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And I'd watch George C. Scott from backstage. He was one of my mentors.

quote by Jeffrey Tambor
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Man

George was lying in his trailer, flat on his back, watching a small portable T.V. His
dinner dishes were undone, his breakfast dishes were undone, he needed a shave, and ash
from his rolled cigarettes dropped onto his undershirt. Some of the ash was still burning.
Sometimes the burning ash missed the undershirt and hit his skin, then he cursed, brushing
it away. There was a knock on the trailer door. He got slowly to his feet and answered the
door. It was Constance. She had a fifth of unopened whiskey in a bag.
"George, I left that son of a bitch, I couldn't stand that son of a bitch
anymore."
"Sit down."
George opened the fifth, got two glasses, filled each a third with whiskey, two thirds
with water. He sat down on the bed with Constance. She took a cigarette out of her purse
and lit it. She was drunk and her hands trembled.
"I took his damn money too. I took his damn money and split while he was at work.
You don't know how I've suffered with that son of a bitch." "
Lemme have a smoke," said George. She handed it to him and as she leaned near,
George put his arm around her, pulled her over and kissed her.
"You son of a bitch," she said, "I missed you."
"I miss those good legs of yours , Connie. I've really missed those good
legs."
"You still like 'em?"
"I get hot just looking."
"I could never make it with a college guy," said Connie. "They're too
soft, they're milk toast. And he kept his house clean. George , it was like having a maid.
He did it all. The place was spotless. You could eat beef stew right off the crapper. He
was antiseptic, that's what he was."
"Drink up, you'll feel better."
"And he couldn't make love."
"You mean he couldn't get it up?"
"Oh he got it up, he got it up all the time. But he didn't know how to make a
woman happy, you know. He didn't know what to do. All that money, all that education, he
was useless."
"I wish I had a college education."
"You don't need one. You have everything you need, George."
"I'm just a flunky. All the shit jobs."
"I said you have everything you need, George. You know how to make a woman
happy."
"Yeh?"
"Yes. And you know what else? His mother came around! His mother! Two or three
times a week. And she'd sit there looking at me, pretending to like me but all the time
she was treating me like I was a whore. Like I was a big bad whore stealing her son away
from her! Her precious Wallace! Christ! What a mess!" "He claimed he loved me.
And I'd say, 'Look at my pussy, Walter!' And he wouldn't look at my pussy. He said, 'I
don't want to look at that thing.' That thing! That's what he called it! You're not afraid
of my pussy, are you, George?"
"It's never bit me yet." "But you've bit it, you've nibbled it, haven't
you George?"
"I suppose I have."
"And you've licked it , sucked it?"
"I suppose so."
"You know damn well, George, what you've done."

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Bukowski
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Tale XX

THE BROTHERS.

Than old George Fletcher, on the British coast
Dwelt not a seaman who had more to boast:
Kind, simple and sincere--he seldom spoke,
But sometimes sang and chorus'd--'Hearts of Oak:'
In dangers steady, with his lot content,
His days in labour and in love were spent.
He left a Son so like him, that the old
With joy exclaim'd, ''Tis Fletcher we behold;'
But to his Brother, when the kinsmen came
And view'd his form, they grudged the father's

name.
George was a bold, intrepid, careless lad,
With just the failings that his father had;
Isaac was weak, attentive, slow, exact,
With just the virtues that his father lack'd.
George lived at sea: upon the land a guest -
He sought for recreation, not for rest;
While, far unlike, his brother's feebler form
Shrank from the cold, and shudder'd at the storm;
Still with the Seaman's to connect his trade,
The boy was bound where blocks and ropes were made.
George, strong and sturdy, had a tender mind,
And was to Isaac pitiful and kind;
A very father, till his art was gain'd,
And then a friend unwearied he remain'd;
He saw his brother was of spirit low,
His temper peevish, and his motions slow;
Not fit to bustle in a world, or make
Friends to his fortune for his merit's sake;
But the kind sailor could not boast the art
Of looking deeply in the human heart;
Else had he seen that this weak brother knew
What men to court--what objects to pursue;
That he to distant gain the way discern'd,
And none so crooked but his genius learn'd.
Isaac was poor, and this the brother felt;
He hired a house, and there the Landman dwelt,
Wrought at his trade, and had an easy home,
For there would George with cash and comforts come;
And when they parted, Isaac look'd around
Where other friends and helpers might be found.
He wish'd for some port-place, and one might

fall,
He wisely thought, if he should try for all;
He had a vote--and were it well applied,
Might have its worth--and he had views beside;

