The days of humiliation, of second-class citizens and of inequality are over and gone forever.
quote by Gerry Adams
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)
Introduction
In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.
Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.
Prologue
The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain
mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact
that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals
becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,
who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight
in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.
Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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Better Dayz
Lookin for these better days
Better days, heyyy! Better days
Got me thinkin bout better days
Better days! Better days, better days
Heyyy! Better days
Got me thinkin bout better days
Time to question our lifestyle, look how we live
Smokin weed like it ain't no thang, so even kids
wanna try now, they lie down and get ran through
Nobody watched 'em clockin the evil man do
Faced with the demons, addicted to hearin victims screamin
Guess we was evil since birth, product of cursed semens
Cause even our birthdays is cursed days
A born thug in the first place, the worst ways
I'd love to see the block in peace
With no more dealers and crooked cops, the only way to stop the beast
And only we can change
It's up to us to clean up the streets, it ain't the same
Too many murders, too many funerals and too many tears
Just seen another brother buried plus I knew him for years
Passed by his family, but what could I say?
Keep yo' head up and try to keep the faith
And pray for better days
Better days, better days, heyyy!
Better days.. got me thinkin bout better days
Better days, better days, better days
Heyyy! Better days
Got me thinkin bout better days
Thinkin back as an adolescent, who would've guessed
that in my future years, I'd be stressin
Some say the ghetto's sick and corrupted
Plus my P.O. won't let me hang with the brothers I grew up with
Tryin to keep my head up and stay strong
All my homies slangin llello all day long, but they wrong
So I'm solo and so broke
Savin up for some Jordan's, cause they dope
I got a girl and I love her but she broke too, and so am I
I can't take her to the place she wanna go to
So we argue and play fight, all day and night
Makin passionate love 'til the daylight
Plus we about to get evicted, can't pay the rent
Guess it's time to see who really is yo' friend
Tell me you pregnant and I'm amazed
So many blessings while we stressin
Lookin for them better days
For better days, better days, better days, heyyy!
Better days.. got me thinkin bout better days
Better days, better days, better days
Heyyy! Better days.. got me thinkin bout better days
Now me and you was real cool, hell on them square fools
[...] Read more
song performed by 2 Pac
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Seasonable Retour-Knell
SEASONABLE RETOUR KNELL
Variations on a theme...
SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
Author notes
A mirrored Retourne may not only be read either from first line to last or from last to first as seen in the mirrors, but also by inverting the first and second phrase of each line, either rhyming AAAA or ABAB for each verse. thus the number of variations could be multiplied several times.- two variations on the theme have been included here but could have been extended as in SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS robi03_0069_robi03_0000
In respect of SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
This composition has sought to explore linguistic potential. Notes and the initial version are placed before rather than after the poem.
Six variations on a theme have been selected out of a significant number of mathematical possibilities using THE SAME TEXT and a reverse mirror for each version. Mirrors repeat the seasons with the lines in reverse order.
For the second roll the first four syllables of each line are reversed, and sense is retained both in the normal order of seasons and the reversed order as well... The 3rd and 4th variations offer ABAB rhyme schemes retaining the original text. The 5th and 6th variations modify the text into rhyming couplets.
Given the linguistical structure of this symphonic composition the score could be read in inversing each and every line and each and every hemistitch. There are minor punctuation differences between versions.
One could probably attain sonnet status for each of the four seasons and through partioning in 3 groups of 4 syllables extend the possibilites ad vitam.
Seasonable Round Robin Roll Reversals
robi03_0069_robi03_0000 QXX_DNZ
Seasonable Retour-Knell
robi03_0070_robi03_0069 QXX_NXX
26 March 1975 rewritten 20070123
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllll
For previous version see below
_______________________________________
SPRING SUMMER
Life is at ease Young lovers long
Land under plough; To hold their dear;
Whispering trees, Dewdrops among,
Answering cow. Bold, know no fear.
