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Somebody has to take responsibility for being a leader.

quote by Toni Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Booker Washington Trilogy

I. A NEGRO SERMON:—SIMON LEGREE

(To be read in your own variety of negro dialect.)

Legree's big house was white and green.
His cotton-fields were the best to be seen.
He had strong horses and opulent cattle,
And bloodhounds bold, with chains that would rattle.
His garret was full of curious things:
Books of magic, bags of gold,
And rabbits' feet on long twine strings.
But he went down to the Devil.

Legree he sported a brass-buttoned coat,
A snake-skin necktie, a blood-red shirt.
Legree he had a beard like a goat,
And a thick hairy neck, and eyes like dirt.
His puffed-out cheeks were fish-belly white,
He had great long teeth, and an appetite.
He ate raw meat, 'most every meal,
And rolled his eyes till the cat would squeal.

His fist was an enormous size
To mash poor niggers that told him lies:
He was surely a witch-man in disguise.
But he went down to the Devil.

He wore hip-boots, and would wade all day
To capture his slaves that had fled away.
But he went down to the Devil.

He beat poor Uncle Tom to death
Who prayed for Legree with his last breath.
Then Uncle Tom to Eva flew,
To the high sanctoriums bright and new;
And Simon Legree stared up beneath,
And cracked his heels, and ground his teeth:
And went down to the Devil.

He crossed the yard in the storm and gloom;
He went into his grand front room.
He said, "I killed him, and I don't care."
He kicked a hound, he gave a swear;
He tightened his belt, he took a lamp,
Went down cellar to the webs and damp.
There in the middle of the mouldy floor
He heaved up a slab, he found a door —
And went down to the Devil.

[...] Read more

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Picking Teachers For Their Leader

Strangers!
Come before the darkness of night,
Crawls.
As twilight escorts the rising moon!
Strangers...
Known in dreams.
Whisper of their presence unseen.
But felt...
By a familiar comfort embraced.

My steps cease to seek a quickened pace.
There is no wish for leaving.
I am told in my mind I should stay.
Soft voices dance within rainbowed light!
Sparkling to convince...
I should pray with faith.
And they would make my life right!

Picking teachers for their Leader.
For the One never shown.
The One who through scriptures...
Repeated to make appear,
But left still for them to go unknown.

Picking teachers for their Leader.
How they do it like it's done...
When they come,
Nobody knows.

Their picking teachers for their Leader.
They say He's number One.
Like none other like He,
Upon me with gifts bestowed!

Strangers!
Come before the darkness of night,
Crawls.
As twilight escorts the rising moon!
Strangers...
Known in dreams.
Whisper of their presence unseen.
But felt...
By a familiar comfort embraced.

Their picking teachers for their Leader.
As God demands.
Their picking teachers for their Leader.
As God Commands.
Their picking teachers for their Leader.
And I understand...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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King Solomon And The Queen Of Sheba

(A Poem Game.)

“And when the Queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon, . . .
she came to prove him with hard questions.”

[The men’s leader rises as he sees the Queen unveiling
and approaching a position that gives her half of the stage.]

Men’s Leader: The Queen of Sheba came to see King Solomon.
[He bows three times.]
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon.

[She bows three times.]
Women’s Leader: I was the Queen,
I was the Queen,
I was the Queen.

Both Leaders: We will be king and queen,
[They stand together stretching their hands over the land.]
Reigning on mountains green,
Happy and free
For ten thousand years.

[They stagger forward as though carrying a yoke together.]
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred oxen.

Congregation: We were the oxen.

[Here King and Queen pause at the footlights.]
Both Leaders: You shall feel goads no more.
[They walk backward, throwing off the yoke and rejoicing.]
Walk dreadful roads no more,
Free from your loads
For ten thousand years.

[The men’s leader goes forward, the women’s leader dances round him.]
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred sweethearts.

[Here he pauses at the footlights.]
Congregation: We were the sweethearts.

[He walks backward. Both clap their hands to the measure.]
Both Leaders: You shall dance round again,
You shall dance round again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
[The Queen appears to gather wildflowers.]