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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My Friend George

Read in the paper bout a man killed with a sword
And that made my think of my friend george
People said the man was five foot six
Sounds like george with his killing stick
Hey bro, whats the word
Talkin bout my friend george
Hey bro, whats the word
Talkin bout my friend george
You talkin bout my friend george
I knew george since hes eight
I always thought that he was great
And anything that george would do
You know that I would do it too
George liked music and george liked to fight
He worked out in a downtown gym every night
Id spar with him when work was done
We split lips but it was all in fun
Hey bro, whats the word
You talkin bout my friend george
Hey bro, whats the word
Talkin bout my friend george
Talkin bout my friend george
Next thing I hear georges got this stick
Hes using it for more than kicks
I seen him down at smalleys bar
He was wired up, I tried to calm him down
Avenge yourself he says to me
Avenge yourself for humanity
Avenge yourself for the weak and the poor
Stick it to these guys right through their heads
Well, the fight is my music, the stick is my sword
And you know that I love you, so please dont say a word
Cant you hear the music playing, the anthem, its my call
And the last I seen of george was him
Running through the door, I says -
Hey bro, whats the word
Talkin bout my friend george
Hey bro, whats the word
You talkin bout my friend george
Talkin bout my friend george
Hey bro, whats the word
You talkin bout my friend george
Hey bro, whats the word
What me saying bout my friend george
Hey bro, whats the word
Hear you talkin bout my friend george
Hey bro, whats the word
I hear talkin bout my friend george

song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Madame George

Down on cyprus avenue
With a childlike vision leaping into view
Clicking, clacking of the high heeled shoe
Ford & fitzroy, madame george
Marching with the soldier boy behind
Hes much older with hat on drinking wine
And that smell of sweet perfume comes drifting through
The cool night air like shalimar
And outside theyre making all the stops
The kids out in the street collecting bottle-tops
Gone for cigarettes and matches in the shops
Happy taken madame george
Thats when you fall
Whoa, thats when you fall
Yeah, thats when you fall
When you fall into a trance
A sitting on a sofa playing games of chance
With your folded arms and history books you glance
Into the eyes of madame george
And you think you found the bag
Youre getting weaker and your knees begin to sag
In the corner playing dominoes in drag
The one and only madame george
And then from outside the frosty window raps
She jumps up and says lord have mercy I think its the cops
And immediately drops everything she gots
Down into the street below
And you know you gotta go
On that train from dublin up to sandy row
Throwing pennies at the bridges down below
And the rain, hail, sleet, and snow
Say goodbye to madame george
Dry your eye for madame george
Wonder why for madame george
And as you leave, the room is filled with music, laughing, music,
Dancing, music all around the room
And all the little boys come around, walking away from it all
So cold
And as youre about to leave
She jumps up and says hey love, you forgot your gloves
And the gloves to love to love the gloves...
To say goodbye to madame george
Dry your eye for madame george
Wonder why for madame george
Dry your eyes for madame george
Say goodbye in the wind and the rain on the back street
In the backstreet, in the back street
Say goodbye to madame george
In the backstreet, in the back street, in the back street
Down home, down home in the back street

[...] Read more

song performed by Van Morrison
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George Of The Jungle

George, george, george of the jungle
Strong as he can be
Ahhh
Watch out for that tree
George, george, george of the jungle
Lives a life thats free
Ahhh
Watch out for that tree
When he gets in scrapes
When he makes his escapes
With the help of his friend
An ape named ape
Then away hell schlep
On his elephant shep
While fella and ursula
Stay in step with
George, george, george of the jungle
Friend to you and me
Ahhh
Watch out for that tree
Watch out for that (ahhh) (oooh) tree
George, george, george of the jungle
Friend to you and me

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Saint George

The dragon, taller than a tree,
Looked down on George's head,
While he looked up uncertainly
And fighting first his dread...

He stood his ground, not one step back,
As faith within him grew,
For while he knew that things looked black,
He had to see this through...

The dragon stood his ground as well,
Though George held high his sword...
The dragon, thought to come from Hell,
Perhaps with fire stored...

The dragon had no flames and yet
He knew George planned his death,
Yet thought he had no need to fret,
If George no more had breath...

The dragon swished his giant tail,
But George was wise to that
And proved himself an agile male
Instead of falling flat...

The tail passed by, his sword went in,
The dragon roared in pain
And when George saw his chance to win,
He pierced the tail again...

If dragons cursed and dragons swore,
That must have happened next,
As blood then spurted out for sure,
With that big dragon vexed...

