall & Oates
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Easter Parade
In your easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it,
Youll be the grandest lady in the easter parade.
Ill be all in clover and when they look you over,
Ill be the proudest fellow in the easter parade.
On the avenue, fifth avenue, the photographers will snap us,
And youll find that youre in the rotogravure.
Oh, I could write a sonnet about your easter bonnet,
And of the girl Im taking to the easter parade.
song performed by Irving Berlin
Added by Lucian Velea
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At The Gate
THE monastery towers, as pure and fair
As virgin vows, reached up white hands to Heaven;
The walls, to guard the hidden heart of prayer,
Were strong as sin, and white as sin forgiven;
And there came holy men, by world's woe driven;
And all about the gold-green meadows lay
Flower-decked, like children dear that keep May-holiday.
'Here,' said the Abbot, 'let us spend our days,
Days sweetened by the lilies of pure prayer,
Hung with white garlands of the rose of praise;
And, lest the World should enter with her snare--
Enter and laugh and take us unaware
With her red rose, her purple and her gold--
Choose we a stranger's hand the porter's keys to hold.'
They chose a beggar from the world outside
To keep their worldward door for them, and he,
Filled with a humble and adoring pride,
Built up a wall of proud humility
Between the monastery's sanctity
And the poor, foolish, humble folk who came
To ask for love and care, in the dear Saviour's name.
For when the poor crept to the guarded gate
To ask for succour, when the tired asked rest,
When weary souls, bereft and desolate,
Craved comfort, when the murmur of the oppressed
Surged round the grove where prayer had made her nest,
The porter bade such take their griefs away,
And at some other door their bane and burden lay.
'For this,' he said, 'is the white house of prayer,
Where day and night the holy voices rise
Through the chill trouble of our earthly air,
And enter at the gate of Paradise.
Trample no more our flower-fields in such wise,
Nor crave the alms of our deep-laden bough;
The prayers of holy men are alms enough, I trow.'
So, seeing that no sick or sorrowing folk
Came ever to be healed or comforted,
The Abbot to his brothers gladly spoke:
'God has accepted our poor prayers,' he said;
'Over our land His answering smile is spread.
He has put forth His strong and loving hand,
And sorrow and sin and pain have ceased in all the land.
'So make we yet more rich our hymns of praise,
Warm we our prayers against our happy heart.
[...] Read more
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Easter Show
The station wagon
Stood outside our house
Running on low
As we all piled out of the house
Mum and dad in the front
Older brothers and sisters
In the middle
And us little ones
Stuffed in the back
All waiting to go to
The Easter Show
All in our Sunday best
We waited patiently
As Dad locked up the house
Sister's giggling
Brothers trying to look cool
And us little ones
Jumping and shouting
HURRY UP DAD
Then mum hushing us
As dad headed towards the car
You could feel the eagerness
As we sat and waited
In anticipation of the ride
As we headed out
To the Easter Show
Then it came into view
As we all sat in awe
Of the coloured bright lights
Of the ferries wheel spinning
Of the roller coaster moving
So fast in the wind
Of the clowns in abundance
Handing out balloons
Lollipops and Candy floss
All junk food of sin
Patiently we waited
For the door to be opened
To run and have fun
At the Easter show
The best part of all
Was the laughter and fun
As from rides to machines
With glee we would run
Each of us begging
[...] Read more
poem by Kaila George
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Good Times Are Killing Me
MODEST MOUSE - The Good Times Are Killing Me
Album: Good News For People Who Love Bad News (2004)
The good times are killing me.
Here we go!
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads
who didn't like what I said.
The good times are killing me.
Jaws clenched tight we talked all night,
oh but what the hell did we say?
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
Fed up with all that LSD.
Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines.
Late nights with warm, warm whiskey.
I guess the good times they were all just killing me.
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
The good times are killing me.
Enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug.
The good times are killing me.
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead.
The good times are killing me.
Get sucked in and stuck in late nights
with more folks that I don't know.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
song performed by Modest Mouse
Added by Lucian Velea
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Good Time (Better Time)
Pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa
Pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa
Good times, better times
Everything is coming up roses
Good times, better times
I said everything is coming up roses
Boom boom boom, can you hear my heartbeat
Bang bang bang, like the sound of a big bass drum
Way down down, I can feel you love me
Big big times, even better times to come
I can hear music, stand a various strings
Oh yeah, beautiful music
Im in love (Love) love (Love)
I love the good times you give to me
Ding dong ding, hear the churchbells ringing
Boom boom boom, now the whole worlds singing: Good times
Pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa
Pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa
Way down down, I can feel you love me
Big big times, even better times to come
I can hear music, stand a various strings
Oh yeah, beautiful music
Im in love (Love) love (Love)
I love the good times you give to me
Ding dong ding, hear the churchbells ringing
Boom boom boom, now the whole worlds singing: Good times
Good times, better times
Everything is coming up roses
Good times, better times
I said, everything is coming up roses
Good times, better times
Everything is coming up roses
Good times, better times
I said, everything is coming up roses
song performed by Cliff Richard
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Good Times Are Killing Me
The good times are killing me.
Here we go!
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads
who didn't like what I said.
The good times are killing me.
Jaws clenched tight we talked all night,
oh but what the hell did we say?
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
Fed up with all that LSD.
Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines.
Late nights with warm, warm whiskey.
I guess the good times they were all just killing me.
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
The good times are killing me.
Enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug.
The good times are killing me.
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead.
The good times are killing me.
Get sucked in and stuck in late nights
with more folks that I don't know.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
song performed by Modest Mouse
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Middle Class
Between dire straits and meager existence,
There are those who insist...
They represent the middle class.
And doing the best they can to make ends meet,
While that gap is widening fast.
Exhausted from swimming in debts and credit.
And unable to afford the keeping up of appearances.
Although they support those standards they value...
Those that have given up such tasks,
Can not convince them their beliefs have been trashed.
Between dire straits and meager existence,
There are those who insist...
They represent the middle class.
And as they hold onto dreams quickly slipping away,
Deluded they remain that changes made aren't here to stay.
Between dire straits and meager existence,
There are those who insist...
They represent the middle class.
And even though the sight of this continues to be sad,
Few are heard left to brag about what they own...
That others do not have.
Today...
Those struggling to maintain their middle class status,
Have one thing in common with those who are poor...
Wishing they had just a few dollars more!
And a door they can close to ignore what's going on.
Those days are gone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Easter
(music: marillion lyrics: steve hogarth)
A ghost of a mist was on the field
The grey and the green together
The noise of a distant farm machine
Out of a the first light came
A tattered necklace of hedge end trees
On the southern side of the hill
Betrays where the border runs between
Where mary dunoons boy fell
Easter here again
A time for the blind to see
Easter
Surely now can all of your hearts be free
Out of the port of liverpool
Bound for the north of ireland
The wash of the spray and horsetail waves
The roll of the sea below
And easter here again
A time for the blind to see
Easter
Surely now can all of your hearts be free
What will you do?
Make a stone of your heart?
Will you set things right?
When you tear them apart?
Will you sleep at night?
With the plough and the stars alight?
What will you do?
With the wire and the gun?
Thatll set things right
When its said and done?
Will you sleep at night?
Is there so much love to hide?
Forgive
Forget
Sing never again.
song performed by Marillion
Added by Lucian Velea
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