Self-praise stinks, friends praise hinks, the stranger's is sincere, and may last for a year.
German proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Old Friends
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
Saw you walk into the club last night
Could not even believe what I was seein
How do I even stop thinkin of you?
cause in my eyes youre still mine
Nobody told me I would feel like this
Wanting you more as the years walk on by
Now Im not afraid to say what i, I believe
But I wish you were my wife
My old friend
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(my old friend)
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
First time we met so cool, cool I never knew
You would become so closely to my heart
And now when I look back, girl I was so blessed
The rest never passed the test
Im choosy when it comes to newfound friends
And I wish they could be so smooth
(just like you)
And you never sweated me girl that was so tight
You were an angel in my life, oh, if
(I knew then)
What I know now
(what I know now)
Oh, yeah
(you wouldnt be with him)
You would be here
(youd be here with me)
My old friend
Old friends
Are the best friends
All my old friends
Are my best friends
(my old friend)
Old friends
Are the best friends
[...] Read more
song performed by New Edition
Added by Lucian Velea
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Love Aint No Stranger
(coverdale/galley)
Who knows where the cold wind blows,
I ask my friends, but, nobody knows
Who am I to believe in love,
Oh, love aint no stranger
I looked around an what did I see
Broken hearted people staring at me,
All searching cos they still believe,
Oh, love aint no stranger
I was alone an I needed love
So much I sacrificed all I was dreaming of,
I heard no warning, but, a heart can tell
Id feel the emptiness of love I know so well
Love aint no stranger,
I aint no stranger
Love aint no stranger,
I aint no stranger to love, no, no, no
Cant hold the passion of a soul in need,
I look for mercy when my heart begins to bleed
I know good loving an Im a friend of pain,
But, when I read between the lines its all the same
Love aint no stranger,
I aint no stranger
Love aint no stranger,
I aint no stranger to love
So who knows where the cold wind blows,
I ask my friends, but, nobody knows
Who am I to believe in love,
Lord, have mercy,
Love aint no stranger,
I aint no stranger
I was alone an I needed love
So much I sacrificed all I was dreaming of,
Cant hold the passion of a soul in need,
I look for mercy when my heart begins to bleed
Love aint no stranger,
I aint no stranger
Love aint no stranger,
I aint no stranger to love
Love aint no stranger,
Love aint no stranger,
I aint no stranger...
song performed by Whitesnake
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Hymn
To the Almighty on his radiant Throne,
Let endless Hallelujas rise!
Praise Him, ye wondrous Heights to us unknown,
Praise Him, ye Heavens unreach'd by mortal Eyes,
Praise Him, in your degree, ye sublunary Skies!
Praise Him, you Angels that before him bow,
You Creatures of Celestial frame,
Our Guests of old, our wakeful Guardians now,
Praise Him, and with like Zeal our Hearts enflame,
Transporting then our Praise to Seats from whence you came!
Praise Him, thou Sun in thy Meridian Force;
Exalt Him, all ye Stars and Light!
Praise Him, thou Moon in thy revolving Course,
Praise Him, thou gentler Guide of silent Night,
Which do's to solemn Praise, and serious Thoughts invite.
Praise Him, ye humid Vapours, which remain
Unfrozen by the sharper Air;
Praise Him, as you return in Show'rs again,
To bless the Earth and make her Pastures fair:
Praise Him, ye climbing Fires, the Emblems of our Pray'r.
Praise Him, ye Waters petrify'd above,
Ye shredded Clouds that fall in Snow,
Praise Him, for that you so divided move;
Ye Hailstones, that you do no larger grow.
Nor, in one solid Mass, oppress the World below.
Praise Him, ye soaring Fowls, still as you fly,
And on gay Plumes your Bodies raise;
You Insects, which in dark Recesses lie,
Altho' th' extremest Distances you try,
Be reconcil'd in This, to offer mutual Praise.
Praise Him, thou Earth, with thy unbounded Store;
Ye Depths which to the Center tend:
Praise Him ye Beasts which in the Forests roar;
Praise Him ye Serpents, tho' you downwards bend,
Who made your bruised Head our Ladder to ascend.
Praise Him, ye Men whom youthful Vigour warms;
Ye Children, hast'ning to your Prime;
Praise Him, ye Virgins of unsullied Charms,
With beauteous Lips becoming sacred Rhime:
You Aged, give Him Praise for your encrease of Time.