[...] Read more

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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The Lone White Wolf: The Hunt

As the first day of the new moon creeps into the trees, no wolf among the pack gathers to see the light overcome the darkness to bring in the new day except the lone white wolf. This peculiar wolf is almost solid white except for the black along the length of his nose. It watches over the pack as they peacefully sleep, unaware of his eyes that could protect everything that was soon to come.

Today was the first day of the long hunt for the white wolf. He must bring down an animal that could feed the whole pack for several days, so he could become an official member of the pack, but more importantly, he must prove himself to be one with the pack instead of running alone.

The leader of the wolf pack slowly raises his head like a turtle to look around to see who’s awake. He sees all the wolves are still asleep in a tight circle except the outcast. The leader doesn’t understand why this wolf sleeps alone nor does he understand why the wolf was born white instead of gray. The white wolf stirs from his wakeful sleep. The eyes of the self-proclaimed leader stay on him before moving off to look into the distance searching for all the answers to his questions among the countless trees.

The leader of the wolf pack slowly gets up and walks to the lone wolf and nudges him to sound the morning howl. It was customary for the leader of the wolf pack to do this, but for reasons unknown to any wolf besides the leader, the wolf chose the outcast to sound the howl. The white wolf understands and gives a howl to stir the remaining wolves out of their deep slumber.

Once all the wolves are fully awake and able to comprehend what today is and what it means for the outcast, they realize it is the first day of the new moon. It is the first day of the long hunt. All of the wolves first look to the leader, then to the outcast, then back to the leader wondering who is going to give the special howl to begin the long hunt. No wolf willingly howled the beginning of the long hunt because if the howl was bad, the hunt would go badly, but if the howl was good, the hunt would go smoothly and the hunt would be short. The answer is soon apparent when the eyes of the leader look over the pack to see whose eyes would meet his. None but one pair kept his gaze.

The leader gave a sign, and the wolf began to prepare to give the special howl that would determine the outcome of the hunt. A wolf could not open its muzzle and give an ordinary howl since the hunt would also go badly. To give the special howl the wolf must pull back its hind legs and brace itself to make sure all legs are securely anchored to the ground so that the wolf, while giving the special howl would not slide backwards during the middle of it.

The lone wolf was ready mentally and physically to give the special howl. Once his feet were securely on the ground, the wolf began the howl. The lone white wolf put everything in his howl: the pain of being an outcast his entire life, the anger at his individuality, everything was put into that howl. Wolves stepped back with their fur standing on end; birds flew away squawking bloody murder. The others started yipping and snapping at nothing in particular remembering everything they’d ever felt. After the lone wolf was done, he realized the effect his special howl had on the wolves and he noticed the disarray and confusion that he had caused.

The leader is satisfied and gets the pack into order; it was time to begin the hunt. The wolves began running, their muscles rippling beneath their skin. Nothing could stop them. Their destination was a mile and a half down the road where the large game was located. Running freely among the wolf pack, the lone wolf didn’t feel like an outcast, but whenever he began to get too close, a shallow snip on the shoulder would shove him away to a safer distance.

The game was just ahead; it was time for the lone wolf to prove himself to the pack. The lone wolf went ahead of the pack and picked one of the biggest caribou he could find and slowly approached while the pack followed. The wolves lurched like a bullet from a gun onto the caribou with the white wolf clinging to the exposed flesh of the neck bringing it to the ground but not before it got one last kick in. The kill was successful; the caribou was dead. It was then that the white wolf noticed the bloody mess of the leader of the pack. The last kick of the now dead caribou landed on the skull of the leader, and he was dead instantly. The sight was a grizzly one with his skull caved in and blood gushing out of the wound.

The self-proclaimed leader was dead with no next-in-line to follow. Every wolf looked to the now dead leader, then to the outcast, then back to the dead leader, and then back to the outcast. The white wolf met the eyes of each wolf and got an unspoken request from each one. It was unanimous; the previous outcast of the pack became the leader. For the first time in history, a white wolf was chosen to lead and will lead the wolves to a prosperity the wolves have never known.

