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I don't think I have the mileage on me to really complain of any injuries yet.

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If the Advertising Man Had Been Gilbert

Never mind the slippery wet street--
The tire with a thousand claws will hold you.
Stop as quickly as you will--
Those thousand claws grip the road like a vise.
Turn as sharply as you will--
Those thousand claws take a steel-prong grip on the road to prevent a side skid.
You're safe--safer than anything else will make you--
Safe as you would be on a perfectly dry street.
And those thousand claws are mileage insurance too.

--From the Lancaster Tire and Rubber Company's advertisement in the Saturday Evening Post

Never mind if you find it wet upon the street and slippery;
Never bother if the street is full of ooze;
Do not fret that you'll upset, that you will spoil your summer frippery,
You may turn about as sharply as you choose.
For those myriad claws will grip the road and keep the car from skidding,
And your steering gear will hold it fast and true;
Every atom of the car will be responsive to your bidding,
AND those thousand claws are mileage insurance too--
Oh, indubitably,
Those thousand claws are mileage insurance too.

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Wine & Women

Wine and women and song will only make me sad
Love and kisses and hugs , the things I never had
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end , I will find
What shall I do (what shall I do )
What shall I do (what shall I do )
Cars and buses and trams make alot of noise
All my women have gone out with other boys
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end, I will find
I wont complain (I wont complain)
I feel no pain (I feel no pain )
(break)
Ooh..
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end , I will find
I wont complain (I wont complain)
I feel no pain (I feel no pain )
Wine and women and song will only make me sad
Love and kisses and hugs the thing I never had
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end, I will find
I wont complain (I wont complain)
I feel no pain ( I feel no pain)
I wont complain .. cry
Ooh....

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Must I Complain, O God, I Pray?

When you made me by love thine,
And called me sweetly by my name,
And wrote it in your palm divine,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

When you chose me for job fine,
And gave me breath in special way,
And made me walk on earth, ravine,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

When you led me through hill, vale,
And desert, plain, seasons umptine,
And kept me safe through flood and hale,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

When you watched o'er me night, day,
And fed, clothed, sheltered me all life,
And held me by right hand en way,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

When you suffered, died on cross,
And resurrected on third day,
And wait for me with Father Boss,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

When you are Almighty God,
And love to see my soul back pure,
And fair in judgment, just in rod,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
Must I complain, O God, I pray?

Fondly dedicated to my dear elder sister,
Miss. Noeline Mary Clemencia BSc., B.T.,
On her birthday today
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-02-'12

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Bury Me Where I Fall

Comr brush away these fists and i will tell you
Everything
I hope you know how long I'm lacking
So carve my name and take me to the strength udner it all
Then bury me where I fall
Push and Pull like sex machines, like sex machines
Push and pull like sex machines, like sex machines.
Qustioning if I should even be here
I won't make that same mistake
And taking to bed all these things that I hate
I will complain, I will complain
A bleeding light has made us all just want to wash away
and best believe I want it blinding
Under it all I bacl out holes and glorify disguise
still draining me from all this strife
Push and pull like sex machines, like sex machines
Push and pull like sex machines, like sex machines
Questioning if I should even be here
I won't make that same mistake
And taking to bed all these things that I hate
I will complain, I will complain
Stare at the sun
Staring at the sun...
Questioning if I should even be here
I won't make that same mistake
And taking to bed all these things that I hate
I will complain, I will complain
...Bury me where I fall.

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Jefferson Aero Plane

If it hurts,
Kiss it better
You wear skirts,
I write nice letters
Never said nothing with flowers
Though we always talked for hours
And it seems to get much colder
When you cry on your own shoulder
And we know the show
Must go on
Guess I know
I guess Ill throw on
Some jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Cause when its colder
I feel much better
When I cry on my own shoulder
Ill just throw on a sweater and go
And Ill go to undergo a change of heart, a change of clothes
And when Im home, I think Ill go eat cereal and stare out the window
Ill make the calls
You cover your ears
Niagra falls
Still flows on new years
I will save
Your plunging neck-line
Kiss your face
You try to deck mine
If I behave its going to cost him
Stop the rave in downtown boston
And we know the show
Must go on
Guess I know
I guess Ill throw on
Some jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Cause when its colder
I feel much better

[...] Read more

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We Complain

We complain
When in other countries people are in pain
We complain
And on the other side, conditions are inhumane
We complain
Many people want to ascertain