He dragged his dragon's tail away
As fast as he then could
And then decided, come what may,
To kill small George real good...

But George was quick to cut things short,
He climbed the dragon's tail
And valiantly he fought and fought
The dragon tooth and nail...

Across the back, just like a hill,
He clambered to the hilt,
Upto the neck where he stayed still,
In hopes the beast was killed...

[...] Read more

poem by Denis Martindale
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Here Comes Dumb George

Here come dumb george.
Here come dumb george.
Here come dumb george.
Here come dumb george.
Here come dumb george.
Here come dumb george.
Here come dumb george.
Everybody together on the chorus.
Here come dumb george.
Here come dumb george, boogaloo!
Boogaloo baby.
Here come dumb george.
Here come dumb george.
Here come dumb george.

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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O! Caroline O! George

O! Caroline, O! Caroline
What are you doing on the streets of Leicester square?
Sitting and soliciting on the road for loose change
Wearing tattered clothes and flying smelly careless hair
Why is the elegant lady I once knew acting very strange?

O! George, O! George
Maybe it is because you left me
Forgetting to pay me
An annual maintenance fee
Maybe it is because you left me
Without leaving behind your Ferrari key
Maybe it is because you left me
Bare all alone, after sex behind the Iroko tree
Can't you see, you were my only golden key to be free
Until you did a three hundred and sixty degree!

O! Caroline, O! Caroline
I have no one right now to make me
My early morning cup of warm tea!
At times I looked out at the bright sea
Wondering how far you had sailed
Not realizing you were nearby and have terribly failed
You always meant the world to me
It saddens me to see this is what happened to we
I take my time now and plea
Let bygone be bygone and let us once again be

O! Caroline, O! Caroline
Is there a chance we could start again?
O! George, O! George
I knew up there in your brain, you were always insane

Have you forgotten those perfect nights?
Even with Viagra, when you couldn’t get it up
Or when you refused to let me out of your sight
You were worried I would portray you as a flop

You lavished me with gifts and treasures
I had taste with style and high standards
But today my poverty one can easily measure
As I pitifully continuously demand
For change with a bottle of alcohol in one hand

It was always your money
While you were chasing the honeys
That made my days with you sunny
As I eventually laid-off the true meaning of horny

O! Caroline, O! Caroline

[...] Read more

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Mummers play script, for the new year

-Enter father Beelzebub and Jack Vinney.

-Jack Vinney:
Old father Beelzebub my friend,
Will you aid one new to this land?
-Father Beelzebub:
On me you can always depend,
Show the man to my helping hand,

-Enter the Turkish Knight.

-Turkish Knight:
I've travelled far to reach this isle,
Seeking brave St. George to empale,
I have searched now for quite a while,
And it has been to no avail,
-Father Beelzebub:
It is my pleasure to reveal,
St. George shall be coming for tea,
His valour told in tales is real,
Wait a moment and that you'll see,

-Enter St. George.

-St. George:
Just now I met some Turkish men,
In what became a bloody scene,
They shall not bother me again,
I killed them for the king and queen,
-Turkish Knight:
I must know those spoken about,
It offends me St. George should gloat,
He and I shall now have it out,
In vengeance I will slit his throat,
-St. George:
You underestimate me sir,
Few if any to me compare.
You've committed a fatal err,
And for it badly you shall fare,
-Jack Vinney:
The poor Turkish knight met his match,
And has suffered for it as such,

-Enter Molly.

-Molly:
He's the man I'm trying to catch,
He swindled what to me was much,
-St. George:
I doubt you'll see what it is he does owe,

[...] Read more

poem by Christian Lacdael
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I Cant Watch This