2009 October

poem by Matthew Bresette
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Responsibility

Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee,
Into my life came responsibility.
Shes got some shakin, kickin, sailin, long blonde hair,
And when I want to get off you know shell take me there.
Im talkin bout ...
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee,
She fill me up with responsibility.
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee,
She fill me up and let me down, cant you see ...
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons-ibil-ity.
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons--responsibility.
Life is full of re ...
Re-re--responsibility.
Life is full of responsibility.
And Im responsible for you and me.
Good lovin messin up my mind,
A chick like this one is so hard to find.
She takes care of everything I need,
And when I want some stuff you know that she takes heed.
Im talkin bout ...
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee,
She fill me up with responsibility -- yeah.
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee,
She fill me up and let me down, cant you see ...
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons-ibil-ity.
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons--responsibility.
Life is full of re ...
Re-re--responsibility.
Life is full of responsibility.
And Im responsible as I can be.
Yeah, responsible, responsible baby.
Yeah, responsible.
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee.
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee.
Responsible, responsible baby.
Im tryin to be responsible, responsible baby ...
... yeah, ayyyy ... yeah ... ayyyy ...
Every day, baby; yes I am, baby; you know I can, baby.
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons-ibil-ity.
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons--responsibility.
Life is full of re ...
Re-re--responsibility.
Life is full of responsibility.
And Im responsible for you and me.

[...] Read more

song performed by Grand Funk Railroad
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Leader That Was Pushed

Once on a time a general whose name is handed down
To the present generation as a name of high renown
Once on a time this general - I trust you understand
This happened years and years ago, and in a foreign land.
This general once stood before his army, thinking hard;
And he talked about advancing, but he didn't move a yard,
For, to put the matter plainly, though he knew his cause was right,
And desired to be the leader, yet he didn't want to fight.

He bravely talked for hours and hours of tactics and defence
(In good sooth, he was a leader of undoubted eloquence)
Till his soldiers grew impatient, for they spied afar the foe,
So they started marching forward, and the leader had to go,
Though he begged for time to elocute, they forced him to a walk;
Then they broke into a double, and he hadn't breath to talk.
If his soldiers start to push him - well, that can a leader do?
Thus he led his army forward - of necessity, 'tis true.

Oh, they forced him to a run,
And the firing of a gun
Gave him qualms about the business, but he couldn't change his mind.
He'd have dearly loved to pause
And orate about The Cause,
But he had to keep responding to the pressure from behind.
Then he yelled a battle-cry,
And he waved his sword on high,
But he mournfully reflected as he viewed the foemen's horde:
Leadership may be all right
While the foe is out of sight,
But, like the pen, the silver tongue is safer than the sword.

The fight was won. That general, his heart swelled up with pride,
Delivered speeches eloquent to his victorious side;
And the peroration hinted they should rest while they'd the chance;
But the army wanted more of it and urged him to advance.
'Twas here the general resigned to join another band
That didn't yearn to go and fight the battles of the land.
'Twas a calm, reposeful army, and that leader suited well;
For it let him talk of fighting while it sat and took a spell.

He was leader of the tired,
And he never was required
To go ranging o'er the country to attack a savage foe;
And whene'er he thought it best
To sit down and take a rest,
Well - it's rude to push a leader when he doesn't want to go.
And, if by some mischance,

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Choral Leader With a Love

On you they're too dependent,
And that's what you love.
A dependency defended,
And fits like a glove.

On your nerves they irritate,
And you wish from them to get away...
To breathe and celebrate.
But you're the one who picked this tune.
Deciding what is done they do.

On you they're too dependent,
And that's what you love.
A dependency defended,
And fits like a glove.

In harmony with them you choose their solos too.
Trying to convince yourself you've had it and you're through.

A choral leader with a focus only to lead.
With a love to hear the doo wop,
Dropped nonstop.

A choral leader with a focus only to lead.
With a love to hear the doo wop,
Dropped nonstop.