I don't eat cheese
While in other countries people die of disease
I don't want to clean my room
While many people starve just wanting food to consume
My mom just gave me 50 dollars and thats not enough
In different places people can't even pay for rent; life is tough

We complain
Many people, their life they can't sustain
Parents their kids they can't maintain
On Christmas people can't even buy a candy cane
People feeling like they're drowning in acid rain
And we complain

People out there who can't even afford to watch an ad campaign
People hiding on the streets because of shame
Because themselves are the ones to blame
Many things they detain
People out there who wish they were slain
People who wear the same clothes with the same little stain

People sleeping out in the rain
People who have given up and just start to cut their vein
When some people work and get their paycheck, they feel nothing they gain
Without insurance they gotta be careful because there's nothing they can sprain
Many people like in Africa have nothing to eat, not even a little grain...
And we complain

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Irony And Unthinkability

Just like football helmets that create
illusions of invulnerability
irony can’t truly mitigate
the trauma of unthinkability.

Lacking helmets football would not be
the game it is, but they do not protect
the wearer any more than irony
protects politically the incorrect.

The trauma that’s inflicted when a skull
is fractured is no less than the concussion
that’s suffered by those people who are dull,
but miss the irony of a discussion.


Inspired by an article in the WSJ on November 11,2009 (Is It Time to Retire the Football Helmet? New Research Says Small Hits Do Major Damage—and There's Not Much Headgear Can Do About It, by Reed Albergotti and Shirley S. Wang) :

This football season, the debate about head injuries has reached a critical mass. Startling research has been unveiled. Maudlin headlines have been written. Congress called a hearing on the subject last month. As obvious as the problem may seem (wait, you mean football is dangerous?) , continuing revelations about the troubling mental declines of some retired players—and the ongoing parade of concussions during games—have created a sense of inevitability. Pretty soon, something will have to be done. But before the debate goes any further, there's a fundamental question that needs to be investigated. Why do football players wear helmets in the first place? And more important, could the helmets be part of the problem? 'Some people have advocated for years to take the helmet off, take the face mask off. That'll change the game dramatically, ' says Fred Mueller, a University of North Carolina professor who studies head injuries. 'Maybe that's better than brain damage.'
The first hard-shell helmets, which became popular in the 1940s, weren't designed to prevent concussions but to prevent players in that rough-and-tumble era from suffering catastrophic injuries like fractured skulls. But while these helmets reduced the chances of death on the field, they also created a sense of invulnerability that encouraged players to collide more forcefully and more often. 'Almost every single play, you're going to get hit in the head, ' says Miami Dolphins offensive tackle Jake Long. What nobody knew at the time is that these small collisions may be just as damaging. The growing body of research on former football players suggests that brain damage isn't necessarily the result of any one trauma, but the accumulation of thousands of seemingly innocuous blows to the head…
Nonetheless, the strongest argument for the helmet may turn out to be an economic one. The NFL is shaped around the notion that players can run into each other at high speeds without consequence. It's the same sort of idea that has made Nascar the nation's most popular form of motorsport. And beyond all this, there's the very real question of whether the prospect of serious mental impairment later in life will ever discourage people from playing the game—let alone watching. 'Without the helmet, they wouldn't hit their head in stupid plays, ' says P. David Halstead, technical director for the Nocsae, the group that sets helmet-safety standards. But without helmets, the game 'wouldn't be football, ' he says.

11/11/09

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Complain

I can sing about love lost
But what if there's no love to lose?
If everyday I saw sunshine
And it never rained the blues
If my fears were tears
I wonder would they fall
If a smile could stretch a mile
Even if I had no money at all
But I'm willin' to take
Whatever life brings
Cause you're the only one
Who seems to know me

And even if the bad times call
If I had you back
I wouldn't complain at all

I can dream about tommorrow
If it's still today
I'd wear down my knees every night
Even if I had no hands to pray
If my friends were dead and gone
Leavin' me here alone
Could I depend on some spirit
To ease me when my soul's on its own
If my eyes were blind
And I couldn't feel at all to see
Nothin' in this world but you complete me

And even if the bad times call
If I had you back
I wouldn't complain at all

Come back to me
If you just wanna hang out with the boys
I wouldn't complain
I wouldn't make a fuss
No not a noise
I wouldn't complain
Leave your socks on the dresser
And not in the drawer
I wouldn't complain
Just as well if you wanna watch your favorite sport

