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My favorite actor is Wallace Beery.

quote by Don Johnson
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Finn's Favorite Fish (Long Tongue Twister)

Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fell flat.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food falls for fluid.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fed Finn's favorite fish.
Finn's favorite fish falls for Finn's favorite fish's favorite food.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food falls for Finn's favorite fish.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fills Finn's favorite fish.
Finn fishes for Finn's favorite fish's favorite fish food for Finn's favorite fish!

poem by Rebecca Ryan
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The Summary History of Sir William Wallace

Sir William Wallace of Ellerslie,
I'm told he went to the High School in Dundee,
For to learn to read and write,
And after that he learned to fight,
While at the High School in Dundee,
The Provost's son with him disagree,
Because Wallace did wear a dirk,
He despised him like an ignorant stirk,
Which with indignation he keenly felt,
And told him it would become him better in his belt.

Then Wallace's blood began to boil,
Just like the serpent in its coil,
Before it leaps upon its prey;
And unto him he thus did say:
'Proud saucy cur, come cease your prate,
for no longer shall i wait,
For to hear you insult me,
At the High School in Dundee;
For such insolence makes my heart to smart,
And I'll plunge my dagger in you heart,'

Then his heart's blood did quickly flow,
And poor Wallace did not know where to go;
And he stood by him until dead.
Then far from him he quickly fled,
Lamenting greatly the deed he had done,
the murdering of the Provost's son.

The scene shifts to where he was fishing on day,
Where three English soldiers met him by the way,
And they asked him fo give them some fish,
And from them they would make a delicious dish,
then Wallace gave them share of his fish,
For to satisfy their wish;
But they seemed dissatisfied with the share they got,
So they were resolved to have all the lot.

Then Wallace he thought it was time to look out,
When they were resolved to have all his trout;
So he swung his fishing-rod with great force round his head,
And struck on of them a blow that killed him dead;
So he instantly seized the fallen man's sword,
And the other two fled without uttering a word.

Sir William Wallace of Ellerslie,
You were a warrior of great renown,
And might have worn Scotland's crown;
Had it not been for Monteith, the base traitor knave,
That brought you to a premature grave;

[...] Read more

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Favorite Girl

Funny how things don’t seem to ever change
Now that I see you I’m transformed I am not the same
I know all the parts of you cause you’re my favorite girl
Because of everything you do you’re my favorite girl

Good things come and good things go
we only have today Tomorrow who knows
You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl

I've tried so hard to move forward
But I keep on moving back
I’m stuck in some odd time warp
On an elusive track

Your a sacred pearl cause your my favorite girl
There’ no sanctuary in this world but your my favorite girl

People come and people go
we only have today Tomorrow who knows
You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl

Its the same old story But damn if it don’t make you cry
Boy meets girl than loses her for no reason why
In my heart, nothing should matter except you’re my favorite girl
The whole universe could shatter you’d still be my favorite girl

People come and people go
We only have to day
Baby baby you stole the show
Baby baby you stole the show
Tomorrow who knows

You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl

poem by Harlan Lovestone
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Dedicated

This is dedicated to my favorite girl
Oh... oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh...
Ho... oh... oh...
Ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... yeah
Ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh...
Ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh...
Favorite girl, hey
You have given me the best of you
And you have made my dreams come true, yeah
And after all the things that you have done
Girl, it makes me say that you are more than a woman, so I'm
Dedicating this one (Oh) to my favorite girl (She's the only one)
She's the only woman in the whole wide world (In the whole wide world)
Dedicating this one (Oh, I'm) to my favorite girl
(She's the only woman in the world for me)
Never thought that love could be so kind
Till you came and brought me peace of mind
I'll treasure every moment spent with you
Cause no one does the things for me you do, so I'm
Dedicating this one (Oh) to my favorite girl (She's the only one)
She's the only (Ooh... ooh... ooh... ) woman in the whole wide world (In the whole wide world)
Dedicating this one (Oh, yeah) to my favorite girl
(She's the only woman in the world, world, woo)
Oh... oh... oh... oh... oh... oh... oh...
Ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh...
Oh... oh...
So I'm
Dedicating this one (To) to my favorite girl (My favorite girl)
She's the only woman (Oh, yeah) in the whole wide world (In the whole wide world)
Dedicating this one (Oh... ) to my favorite girl (She's my favorite girl)
(The only one in the world, whoa... )
Dedicating this one (I'm dedicating this one to my favorite girl, yeah) to

song performed by R. Kelly
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My Favorite Girl