And when the arguments get heated in intensity,
You say you want to pack up and from them you want to leave.

A choral leader with a focus only to lead.
With a love to hear the doo wop,
Dropped nonstop.

A choral leader with a focus only to lead.
With a love to hear the doo wop,
Dropped nonstop.

In harmony with them you choose their solos too.
Trying to convince yourself you've had it and you're through.
And when the arguments get heated in intensity,
You say you want to pack up and from them you want to leave.

On you they're too dependent,
And that's what you love.
A dependency defended,
And fits like a glove.

On your nerves they irritate,
And you wish from them to get away...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ghetto Blaster

(stewart, cregan, savigar)
This song aint meant to be pretty
It aint meant to make you dance
Theres so many unsolved problems
Too many empty, angry hands
A little child in ethiopia
Will die before this song is through
Poor eyes have only seen sadness
Oh God show us what to do
Im not preaching, Im just singing
Trying to get a message through
Im not crazy, I think maybe
The answers with me and you
Here they come
Take us to your leader
Take us to your leader
Think about it
A billion dollars on the arms race
Billions floating round in space
Opecs counting out its money
Hunger stares us in the face
The battlefield is little children
Caught in a cross fire of hate
How can we call ourselves christians
How can we turn the other way
Im not preaching, Im just singing
Trying to get a message through
Im not crazy, I think maybe
The answers with me and you
Here they come
Take us to your leader
Listen to what theyre sayin
Take us to your leader
Think about it
Nostradamus gave us warning
You will never walk away
One neutron bomb in the morning
May just ruin your whole day
Im not preaching, Im just singing
Trying to get a message through
Im not crazy, I think maybe
The answers with me and you
Here they come
Take us to your leader
Listen to what theyre sayin
Take us to your leader
Take us to your leader

song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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Your Leader

I am your leader.
Follow me to the promised land.
I'll deliver you from the scum that fills the earth.
My wrath to scorch the world.

Your leader here to fill with fear,
the scum that takes us now our honor smears.
It's time forme to clean the trash.
The leaer now is useless,
and cowers so fast.

I'm your leader now we'll conquer need,
destroying all that displeases me.
I'm tired of waiting for change that's not there.
A nation of cowards that fear the very change of the air.

Your leader is here now bw at my feet.
If you don't like what I do you'll feel
pain and anguish so true.
I will not take this further disgrace.
Of deling with retards in this small living space.

Breathing room now your leader does say.
If your not here to help I'll put you out of my way.
Death and destruction,
such pain and awesome reward.
First is the suffering then victory and bounty to hoard.

Your leader is delivered,
Praise the God that's here now.
I'll deliever us from demons that destroy and surround.
I am the man a leader born true.
If you are undesireble I'm coming for you.

poem by Michael McParland
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Truman Teaches Romney Where The Buck Stops

On the desk of President Truman did sit a sign
famous defining standard of the man throughout
the land of the great United States of America!

Truman sitting at his desk in his White House
office had responsibility sign 'The Buck Stops Here'
because in Truman's administration the president

took responsibility for the welfare of all Americans!
No poker player hustler could be elected president
swindle 47% of the American people and say it is not

his responsibility as president to care for all citizens!
Mitt Romney passed the buck declaring all voters
who would not vote for him were not his responsibility...

in his vision for a Romney rummy federal government!
President Truman had a motto even for Monday morning
because as star quarterback for a nation when a decision

is up before you then by you the decision has to be made!
President Truman defined what 'The Buck Stops Here'
means in January 1953 in his farewell address to his then

responsibility the American people asserting specifically
'The President-whoever he is-has to decide. He can't
pass the buck to anybody. No one else can do the deciding

for him. That's his job.' Responsibility for all Americans!