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Pretty Good

I got a friend in fremont, he sells used cars, ya know.
Well, he calls me up twice a year
Just ask me howd it go
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
Actually everything is just about the same
I met a girl from venus, and her insides were lined in gold
Well, she did what she did said how was it, kid?
She was politely told
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
But actually everything is just about the same.
Moonlight makes me dizzy
Sunlight makes me clean
Your light is the sweetest thing
That this boy has ever seen.
Molly went to arkansas, she got raped by dobbins dog
Well, she was doing good till she went in the woods
And got pinned up against a log
Pretty good, not bad, she cant complain
Cause actually all them dogs is just about the same
Moonlight makes me dizzy
Sunlight makes me clean
Your light is the sweetest thing
That this boy has ever seen.
Instrumental:
I heard allah and buddha were singing at the saviors feast
And up the sky and arabian rabbi
Fed quaker oats to a priest.
Pretty good, not bad, they cant complain
Cause actually all them gods is just about the same
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
Cause actually everything is just about the same

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Mamunia

Mamunia mamunia mamunia
Oh oh oh
Mamunia mamunia oh oh oh oh
The rain comes falling from the sky,
To fill the stream that fills the sea
And thats where life began for you and me
So the next time you see rain it aint bad,
Dont complain it rains for you,
The next time you see l.a. rainclouds,
Dont complain it rains for you and me
Mamunia...
It might have been a bright blue day
But rainclouds had to come this way
Theyre watering everything that they can see.
A seed is waiting in the earth
For rain to come and give him free,
So the next time you see l.a. rainclouds
Dont complain, it rains for you.
So lay down your umbrellas
Strip off your plastic macs.
Youve never felt the rain my friend,
Till youve felt it running down your back
So the next time you see rain, it aint bad
Dont complain, it rains for you.
The next time you see l.a. rainclouds
Dont complain it rains for you and me.
Mamunia...

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We Love To Moan!

As a nation, us British really do love to have a good old moan.
We complain about anything and everything in a really grumpy tone.

We hate it when shop assistants couldn’t care less and are really rude,
Or when, in a restaurant, we have to wait far too long for our food.
Many people complain about their neighbours making too much noise.
They also hate their own homes are constantly littered with the kids toys.

It’s so frustrating when your internet connection is way too slow,
And when automated phone systems, almost make your temper blow.
People really hate to be caught up in lengthy, slow moving traffic queues
And when they have an almighty hangover, as a result of too much booze.

We hate it when our bus, to get to work, is, yet again, running late,
And, when charity workers in the High Street, for money, lie in wait.
It’s annoying when we have to work when the weather is fair,
And when it rains all day, when we’re on holiday and not there.

One of our favourite things to moan about is the state of our health,
And, since we’re in the middle of a recession, the state of our wealth.
We complain when we are feeling bogged down by a heavy workload,
And, when, at the end of the day, our body goes into tiredness mode.

We moan that there’s never anything decent on TV at night,
And when our headache reaches its very highest height.
It’s annoying if you hear a knock at the door and you run downstairs,
In your dressing gown, only to find a uninvited cold caller stood there.

We really hate it when another driver parks in our space,
And, when we’re going on a date and we get spots on our face.
We moan when someone leaves the loo seat up,
And when someone else uses our favourite cup.

We moan when prices in the shops seem way too high,
And we have to cut down on the treats we usually buy.
It’s annoying when someone leaves the towel hanging askew,
And when someone keeps leaving the top off the toothpaste too.

It’s annoying when you’ve just washed muddy footprints off the floor,
And when some walks across it in their boots, leaving you loads more.
It’s horrible when your computer crashes and you lose three hours work,
And when people cough and dont cover their mouths, so in the air germs lurk.

It’s frustrating when you’re trying to find the end of the Sellotape,
And when people eat their food noisily, and with their mouth agape.
We get tons of pointless junk mail dropping through our doors,
And endless spam email on computers is also a really big bore.

We get angry when, at the airport, there are delays to our flights,
And when on the roads, we encounter ‘road rage’ and people fight.