Blossom, the bees, Life full of song,
Burgeoning bough; Cloudless and clear;
Soft-scented breeze, Days fair and long,
Spring warms life now. Summer sends cheer.
AUTUMN WINTER
Each leaf decays, Harvested sheaves
Each life must bow; And honeyed hives;
Our salad days Trees stripped of leaves,
Are ending now. Jack Frost has knives.
Fruit heavy lays Time, Prince of thieves,
Bending the bough, - Onward he drives,
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Social Classes
The Social Classes
I tried to measure my individual status
Against this worlds benchmark
Pondering on common open remarks
Researching from newspapers
And listening to the media
Learning from decades of history
Some of those events remain a mystery
Trying to unfold the logic
Of the class differences in today’s modern society
Upper Class, Upper Class my foot
These are merely wealthy tycoons
Most of them born with golden spoons
Luck is needed to belong to this ring
Its liking flying to the moon
In a hot aired balloon
Or trying to sing
Through a key ring
Their moral obligation
As a minority of the nation
Is to obtain the best and most expensive education
They make damn well sure
Mechanisms are in place to differentiate
And ensure infinity of inequality
Like ownership of earths land
Placing humans beings in separate class bands
With a unique voice
You could release some hit songs
And become a millionaire
And join the so called
Socioeconomic class
Beware most of these people don’t care
You may never belong
I am not alone
I have not being blessed with this privilege
I wish all social classes could just merge
And unite as one
Maybe we may then be able to get rid of the gun
Right under your very nose
Right under the sun
Middle Class, Middle Class
This is the centre
Of confusion for the masses
The obvious gap between the rich and the poor
Here there is everything to live and die for
[...] Read more
poem by Sylvia Chidi (17 October 2005)
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Second Class wait here
At suburban railway stations--you may see them as you pass--
there are signboards on the platform saying 'Wait here second class,'
And to me the whirr and thunder and the cluck of running-gear
Seem to be forever saying 'Second class wait here--
Wait here second class
Second class wait here.'
Seem to be forever saying, 'Second class wait here.'
Yes, the second class were waiting in the days of serf and prince,
And the second class are waiting--they've been waiting ever since,
There are gardens in the background, and the line is bare and drear,
Yet they wait beneath a signboard, sneering 'Second class wait here.'
I have waited oft in winter, in the mornings dark and damp,
When the asphalt platform glistened underneath the lonely lamp,
Glistened on the brick-faced cutting 'Sellum's Soap' and 'Blower's Beer,'
Glistened on enamelled signboards with their 'Second class wait here.'
And the others seemed like burglars, slouched and muffled to the throats,
Standing round apart and silent in their shoddy overcoats;
And the wind among the poplars, and the wires that thread the air,
Seemed to be forever snarling, snarling 'Second class wait there.'
Out beyond a further suburb, 'neath a chimney-stack alone
Lay the works of Grinder Brothers, with a platform of their own;
And I waited there and suffered, waited there for many a day,
Slaved beneath a phantom signboard, telling all my hopes to stay.
Ah! a man must feel revengeful for a boyhood such as mine.
God! I hate the very houses near the workshop by the line;
And the smell of railway stations, and the roar of running gear,
And the scornful-seeming signboards, saying 'Second class wait here.'
