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Dirt parts company.

Scotch proverbs
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Into how many parts would you divide the child after Divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many insane parts would you divide your new-born child’s eternal happiness; after your treacherously vindictive divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many heartless parts would you divide your new-born child’s invincible freedom; after your venomously unbearable divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many ribald parts would you divide your new-born child’s unsurpassable creativity; after your lethally unceremonious divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many salacious parts would you divide your new-born child’s majestic destiny; after your lecherously ignominious divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many emotionless parts would you divide your new-born child’s triumphant spirit; after your contemptuously debasing divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many terrorizing parts would you divide your new-born child’s unbridled fantasies; after your abhorrently cadaverous divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many excruciating parts would you divide your new-born child’s humanitarian blood; after your cold-bloodedly cannibalistic divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many tyrannized parts would you divide your new-born child’s unconquerable artistry; after your violently besmirching divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many reproachful parts would you divide your new-born child’s redolent playfulness; after your despicably devastating divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many sacrilegious parts would you divide your new-born child’s impregnable mischief; after your sadistically bemoaning divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many wanton parts would you divide your new-born child’s impeccable integrity; after your hedonistically carnivorous divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many ghoulish parts would you divide your new-born child’s limitless fertility; after your mindlessly malicious divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many diabolical parts would you divide your new- born child’s infallible innocence; after your unforgivably truculent divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many vengeful parts would you divide your new-born child’s uninhibited cries; after your preposterously bigoted divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many criminal parts would you divide your new-born child’s princely silkenness; after your tempestuously confounding divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many satanic parts would you divide your new-born child’s tiny brain; after your barbarously ungainly divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many sadistic parts would you divide your new-born child’s unlimited curiosity; after your egregiously dastardly divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many carnivorous parts would you divide your new-born child’s parental longing; after your inanely decrepit divorce?

And you might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but tell me; into how many goddamned parts would you divide your new-born child’s immortal love; after your devilishly vituperative divorce?

©®copyright-2005, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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All I Need From You Is That You Clean Me, Mama

you lay a mat on the floor
for you to understand dirt and its implications its complications
to the wall
or to the center table and to the rest of the parts of your house,
dirt must be eradicated, that is your rule number one,
so you put lots of mats and rugs, doormats, floormats,
in every door in every corner of the floor

all dirts are not welcome,
it is as though you have studied dirt at length for years,
what is dirt? what are the kinds of dirt? the causes of dirt?
the consequences of dirt? the historical background of dirt,
and your recommendations finally about
dirt
its control and eradication,

you have talked about dirt and how you disliked it,
how you have driven dirt away from this house
how you called they police when dirt resisted to leave
and of course they all were arrested and jailed
without bond
the judge convicted dirt on the basis of those dirty exhibits
and dirty testimonial evidence,

dirt must be poisoned by lethal injection, hanged, electrocuted,
to make them disappear forever
that is your firm belief
your solid conviction

the sound philosophy of
your society

you are talking to me, and i will now tell you who am i really,
my name, the place where i live, my family and how i am related to you,

mother, i am dirt, my name is dirty, my family is dirty,
i live in a dirty place, i am your son,

i cannot step on your doormat, immediately i must leave now
you will report me to the police and i will be arrested
and jailed and even be hanged dead,

all i need is only that you clean me, mama.
now, please........

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Shepherd's Dog

I.

A Shepherd's Dog there was; and he
Was faithful to his master's will,
For well he lov'd his company,
Along the plain or up the hill;
All Seasons were, to him, the same
Beneath the Sun's meridian flame;
Or, when the wintry wind blew shrill and keen,
Still the Old Shepherd's Dog, was with his Master seen.

II.

His form was shaggy clothed; yet he
Was of a bold and faithful breed;
And kept his master company
In smiling days, and days of need;
When the long Ev'ning slowly clos'd,
When ev'ry living thing repos'd,
When e'en the breeze slept on the woodlands round,
The Shepherd's watchful Dog, was ever waking found.

III.