[...] Read more

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Today (album Mix)

I'm saying good morning but it's not that way
I should be blaming the weather today
Or is it that noisy sledge hammer
Of my freaky neighbor
It's kinda early to talk right now
Later on we can work it out
So why don't you understand
That I'm off the hook and wanna be alone
All I want is breakfast right now
To get this morning rolling on somehow
I begining to smile with cheesecake (?)
Now I feel awake and so I
Just don't care
Although that somebody drives without care
It was sunny but now it's raining
And I wonder why I'm complaining cause
I am standing proudly today
There is nothing to complain of
and everything will roll on
I am standing proudly today
And there is no special reason
that makes me smile throughout the seasons
I am standing proudly today
There is nothing to complain of
and everything will roll on
I am standing proudly today
Because I'm feeling happy inside
and it is building on my outside
Suddenly I can feel the sunny rays
Even though it's cloudy today
Took their mind off of the noisy sledge hammer
of my freaky neighbor
I know that it becomes kinda tough
Holding back not blowing up
If there's a discussion
I try to hold on
Avoiding all distractions
It's not a matter of wrong or right
There's no winner when there's a fight
I can tell that I'm feeling lighter
Everything is brighter and so I
Just don't care
Although that somebody drives without care
It was sunny but now it's raining
And I wonder why I'm complaining cause
I am standing proudly today
There is nothing to complain of
and everything will roll on
I am standing proudly today
And there is no special reason

[...] Read more

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On A Plain (Live) (10 Jan 92 Soundcheck, MTV Studios, NYC)

Nirvana- On A Plain
I'll start this off without any words
I got so high that I scratched 'til I bled
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
The finest day that I ever had
Was when I learned to cry on command
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
I'm on a plain
I can't complain
I'm on a plain
My brother died every night
It's safe to say don't quote me on that
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
The black sheep got blackmailed again
Forgot to put on the zip code
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
I'm on a plain
I can't complain
I'm on a plain
Somewhere I have heard this before
In a dream my memory has stored
As a defense I'm neutered and spayed
What the hell am I trying to say
It is now time to make it unclear
To write off lines that don't make sense
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
One more special message to go
And then I'm done then I can go home
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
I'm on a plain
I can't complain
I'm on a plain
I can't complain
I'm on a plain

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The Parish Register - Part III: Burials

THERE was, 'tis said, and I believe, a time
When humble Christians died with views sublime;
When all were ready for their faith to bleed,
But few to write or wrangle for their creed;
When lively Faith upheld the sinking heart,
And friends, assured to meet, prepared to part;
When Love felt hope, when Sorrow grew serene,
And all was comfort in the death-bed scene.
Alas! when now the gloomy king they wait,
'Tis weakness yielding to resistless fate;
Like wretched men upon the ocean cast,
They labour hard and struggle to the last;
'Hope against hope,' and wildly gaze around
In search of help that never shall be found:
Nor, till the last strong billow stops the breath,
Will they believe them in the jaws of Death!
When these my Records I reflecting read,
And find what ills these numerous births succeed;
What powerful griefs these nuptial ties attend;
With what regret these painful journeys end;
When from the cradle to the grave I look,
Mine I conceive a melancholy book.
Where now is perfect resignation seen?
Alas! it is not on the village-green: -
I've seldom known, though I have often read,
Of happy peasants on their dying-bed;
Whose looks proclaimed that sunshine of the breast,
That more than hope, that Heaven itself express'd.
What I behold are feverish fits of strife,
'Twixt fears of dying and desire of life:
Those earthly hopes, that to the last endure;
Those fears, that hopes superior fail to cure;
At best a sad submission to the doom,
Which, turning from the danger, lets it come.
Sick lies the man, bewilder'd, lost, afraid,
His spirits vanquish'd, and his strength decay'd;
No hope the friend, the nurse, the doctor lend -
'Call then a priest, and fit him for his end.'
A priest is call'd; 'tis now, alas! too late,
Death enters with him at the cottage-gate;
Or time allow'd--he goes, assured to find
The self-commending, all-confiding mind;
And sighs to hear, what we may justly call
Death's common-place, the train of thought in all.
'True I'm a sinner,' feebly he begins,
'But trust in Mercy to forgive my sins:'
(Such cool confession no past crimes excite!
Such claim on Mercy seems the sinner's right!)
'I know mankind are frail, that God is just,
And pardons those who in his Mercy trust;

[...] Read more

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The Village: Book I

The Village Life, and every care that reigns
O'er youthful peasants and declining swains;
What labour yields, and what, that labour past,
Age, in its hour of languor, finds at last;
What form the real picture of the poor,
Demand a song--the Muse can give no more.

Fled are those times, when, in harmonious strains,
The rustic poet praised his native plains:
No shepherds now, in smooth alternate verse,
Their country's beauty or their nymphs' rehearse;
Yet still for these we frame the tender strain,
Still in our lays fond Corydons complain,
And shepherds' boys their amorous pains reveal,
The only pains, alas! they never feel.