My favorite girl, oh, shes my favorite girl, dont you know,
My favorite girl, oh, shes my favorite girl.
You walked into my life, your love was so new,
And nothing will ever change my feelings for you,
Well, you were so far away, now I am close to you, girl,
So let us run away, our heart thats waiting will stay.
My favorite...
Theres so much I like in you I cant go on,
I wanted a girl like you Ive looked so long,
Girl, nothing will make us wrong, I know our love is too strong,
Lets leave the rest behind, our dreams ask what we will find.
My favorite...
My favorite...
(rap:) shes my favorite girl, the one Im always thinking of, that one.
(rap:) my favorite girl, the one I love.
My favorite... (repeat & fade ad lib)

song performed by New Kids On The Block
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Albert Down Under

Albert were what you'd call “thwarted”.
He had long had an ambition, which...
Were to save up and go to Australia,
The saving up that were the hitch.

He'd a red money box on the pot shelf,
A post office thing made of tin,
But with him and his Dad and the bread knife,
It never had anything in.

He were properly held up for bobbins,
As the folk in the mill used to say,
Till he hit on a simple solution -
He'd go as a young stowaway.

He studied the sailing lists daily,
And at last found a ship as would do.
“S.S. Tosser:, a freighter from Fleetwood,
Via Cape Horn to Wooloomooloo.

He went off next evening to Fleetwood,
And found her there loaded and coaled,
Slipped over the side in the darkness,
And downstairs and into the hold.

The hold it were choked up with cargo,
He groped with his hands in the gloom,
Squeezed through bars of what felt like a grating,
And found he had plenty of room.

Some straw had been spilled in one corner,
He thankfully threw himself flat,
He thought he could hear someone breathing,
But he were too tired to fret about that.

When he woke they were out in mid-ocean,
He turned and in light which were dim,
Looked straight in the eyes of a lion,
That were lying there looking at him.

His heart came right up in his tonsils,
As he gazed at that big yellow face.
Then it smiled and they both said together,
“Well, isn't the world a small place?”

The lion were none other than Wallace,
He were going to Sydney, too.
To fulfil a short starring engagement
In a cage at Taronga Park Zoo.

[...] Read more

poem by Marriott Edgar
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Actor Of Love

Hold on
I have found something I longing for
To fill the hollowness of my heart
But why I'm feeling more of sorrow

Before
I am the one who said: 'Oh, I'll control'
But now I realize you are my world
And it's waiting to break apart

I'm an actor of love
I'm trying to perfect
But I'm just fooling around

I'm an actor of love
I want to be your hero
But I've made myself a clown

I'm an actor of love
I need you by my side
But now you leave me alone

I'm an actor of love
I beg your forgiveness
But you refuse me so cold

Sometimes
We wonder why we should be together
Do we really dream of love forever?
Or we afraid to be alone

I'm an actor of love
I want to protect you
But I always hurt you bad

I'm an actor of love
I want to be your shield
But may turn someone you hate

I'm an actor of love
We kiss in the morning
But in night we have a war

I'm an actor of love
We care for each other
But we only circle round

If this love only makes me crazy
Take the story and just let it be
Tragedy or comedy

[...] Read more

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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My Favorite Things

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudeles
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad

song performed by Barry Manilow
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My Favorite Time

My favorite time of morning
Is that time of morning when
I have a cup of warm coffee in my hands
And the sun barely peeks over the land
When the day is yet unwritten
When I am alone in the quiet
With thoughts of you
To keep me company
At my favorite time

My favorite time of the day
Is that time of day when
I hear your voice or see your words
And I know you are engaged in me
As I am engaged in you
As I am replete with thoughts of you
Warm thoughts of you
Across the miles
At my favorite time