I cant watch this. I cant watch this
I cant watch this. I cant watch this
My my my my tv makes me so bored
Makes me say, oh my lord
What is this garbage here?
Wanna cover my eyes and plug my ears
It sucks, and thats no lie
Its about as much fun as watching paint dry
Lowers my iq one notch
And thats the reason why, uh, I cant watch
I told you homeboy... I cant watch this
Yeah, nothin but trash and you know...
I cant watch this
Poke out my eyes, man... I cant watch this
Yo, gimme that remote control... I cant watch this
Talkin bout sick shows
Teres americas funniest home videos
I cant believe my eyes
When I see the kind of stuff that wins first prize
Somebodys poor old mom
Falls down off the roof, lands right on the lawn
Face first on a rake
I hear theyve got it on the seventeenth take
Thats funny as a kick in the crotch
And that kind of show, uh, I cant watch
Yo, I told you... I cant watch this
Change the channel now, man... I cant watch this
Yo, pass the tv guide here, sucker... I cant watch this
Cosby show and rosanne
Think Ive taken bout as much as I can
Judge wopner, oh my
You gotta be rainman to like this guy
Thirtysomething is alright
If you like hearing yuppies whining all night
Cant stand twin peaks
Wish theyd lynch those donun-eatin freaks
Thos siskel & ebert bums
Oughta go home and sit on their thumbs
Thats word because you know... I cant watch this
I cant watch this
Break it down!
Heres-how-to-order-money-back-guarantee-removes-tough-stains-fast-it-tastes-more-like-fresh-peanuts-they-keep-going-and-going-dont-hate-me-because-im-beautiful-could-be-dandruff-our-prices-ar
Aaaane!!!
Stop! prime time!
Im pretty sure Ill be sick
If I have to watch another stupid pet trick
Or that guy with the real flat hair
That goes woof woof woof and waves his fist in the air
Or those weird talk shows
About transsexual nazi eskimos

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
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St. George And The Dragon

Of Hector's deeds did Homer sing,
And of the sack of stately Troy,
What griefs fair Helena did bring,
Which was Sir Paris' only joy:
And by my pen I will recite
St. George's deeds, and English knight.

Against the Sarazens so rude
Fought he full long and many a day,
Where many gyants he subdu'd,
In honour of the Christian way;
And after many adventures past,
To Egypt land he came at last.

Now, as the story plain doth tell,
Within that countrey there did rest
A dreadful dragon fierce and fell,
Whereby they were full sore opprest:
Who by his poisonous breath each day
Did many of the city slay.

The grief whereof did grow so great
Throughout the limits of the land,
That they their wise-men did intreat
To shew their cunning out of hand;
What way they might this fiend destroy,
That did the countrey thus annoy.

The wise-men all before the king,
This answer fram'd incontinent:
The dragon none to death might bring
By any means they could invent;
His skin more hard than brass was found,
That sword nor spear could pierce nor wound.

When this the people understood,
They cryed out most piteouslye,
The dragon's breath infects their blood,
That every day in heaps they dye;
Among them such a plague it bred,
The living scarce could bury the dead.

No means there were, as they could hear,
For to appease the dragon's rage,
But to present some virgin clear,
Whose blood his fury might asswage;
Each day he would a maiden eat,
For to allay his hunger great.

This thing by art the wise-men found,

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Ghost Train

We were off to visit the Carnival,
Me, George and Julie Anne,
George was our mother's boyfriend,
(Though in fact, he was a man!)
I was seven and Julie six
And our Mum waved us goodbye,
She said she had some shopping to do
Told Julie not to cry!

George looked up to the heavens with
His fake, long-suffering grin,
For Julie cried a helluva lot,
She couldn't keep it in,
He took us down on the bus that night
There wasn't room to park,
The evening stars were coming out
It was getting kinda dark.

We saw the lights of the Carnival
And Julie's face lit up,
There were lots of rides and coconut shies
And Julie rode in a duck,
While George and I on the rifle range
Picked off some metal bears,
That raced across at the back, stood up,
Then fell to the pellets there.

There were clowns and men with megaphones,
And Chili Dogs with cheese,
And plenty of fluffy candy floss
That Julie stuck to her knees,
There was soda pop at this little shop
And we ate and drank our fill,
While George went up on a flying fox
And he said: ‘Now you be still! '

The evening mist came down at last
And George said we should go,
For Julie Anne was ready for bed
But I said, ‘Can't we go? '
I pointed over the other side
Where a stall was draped in black,
With a skeleton painted on the front
Near a man with a bowler hat.

The sign had said ‘The Ghost Train'
And it looked all creepy, too,
With little cars that rumbled along
With room on them for two,
So George went over and paid the man

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Backstage Girl

Wanna hear some music
Wanna feel it
Play it nice n loud
Will you be my sweetheart
Come backstage
Hang out with the crowd
Guess whos back in town
Her name is lucille
She knows the words
To all the songs
She talks in pictures
Cant stand her tongue
Lucilles back in town
She loves to rock you
Shes goin backstage
Gonna steal my heart away
Backstage girl, staged to love
Shes goin backstage
Shes gonna burn away
Burnin my stage
To steal my heart
Wanna taste my lovin
Sure got candy rocknroll
Will you be my angel
Oh, lucille of love
Backstage girl in town
She loves to rock you

song performed by Uriah Heep
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The Vision of Judgment

I

Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate:
His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull,
So little trouble had been given of late;
Not that the place by any means was full,
But since the Gallic era 'eight-eight'
The devils had ta'en a longer, stronger pull,
And 'a pull altogether,' as they say
At sea — which drew most souls another way.

