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I don't want to wear my compositional tools on my sleeve.

quote by Lou Harrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Too Busy In a Loop

Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a separate root,
To then loosen and use!

Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a root,
To then loosen and use!

Many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been...

Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a root,
To then loosen and use!

Although these loopers keep their cool,
No matter who could lose...
Positions in this loop,
To control...
And rule!

Ma-many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
So many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been...

Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a separate root,
To then loosen and use!

But many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Ma-many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
So many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.

Although these loopers keep their cool,
No matter who could lose...
Positions in this loop,
To control...
And rule!

Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Wear It So Well

All of those things
Yeah, that you got to give
Yeah, you wear it so well
Hey, you wear it so well
All of those stories
Honey, that i know you could tell
Yeah, you wear it so well
And your face hides it so we can't tell
That you knew we would wear it so well
You wear it so well
Yeah darling, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah now baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Hey now darling now, yeah, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
All of those things
That make poets sing
You wear it so well
Yeah, you hide it so well
And all of those pain
That you used to tell
You hide it so well
Can't tell from your face that you knew it so well
Hey, now that you have such a story to tell
Yeah, you got style and grace and you wear it so well
You wear it so well
And you got, you got such a story to tell
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well
Grace and style equals you so well
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well, well, yeah, so well
Yeah, you wear it, wear it, wear it now, wear it now, baby
Yeah, now you wear it so well
And you got such a story to tell
(ooohhh, ooohhh, ooohhh)
(ooohhh, you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)

song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lancelot And Elaine

Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable,
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,
High in her chamber up a tower to the east
Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot;
Which first she placed where the morning's earliest ray
Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam;
Then fearing rust or soilure fashioned for it
A case of silk, and braided thereupon
All the devices blazoned on the shield
In their own tinct, and added, of her wit,
A border fantasy of branch and flower,
And yellow-throated nestling in the nest.
Nor rested thus content, but day by day,
Leaving her household and good father, climbed
That eastern tower, and entering barred her door,
Stript off the case, and read the naked shield,
Now guessed a hidden meaning in his arms,
Now made a pretty history to herself
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it,
And every scratch a lance had made upon it,
Conjecturing when and where: this cut is fresh;
That ten years back; this dealt him at Caerlyle;
That at Caerleon; this at Camelot:
And ah God's mercy, what a stroke was there!
And here a thrust that might have killed, but God
Broke the strong lance, and rolled his enemy down,
And saved him: so she lived in fantasy.

How came the lily maid by that good shield
Of Lancelot, she that knew not even his name?
He left it with her, when he rode to tilt
For the great diamond in the diamond jousts,
Which Arthur had ordained, and by that name
Had named them, since a diamond was the prize.

For Arthur, long before they crowned him King,
Roving the trackless realms of Lyonnesse,
Had found a glen, gray boulder and black tarn.
A horror lived about the tarn, and clave
Like its own mists to all the mountain side:
For here two brothers, one a king, had met
And fought together; but their names were lost;
And each had slain his brother at a blow;
And down they fell and made the glen abhorred:
And there they lay till all their bones were bleached,
And lichened into colour with the crags:
And he, that once was king, had on a crown
Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside.
And Arthur came, and labouring up the pass,
All in a misty moonshine, unawares

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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When Saturday Comes

Wind me up and see what I can do for you
Switch me on, I'd do anything you want me to
Let me go and I come ticking like a timebomb
Just call my name and I come running like a marathon
The magic and the mystery
Out here on this field of dreams
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart on your sleeve
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
The winner takes it all
So don't let me down, don't you let me down
Sweat and blood, You know I couldn't give y'any of this
Pain and pride, there ain't no room for second best
Clock strikes three and it's time to be the hero
D'you want to be a Blade, it's a feeling that you'll never know
You've got to fight it tooth and nail
Out here on this Battlefield
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart on your sleeve
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
The winner takes it all
So don't let me down, don't you let me down
The magic and the mystery
Out here on this field of dreams
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart on your sleeve
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart
You got to wear your heart
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart on your sleeve
When Saturday comes
Nothing else matters to me
When Saturday comes
You got to wear your heart
You got to wear your heart

[...] Read more

song performed by Def Leppard
Added by Lucian Velea
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Chevy-Chase

The Perse owt off Northombarlonde,
And a vowe to God mayd he
That he wold hunte in the mowntayns
Off Chyviat within days thre,
In the magger of doughte Dogles,
And all that ever with him be.

The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat
He sayd he wold kyll, and cary them away:
'Be my feth,' sayd the doughteti Doglas agayn,
'I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may.