My favorite time of the night
Is that time of night when
I close my eyes and dream of you
And my dreams are vivid, sweet and real
In them we are together
In them there is no yesterday or tomorrow
Only a never ending today
With you always
At my favorite time

So my favorite time really
Is that real time
I am privileged to think of you
And to know that no matter what
You are all I could ever want
You are all I will ever need
In a partner, friend and love
I know this now because with you I am always
In my favorite time

poem by David Terry
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Here's Luck

Old Time is tramping close to-day—you hear his bluchers fall,
A mighty change is on the way, an’ God protect us all;
Some dust’ll fly from beery coats—at least it’s been declared.
I’m glad that wimin has the votes—but just a trifle scared.
I’m just a trifle scared—For why? The wimin mean to rule;
It makes me feel like days gone by when I was caned at school.
The days of men is nearly dead—of double moons and stars—
They’ll soon put out our pipes, ’tis said, an’ close the public bars.

No more we’ll take a glass of ale when pushed with care an’ strife,
An’chuckle home with that old tale we used to tell the wife.
We’ll laugh an’joke an’ sing no more with jolly beery chums,
An’ shout ‘Here’s luck!’ while waitin’ for the luck that never comes.

Did we prohibit swillin’ tea clean out of common-sense
Or legislate on gossipin’ across a backyard fence?
Did we prohibit bustles—or the hoops when they was here?
The wimin never think of this—they want to stop our beer.

The track o’ life is dry enough, an’ crossed with many a rut,
But, oh! we’ll find it long an’ rough when all the pubs is shut,
When all the pubs is shut, an’ gone the doors we used to seek,
An’ we go toilin’, thirstin’ on through Sundays all the week.

For since the days when pubs was ‘inns’—in years gone past’n’ far—
Poor sinful souls have drowned their sins an’ sorrers at the bar;
An’ though at times it led to crimes, an’ debt, and such complaints—
I scarce dare think about the time when all mankind is saints.

’Twould make the bones of Bacchus leap an’ break his coffin lid;
And Burns’s ghost would wail an’ weep as Bobby never did.
But let the preachers preach in style, an’ rave and rant—’n’ buck,
I rather guess they’ll hear awhile the old war-cry: ‘Here’s Luck!’

The world might wobble round the sun, an’ all the banks go bung,
But pipes’ll smoke an’ liquor run while Auld Lang Syne is sung.
While men are driven through the mill, an’ flinty times is struck,
They’ll find a private entrance still! Here’s Luck, old man—Here’s Luck!

poem by Henry Lawson
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From Lines to William Simson

1 Auld Coila now may fidge fu' fain,
2 She's gotten poets o' her ain--
3 Chiels wha their chanters winna hain,
4 But tune their lays,
5 Till echoes a' resound again
6 Her weel-sung praise.

7 Nae poet thought her worth his while
8 To set her name in measur'd style:
9 She lay like some unken'd-of isle
10 Beside New Holland,
11 Or whare wild-meeting oceans boil
12 Besouth Magellan.

13 Ramsay and famous Fergusson
15 Yarrow and Tweed to mony a tune
16 Owre Scotland rings;
17 While Irvin, Lugar, Ayr an' Doon
18 Naebody sings.

19 Th' Ilissus, Tiber, Thames, an' Seine
20 Glide sweet in mony a tunefu' line;
21 But, Willie, set your fit to mine
22 And cock your crest,
23 We'll gar our streams and burnies shine
24 Up wi' the best!

25 We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells,
26 Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells,
27 Her banks an' braes, her dens an' dells,
28 Where glorious Wallace
29 Aft bure the gree, as story tells,
30 Frae Southron billies.

31 At Wallace' name what Scottish blood
32 But boils up in a spring-tide flood!
33 Oft have our fearless fathers strode
34 By Wallace' side,
35 Still pressing onward red-wat-shod,
36 Or glorious dy'd.