Praise Him, ye Monarchs in supreme Command,
By Anthems, like the Hebrew Kings;
[...] Read more
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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Stranger Eyes
A-when you took the fall
And then you floated down
And then you took the jump
And you fell through clouds
Yeah then you watched the world
Beat the crowd
Come on ride me high
(stranger eyes)
A-well a-ride me high
(stranger eyes)
Yeah you took the fall
And then you landed soft
You thought to yourself
Oo well Im not alone
You with your dark red soul
And your chaperone
Come on ride me high
(stranger eyes)
Wont you ride me high
(stranger eyes)
Come on ride me high
(stranger eyes)
Ride me high
(danger [? ] stranger eyes)
Stranger eyes
Oo well I need your touch
That means so much
Oo well I need your touch
Cause it means so much
A-ride me high
Come on ride me high
(stranger eyes)
A-yeah ride me high
(stranger eyes)
Ride me high
(stranger eyes)
Oh, come on and ride me high
(danger [? ] stranger eyes)
Stranger eyes
(stranger [echo] stranger eyes)
(stranger [echo] stranger eyes)
(stranger [echo] stranger eyes)
[fade]
song performed by Cars
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stranger On A Quiet Street
When all the thrills have been forgotten
The chill of night can call them home
And all the dreams that you left stranded
Will slowly start to come along
I felt it as she slipped away, slipped away
I didnt have the words to say
When I saw the stranger
A stranger on a quiet street
Stranger on a quiet street
You can go straight as an arrow
You can go straight as you dare
Walkin the old straight and narrow
Dont always get you there
The sun was shining when I saw it all
She was moving to a different beat
When I met a stranger
A stranger on a quiet street
Stranger on a quiet street
It came to me out of the blue, out of the blue
There came the moment that I really knew
When I met a stranger
A stranger on a quiet street
Stranger on a quiet street
Stranger on a quiet street
Stranger on a quiet street
Stranger on a quiet street
Stranger on a quiet street
Stranger on a quiet street, on a quiet street
Stranger on a quiet street
Stranger on a quiet street
Stranger on a quiet street
song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Candidate
This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the
Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the
University of Cambridge, vacant by the death of the Lord Chancellor
Hardwicke. The spirit of party ran high in the University, and no
means were left untried by either candidate to obtain a majority. The
election was fixed for the th of March, when, after much
altercation, the votes appearing equal, a scrutiny was demanded;
whereupon the Vice-Chancellor adjourned the senate _sine die_. On
appeal to the Lord High-Chancellor, he determined in favour of the
Earl of Hardwicke, and a mandamus issued accordingly.
Enough of Actors--let them play the player,
And, free from censure, fret, sweat, strut, and stare;
Garrick abroad, what motives can engage
To waste one couplet on a barren stage?
Ungrateful Garrick! when these tasty days,
In justice to themselves, allow'd thee praise;
When, at thy bidding, Sense, for twenty years,
Indulged in laughter, or dissolved in tears;
When in return for labour, time, and health,
The town had given some little share of wealth,
Couldst thou repine at being still a slave?
Darest thou presume to enjoy that wealth she gave?
Couldst thou repine at laws ordain'd by those
Whom nothing but thy merit made thy foes?
Whom, too refined for honesty and trade,
By need made tradesmen, Pride had bankrupts made;
Whom Fear made drunkards, and, by modern rules,
Whom Drink made wits, though Nature made them fools;
With such, beyond all pardon is thy crime,
In such a manner, and at such a time,
To quit the stage; but men of real sense,
Who neither lightly give, nor take offence,
Shall own thee clear, or pass an act of grace,
Since thou hast left a Powell in thy place.
Enough of Authors--why, when scribblers fail,
Must other scribblers spread the hateful tale?
Why must they pity, why contempt express,
And why insult a brother in distress?
Let those, who boast the uncommon gift of brains
The laurel pluck, and wear it for their pains;
Fresh on their brows for ages let it bloom,
And, ages past, still flourish round their tomb.
Let those who without genius write, and write,
Versemen or prosemen, all in Nature's spite,
The pen laid down, their course of folly run
In peace, unread, unmention'd, be undone.
Why should I tell, to cross the will of Fate,
That Francis once endeavour'd to translate?
Why, sweet oblivion winding round his head,
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Churchill
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Stranger in Strange Crowd
STRANGER IN STRANGE CROWD
Dreams stranger’s path divide
from crowd’s uneven t[h]read
who's tissue, issues poorly understood, through dread
is left behind, swirls second rate as flotsam on life's tide,
noise windmills, senses silent, life-blood sped,
bled white, so often fearing fear, by wisdom wide,
unblessed, unsteady set sights low instead.