There's a train, with Death for driver, that is ever going past;
There will be no class compartments when it's 'all aboard' at last
For the long white jasper platform with an Eden in the rear;
And there won't be any signboards, saying 'Second class wait here'
poem by Henry Lawson
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Don't Be Fooled
When my twin brother was dying of cancer the insurance company pulled his insurance then the bank foreclosed his house. i hate them! I hate the right wing of today and corporate insurance companies and the rich get richer off the middle class and the union busting etc. i will always fight them no matter what happens. I love people with empathy and compassion and courage and real love. We are in a very bad chapter in American history and even if we do not pull out of it I still will fight because I am a universalist with spiritual ethics based on God is love and love thy neighbor as thyself. I know both parties are in the hands of money and lobby dollars but the right wing is way worse and the tea party even crazier. They won't tax the rich back to the Clinton years while they watch tuitions going up so the rich get to send their kids to school and the poor or lower middleclass can't send their kids to college. The tea party sides with banks and the oil companies and tax breaks for the wealthy not the working class and poor. The Congressional Budget Office (CBO) just came out with a report showing that since 1979 the top 1 percent increased wages and wealth a staggering 275%. This inequality and massive distribution of wealth is ruining our economy. The right wing spins this and blames the victims, accuses people of being lazy etc when the truth is they take from the poor to give to the rich and then they turn around and accuse everyone of starting class warfare. They are the class warefare oppressors! These mobsters and political cronies for the rich use evangelicals. Side with the poor and the working class. Remember in the feast of Jubilee the land went back to the original tribe every 50 years in Israel. The fields were to remain fallow and unplowed every seven years for one year and the poor only could glean. During harvest the fields could only be gone over once then the poor could go in. There was always justice and social justice and distribution of wealth. Jesus healed them all. Today we have cattle that don't graze but are fed on corn filled with growth hormones and antibiotics, chickens never seeing the sun with broken legs after a few months because of rapid growth for profit, pigs that never stand up though they are smarter than dogs all for the food industries. The grain companies feed these animals and it all goes for MONEY while corporate Christianity is more worried about the rapture and Armageddon then love and justice. Regulations let down increase lead, mercury, toxic chemicals and cancers and the evangelicals get used by the republican gangsters and rhetoric. GMO’s everywhere that are being questioned by more and more scientist and the right wing church is mum. Ministers preaching right out in the open, vote for these right wing gang leaders and not loosing their tax exempt status! Don't be fooled. It is the rich and major companies that have shipped the jobs out of here; it is not the poor and the middle class. They won’t tax the rich and still give exemptions to the OIL COMPANIES! C’mon folks! ! ! Don’t be fooled!
Big Oil just posted multibillion-dollar profits – AGAIN – and what are Republicans doing? Filibustering a jobs bill. Refusing to make billionaires pay their fair share. Basically anything they can do for the benefit of their wealthy buddies in the top 1% - and at the expense of the middle class. They don't want the middle class strengthened in any way as to give any credit to the left because they don't love their country. They love their power, the rich, the elite and all they do is grandstand and block help for hurting people.
I am for the party that distributes the wealth, that helps kids get to college, that supports women, that supports the mentally ill and doesn’t cut funding, that doesn’t allow companies to pollute and ruin the environment, that is green and wanting clean technology for our children, that leaves the rivers and lakes and wilderness in tact for future generations, that supports unions and good wages for working people with good benefits and a future, that believes is social security, that wants healthcare for every single citizen. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Do onto others as you would want them to do unto you. Do you want healthcare for you and yours, do you want college for your children, do you want clean water, do you want a good job for you and your children? ? ? Then fight these greedy, evil republicans of today who support the 1% of the filthy rich while they dismantle and take away the middle class in a horrible battle of class warfare. See what the Bible preaches about the rich and oppressors. The Scriptures constantly lift up the poor and working people and condemn the rich and those that do not share the wealth. I don’t care about names or tags but as a Christian I cannot see the 1% have all the marbles and allow our country to be taken over by these gangsters and liars. These right-wingers of today support the rich. Powerful and greedy and they are trying for the evangelical vote and bubba while taking bread off everyone’s table except their own. DON’T BE FOOLED
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Days Of 49
Im old tom moore from the bummers shore in that good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares I for praise ?
I wander around from town to town just like a roving sign
And all the people say, there goes tom moore, in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How ofttimes I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.
My comrades they all loved me well, a jolly saucy crew
A few hard cases I will recall though they all were brave and true
Whatever the pitch they never would flinch, they never would fret or whine
Like good old bricks they stood the kicks in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How ofttimes I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.
There was new york jake, the butcher boy, he was always getting tight
And every time that hed get full he was spoiling for a fight
But jake rampaged against a knife in the hands of old bob stein
And over jake they held a wake in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How ofttimes I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.