37 O sweet are Coila's haughs an' woods,.
38 When lintwhites chant amang the buds,
39 And jinkin hares in amorous whids
40 Their loves enjoy,
41 While thro' the braes the cushat croods
42 Wi' wailfu' cry!

43 Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me,
44 When winds rave thro' the naked tree;

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Burns
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Albert and the Lion

There's a famous seaside place called Blackpool,
That's noted for fresh air and fun,
And Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Went there with young Albert, their son.

A grand little lad was young Albert,
All dressed in his best; quite a swell
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle,
The finest that Woolworth's could sell.

They didn't think much of the Ocean:
The waves, they were fiddlin' and small,
There was no wrecks and nobody drownded,
Fact, nothing to laugh at at all.

So, seeking for further amusement,
They paid and went into the Zoo,
Where they'd Lions and Tigers and Camels,
And old ale and sandwiches too.

There were one great big Lion called Wallace;
His nose were all covered with scars -
He lay in a somnolent posture,
With the side of his face on the bars.

Now Albert had heard about Lions,
How they was ferocious and wild -
To see Wallace lying so peaceful,
Well, it didn't seem right to the child.

So straightway the brave little feller,
Not showing a morsel of fear,
Took his stick with its 'orse's 'ead 'andle
And pushed it in Wallace's ear.

You could see that the Lion didn't like it,
For giving a kind of a roll,
He pulled Albert inside the cage with 'im,
And swallowed the little lad 'ole.

Then Pa, who had seen the occurrence,
And didn't know what to do next,
Said 'Mother! Yon Lion's 'et Albert',
And Mother said 'Well, I am vexed!'

Then Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom -
Quite rightly, when all's said and done -
Complained to the Animal Keeper,
That the Lion had eaten their son.

[...] Read more

poem by Marriott Edgar
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Book First [Introduction-Childhood and School Time]

OH there is blessing in this gentle breeze,
A visitant that while it fans my cheek
Doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings
From the green fields, and from yon azure sky.
Whate'er its mission, the soft breeze can come
To none more grateful than to me; escaped
From the vast city, where I long had pined
A discontented sojourner: now free,
Free as a bird to settle where I will.
What dwelling shall receive me? in what vale
Shall be my harbour? underneath what grove
Shall I take up my home? and what clear stream
Shall with its murmur lull me into rest?
The earth is all before me. With a heart
Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty,
I look about; and should the chosen guide
Be nothing better than a wandering cloud,
I cannot miss my way. I breathe again!
Trances of thought and mountings of the mind
Come fast upon me: it is shaken off,
That burthen of my own unnatural self,
The heavy weight of many a weary day
Not mine, and such as were not made for me.
Long months of peace (if such bold word accord
With any promises of human life),
Long months of ease and undisturbed delight
Are mine in prospect; whither shall I turn,
By road or pathway, or through trackless field,
Up hill or down, or shall some floating thing
Upon the river point me out my course?

Dear Liberty! Yet what would it avail
But for a gift that consecrates the joy?
For I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven
Was blowing on my body, felt within
A correspondent breeze, that gently moved
With quickening virtue, but is now become
A tempest, a redundant energy,
Vexing its own creation. Thanks to both,
And their congenial powers, that, while they join
In breaking up a long-continued frost,
Bring with them vernal promises, the hope
Of active days urged on by flying hours,--
Days of sweet leisure, taxed with patient thought
Abstruse, nor wanting punctual service high,
Matins and vespers of harmonious verse!

Thus far, O Friend! did I, not used to make
A present joy the matter of a song,
Pour forth that day my soul in measured strains

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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Albert's Return

You've `eard `ow young Albert Ramsbottom
At the zoo up at Blackpool one year
With a stick with an `orse's `ead `andle
Gave a lion a poke in the ear?

The name of the lion was Wallace,
The poke in the ear made `im wild
And before you could say "Bob's yer uncle"
E'd upped and `e'd swallowed the child.

`E were sorry the moment `e done it;
With children `e'd always been chums,
And besides, `e'd no teeth in his muzzle,
And `e couldn't chew Albert on't gums.

`E could feel the lad movin' inside `im
As `e lay on `is bed of dried ferns;
And it might `ave been little lad's birthday-
E wished `im such `appy returns.