All night, upon the cold turf he
Contented lay, with list'ning care;
And though no stranger company,
Or lonely traveller rested there;
Old Trim was pleas'd to guard it still,
For 'twas his aged master's will;--
And so pass'd on the chearful night and day,
'Till the poor Shepherd's Dog, was very old, and grey.

IV.

Among the villagers was he
Belov'd by all the young and old,
For he was chearful company,
When the north-wind blew keen and cold;
And when the cottage scarce was warm,
While round it flew, the midnight storm,
When loudly, fiercely roll'd the swelling tide--
The Shepherd's faithful Dog, crept closely by his side.

V.

When Spring in gaudy dress would be,

[...] Read more

poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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El Gato

At eight
El Gato's uncle lures them with grain in a pail
and shoots the brown pig between the eyes,
shoos the red-snouted white and black brothers
from guzzling blood in the trough.

At ten Gato walks chop-block streets
with a rooster's tail strut
razored for a fight – life
a broken fire hydrant
flooding streets with blood.

In opulent estates,
fountains gazelle and bridal-train gardens drain
abundantly over spear-tipped walls.
Grecian statues offer laureled wisdom
to butlered adults with paper-weight hearts,
who answer the burning and gunning of America,
by building more prisons.

Nobody cares what El Gato'll find to eat or where he'll sleep,
under street lights throwing dirt clods
at hornets' nests, unafraid of being stung,
he vows to avenge his poverty,
to gash unmercifully with a bicycle chain
spineless attorneys taking advantage of his misery,
rob a construction executive in a limousine
sampling heroin off a hooker's thigh,
mug preppy brokers with golden smiles
whose gutter glares condemn him,
and all the chumps
who never cracked a soup-line biscuit
or had a court gavel crush their life,
should know he plans violent schemes against you,

prays
saints melt his pain red hot,
he'll hammer sharp to take you down
to darkness where he lives
and impale your heads
on La Virgen De Guadelupe's moon sickle.

Twelve years old. El Gato is no good,
dime bagging Peruvian flakes,
inhaling a glue-rag.
With all your police and prison sentences,
you can't chase El Gato from the street
or stop him from selling drugs,
because in his square white paper
lives God -- El Gato deals God -- who gives reprieve

[...] Read more

poem by Jimmy Santiago Baca
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Dog Dirt

Dog dirt, you don’t wanna step on it,
Dog dirt, you don’t wanna slip on it,
Dog dirt, you need to watch your step,
Dog dirt; check yourself for any specks.

Now when I say dog dirt I mean my thoughts,
I’m using it as a metaphor incase I get caught,
Now I love her but I can’t tell her,
Because if she ever found out I’ll be feeling under the weather,
Together forever, probably never I think,
But all I do is think I just keep my mouth shut,
My thoughts are dog dirt,
Don’t touch or stumble on them or I’ll get hurt.

Dog dirt, you don’t wanna step on it,
Dog dirt, you don’t wanna slip on it,
Dog dirt, you need to watch your step,
Dog dirt; check yourself for any specks.

I hope that’s not crap on your shoe,
Because I accidentally wrote in that text I love you,
You replied I love you too if only it was true,
I’m a fool for ever falling for you,
I’m a fool defiantly if you ever step in my do, do,
I’ll zip my mouth closed so nothing blurts out,
I’ll rip my vocal cords out so that I can’t shout,
I’m a dreamer, but not a believer, trust me.

poem by Gaz illionaire
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His Red Dirt Life

So many red dirt roads he’s traveled
Along his long red dirt life
Children born and raised with
His charming red dirt wife

A home was built and furnished
Upon his red dirt land
He’s done the very best he could
Always taking a red dirt stand

Red dirt roads that lead up to
A bridge to the other side
He tries to go right with the flow
Along life’s red dirt ride

And during that ride it seems
There are some pot holes in the road
But he just keep pluggin’ along you see
Just carrying his red dirt load

The streams and valleys continue
Until the end of his red dirt time
And when the sun beats down on him
He loves to see that red dirt shine!

poem by Marilyn Lott
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The Flower And The Leaf

When that Phebus his chaire of gold so hy
Had whirled up the sterry sky aloft,
And in the Bole was entred certainly;
Whan shoures swete of rain discended soft,
Causing the ground, felë tymes and oft,
Up for to give many an hoolsom air,
And every plain was [eek y-]clothed fair

With newe grene, and maketh smalë floures
To springen here and there in feld and mede;
So very good and hoolsom be the shoures
That it reneweth, that was old and deede
In winter-tyme; and out of every seede
Springeth the herbë, so that every wight
Of this sesoun wexeth [ful] glad and light.