On Mincio's banks, in Caesar's bounteous reign,
If Tityrus found the Golden Age again,
Must sleepy bards the flattering dream prolong,
Mechanic echoes of the Mantuan song?
From Truth and Nature shall we widely stray,
Where Virgil, not where Fancy, leads the way?

Yes, thus the Muses sing of happy swains,
Because the Muses never knew their pains:
They boast their peasants' pipes; but peasants now
Resign their pipes and plod behind the plough;
And few, amid the rural-tribe, have time
To number syllables, and play with rhyme;
Save honest Duck, what son of verse could share
The poet's rapture, and the peasant's care?
Or the great labours of the field degrade,
With the new peril of a poorer trade?

From this chief cause these idle praises spring,
That themes so easy few forbear to sing;
For no deep thought the trifling subjects ask;
To sing of shepherds is an easy task:
The happy youth assumes the common strain,
A nymph his mistress, and himself a swain;
With no sad scenes he clouds his tuneful prayer
But all, to look like her, is painted fair.

I grant indeed that fields and flocks have charms
For him that grazes or for him that farms;
But when amid such pleasing scenes I trace
The poor laborious natives of the place,
And see the mid-day sun, with fervid ray,
On their bare heads and dewy temples play;
While some with feebler heads and fainter hearts,

[...] Read more

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Break Free! - Have a Ball!

Time to break free, one's cup of tea may not be to all taste,
past history's stale news, let be, haste, challenge chased, no waste!
Song bird of time migrates, sublime rewarding melody,
wide wings unfurl, from spiral twirl, soar to true rhapsody.

Time to escape, dropp nightshade drape, spring sprightly sings fresh air,
shed strings, red tape of every shape, fresh future fair prepare.
Shift key, click mouse, write waltz like Strauss, carouse in harmony,
drown frowns, don't grouse laze louse round house, spurn tale_spin gravity.

Discard hard times, from prose to rhymes switch life that pain shrugs off,
see light, delight quite free from fright, breathe out and fight rough cough!
Ignore moods poor, pain reign's downpour, sore thumb, fools dumb who bore,
far more expect, hope's scope elect, reject despond's dark core!

Time to rebound, life’s boat aground goodbye waves tidal waves,
from hurts that hound heart thought strung, bound, a clear approach now braves
life’s slings and arrows, narrow minds, discovers empathy,
that brings marshmallows, wide wings hallows, sheds self-sympathy.

From sleepy head, depressed in bed, leap up, cheered frame of mind,
misfortune's sped away, ahead, lies joy; leave lies behind.
Dread, pain vain bled, is shed instead success unbolts faults’ door,
so have a ball, reverse free fall, displace dark doubts with SURE!

Don't hedge your bets, glad sad regrets turns topsy-turvy soon,
don't sit on fence in self defence, self-confidence is boon.
Let inner fire inspire desire, suspicions set at rest,
all you require, adore, admire, won't cloy, - enjoy with zest.

From vain complain move on again, see sea’s brimfull of fish,
go take your pick as lips you lick so wickedly delish.
Look sharp! Don't carp, distress or mess up opportunities
chance offers all, go have a ball, refreshed prioritease!

If once distraught in heart or thought, trust must fuss dust displace,
move on to more - unseen before - let better bad replace.
From inner trial advance and smile, past tears, fears fast forgot,
prick cloudy pall, go have a ball and call each shot!

Hope's heart's at ease when spirit frees harp's soul from sharks, sharp spears,
DO as YOU please and by degrees all darkness disappears,
bread butters fly, sun spo[r]ts in sky, relearn to laugh a lot,
keep on the ball, leap each grey wall – bold, spurning blow cold, hot!

Link one to one, new tale begun, soon shadow shades dissolve,
dont stumble, run! dont cry, have fun! hands on luck’s clock revolve.
mosquito bite quite fly-by-night seems past controversy
compared to light solutions bright that crush adversity.

[...] Read more

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Periphery of Sensitivity

Stay quiet, do not complain.
What are you talking about?
You must know the periphery of sensitivity
Stay within.

Your five year daughter might have been raped.
So what?
Look at your character, madam.
Keep running from pillar to post.
Who cares, if you cry behind doors?
Life moves on...

A child was made to drink her urine.
Stay quiet, do not complain.
It happens sometimes...
It is normal.
The warden did her job.
She would not wet her bed again.