Then the Perse owt off Banborowe cam,
With him a myghtee meany,
With fifteen hondrith archares bold off blood and bone;
The wear chosen owt of shyars thre.

This begane on a Monday at morn,
In Cheviat the hyllys so he;
They chylde may rue that ys un-born,
It wos the mor pitte.

The dryvars thorowe the woodes went,
For to reas the dear;
Bomen byckarte uppone the bent
With ther browd aros cleare.

Then the wyld thorowe the woodes went,
On every syde shear;
Greahondes thorowe the grevis glent,
For to kyll thear dear.

This began in Chyviat the hyls abone,
yerly on a Monnyn-day;
Be that it drewe to the oware off none,
A hondrith fat hartes ded ther lay.

The blewe a mort uppone the bent,
The semblyde on sydis shear;
To the quyrry then the Perse went,
To se the bryttlynge off the deare.

He sayd, 'It was the Doglas promys
This day to met me hear;
But I wyste he wolde faylle, verament;'
A great oth the Perse swear.

At the laste a squyar off Northomberlonde
Lokyde at his hand full ny;
He was war a the doughetie Doglas commynge,

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Sir Peter Harpdon's End

In an English Castle in Poictou. Sir Peter Harpdon, a Gascon knight in the English service, and John Curzon, his lieutenant.

John Curzon

Of those three prisoners, that before you came
We took down at St. John's hard by the mill,
Two are good masons; we have tools enough,
And you have skill to set them working.

Sir Peter

So-
What are their names?

John Curzon

Why, Jacques Aquadent,
And Peter Plombiere, but-

Sir Peter

What colour'd hair
Has Peter now? has Jacques got bow legs?

John Curzon

Why, sir, you jest: what matters Jacques' hair,
Or Peter's legs to us?

Sir Peter

O! John, John, John!
Throw all your mason's tools down the deep well,
Hang Peter up and Jacques; they're no good,
We shall not build, man.

John Curzon

going.

Shall I call the guard
To hang them, sir? and yet, sir, for the tools,
We'd better keep them still; sir, fare you well.

[...] Read more

poem by William Morris
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As Ireland Wore the Green

BY RIGHT of birth in southern land I send my warning forth.
I see my country ruined by the wrongs that damned the North.
And shall I stand with fireless eyes and still and silent mouth
While Mammon builds his Londons on the fair fields of the South?

CHORUS:
O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we will wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!

I see the shade of poverty fall on each sunny scene.
And slums and alley-ways extend where fields were evergreen.
There is a law that stamps the flower of freedom as it springs;
And this upon a soil that’s trod by prouder feet than kings’.

And must I hide my colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall I wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland swore the green!
Aye, I will wear my colour yet,
As Ireland wore the green!

Out there beyond the lonely range our fathers toiled for years
’Neath all the hardships that beset true-hearted pioneers;
And our brave mothers journeyed there to do the work of men
On those great awful plains that were unfit for women then.

Then must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland swore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we shall wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!

O shall the fields our fathers won be yielded to the few
Who never touched the axe or spade, and hardships never knew?
Shall lordly robbers rule the land and build their mansions high,
And ladies flaunt their jewelled plumes where our brave mothers lie?

O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammnon’s spleen?

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Papa

Look out
Look where you wanna be
Look left
Look where you left me
I should have known
By the ice in your eye
That you warm me up in your so sweet demise and
Nestled in your calculated moonshine
Boy you give good...
Love, plastic love
You're a genuine wannabe
You got it all up your blue sleeve, your sleeve
Love, plastic love
You're a genuine wannabe
You got it all up your blue sleeve
But me
Papa oh papa tonight
Papa oh I'll be alright
Look left
Look where you wanna be
Look out
Look where you left me
I should have known
By the ice in your eye
That you warm me up in your so sweet demise and
Nestled in your calculated moonshine
Boy you give good...
Love, plastic love
You're a genuine wannabe
You got it all up your blue sleeve, your sleeve
Love, plastic love
You're a genuine wannabe
You got it all up your blue sleeve
But me
Papa oh papa tonight
Papa oh I'll be alright

song performed by Vanessa Carlton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Who’ll Wear the Beaten Colours?

Who’ll wear the beaten colours—and cheer the beaten men?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, till our time comes again?
Where sullen crowds are densest, and fickle as the sea,
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?

We closed the bars and gambling dens and voted straight and clean,
Our women walked while motor cars were whirling round the scene,
The Potts Point Vote was one for Greed and Ease and Luxury
With all to hold, and coward gold, and beaten folk are we.