And I, só glad of the seson swete,
Was happed thus upon a certain night;
As I lay in my bed, sleep ful unmete
Was unto me; but, why that I ne might
Rest, I ne wist; for there nas erthly wight,
As I suppose, had more hertës ese
Than I, for I n'ad siknesse nor disese.

Wherfore I mervail gretly of my-selve,
That I so long, withouten sleepë lay;
And up I roos, three houres after twelve,
About the [very] springing of the day,
And on I put my gere and myn array;
And to a plesaunt grovë I gan passe,
Long or the brightë sonne uprisen was,

In which were okës grete, streight as a lyne,
Under the which the gras, so fresh of hew,
Was newly spronge; and an eight foot or nyne
Every tree wel fro his felawe grew,
With braunches brode, laden with leves new,
That sprongen out ayein the sonnë shene,
Som very rede, and som a glad light grene;

Which, as me thought, was right a plesaunt sight.
And eek the briddes song[ës] for to here
Would have rejoised any erthly wight.
And I, that couth not yet, in no manere,
Here the nightingale of al the yere,
Ful busily herkned, with herte and ere,
If I her voice perceive coud any-where.

And at the last, a path of litel brede
I found, that gretly had not used be,

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Thespis: Act I

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

GODS

Jupiter, Aged Diety
Apollo, Aged Diety
Mars, Aged Diety
Diana, Aged Diety
Mercury

THESPIANS

Thespis
Sillimon
TimidonTipseion
Preposteros
Stupidas
Sparkeio n
Nicemis
Pretteia
Daphne
Cymon

ACT I - Ruined Temple on the Summit of Mount Olympus

[Scene--The ruins of the The Temple of the Gods, on summit of
Mount Olympus. Picturesque shattered columns, overgrown with
ivy, etc. R. and L. with entrances to temple (ruined) R. Fallen
columns on the stage. Three broken pillars 2 R.E. At the back of
stage is the approach from the summit of the mountain. This
should be "practicable" to enable large numbers of people to
ascend and descend. In the distance are the summits of adjacent
mountains. At first all this is concealed by a thick fog, which
clears presently. Enter (through fog) Chorus of Stars coming off
duty as fatigued with their night's work]

CHO. Through the night, the constellations,
Have given light from various stations.
When midnight gloom falls on all nations,
We will resume our occupations.

SOLO. Our light, it's true, is not worth mention;
What can we do to gain attention.
When night and noon with vulgar glaring
A great big moon is always flaring.

[During chorus, enter Diana, an elderly goddess. She is carefully
wrapped up in cloaks, shawls, etc. A hood is over her head, a
respirator in her mouth, and galoshes on her feet. During the

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Book III - Part 03 - The Soul is Mortal

Now come: that thou mayst able be to know
That minds and the light souls of all that live
Have mortal birth and death, I will go on
Verses to build meet for thy rule of life,
Sought after long, discovered with sweet toil.
But under one name I'd have thee yoke them both;
And when, for instance, I shall speak of soul,
Teaching the same to be but mortal, think
Thereby I'm speaking also of the mind-
Since both are one, a substance interjoined.