But Albert kept kickin' and fightin'-
And Wallace got up, feelin' bad.
Decided 'twere time that `e started
To stage a comeback for the lad.

Then puttin' `ead down in one corner,
On `is front paws `e started to walk;
And `e coughed, and `e sneezed, and `e gargled
`Till Albert shot out - like a cork!

Now Wallace felt better directly
And `is figure once more became lean.
But the only difference with Albert Was,
`is face and `is `ands were quite clean.

Meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Ramsbottom
`Ad gone back to their tea, feelin' blue.
Ma said, "I feel down in the mouth, like.
" Pa said, "Aye, I bet Albert does, too."

Said Mother, "It just goes to show yer
That the future is never revealed;
If I'd thowt we was goin' to lose `im,
I'd `ave not `ad `is boots soled and `eeled."

"Let's look on the bright side," said Father,
"Wot can't be `elped must be endured;
Each cloud `as a silvery lining,
And we did `ave young Albert insured."

[...] Read more

poem by Marriott Edgar
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The Lion and Albert

There's a famous seaside place called Blackpool,
That's noted for fresh air and fun,
And Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Went there with young Albert, their son.

A grand little lad was young Albert,
All dressed in his best; quite a swell
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle,
The finest that Woolworth's could sell.

They didn't think much of the Ocean:
The waves, they were fiddlin' and small,
There was no wrecks and nobody drownded,
Fact, nothing to laugh at at all.

So, seeking for further amusement,
They paid and went into the Zoo,
Where they'd Lions and Tigers and Camels,
And old ale and sandwiches too.

There were one great big Lion called Wallace;
His nose were all covered with scars -
He lay in a somnolent posture,
With the side of his face on the bars.

Now Albert had heard about Lions,
How they was ferocious and wild -
To see Wallace lying so peaceful,
Well, it didn't seem right to the child.

So straightway the brave little feller,
Not showing a morsel of fear,
Took his stick with its 'orse's 'ead 'andle
And pushed it in Wallace's ear.

You could see that the Lion didn't like it,
For giving a kind of a roll,
He pulled Albert inside the cage with 'im,
And swallowed the little lad 'ole.

Then Pa, who had seen the occurrence,
And didn't know what to do next,
Said 'Mother! Yon Lion's 'et Albert',
And Mother said 'Well, I am vexed!'

Then Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom -
Quite rightly, when all's said and done -
Complained to the Animal Keeper,
That the Lion had eaten their son.

[...] Read more

poem by Marriott Edgar
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The Return of Albert

You've 'eard 'ow young Albert Ramsbottom,
In the Zoo up at Blackpool one year,
With a stick and 'orse's 'ead 'andle,
Gave a lion a poke in the ear.

The name of the lion was Wallace,
The poke in the ear made 'im wild;
And before you could say 'Bob's your Uncle,'
'E'd up and 'e'd swallered the child.

'E were sorry the moment 'e'd done it,
With children 'e'd always been chums,
And besides, 'e'd no teeth in 'is noodle,
And 'e couldn't chew Albert on t'gums.

'E could feel the lad moving inside 'im,
As 'e lay on 'is bed of dried ferns,
And it might 'ave been little lad's birthday,
'E wished 'im such 'appy returns.

But Albert kept kicking and fighting,
Till Wallace arose feeling bad,
And felt it were time that 'e started to stage
A come-back for the lad.

So with 'is 'ead down in a corner,
On 'is front paws 'e started to walk,
And 'e coughed and 'e sneezed and 'e gargled,
Till Albert shot out like a cork.

Old Wallace felt better direc'ly,
And 'is figure once more became lean,
But the only difference with Albert
Was 'is face and 'is 'ands were quite clean.

Meanwhile Mister and Missus Ramsbottom
'Ad gone 'ome to tea feeling blue;
Ma says 'I feel down in the mouth like,'
Pa says "Aye! I bet Albert does too.'

Said Ma 'It just goes for to show yer
That the future is never revealed,
If I thought we was going to lose 'im
I'd 'ave not 'ad 'is boots soled and 'eeled.