Who’ll wear the beaten colours, with hands and pockets clean?
(I wore the beaten colours since I was seventeen)
I wore them up, and wore them down, Outback and across the sea—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?

We wore them back from Ladysmith to where the peace was signed,
And wore them through the London streets where Jingoes howled behind.
We wore them to the Queen’s Hall, while England yelled “Pro-Boers!”
And sat them over victory while London banged the doors.1

We wore them from Port Arthur round till all sunk in the sea—
(Who’ll wear the white man’s colours, and wear them home with me?)
I’ve worn them through with gentlemen, with work-slaves and alone—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, boys, and wear them on his own?

There’s one would look with startled eyes and shrink while I caressed,
Came I not with the colours of the conquered on my breast.
And twenty thousand Bushmen would stand with hands behind
And scorn in all their faces for the coward of his kind.

Who’ll wear the beaten colours and raise the voice they drowned—
It may be when we march again, they’ll bear some other sound—
Who’ll pin the beaten colours on and drive the beaten pen—
It may be other steel and ink when we march out again.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Your Tools

You've been born with certain tools,
You have not yet to use.
But there they are to sit,
Because you have not picked...
To choose them.

Your tools,
Are there for you to use...
But you are very quick,
To get rid of them to boot them!

Inside,
Your mind..
They're there,
If found useful.

Your tools,
Are there for you to use...
But you are very quick,
To get rid of them...
To boot them.

Inside,
Your mind...
You keep them remote!
And demoted to float.

You've been born with certain tools,
You have not yet to use.
But there they are to sit,
Because you have not picked...
To choose them.

Your tools,
Are there for you to use...
But you are very quick,
To get rid of them...
To boot them.

Inside,
Your mind...
You keep them remote!
And demoted to float.

Your tools!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

The Knight and Squire resolve, at once,
The one the other to renounce.
They both approach the Lady's Bower;
The Squire t'inform, the Knight to woo her.
She treats them with a Masquerade,
By Furies and Hobgoblins made;
From which the Squire conveys the Knight,
And steals him from himself, by Night.

'Tis true, no lover has that pow'r
T' enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings t' his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he's brave and resolute,
Disdains to render in his suit,
Has all his flames and raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble,
While those who sillily pursue,
The simple, downright way, and true,
Make as unlucky applications,
And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
Than by CALIGULA the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars, for doing
Ill offices to cross their wooing;
When only by themselves they're hindred,
For trusting those they made her kindred;
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder.
For what mad lover ever dy'd
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium,
Through th' windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross, ill-natur'd dame,
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame.
This to the Knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use;
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways,
As follows in due time and place

No sooner was the bloody fight,
Between the Wizard, and the Knight,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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Wine From The Water

[parsons/bairnson]
You can take me up, you can wind me down
Theres no escape, but Ill never drown
No wires or strings, no rough and smooth
Just fire and stings, watch me closely, watch my every move
I can count your money while I check your hand
And you know I just cant lose
Wine from the water, gold from a tree
I wouldnt fool you, theres nothing up my sleeve
Look for a mirror, theres nothing there
I get rings out of nowhere, money from thin air
I can break these chains, while Im upside down
Well it may seem strange, I dont hit the ground
Now you see my hand, is quicker than your eye
You should know by now, what you see here, all of its a lie
I can count your money while I check your hand
And you know I just cant lose
Wine from the water, gold from a tree
I wouldnt fool you, theres nothing up my sleeve
Think of a number, Ill get it right
Throw me in the river, tie my hands up tight
I can wind you up, I can turn you round
No cunning stunts, till the ladys found
No coils or springs, just nice and smooth
No knaves or kings, find the lady, watch my every move
I can count your money while I check your hand
And you know I just cant lose
Wine from the water, gold from a tree
I wouldnt fool you, theres nothing up my sleeve
Look for a mirror, no, nothing there
I get rings out of nowhere, money from thin air
Wine from the water, gold from a tree
Now I wouldnt fool you, theres nothing up my sleeve
Think of a number, Ill get it right
You can throw me in the river, tie my hands up tight
Wine from the water, gold from a tree
Now I wouldnt fool you, theres nothing up my sleeve
Look for a mirror, theres nothing there
I get rings out of nowhere, money from thin air

song performed by Alan Parsons Project
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wear My Hat