There was poker bill, one of the boys who was always in a game
Whether he lost or whether he won, to him it was always the same
He would ante up and draw his cards and he would you go a hatful blind
In the game with death bill lost his breath, in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How ofttimes I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.
There was ragshag bill from buffalo, I never will forget
He would roar all day and hed roar all night and I guess hes roaring yet
One day he fell in a prospect hole, in a roaring bad design
And in that hole he roared out his soul, in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How ofttimes I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.
Of the comrades all that Ive had, theres none thats left to boast
And Im left alone in my misery like some poor wandering ghost
And I pass by from town to town, they call me a rambling sign
There goes tom moore, a bummer shore in the days of 49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How ofttimes I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of 49.
song performed by Bob Dylan
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De Profundis
I
The face, which, duly as the sun,
Rose up for me with life begun,
To mark all bright hours of the day
With hourly love, is dimmed away—
And yet my days go on, go on.
II
The tongue which, like a stream, could run
Smooth music from the roughest stone,
And every morning with ' Good day'
Make each day good, is hushed away,
And yet my days go on, go on.
III
The heart which, like a staff, was one
For mine to lean and rest upon,
The strongest on the longest day
With steadfast love, is caught away,
And yet my days go on, go on.
IV
And cold before my summer's done,
And deaf in Nature's general tune,
And fallen too low for special fear,
And here, with hope no longer here,
While the tears drop, my days go on.
V
The world goes whispering to its own,
‘This anguish pierces to the bone;’
And tender friends go sighing round,
‘What love can ever cure this wound ?'
My days go on, my days go on.
VI
The past rolls forward on the sun
And makes all night. O dreams begun,
Not to be ended! Ended bliss,
And life that will not end in this!
My days go on, my days go on.
VII
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Days in Red
Days days days in red
In days days days ahead
The sun is in autumn light
And moon of glowing dark
Sky deep and high
Days days days in red
Flowing on hours in night
Where love lost its flight
Once those were alright
Now they no more spark
Days days days in red
In days days days ahead
The sun is in autumn light
Is there a horizon of ignite
Where hours go on by
Days days days in red
Flowing memories at sight
No feeling seems now right
But love's still inside
Come come babe now close abide
Days days days in red
In days days days ahead
The sun is in autumn light
Is there a horizon of ignite
Where hours go on by
Days days days in red
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Fourth Book
THEY met still sooner. 'Twas a year from thence
When Lucy Gresham, the sick semptress girl,
Who sewed by Marian's chair so still and quick,
And leant her head upon the back to cough
More freely when, the mistress turning round,
The others took occasion to laugh out,–
Gave up a last. Among the workers, spoke
A bold girl with black eyebrows and red lips,–
'You know the news? Who's dying, do you think?
Our Lucy Gresham. I expected it
As little as Nell Hart's wedding. Blush not, Nell,
Thy curls be red enough without thy cheeks;
And, some day, there'll be found a man to dote
On red curls.–Lucy Gresham swooned last night,
Dropped sudden in the street while going home;
And now the baker says, who took her up
And laid her by her grandmother in bed,
He'll give her a week to die in. Pass the silk.
Let's hope he gave her a loaf too, within reach,
For otherwise they'll starve before they die,
That funny pair of bedfellows! Miss Bell,
I'll thank you for the scissors. The old crone
Is paralytic–that's the reason why
Our Lucy's thread went faster than her breath,
Which went too quick, we all know. Marian Erle!
Why, Marian Erle, you're not the fool to cry?
Your tears spoil Lady Waldemar's new dress,
You piece of pity!'
Marian rose up straight,
And, breaking through the talk and through the work,
Went outward, in the face of their surprise,
To Lucy's home, to nurse her back to life
Or down to death. She knew by such an act,
All place and grace were forfeit in the house,
Whose mistress would supply the missing hand
With necessary, not inhuman haste,
And take no blame. But pity, too, had dues:
She could not leave a solitary soul
To founder in the dark, while she sate still
And lavished stitches on a lady's hem
As if no other work were paramount.