Despite stress, sentiments denied, imagination set aside,
stranger story stores till head heeds heart, until desires well led
fire understanding rich allied with empathy sustaining ride.
Swift Pegasus is supplied
with neither saddle, A to Zed accoutrements life tears to shreds
when vested interests, motives pure collide.
Defy temptations of soft ride
along straight road which, comfort fed,
selects ‘safe way’, too often dreads
free choice, autonomy. Self-pride
corresponds to quest for bread.
Distrust that moment Fortune’s tide
entwines in fickle thread
conformity, convention wed.
Scorn empty homage, those who glide
through vain p[l]ain life, misled.
Survival instinct, safe homestead, a ‘living wage’, priorities
appear, as opportunities to seize as each spins finite set
tripped, snipped, then ripped by Norms with ease.
Far from madding crowd who dares assign
himself true rôle in life, who thinks,
who sifts chaff, grain, drains lees from wine, palms pearls from swine?
Who, intact, acts and interacts, discerning fiction, facts,
opposes expedience, authority which hoodwinks
manipulated herd unheard, which lacks
true overview impartial, thus reacts
rather than responds, its armour: chinks.
On each new generation weigh rigid systems spawned by Fate unkind.
As pawns most men play puppet parts in Time’s relay game of tiddly-winks.
Is search for self through mirrored minds
just base reflection on sight lost?
Insisting on base ‘skills’ man finds
intuitions atrophy - cost
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Friends Will Be Friends Will Be Friends ...
Friends Will Be Friends Will Be Friends . . .
Written by John Deacon, Freddie Mercury
Friends will be friends
Friends will be friends
Friends will be friends
Friends will be friends
Friends will be friends
Another red letter day
So the pound has dropped and the children are creating
The other half ran away
Taking all the cash and leaving you with the lumber
Got a pain in the chest
Doctors on strike what you need is a rest
It's not easy love, but you've got friends you can trust
Friends will be friends
When you're in need of love they give you care and attention
Friends will be friends
When you're through with life and all hope is lost
Hold out your hand 'cos friends will be friends - right till the end
Now it's a beautiful day
The postman delivered a letter from your lover
Only a 'phone call away
You tried to track him down but somebody stole his number
As a matter of fact
You're getting used to life without him in your way
It's so easy now, 'cos you got friends you can trust
Friends will be friends
When you're in need of love they give you care and attention
Friends will be friends
When you're through with life and all hope is lost
Hold out your hand 'cos friends will be friends - right till the end
It's so easy now, 'cos you got friends you can trust
Friends will be friends
When you're in need of love they give you care and attention
Friends will be friends
When you're through with life and all hope is lost
Hold out your hand 'cos right till the end - friends will be friends
Yeah yeah
song performed by Queen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lara
LARA. [1]
CANTO THE FIRST.
I.
The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain, [2]
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord —
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.
II.
The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself; — that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest! —
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.
III.
And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
"Yet doth he live!" exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.
[...] Read more
Lara. A Tale
The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain,
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord--
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.
II.
The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself;--that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest!--
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.
III.
And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
'Yet doth he live!' exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.
A hundred scutcheons deck with gloomy grace
The Laras' last and longest dwelling-place;
But one is absent from the mouldering file,
That now were welcome to that Gothic pile.
IV.
He comes at last in sudden loneliness,
And whence they know not, why they need not guess;
[...] Read more
Funky New Year
Went to a party just last night
Wanted to bring the year in right
Woke up this morning I don't know how
Last night I was a happy man, but the way I feel right now
It's gonna be a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Ooo, Ahh, got to be a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Can't remember when I ever felt worse
Nothing matters and everything hurts
They were passin' round the bottle, made me feel brand new
Trouble with the new man he wants a hit too, hit me
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
oooooo, it's a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Lord, mmm, FUNKY NEW YEAR
Nurse I'm worse FUNKY NEW YEAR
I got to perk up a little FUNKY NEW YEAR
My hair hurts FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
A party baby
Never again FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Who's shoes are these FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Party hardy baby FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
What year is this anyway?
song performed by Eagles
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stranger In My Own House
(a capella: she said: boy, your luck is running out...she make me feel like a stranger...in my own house)
I come stumbling in at a quarter to three
To the sound of my own dog growlin at me
Im scared to move or turn on a light
Youve got me creepin around in the dark
Like a thief in the night
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got no place to live
I never feel at home
I walk into the kitchen to see whats there
Im tired and Im hungry but the cupboards bare
Ive been working all day and all night too
I cant believe this is all I have to come back to
I guess Ill take a look upstairs, in the danger zone
I wonder what Im doing here
When I never feel at home
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im a stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
I see the do not disturb sign on my bedroom door
What is this sheet and pillow laying on the floor
I wore out my welcome
I hear you loud and clear
Its time to get a few things straight around here
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got a place to live but I never feel at home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
With a woman like you Im better off alone
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im just a stranger in my own house
Oh, honey Im home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
You got a lion on your hands girl, not a mouse!