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Drip Fed Fred

We want Freddie for our leader
Freddie is a man of class
We want Freddie for our leader
All stand and raise your champagne glass
Gentlemen and assassins and ladies of the night
I call upon you this evening in the hope of shedding some light
I can't go into detail or finger unfounded fools
But there are some here amongst us that are not playing to the rules
I've rounded up the low-life and local CID
Offered a free massage or else the third degree
There is no simple solution in this life we lead
So make things easy for yourself to the baronage concede
We want Freddie for our leader
Freddie is a man of class
We want Freddie for our leader
All stand and raise your champagne glass
Peace shall not prevail in Purley came the stark warning today
From his hospital bed Drip-Fed Fred vowed he was here to stay
"I'll tell you something for nothing", he claimed, "Never in all my days
Have I felt so intimidated by the cheap tactics on display"
Ahh-ah-ah-ah
Ahh-ah-ah-ah
We want Freddie for our leader
Freddie is a man of class
We want Freddie for our leader
All stand and raise your champagne glass
And approaching the pulpit, the Right Honourable Reverend Greene
"We're gathered here this evening to pay our due respects
To Drip-Fed Fred who late last night fell out of his prison bed
We know the nonce behind it, who slipped the night PD - ooh
The word is out now without doubt you will answer to me"
Gentlemen and assassins and ladies of the night
I call upon you this evening in the hope of shedding new light
There is a simple solution, one called honour amongst thieves
So we'll take pity on your souls and only cap your knees
Ahh-ah-ah-ah
Ahh-ah-ah-

song performed by Madness
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Vision Of Columbus - Book 5

Columbus hail'd them with a father's smile,
Fruits of his cares and children of his toil;
With tears of joy, while still his eyes descried
Their course adventurous o'er the distant tide.
Thus, when o'er deluged earth her Seraph stood,
The tost ark bounding on the shoreless flood,
The sacred treasure claim'd his guardian view,
While climes unnoticed in the wave withdrew.
He saw the squadrons reach the rising strand,
Leap from the wave and share the joyous land;
Receding forests yield the heroes room,
And opening wilds with fields and gardens bloom.
Fill'd with the glance extatic, all his soul
Now seems unbounded with the scene to roll,
And now, impatient, with retorted eye,
Perceives his station in another sky.
Waft me, O winged Angel, waft me o'er,
With those blest heroes, to the happy shore;
There let me live and die–but all appears
A fleeting vision; these are future years.
Yet grant in nearer view the climes may spread,
And my glad steps may seem their walks to tread;
While eastern coasts and kingdoms, wrapp'd in night,
Arise no more to intercept the sight.
The hero spoke; the Angel's powerful hand
Moves brightening o'er the visionary land;
The height, that bore them, still sublimer grew,
And earth's whole circuit settled from their view:
A dusky Deep, serene as breathless even,
Seem'd vaulting downward, like another heaven;
The sun, rejoicing on his western way,
Stamp'd his fair image in the inverted day:
Sudden, the northern shores again drew nigh,
And life and action fill'd the hero's eye.
Where the dread Laurence breaks his passage wide,
Where Missisippi's milder currents glide,
Where midland realms their swelling mountainsheave,
And slope their champaigns to the distant wave,
On the green banks, and o'er the extended plain,
Rise into sight the happiest walks of man.
The placid ports, that break the billowing gales,
Rear their tall masts and stretch their whitening sails;
The harvests wave, the groves with fruitage bend,
And bulwarks heave, and spiry domes ascend;
Fair works of peace in growing splendor rise,
And grateful earth repays the bounteous skies.
Till war invades; when opening vales disclose,
In moving crouds, the savage tribes of foes;
High tufted quills their painted foreheads press,
Dark spoils of beasts their shaggy shoulders dress,

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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The Vision of Don Roderick

Introduction.

I.
Lives there a strain, whose sounds of mounting fire
May rise distinguished o'er the din of war;
Or died it with yon Master of the Lyre
Who sung beleaguered Ilion's evil star?
Such, WELLINGTON, might reach thee from afar,
Wafting its descant wide o'er Ocean's range;
Nor shouts, nor clashing arms, its mood could mar,
All, as it swelled 'twixt each loud trumpet-change,
That clangs to Britain victory, to Portugal revenge!