She came looking for me with her arms open wide,
Like some long lost friend of mine.
She said excuse me, but do you remember me ?
I said no, I dont believe I do
So she looked me up and down
And undressed me with her eyes,
Then she said youve got everything I need, youve got everything I want
So I said ok,
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
So her friend came up to me
With a pen and paper in her hand,
Expressing some interest in the number of my room,
She said excuse me, but do you remember me?
I said no, she said can I appeal to you?
So I looked her up and down
And realising her insinuations I blushed
She said listen babe you dont know me,
No you dont know me but you owe me,
And I love you,
Yes I love you,
Put your arms around me cos I love you,
I got all your records and I love you
So I suggested
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
Well later on that day this guy came to me
With a scrap of paper in his hand
He said hey buddy can you sign your name for me?
I said why, do I owe you money? he said no
I said listen pal do I know you? have we ever met?
Why do you want my name on this little piece of paper?

[...] Read more

song performed by Phil Collins
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Man in Green

Well, you wonder why
I always wear the green,
The colours of the world’s
Finest football team,

You will never see me wear the colours
Of royal or navy blue,
As I’m a Celtic supporter,
Faithful through and through.

I wear the green for my ancestors,
Who came from Ireland, long ago,
Who left Erin’s shores and settled
In the town of Glasgow,

I wear it for the Irish Diaspora,
Who fled the famine and the crown,
I wear from Brother Walfrid
Who sheltered the poor in the east end of town.

I wear the emerald green
In memory of my father,
Garngad born,
A faithful Celtic supporter,

He walked the path to heaven,
Over ten years ago,
As he stands with Our Lord
Wearing his green, white and gold.

I wear the green for the Celtic legends,
Who have left our lives,
Knowing that they entered heaven
With Our Lord on their side,

I wear it for Willie Maley, Jock Stein
And young John Thomson,
I wear it for Bobby Murdoch, Johnny Doyle
And wee Jimmy Johnstone.

I wear the colours of Celtic,
Each and every day,
I pray for the bhoys of Parkhead each night,
And to God, I do say,

Why do all the Orangemen,
All hate the sight of green?
For green’s the finest colour
That the world has ever seen.

[...] Read more

poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Tragic

(a. bell / v. clarke)
Speak. spell.
Whats that word again?
In. out.
Of my head again.
Clear. cut.
Charmed Im sure again.
Merrity!
I wish for thought.
Oh, wise men indeed,
Are fools who believe.
Her heart on my sleeve,
Is laughing at me.
Best left unsaid;
Theres no truth in whats said.
Cloud. fog.
Looks like rain again.
Glass. wall.
Looks could kill again.
Clock. face.
Half past two again.
Turn again.
And how time flies.
Oh, wise men indeed,
Are fools who believe.
Her heart on my sleeve,
Is laughing at me.
Best left unsaid;
Theres no truth in whats said.
Dream. world.
In my pawn again.
Hot. cold.
Fingers burn again.
Teardrop.
To the floor again.
Cruelty.
How real is real?
Oh, wise men indeed,
Are fools who believe.
My heart on my sleeve,
Is laughing at me.
Best left unsaid
Theres no truth in whats said.
Oh, wise men indeed,
Are fools who believe.
My heart on my sleeve,
Is laughing at me.
Best left unsaid
Theres no truth in whats said.

song performed by Erasure
Added by Lucian Velea
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Doesnt Anybody Stay Together Anymore

You keep on walking so you dont fall down
Its the same old story
You keep on hiding so you cant be found
Its the same old story
Oh but I know you, youre the one who ran
You know why, its because you can, oh
Its alright, cos I dont mind
Im just trying to help, but I wonder why
Doesnt anybody stay together anymore
I wonder why, doesnt anybody stay together anymore
My friends keep falling and they cant get up
Its the same old story
Well one says white and the other one black
Its the same old story
And I dont know why you keep emotions walled up
Your hearts on your sleeve, but your sleeve is rolled up
But its alright, cos I dont mind
Im just trying to help, but I wonder why
Doesnt anybody stay together anymore
I wonder why, doesnt anybody stay together anymore
Things can change, from a misunderstanding
Nobody talks, nobody hears, oh oh oh
Makes me wonder why, doesnt anybody stay together anymore
Oh I wonder why, doesnt anybody stay together anymore
You keep on looking for that higher ground
Its the same old story
Your glass is empty and the chips are down
Its the same old story
But I dont know why, your emotions walled up
Your hearts on your sleeve, but your sleeve is rolled up
But its alright, cos I dont mind
Im just trying to help, but I wonder why
Doesnt anybody stay together anymore
I wonder why, doesnt anybody stay together anymore
Oh I wonder why, doesnt anybody stay together anymore

song performed by Phil Collins
Added by Lucian Velea
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No Bed For Beatle John