Do not get scared
If you find the sweeper
With knife in hand at operation theater;
It is a helping hand.

Aren't you too sensitive about life?
What would you do in absence of trained men?
So stay quiet, don't complain.
Do not try to raise your voice
Even if it hurts...

Price rise is normal during inflation.
You spend much more on ice-cream
It's just few rupees...
So stay quiet, do not complain.

See, how we are becoming thick skinned.
The spine will soon become non-existent.
It is evolution of Indian in independent India.
We learned to stay indifferent.
There is a periphery of sensitivity,
Stay within.

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Pooling From A Tank Of Picked Catches

Pooling from a tank of picked catches,
Examined and tested...
Eliminates second guesses.
And motivates with a boost what is expected,
From that which has been prime selected.

People wanting better know for them what is the best.
And there are those who refuse to accept,
With a getting for themselves...
What the rest can not get,
And...

They're not in line with the others behind the times.
They're not the ones choosing to complain and to whine.
They're not the ones who chose to get nothing done...
Like so many who just lived for fun!

They're not in line with the others behind the times.
They're not the ones choosing to complain and to whine.
They're not the ones who chose to get nothing done...
Like so many who just lived for fun!

Pooling from a tank of picked catches,
Examined and tested...
Eliminates second guesses.
And motivates with a boost what is expected,
From that which has been prime selected.

They're not in line with the others behind the times.
People wanting better know for them what is the best.

They're not the ones choosing to complain and to whine.
And there are those who refuse to accept,
With a getting for themselves...
What the rest can not get,
And...
They're not the ones who chose to get nothing done,
Just to kick around excuses.

They're not in line with the others behind the times.
They're not the ones choosing to complain and to whine.
They're not the ones who chose to get nothing done...
Like so many who just lived for fun.

Like so many who just lived for fun.
Like so many who just lived for fun.
There were others who chose to get things done.

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The Death Song

THE sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day,
But glory remains when their lights fade away:
Begin, you tormentors ! your threats are in vain,
For the son of Alknomook will never complain.
Remember the arrows he shot from his bow,
Remember your chiefs, by his hatchet laid low:
Why so slow? do you wait till I shrink from the pain?
No; the son of Alknomook shall never complain.
Remember the wood, where in ambush we lay,
And the scalps which we bore from your nation away:

Now the flame rises fast; you exult in my pain;
But the son of Alknomook can never complain.
I go to the land where my father is gone,
His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son:
Death comes like a friend to relieve me from pain;
And thy son, O Alknomook, has scorn'd to complain.

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William Cowper

Conversation

Though nature weigh our talents, and dispense
To every man his modicum of sense,
And Conversation in its better part
May be esteem'd a gift, and not an art,
Yet much depends, as in the tiller’s toil,
On culture, and the sowing of the soil.
Words learn'd by rote a parrot may rehearse,
But talking is not always to converse;
Not more distinct from harmony divine,
The constant creaking of a country sign.
As alphabets in ivory employ,
Hour after hour, the yet unletter’d boy,
Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee
Those seeds of science call’d his a b c;
So language in the mouths of the adult,
Witness its insignificant result,
Too often proves an implement of play,
A toy to sport with, and pass time away.
Collect at evening what the day brought forth,
Compress the sum into its solid worth,
And if it weigh the importance of a fly,
The scales are false, or algebra a lie.
Sacred interpreter of human thought,
How few respect or use thee as they ought!
But all shall give account of every wrong,
Who dare dishonour or defile the tongue;
Who prostitute it in the cause of vice,
Or sell their glory at a market-price;
Who vote for hire, or point it with lampoon,
The dear-bought placeman, and the cheap buffoon.
There is a prurience in the speech of some,
Wrath stays him, or else God would strike them dumb;
His wise forbearance has their end in view,
They fill their measure and receive their due.
The heathen lawgivers of ancient days,
Names almost worthy of a Christian’s praise,
Would drive them forth from the resort of men,
And shut up every satyr in his den.
Oh, come not ye near innocence and truth,
Ye worms that eat into the bud of youth!
Infectious as impure, your blighting power
Taints in its rudiments the promised flower;
Its odour perish’d, and its charming hue,
Thenceforth ‘tis hateful, for it smells of you.
Not e’en the vigorous and headlong rage
Of adolescence, or a firmer age,
Affords a plea allowable or just
For making speech the pamperer of lust;
But when the breath of age commits the fault,
‘Tis nauseous as the vapour of a vault.

[...] Read more

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