First, then, since I have taught how soul exists
A subtle fabric, of particles minute,
Made up from atoms smaller much than those
Of water's liquid damp, or fog, or smoke,
So in mobility it far excels,
More prone to move, though strook by lighter cause
Even moved by images of smoke or fog-
As where we view, when in our sleeps we're lulled,
The altars exhaling steam and smoke aloft-
For, beyond doubt, these apparitions come
To us from outward. Now, then, since thou seest,
Their liquids depart, their waters flow away,
When jars are shivered, and since fog and smoke
Depart into the winds away, believe
The soul no less is shed abroad and dies
More quickly far, more quickly is dissolved
Back to its primal bodies, when withdrawn
From out man's members it has gone away.
For, sure, if body (container of the same
Like as a jar), when shivered from some cause,
And rarefied by loss of blood from veins,
Cannot for longer hold the soul, how then
Thinkst thou it can be held by any air-
A stuff much rarer than our bodies be?

Besides we feel that mind to being comes
Along with body, with body grows and ages.
For just as children totter round about
With frames infirm and tender, so there follows
A weakling wisdom in their minds; and then,
Where years have ripened into robust powers,
Counsel is also greater, more increased
The power of mind; thereafter, where already
The body's shattered by master-powers of eld,
And fallen the frame with its enfeebled powers,
Thought hobbles, tongue wanders, and the mind gives way;
All fails, all's lacking at the selfsame time.
Therefore it suits that even the soul's dissolved,
Like smoke, into the lofty winds of air;

[...] Read more

poem by Lucretius
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Dirt Bike

Here comes the dirt bike
Beware of the dirt bike
Because I hear theyre coming to our town
Theyve got plans for everyone
And now I hear theyre over their sophomore jinx, so you had better check it out
All hail the dirt bike
Philosopher dirt bike
Silence as we gathered round
We saw the word and were on our way
Now its
Brain washing dirt bike
Ground shaking dirt bike
Mind bending dirt bike
In control
Soul crushing dirt bike
Self propelled dirt bike
You see I never thought Id understand
til that bike took me by the hand
Now I ride
Ride
Ride

song performed by They Might Be Giants
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If Dirt Were Dollars

Walkin like a millionaire
Smilin like a king
He leaned his shopping cart against the wall
He said, I been a lot of places
And I seen a lot of things
But, sonny, I seen one thing that beats em all
I was flyin back from lubbock
I saw jesus on the plane
...or maybe it was elvis
You know, they kinda look the same
Hey, look out, junior, youre steppin on my bed
I said, I dont see nothin
He just glared at me and said,
If dirt were dollars
If dirt were dollars
If dirt were dollars
I wouldnt worry anymore
Lookin like a beauty queen
Loyal as a wife
She raised her little voice and testified,
I am a good girl
Ive been one all my life
But her virtue was as swollen as her pride
She shouldve had the oscar
She must have been miscast
Her fifteen minutes went by so fast
I said, now, baby, have you got no shame?
She just looked at me, uncomprehendingly
Like cows at a passing train
If dirt were dollars
If dirt were dollars
If dirt were dollars
I wouldnt worry anymore
We got the bully pulpit
And the poisoned pen
We got a press no better
Than the public men
This brave new world
Gone bad again
Gods finest little creatures
Looking brave and strong
Whistling past the graveyard
Nothing can go wrong
Quoting from the scriptures
With patriotic tears
We got the same old men
With the same old fears
Standing at attention
Wrapped in stars and stripes
They hear the phantom drummers

[...] Read more

song performed by Don Henley
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Keep It Clean

Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.

Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.

So hard they've tried to reflect perfection.
A wholesome outlook,
With good deeds done they do!
They want to project a godlike self righteousness.
With wings adorned and hymns sung!
Angelic voices from everyone,
Harmonizing,
In collective united bliss.
But the truth about this...
There is BS that sits within their midst,
And not one of them can resist
An addicting sniff!
Since they are all full of it!

Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.

Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.