II

The angels all were singing out of tune,
And hoarse with having little else to do,
Excepting to wind up the sun and moon,
Or curb a runaway young star or two,
Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon
Broke out of bounds o'er th' ethereal blue,
Splitting some planet with its playful tail,
As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.

III

The guardian seraphs had retired on high,
Finding their charges past all care below;
Terrestrial business fill'd nought in the sky
Save the recording angel's black bureau;
Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply
With such rapidity of vice and woe,
That he had stripp'd off both his wings in quills,
And yet was in arrear of human ills.

IV

His business so augmented of late years,
That he was forced, against his will no doubt,
(Just like those cherubs, earthly ministers,)
For some resource to turn himself about,
And claim the help of his celestial peers,
To aid him ere he should be quite worn out
By the increased demand for his remarks:
Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerks.

V

This was a handsome board — at least for heaven;
And yet they had even then enough to do,
So many conqueror's cars were daily driven,
So many kingdoms fitted up anew;

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Vision of Judgment, The

I

Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate:
His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull,
So little trouble had been given of late;
Not that the place by any means was full,
But since the Gallic era 'eight-eight'
The devils had ta'en a longer, stronger pull,
And 'a pull altogether,' as they say
At sea — which drew most souls another way.

II

The angels all were singing out of tune,
And hoarse with having little else to do,
Excepting to wind up the sun and moon,
Or curb a runaway young star or two,
Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon
Broke out of bounds o'er th' ethereal blue,
Splitting some planet with its playful tail,
As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.

III

The guardian seraphs had retired on high,
Finding their charges past all care below;
Terrestrial business fill'd nought in the sky
Save the recording angel's black bureau;
Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply
With such rapidity of vice and woe,
That he had stripp'd off both his wings in quills,
And yet was in arrear of human ills.

IV

His business so augmented of late years,
That he was forced, against his will no doubt,
(Just like those cherubs, earthly ministers,)
For some resource to turn himself about,
And claim the help of his celestial peers,
To aid him ere he should be quite worn out
By the increased demand for his remarks:
Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerks.

V

This was a handsome board — at least for heaven;
And yet they had even then enough to do,
So many conqueror's cars were daily driven,
So many kingdoms fitted up anew;

[...] Read more

poem by George Gordon Byron
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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire

'I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers'~Shakespeare

'Such shameless bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
There are as mad, abandon'd critics too,'~Pope.

Still must I hear? -- shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,
And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch reviews
Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my muse?
Prepare for rhyme -- I'll publish, right or wrong:
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

O nature's noblest gift -- my grey goose-quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
That mighty instrument of little men!
The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes
Of brains that labour, big with verse or prose,
Though nymphs forsake, and critics may deride,
The lover's solace, and the author's pride.
What wits, what poets dost thou daily raise!
How frequent is thy use, how small thy praise!
Condemn'd at length to be forgotten quite,
With all the pages which 'twas thine to write.
But thou, at least, mine own especial pen!
Once laid aside, but now assumed again,
Our task complete, like Hamet's shall be free;
Though spurn'd by others, yet beloved by me:
Then let us soar today, no common theme,
No eastern vision, no distemper'd dream
Inspires -- our path, though full of thorns, is plain;
Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.

When Vice triumphant holds her sov'reign sway,
Obey'd by all who nought beside obey;
When Folly, frequent harbinger of crime,
Bedecks her cap with bells of every clime;
When knaves and fools combined o'er all prevail,
And weigh their justice in a golden scale;
E'en then the boldest start from public sneers,
Afraid of shame, unknown to other fears,
More darkly sin, by satire kept in awe,
And shrink from ridicule, though not from law.