'Let's look on the bright side,' said Father
'What can't be 'elped must be endured,
Every cloud 'as a silvery lining,
And we did 'ave young Albert insured.'

[...] Read more

poem by Marriott Edgar
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Behind the Scenes

The actor struts his little hour,
Between the limelight and the band;
The public feel the actor's power,
Yet nothing do they understand
Of all the touches here and there
That make or mar the actor's part,
They never see, beneath the glare,
The artist striving after art.
To them it seems a labour slight
Where nought of study intervenes;
You see it in another light
When once you've been behind the scenes.

For though the actor at his best
Is, like a poet, born not made,
He still must study with a zest
And practise hard to learn his trade.
So, whether on the actor's form
The stately robes of Hamlet sit,
Or as Macbeth he rave and storm,
Or plays burlesque to please the pit,

'Tis each and all a work of art,
That constant care and practice means --
The actor who creates a part
Has done his work behind the scenes.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Added by Poetry Lover
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Touch The Hand

Stand up - if ya wanna fight
I'm tellin' all the women - stand up for your rights
If ya wanna wear the trousers - you wanna act like a man
I'd love to trade ya places - love to be your thang
I'd do all the shopping - collect you favorite suit
Press all the laundry - polish all your boots
And if you brought me flowers - I'd meet you at the door
Have your dinner ready - your slippers on the floor
And when day turns to night and you feel alright
And I turn out the lights

Touch the hand of the man who'll make ya woman
Touch the hand of the man who'll make it right
Touch the hand of the man who'll make ya woman
Cause when day turns to night and you feel alright
And I turn out the lights

Stand up - it's alright
Love to play the woman - love to play your wife
Light you favorite cigarette - pour your favorite drink
Wear your best apron - wash the dishes in the sink
Get your shaving lotion - turn the shower on
Warm up your bathrobe - keep my baby warm
Read ya bedtime stories - while you take a nap
Turn on the TV - put out the cat
But when day turns to night and you feel alright
And I turn out the lights..

Touch The Hand"

Stand up - if ya wanna fight
I'm tellin' all the women - stand up for your rights
If ya wanna wear the trousers - you wanna act like a man
I'd love to trade ya places - love to be your thang
I'd do all the shopping - collect you favorite suit
Press all the laundry - polish all your boots
And if you brought me flowers - I'd meet you at the door
Have your dinner ready - your slippers on the floor
And when day turns to night and you feel alright
And I turn out the lights

Touch the hand of the man who'll make ya woman
Touch the hand of the man who'll make it right
Touch the hand of the man who'll make ya woman
Cause when day turns to night and you feel alright
And I turn out the lights

Stand up - it's alright
Love to play the woman - love to play your wife

[...] Read more

song performed by Bryan Adams from Waking Up The Neighbours
Added by Lucian Velea
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Favorite

Don't look sexy but it just feels right
Not too dirty and it's not too tight
Why I never threw it out, I'll never know exactly why
Keep it in the drawer beside my bed
It's faded pink now, but it used to be red
Starting to fray at the seams, but I know that you'll still love me
Like you did, like you did
Like before, like before
Like we will, like we will
Be doin' it once more
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
Oh baby know how you feel?
You feel like my favorite underwear
And I'm slipping you on again tonight
Leave you lyin' on the bedroom floor
I leave you hangin' on the bathroom door
Take you for granted, but I'll always know exactly where you are
Lost you once you were hard to find
Got you back you didn't live like mine
Thought we were falling apart but you make me feel so pretty
Like you did, like you did
Like before, like before
Like we will, like we will
Be doin' it once more
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
Oh baby know how you feel?
You feel like my favorite underwear
And I'm slipping you on again tonight
Slipping you on again tonight
Wrap me and roll me, hold me tight
Tear me apart and make me new
Like you always do
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
You feel you're like this is what I want
You feel, you feel
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
You feel you're like this is what I want
You feel, you feel
Slipping you on again tonight

song performed by Liz Phair
Added by Lucian Velea
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