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
Well, somebodys got to go...
Stranger
Stranger
song performed by Foreigner
Added by Lucian Velea
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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
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Praise You
Weve come a long long way together,
Through the hard times and the good,
I have have to celebrate you baby,
I have to praise you like I should
Weve come a long long way together,
Through the hard times and the good,
I have have to celebrate you baby,
I have to praise you like I should
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you like I should
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
Weve come a long long way together,
Through the hard times and the good,
I have have to celebrate you baby,
I have to praise you like I shouldddddd
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you like I should
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
I have to praise you
song performed by Fatboy Slim
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Rosciad
Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.
Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Churchill
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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,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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English Eclogues I - The Old Mansion-House
STRANGER.
Old friend! why you seem bent on parish duty,
Breaking the highway stones,--and 'tis a task
Somewhat too hard methinks for age like yours.
OLD MAN.
Why yes! for one with such a weight of years
Upon his back. I've lived here, man and boy,
In this same parish, near the age of man
For I am hard upon threescore and ten.
I can remember sixty years ago
The beautifying of this mansion here
When my late Lady's father, the old Squire
Came to the estate.
STRANGER.
Why then you have outlasted
All his improvements, for you see they're making
Great alterations here.
OLD MAN.
Aye-great indeed!
And if my poor old Lady could rise up--
God rest her soul! 'twould grieve her to behold
The wicked work is here.
STRANGER.
They've set about it
In right good earnest. All the front is gone,
Here's to be turf they tell me, and a road
Round to the door. There were some yew trees too
Stood in the court.
OLD MAN.
Aye Master! fine old trees!
My grandfather could just remember back
When they were planted there. It was my task
To keep them trimm'd, and 'twas a pleasure to me!
All strait and smooth, and like a great green wall!
My poor old Lady many a time would come
And tell me where to shear, for she had played
In childhood under them, and 'twas her pride
To keep them in their beauty. Plague I say
On their new-fangled whimsies! we shall have
A modern shrubbery here stuck full of firs
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Southey
Added by Poetry Lover
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Stranger In My Own Home Town
(words & music by percy mayfield)
Im like a stranger
Like a stranger in my own home town
Im like a stranger
Like a stranger in my own home town
My so called friends stopped being friendly
Oh but you cant keep a good man down
Oh no, cant get him down
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
But my home town wont accept me
Just dont feel welcome here no more
My home town wont accept me
Just dont feel welcome here no more
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago, yes I did
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
But my home town wont accept me
Just dont feel welcome here no more
Im like a stranger, like a stranger in my own home town
Yeah, Im like a stranger, like a stranger in my own home town
My so called friends stopped being friendly
Oh but you cant keep a good man down
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago, yes I did
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
My so called friends stopped being friendly
Oh but you cant keep a good man down
Im like a stranger, like a stranger in my own home town
Im like a stranger, like a stranger in my own home town
My so called friends stopped being friendly
Oh but you cant keep a good man down
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stranger In My Own Home Town (Undubbed Master)
I'm like a stranger
Like a stranger in my own home town
I'm like a stranger
Like a stranger in my own home town
My so called friends stopped being friendly
Oh but you can't keep a good man down
Oh no, can't get him down
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
But my home town won't accept me
Just don't feel welcome here no more
My home town won't accept me
Just don't feel welcome here no more
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago, yes I did
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
But my home town won't accept me
Just don't feel welcome here no more
I'm like a stranger, like a stranger in my own home town
Yeah, I'm like a stranger, like a stranger in my own home town
My so called friends stopped being friendly
Oh but you can't keep a good man down
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago, yes I did
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
My so called friends stopped being friendly
Oh but you can't keep a good man down
I'm like a stranger, like a stranger in my own home town
I'm like a stranger, like a stranger in my own home town
My so called friends stopped being friendly
Oh but you can't keep a good man down
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!