Something kept stinking...
From fat greasy meat.
Suited and smoking cigars,
Chartering planes with high profiled stars.
And posing with those who piloted...
The sucking up of all resources.
As admirers rejoiced!
Thinking they heard 'voices' from beyond...
'You too could live like this!
We'll make sure of it! '

Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Song, Poverty Parts Good Company

WHEN my o'erlay was white as the foam o' the lin,
And siller was chinkin my pouches within,
When my lambkins were bleatin on meadow an brae,
As I went to my love in new cleeding sae gay,
Kind was she, and my friends were free,
But poverty parts good company.
How swift passed the minutes and hours of delight,
When piper played cheerly, and crusie burned bright,
And linked in my hand was the maiden sae dear,
As she footed the floor in her holy-day gear!
Woe is me; and can it then be,
That poverty parts sic company?
We met at the fair, and we met at the kirk,
We met i' the sunshine, we met i' the mirk;
And the sound o'her voice, and the blinks o'her een,
The cheerin and life of my bosom hae been.
Leaves frae the tree, at Mertimass flee,
And poverty parts sweet company.
At bridal and infare, I braced me wi' pride,
The bruise I hae won, and a kiss o' the bride;
And loud was the laughter good fellows among,
As I uttered my banter or chorused my song;
Dowie and dree are jestin and glee,
When poverty spoils good company.
Wherever I gaed kindly lasses looked sweet,
And mithers and aunties were unco discreet;
While kebbuck and beeker were set on the board;
But now they pass by me, and never a word!
Sae let it be, for the worldly and slee
Wi' poverty keep nae company.
But the hope of my love is a cure for its smart,
And the spae-wife has tauld me to keep up my heart,
For, wi' my last saxpence, her loof I hae crost,
And the bliss that is fated can never be lost.
Though cruelly we may ilka day see
How poverty parts dear company.

poem by Joanna Baillie
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Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

If youre havin trouble with your high school head
Hes givin you the blues
You wanna graduate but not in is bed [...but not in his debt]
Heres what you gotta do -
Pick up the phone
Im always home
Call me any time
Just ring
36 24 36 hey [36 24 36 8]
I lead a life of crime
Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and theyre done dirt cheap
You got problems in your life of love
You got a broken heart
(shes) hes double dealin with your best friend
Thats when the teardrops start - fella
Pick up the phone
Im here alone
Or make a social call
Come right in
Forget about him
Well have ourselves a ball
Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and theyre done dirt cheap
If you got a lady and you want her gone
But you aint got the guts
She keeps naggin at you night and day
Enough to drive you nuts -
Pick up the phone
Leave her alone
Its time you made a stand
For a fee
Im happy to be
Your back door man
Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and theyre done dirt cheap
Concrete shoes, cyanide, tnt
Done dirt cheap
Neckties, contracts, high voltage
Done dirt cheap

song performed by AC-DC
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Dirty Martini

Two in the morning there's a drink in my hand
(Dirt, dirt, dirty Martini)
Nothing moving the place but sweat
I heard a rumour 'bout a Cajun band
(Dirt, dirt, dirty Martini)
The bartender says it's early yet
Wait the bartender says it's early yet
Too many olives in too much gin
Steppin' out in the City of Sin
Too much dirty rice and too many beans
Gettin' down and dirty down in New Orleans
Gettin' down and dirty down in New Orleans
Have another, i believe i will
(Dirt, dirt, dirty Martini)
And you can stir it with a dirty spoon
There's a perscription i've gotta fill
(Dirt, dirt, dirty Martini)
And the Doctor's gonna be here soon
Jimmy says the Doctor's gonna be here soon
Too many olives in too much gin
Steppin' out in the City of Sin
Too much dirty rice and too many beans
Gettin' down and dirty down in New Orleans
Gettin' down and dirty down in New Orleans

song performed by Joe Jackson
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Old Dirt Road

Aint no people on the old dirt road
No more weather on the old dirt road
Its better than a mudslide mamma when the dry spell come, yeah
Oh oh oh old dirt road
Aint no difference on the old dirt road
Tarred and feathered on the old dirt road
Trying to shovel smoke with a pitchfork in the wind, yeah yeah yeah
Breezing thru the deadwood on a hot summer day
I saw a human being lazybonin out in the hay
I said uh, hey mr. human can ya rainmaker too?
He said I guess its o.k. ya know the only thing we need is water
Cool, clear water, water
Aint no people on the old dirt road
No more weather on the old dirt road
Better than a mudslide mamma when the morning comes, yeah
Oh oh oh oh old dirt road
Keep on keeping on
Keep on keeping on
So long, so long
Bye bye

song performed by Lennon John
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Old Dirt Road