'Why, God,' thought Marian, 'has a missing hand
This moment; Lucy wants a drink, perhaps.
Let others miss me! never miss me, God!'
So Marian sat by Lucy's bed, content
With duty, and was strong, for recompense,
To hold the lamp of human love arm-high
To catch the death-strained eyes and comfort them,
Until the angels, on the luminous side
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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Class has a sense of humor. It knows that a good laugh is the best lubricant for oiling the machinery of human relations. Class never makes excuses. It takes its lumps and learns from past mistakes. Class bespeaks an aristocracy unrelated to ancestors or money. Some extremely wealthy people have no class at all, while others who are struggling to make ends meet are loaded with it. Class is real. You can't fake it. Class never tries to build itself up by tearing others down. Class is already up and need not attempt to look better by making others look worse. Everyone is comfortable with the person who has class because he is comfortable with himself. If you have class, you've got it made. If you don't have class, no matter what else you have, it won't make up for it.
quote by Ann Landers
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Working Class Hero
As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.
song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by John Lennon from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)
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Everything Is Kiling Me....
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
poem by Adnan Zahedi
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Separating The Mind From The Heart
Here we go again
Their is blood in the water
From those who thought they were smarter
A castration with humiliation
You can't defy the laws of gravity
What is will always be
At least so it seems.
Separating the mind from the heart
Trying not act so torn apart
I was took under
I made a blunder
I still hear the sound of thunder
But when you are just so down are your luck
One more can never be enough
Just never enough
Symptomatic to the climatic
Drama gots her needs
She is the devil
And walks inside me
Here we go again
Their is blood in the water
From those who thought they were smarter
A castration with humiliation
You can't defy the laws of gravity
What is will always be
At least so it seems.
Separating the mind from the heart
Trying not act so torn apart
I was took under
I made a blunder
I still hear the sound of thunder
Far from perfect
Every flaw is desired
If only I can be rewired
Set my soul on fire
Let burn brighter
Let it reach the farthest shore
A beautiful coast to most
Here we go again
Their is blood in the water
From those who thought they were smarter
A castration with humiliation
You can't defy the laws of gravity
What is will always be
[...] Read more
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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30 Days Out
We fell in love and I made you the world
I spent all my time tryin to satisfy you, girl
Just one thing that I cant figure out [? ]
Closer I get, farther baby I am out [? ]
30 days, 30 days out
Well Im six days runnin but Im 30 days out
30 days, 30 days out
With every kiss you leave a little shadow of doubt
The roof was leakin honey where we live
And Im wonderin whats that something that you wont give
I started loving you but I gotta stop
You got me mostly waitin for that other shoe to drop
30 days, 30 days out
You keep me six days runnin but Im 30 days out
30 days, 30 days out
With every kiss you leave a little shadow of doubt
Tried to talk about whats goin on
You just smile and tell me baby there aint nothin wrong
In your smile theres a sign in red
It said thousand miles of hard road dead ahead
30 days, 30 days out
Yeah Im six days runnin but Im 30 days out
30 days, 30 days out
With every kiss you leave a little shadow of doubt
30 days, 30 days out
Well Im six days runnin but Im 30 days out
30 days, 30 days out
With every kiss you leave a little shadow of doubt
song performed by Bruce Springsteen
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Days
- Album: Reality
- Lyrics and music by David Bowie
Hold me tight
Keep me cool
Going mad
Don't know what to do
Do I need a friend?
Well I need one now
All the days of my life
All the days of my life
All the days I owe you
All I've done
I've done for me
All you gave
You gave for free
I gave nothing in return
And theres little left of me
All the days of my life
All the days of my life
All the days I owe you
With redeyed pain I'm knocking on your door again
My crazy brain in tangles pleading for your gentle voice
Those storms keep pounding through my faded heart
I'll play your sooth my sorry soul
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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These Are The Days
Ah ah
Heres a song
About living in the past
If it was so good then
How come it didnt last?