Such is the force of wit! but not belong
To me the arrows of satiric song;
The royal vices of our age demand
A keener weapon, and a mightier hand.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Watch Me Now

watch me now"
"watch me now"
[k.keith] watch me..
"watch me now"
[ced gee] yo kool keith, why everybody gotta watch you?
[kool keith]
Well i'm the ultimate, the rhyme imperial
I'm better, but some don't believe me though
But i'm a pro in hot material
On your walkman, box or any stereo
Uno, dos not quatro
Spanish girls, they like to call me pancho
On the mic, innovating this pat-ter-en
You fell off, your brain is on sa-tur-en
Take steps, and climb my ladder-and
Climb... climb, climb
Pace the rhythm, and clock the time
That i leave, come back on beat
Different, telling and selling
Like a skyjet, plane propelling
But dwelling, deep in your skull
My rhyme shines, and yours is dull
Like dirt, it hurt to be wacker
But instead, i'll grab a big stack of
Wack mc's, lay em down like tile
Scrap and garbage, germs i'll pile
To keep clean, i'm in a movie scene
Ears turn, and needles lean
To cut scratches, in a part that matches
I'm leavin eyes, and brains with patches
Stuck, so push my luck
For any roach, or mc duck
Just watch me
"watch me now"
[ced gee] word up, watch me now, suckers!
"watch me now"
[tr love] yo ced gee, why everybody gotta watch you?
[ced gee]
Because..
I'm livin large, my record's on the radio
Everyday, you hear me, your stereo
Rappin hard, with lots of volume
You hear static, well use your fine tune
Knob, to tune me in better
Cause i'm ced gee, and i would never let a
Wack mc g off with style
Touch my mic, rip and smile
Like a duck, you know you are a soft punk
Livin pink, your material sucks
Liver and worse than you can imagine

[...] Read more

song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fly Me To The Moon

george speaking:
Hey frances i don't know about you but i kinda need a break.
Maybe a trip or something.
Frank-
Fly me to the moon
Let me play up there with those stars
George-
Let me see what spring is like on jupiter and mars
Frank-
In other words
Hold my hand
George-
In other words
Baby kiss me
Fill my heart with song
And let me sing forever more
You are all i long for
All i worship and adore
Frank-
In other words (george echos)
Frank & george-
Please be true
In other words i'm in love with you
George-
In other words hold my hand
In other words baby kiss me
Frank-
Fill my heart with song
Frank & george-
Let me sing forever more
George-
You are all i long for
All i worship and adore
Frank-
In other words
Please be true
Frank & george-
In other words
In other words
In other words
I love you

song performed by George Strait
Added by Lucian Velea
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Why Washington Retreated

1775

Said Congress to George Washington:
"To set this country free,
You'll have to whip the Britishers
And chase them o'er the sea."
"Oh, very well," said Washington,
"I'll do the best I can.
I'll slam and bang those Britishers
And whip them to a man."

1777

Said Congress to George Washington:
"The people all complain;
Why don't you fight? You but retreat
And then retreat again."
"That can't be helped," said Washington,
"As you will quite agree
When you see how the novelists
Have mixed up things for me."

Said Congress to George Washington:
"Pray make your meaning clear."
Said Washington: "Why, certainly --
But pray excuse this tear.
Of course we know," said Washington,
"The object of this war --
It is to furnish novelists
With patriotic lore."

Said Congress to George Washington:
"Yes! yes! but pray proceed."
Said Washington: "My part in it
Is difficult indeed,
For every hero in the books
Must sometime meet with me,
And every sweet-faced heroine
I must kiss gallantly."

Said Congress to George Washington:
"But why must you retreat?"
Said Washington: "One moment, please,
My story to complete.
These hero-folk are scattered through
The whole United States;
At every little country town
A man or maiden waits."

To Congress said George Washington:

[...] Read more

poem by Ellis Parker Butler
Added by Poetry Lover
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To Noel Who Has George Bush Senior As His Hero

He say George Bush his hero but with him I don't agree
For George Bush bombers killed thousands just to set Kuwait free
And Saddam been defeated and two Countries been destroyed
And George Bush and John Major in allied victory take pride.

Noel say that I'm for Saddam but he has got it wrong
For on side of one who kill and maim I don't feel I belong
And Hussein is a killer and all who kill are bad
And George Bush just as bad as him which makes it all more sad.

Two hundred thousand Iraqis in Kuwait desert died
And the sands of Kuwait desert the shame of George Bush hide
And the Kuwait oil wells burning and blood's been shed for oil
And Kuwait now free Country but was it all worth while? .

And the sky o'er Kuwait desert from smoke as black as coal
And George Bush, Noel Johnson's hero, you can have your hero Noel
You applaud the allied bombers and condemn the I.R.A.
But they all throw bombs on people though you don't see it that way.

He say George Bush is his hero, George Bush who felt no shame
In murdering Iraqi people just to earn himself a name,
George Bush who bombed and murdered just to prove his country great
And whose crimes and shame lay covered by the white sands of Kuwait.

poem by Francis Duggan
Added by Poetry Lover
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