Aint no people on old dirt road,
No more weather on the old dirt road.
Its better than a mudslide, mama, when the dry spell come, yeah,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, old dirt road.
Aint no diffrence on old dirt road,
Tarred and feathered on the old dirt road.
Trying to shovel smoke with a pitchfork in the wind, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Breezing thru the deadwood on a hot summer day,
I saw a lazybonin out in the hay.
I said, ah, hey, mister human, can ya rainmaker too?
He said, I guess its okay, you know the only thing we need is water,
Cool, clear water , (water) water, (water).
Aint no people on old dirt road,
No more weather on the old dirt road.
Its better than a mudslide, mama, when the morning come, yeah,
Oh - oh - oh - oh - old dirt road.
Ah!
Mm, good night.
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
So long,
So long,
Bye, bye,
Bye,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on, keep on, keep on, keep on,
Keep on, keep on, keep on.

song performed by Yoko Ono
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Sobre Horizontes

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soccer back pack bags

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Red Dirt Girl

(Emmylou Harris)
Me and my best friend Lillian
And her blue tick hound dog Gideon,
Sittin on the front porch cooling in the shade
Singin every song the radio played
Waitin for the Alabama sun to go down
Two red dirt girls in a red dirt town
Me and Lillian
Just across the line and a little southeast of Meridian.
She loved her brother I remember back when
He was fixin up a '49 Indian
He told her 'Little sister, gonna ride the wind
Up around the moon and back again"
He never got farther than Vietnam,
I was standin there with her when the telegram come
For Lillian.
Now he's lyin somewhere about a million miles from Meridian.
She said there's not much hope for a red dirt girl
Somewhere out there is a great big world
Thats where I'm bound
And the stars might fall on Alabama
But one of these days I'm gonna swing
My hammer down
Away from this red dirt town
I'm gonna make a joyful sound
She grew up tall and she grew up thin
Buried that old dog Gideon
By a crepe myrtle bush in the back of the yard,
Her daddy turned mean and her mama leaned hard
Got in trouble with a boy from town
Figured that she might as well settle down
So she dug right in
Across a red dirt line just a little south east from Meridian
She tried hard to love him but it never did take
It was just another way for the heart to break
So she dug right in.
But one thing they don't tell you about the blues
When you got em
You keep on falling cause there ain't no bottom
There ain't know end.
At least not for Lillian
Nobody knows when she started her skid,
She was only 27 and she had five kids.
Coulda' been the whiskey,
Coulda been the pills,
Coulda been the dream she was trying to kill.
But there won't be a mention in the news of the world
About the life and the death of a red dirt girl
Names Lillian
Who never got any farther across the line than Meridian.

[...] Read more

song performed by Emmylou Harris
Added by Lucian Velea
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Every Time You Throw Dirt On Her (You Lose A Little Ground)

I guess you think it's fun
To laugh at her expense
And point out each mistake she makes
In front of all your friends
You figure she'll let it go by
'Cause she loves you so
But, you know.
Every time you throw dirt on her
You lose a little ground
She slips a little further away
Each time that you put her down
A lady like that can come here and get
Somebody who knows what he's found
Every time you throw dirt on her
You lose a little ground.
--- Instrumental ---
It's hard to bite my lip
But, I ain't saying a word
I give you all the rope to hang yourself
That you deserve
You might be ahead of me in her heart, today
But, that's okay.
Every time you throw dirt on her
You lose a little ground
She slips a little further away
Each time that you put her down
A lady like that can come here and get
Somebody who knows what he's found
Every time you throw dirt on her
You lose a little ground.
Every time you throw dirt on her
You lose a little ground
She slips a little further away
Each time that you put her down
A lady like that can come here and get
Somebody who knows what he's found
Every time you throw dirt on her
You lose a little ground.
Every time you throw dirt on her
You lose a little ground
She slips a little further away
Each time that you put her down...

song performed by George Strait
Added by Lucian Velea
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