II.
Yes! such a strain, with all o'er-pouring measure,
Might melodise with each tumultuous sound
Each voice of fear or triumph, woe or pleasure,
That rings Mondego's ravaged shores around;
The thundering cry of hosts with conquest crowned,
The female shriek, the ruined peasant's moan,
The shout of captives from their chains unbound,
The foiled oppressor's deep and sullen groan,
A Nation's choral hymn, for tyranny o'erthrown.

III.
But we, weak minstrels of a laggard day
Skilled but to imitate an elder page,
Timid and raptureless, can we repay
The debt thou claim'st in this exhausted age?
Thou givest our lyres a theme, that might engage
Those that could send thy name o'er sea and land,
While sea and land shall last; for Homer's rage
A theme; a theme for Milton's mighty hand -
How much unmeet for us, a faint degenerate band!

IV.
Ye mountains stern! within whose rugged breast
The friends of Scottish freedom found repose;
Ye torrents! whose hoarse sounds have soothed their rest,
Returning from the field of vanquished foes;
Say, have ye lost each wild majestic close
That erst the choir of Bards or Druids flung,
What time their hymn of victory arose,
And Cattraeth's glens with voice of triumph rung,
And mystic Merlin harped, and grey-haired Llywarch sung?

V.
Oh! if your wilds such minstrelsy retain,
As sure your changeful gales seem oft to say,
When sweeping wild and sinking soft again,

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Thomas the Rhymer

Part First

Ancient

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;
A ferlie he spied wi' his ee;
And there he saw a lady bright,
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

Her skirt was o the grass-green silk,
Her mantle o the velvet fyne,
At ilka tett of her horse's mane
Hang fifty siller bells and nine.

True Thomas he pulld aff his cap,
And louted low down to his knee:
'All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth I never did see.'

'O no, O no, Thomas,' she said,
'That name does not belang to me;
I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
That am hither come to visit thee.

'Harp and carp, Thomas,' she said,
'Harp and carp, along wi' me,
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I will be!'

'Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird sall never daunton me;
Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.

'Now, ye maun go wi me,' she said,
'True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,
And ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro weal or woe as may chance to be.'

She mounted on her milk-white steed,
She's taen True Thomas up behind,
And aye wheneer her bride rung,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rade on, and farther on -
The steed gaed swifter than the wind -
Until they reached a desart wide,
And living land was left behind.

'Light down, light down, now, True Thomas,

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Responsibility

Its not my responsibility
If you say you love me
(ooooooh)
(repeat paragraph)
I know for sometime
One day I would see you
(? ) what you say
Did I get it right
Is it you and me tonight ?
And you looked at me
And I knew wed be together
(be together)
You feel it too
What can we do
(feel, what can you do)
Come on, move up to me
I wanna whisper in your ear now
(do you want me)
When I get you home
Were gonna be alone
Disconnect the phone
When we wake up
You know the room is full of sunshine
We close our eyes and make a wish
Its not my responsibility
If you say you love me
(listen to what I say)
(ooooooh)
Its not my responsibility
If you say you love me
(its true)
(ooooooh)
Hey ! you call me back
cause Im not there when you want me
(do you want me)
The job on the phone
Every night and day
Ive got to get away
And on that we kiss
But I never said I loved you
(I love you)
Lets take it slow
Youve got to, got to let it go
Its not my responsibility
If you say you love me
(ooooooh)
(repeat paragraph)
(want you back, I need you back)
(ooooooh)
(repeat paragraph 5 times)

[...] Read more

song performed by Heaven 17
Added by Lucian Velea
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Good Leader

A good leader
is the one
who will lead his people
not to war
but to a better life.

When I say
a better life
it's a life
where hunger
does not exist,
education and medication
is of reach.

So a leader
who could lead his people
to a better life
is the leader
whom I will salute
for he is the only leader
whom I will call
a good leader.