No bed for beatle john
Beatle, john lennon,
Lost his hospital bed yesterday, to a patient
It happened at queen charlottes hospital, london
Where john was keeping vigil in the room
Where his girlfriend yoko ono,
Is being kept under observation
When he realised his bed was needed for an urgent case,
John sent out for a sleeping bag,
And last night
He was once more happily kipped down, alongside yoko,
In the sleeping bag.
Yoko, who expects a baby next february
Will remain in the hospital for another few days
A beatles spokesman said
There is a good chance for the babys survival.
The beatles win battle of the nude lp
The beatles have won their fight to put
Out an lp record with a sleeve showing
John lennon and yoko ono in nude
Emi the worlds biggest recording company
Whose artists include the beatles
Refused to handle the lp called two virgins because of the sleeve.
So did the groups american outlet, capitol records
But the record with its controversial sleeve
Will be released in both countries next month
An official of the beatles apple company said last night
The sleeve has not yet been censored or altered in any way
Were pleased it has been distributed it may be that some record shops may still
Refuse to handle it.

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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No Bed For Beatle John

No bed for beatle john
Beatle, john lennon,
Lost his hospital bed yesterday, to a patient
It happened at queen charlottes hospital, london
Where john was keeping vigil in the room
Where his girlfriend yoko ono,
Is being kept under observation
When he realised his bed was needed for an urgent case,
John sent out for a sleeping bag,
And last night
He was once more happily kipped down, alongside yoko,
In the sleeping bag.
Yoko, who expects a baby next february
Will remain in the hospital for another few days
A beatles spokesman said
There is a good chance for the babys survival.
The beatles win battle of the nude lp
The beatles have won their fight to put
Out an lp record with a sleeve showing
John lennon and yoko ono in nude
Emi the worlds biggest recording company
Whose artists include the beatles
Refused to handle the lp called two virgins because of the sleeve.
So did the groups american outlet, capitol records
But the record with its controversial sleeve
Will be released in both countries next month
An official of the beatles apple company said last night
The sleeve has not yet been censored or altered in any way
Were pleased it has been distributed it may be that some record shops may still
Refuse to handle it.

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Admiral's Ghost

I tell you a tale to-night
Which a seaman told to me,
With eyes that gleamed in the lanthorn light
And a voice as low as the sea.

You could almost hear the stars
Twinkling up in the sky,
And the old wind woke and moaned in the spars
And the same old waves went by.

Singing the same old song
As ages and ages ago,
While he froze my blood in that deep-sea night
With the things he seemed to know.

A bare foot pattered on deck;
Ropes creaked; then-all grew still,
And he pointed his finger straight in my face
And growled, as a sea-dog will.

'Do 'ee know who Nelson was?
That pore little shrivelled form
With the patch on his eye and the pinned-up sleeve
And a soul like a North Sea storm?

'Ask of the Devonshire men!
They know, and they'll tell you true;
He wasn't the pore little chawed-up chap
That Hardy thought he knew.

'He wasn't the man you think!
His patch was a dern disguise!
For he knew that they'd find him out, d'you see,
If they looked him in both his eyes.

'He was twice as big as he seemed;
But his clothes were cunningly made.
He'd both of his hairy arms alright!
The sleeve was a trick of the trade.

'You've heard of sperrits, no doubt;
Well there's more in the matter than that!
But he wasn't the patch and he wasn't the sleeve,
And he wasn't the laced cocked-hat.

'Nelson was just-a Ghost!
You may laugh! But the Devonshire men
They knew that he'd come when England called,
And they know that he'll come again.

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Noyes
Added by Poetry Lover
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Pretty Persuasion

Its what I want, hurry and buy,
All has been tried, follow reason and buy,
Cannot shuffle in this heat, its all wrong
Try to put that on your sleeve its all wrong its all wrong
Hes got a pretty persuasion
Shes got pretty persuasion
God damn, pure confusion
Shes got pretty persuasion
Its what I want, hurry and buy,
All has been tried, follow reasoning,
And I put that in this heat its all wrong
Try to wear that on my sleeve its all wrong all wrong
Hes got a pretty persuasion
Shes got pretty persuasion
God damn, pure confusion
Hes got pretty persuasion
In the line of heart,
All is peeling away,
Its what I want, hurry and buy,
All has been tried, follow reason and buy,
Try to put that in this heat its all wrong
Cannot wear that on your sleeve its all wrong its all wrong

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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