If it helps you
Ill put it in a phrase
Those were the times
But these are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
The times youre smiling back on
Had that great sitcom
It hardly compensated
For the terror of the bomb
Let me help
cause youre looking through a haze
Those were the times
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey hey
These are the days
Can you hear me now?
These are the days
Look around look around look around
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey live today
These are the days
Its time to put the past away
These are the days
The more you do the more you say
These are the days
The more I need to get away
Youre longing for a time
There never was
Now tell me the truth
Youre looking for the reason
Its because
Youre fighting for youth
But if I have to listen any more
To fantasy talk
Or any other bug you have
Im leaving
Now Im not saying
Everything is really great
Hey hey hey
[...] Read more
song performed by Human League
Added by Lucian Velea
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Oh Happy Days
Oh happy days,
Everyone likes you.
Oh happy days,
Please stay today.
Oh happy days,
Sweet like honey.
Oh happy days,
loving family ties.
Oh happy days,
Giving us strength.
Oh happy days,
Children out playing.
Oh happy days,
On the green grass.
Oh happy days,
With boundless optimism.
Oh happy days,
I give thanks.
Oh happy days,
Dreaming for more.
Oh happy days,
Warm and bright.
Oh happy days,
Like love eternal.
Oh happy days,
And glad memories.
Oh happy days,
New hope prayers.
Oh happy days,
With smiling faces.
Oh happy days,
Holidays and health.
Oh happy days,
With close friends.
[...] Read more
poem by Rowina Mallick
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Working Class Hero
(alan jackson/don sampson)
A callused right hand
Holds a shiny gold watch
For thirty years spent on the clock
But you wont see no tears
>from this workin class hero
Hes always been hard as a rock
But he knows hes too old
To really start over
Besides he just wouldnt know how
I guess hes just glad
That hes not alone
But hes got to wonder what now
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old working class hero lives on
That three-bedroom house
He built in the 50s
Seems so much bigger today
With just him and mama
And not many bills
cause all of the kids moved away
What hes done with his life
Might not be remembered
But hes got every right to be proud
cause the blood sweatin years
Of this workin class hero
Is really what livins about
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old workin class hero lives on
Yes, that workin class hero lives on
That workin class hero lives on
song performed by Alan Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Clerk
The unsoiled hand, the sleek, black coat,
The senile, ledger-haunted hours,
The knowledge that my freeman's vote
Is humbly cast to please 'the powers,'
A futile spite against the mass,
A small, weak hate of Labor's side,
These privileges of Our Class
I cherish with a puny pride.
The sycophancy of the snob,
The day-long cringe, the life-long fear
That I may lose a steady job
That 'job genteel' I hold so dear
These be the splendid attributes
Of one who yearns to emulate
His master; and all work-soiled brutes
Regards with mean, reflected hate.
Not mine the arrogance of wealth,
No pride in honest labor mine;
But while I still hold life and health
My pet ambition is to shine
A small, pale star that faintly glows
In Fat's impressive firmament,
The while I earn mere food and clothes,
And help the boss to cent. per cent.
Ambition? E'en my timid soul
Dreams of a day when I shall rule;
When I may heckle and control
The trembling slaves of desk and stool;
When I shall be of Fat myself
Who now but dangles at his skirt.
A magnate! Armed with pow'r and pelf.
Meet recompense for eating dirt.
I mark the lowly toiler rage.
'Resist!' he cries. 'Resist! Unite!'
The while I sue for patronage -
A deferential parasite.
Then to my aid comes Pride of Class,
I take my stand beside the Boss.
I earn his praise! .... Although, alas,
His gain, mayhap, will be my loss.
For who would risk a master's ire
That deity who rules my life,
That god who may, in vengeance dire,
Snatch happiness from 'child' and wife?
'Rights!' shout the horny-handed. 'Rights!'
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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