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Leader

I wanna be the leader
I wanna be the leader
Can I be the leader?
Can I? I can?
Promise? Promise?
Yippee I'm the leader
I'm the leader

OK what shall we do?

poem by Roger McGough
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Leader Of The Pack

Is she really going out with him?
Yeah, I dont know, there she is
Lets ask her
Betty? is that johnnys ring youre wearing?
Aha!
Wow, it must be great riding with him
Yeah, is he picking you up after school today?
A-a!
By the way, whered you meet him?
I meet him at the candy store
He turned around and smiled at me
Do you get the picture?
Yes, we see
Thats when I fell for the leader of the pack
My folks were always putting him down
(down, down)
The said that he came from
The wrong side of town
(wrong side of town)
Theyd told me he was bad
But I know he was sad
Thats why I fell for the leader of the pack
One day my dad said, find someone new
I had to tell my johnny were through
He stood there and asked me why
But all I could do was cry
Im sorry I hurt you, the leader of the pack
Well, he sort of smiled and kissed me goodly
And the tears began to fall
And as he drove away on that rainy night
I begged him to go slow
But whether he heard me Ill never know
Look out, look out, oh look out!
I felt so helpess, what could I do
Remembering all the things wed been through
At school theyd all stop and stare
I cant have a chance but I dont care
Ill never forget him the leader of the pack...
The leader of the pack, now hes gone...

song performed by Carpenters
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ken

YOWWW! Ha!
We look to the left and to the right
We need help but nobody's in sight
Where is the man that we all need
Well tell him he's to come and rescue me
Chorus:
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Ken is the man that we all need
Ken is the leader of the GLC
Now head 'em up
Rope 'em in
Move 'em out
Now can't you see
That we need the leader of the GLC
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Ken is the man that we all need
Ken is the leader of the GLC
Who is the man we all need?
(KEN!!)
Who is the funky sex machine?
(KEN!!)
Who is the leader of the GLC?
(KEN!!)
Who is the man we all need?
(KEN!!)
Now head 'em up
Rope 'em in
Move 'em out
(KEN!!)
Can't you see
That we need ah-ah-ah-ah-ah
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Ken is the man that we all need
Ken is the WAHWHAYEAYEAYEAYEA!!!!
Who is the man we all need?
(KEN!)
(KEN!)
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Do do 'n do do 'n do dow
Ken is the man that we all need
Ken is the leader of the GLC!!

song performed by Kate Bush
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Cant Live Without My Radio

Verse 1
My radio, believe me, I like it loud
Im the man with a box that can rock the crowd
Walkin down the street, to the hardcore beat
While my jvc vibrates the concrete
Im sorry if you cant understand
But I need a radio inside my hand
Dont mean to offend other citizens
But I kick my volume way past 10
My story is rough, my neighbourhood is tough
But I still sport gold, and Im out to crush
My name is cool j, I devastate the show
But I couldnt survive without my radio
Terrorising my neighbours with the heavy bass
I keep the suckas in fear by the look on my face
My radios bad from the boulevard
Im a hip-hop gangster and my name is todd
Just stimulated by the beat, bust out the rhyme
Get fresh batteries if it wont rewind
Cos I play everyday, even on the subway
I woulda got a summons but I ran away
Im the leader of the show, keepin you on the go
But I know I cant live without my radio
Verse 2
Suckas on my jock when I walk down the block
I really dont care if youre jealous or not
Cos I make the songs, you sing along
And your radios def when my records on
So get off the wall, become involved
All your radio problems have now been solved
My treacherous beats make ya ears respond
And my radios loud like a fire alarm
The floor vibrates, the walls cave in
The bass makes my eardrums seem thin
Def sounds in my ride, yes the front and back
You would think it was a party, not a cadillac
Cos I drive up to the ave, with the windows closed
And my bass is so loud, it could rip your clothes
My stereos thumpin like a savage beast
The level on my power meter will not decrease
Suckas get mad, cos the girlies scream
And Im still gettin paid while you look at me mean
Im the leader of the show, keepin you on the go
But I know I cant live without my radio
Im the leader of the show, keepin you on the go
And I know I cant live without my radio
Verse 3
Dont touch that dial, Ill be upset
Might go into a fit and rip off your neck
Cos the radios thumpin when Im down to play

[...] Read more

song performed by LL Cool J
Added by Lucian Velea
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