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We're the Tom Tom Club and our studio is the Clubhouse. It a way of making it a little more personal.

quote by Chris Frantz
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Personal

Anything you want from me
Ill do
But first
Lets get personal
Personal
Personal
Personal
Lets get personal
Personal
Personal
Personal
Personal with you
Were sittin havin dinner at your parents home
Some of the finest food Ive ever known
But I need some sweetness on my tongue
And it aint a type of sugar oh no
So maybe we can go somewhere
Neighbour room girl I dont care
Wheres the bedroom
(its upstairs)
Ill meet you there in a minute
Girl so we can get
Lets get personal (ooh yeah)
Personal (tight baby)
Personal (maybe we can get)
Personal (just a little, just a little bit)
Lets get personal (ooh yay)
Personal (I wanna get personal)
Personal (come on baby, just trust me)
Personal (I wanna get)
Personal with you
Im behind you in your bedroom with your hands against the wall
But keeping one eye on the door
Got your t-shirt and your panties on
Ooh I feel so right, cant be wrong, no
I know you like it when I touch you there
Girl just keep it quiet or theyll hear
Feel the tremblin all down your leg
Id love to head to your bed
So that we can get
Personal
Shhh
Should I take off my clothes (no)
Put the lock on the door
Let go of your deepest inhibitions
Let me fulfil your fantasies girl
Like me touching you there (yeah)
The way that I play with your hair
Emotions running wild until we stop
Yeah

[...] Read more

song performed by Craig David
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Grandfather Bridgeman

I

'Heigh, boys!' cried Grandfather Bridgeman, 'it's time before dinner to-day.'
He lifted the crumpled letter, and thumped a surprising 'Hurrah!'
Up jumped all the echoing young ones, but John, with the starch in his throat,
Said, 'Father, before we make noises, let's see the contents of the note.'
The old man glared at him harshly, and twinkling made answer: 'Too bad!
John Bridgeman, I'm always the whisky, and you are the water, my lad!'

II

But soon it was known thro' the house, and the house ran over for joy,
That news, good news, great marvels, had come from the soldier boy;
Young Tom, the luckless scapegrace, offshoot of Methodist John;
His grandfather's evening tale, whom the old man hailed as his son.
And the old man's shout of pride was a shout of his victory, too;
For he called his affection a method: the neighbours' opinions he knew.

III

Meantime, from the morning table removing the stout breakfast cheer,
The drink of the three generations, the milk, the tea, and the beer
(Alone in its generous reading of pints stood the Grandfather's jug),
The women for sight of the missive came pressing to coax and to hug.
He scattered them quick, with a buss and a smack; thereupon he began
Diversions with John's little Sarah: on Sunday, the naughty old man!

IV

Then messengers sped to the maltster, the auctioneer, miller, and all
The seven sons of the farmer who housed in the range of his call.
Likewise the married daughters, three plentiful ladies, prime cooks,
Who bowed to him while they condemned, in meek hope to stand high in his books.
'John's wife is a fool at a pudding,' they said, and the light carts up hill
Went merrily, flouting the Sabbath: for puddings well made mend a will.

V

The day was a van-bird of summer: the robin still piped, but the blue,
As a warm and dreamy palace with voices of larks ringing thro',
Looked down as if wistfully eyeing the blossoms that fell from its lap:
A day to sweeten the juices: a day to quicken the sap.
All round the shadowy orchard sloped meadows in gold, and the dear
Shy violets breathed their hearts out: the maiden breath of the year!

VI

Full time there was before dinner to bring fifteen of his blood,
To sit at the old man's table: they found that the dinner was good.
But who was she by the lilacs and pouring laburnums concealed,

[...] Read more

poem by George Meredith
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The Life And Death Of Tom Thumb

In Arthur's court Tom Thumb did live,
A man of mickle might ;
The best of all the table round,
And eke a doughty knight.
His stature but an inch in height,
Or quarter of a span :
Then think you not this little knight
Was proved a valiant man ?

His father was a ploughman plain,
His mother milk'd the cow,
Yet how that they might have a son
They knew not what to do :
Until such time this good old man
To learned Merlin goes,
And there to him his deep desires
In secret manner shows.

How in his heart he wish'd to have
A child, in time to come,
To be his heir, though it might be
No bigger than his thumb.

Of which old Merlin thus foretold,
That he his wish should have,
And so this son of statue small
The charmer to him gave.

No blood nor bones in him should be,
In shape, and being such
That men should hear him speak, but not
His wandering shadow touch.

But so unseen to go or come,—
Whereas it pleas'd him still ;
Begot and born in half and hour,
To fit his father's will.

And in four minutes grew so fast
That he became so tall
As was the ploughman's thumb in height,
And so they did him call—
TOM THUMB, the which the fairy queen
There gave him to his name,
Who, with her train of goblins grim,
Unto his christening came.

Whereas she cloth'd him richly brave,
In garments fine and fair,
Which lasted him for many years

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Our Car Club

Ive been cruisin round the town now with the guys for quite a while
We been thinkin bout starting up a club that shows some class and style
And well get the finest cars
We got a deuce coupe, a stingray, a rail job and an xke
(well start a car club)
Well be the fastest at the drags, man, well really cut some low ets
(well start a car club)
And wipe out the other clubs
Well set a meet, and get a sponsor, and collect some dues
And you can bet that well have our jackets on wherever we cruise
Well get the roughest and the toughest initiation we can find
(well start a car club)
And if you want to try to get in well really put you through the grind
(well start a car club)
This clubs the very best
Well set a meet, and get a sponsor, and collect some dues
And you can bet that well have our jackets on wherever we cruise
Well get the roughest and the toughest initiation we can find
(well start a car club)
And if you want to try to get in well really send you through the grind
(well start a car club)
This clubs the very best
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)

song performed by Beach Boys
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Tear Da Club Up 97

Intro: three six mafia (repeat 7x)
Tear da club up, nigga, tear da club up
[dj paul]
This for all you playa haters who be talkin that...(ha ha)
The three six show no love, put some hurt on a trick
Im bustin through the crowd, wild, with my hand on a cannon
Be like quick to put two up in ya like who mana standin
I be the last man, blast man
If you think you fast man, headlines
Three left em up in a cast man
When I look into your eyes I see a coward
Face to face I hit ya
Three six mafiad rather die than
[lord infamous]
Lord, hittin, here comes the two to the three and four
Three six mafia I want ya to wreck it all over the club floor
Blowin and throwin your sets in the air
Ya bumpin them tables and chests everywhere
Trampled over by the macs and the playas
You standin there actin like you wonder where
It aint said we the hardest,
And you cant rock it like three six mafia can
All up in a trance in the prophecy van
We gonna tear the club up, get it bucked till it dont eelin me
(.....? ? .....)
Chorus: three six mafia (repeat 8x)
Tear da club up, nigga, tear da club up
[juicy j]
We tearin the club up, gettin buck
Haters try to call it rough
They better call security, bring them straight jackets and handcuffs
Aint takin it, aint takin it
The clutches I be breakin it
And rippin off the bosses and tossin them to the floor, bricks
Going through the window, got that thing at your temple
When they bust, keep it trust, and we aint talkin bout bustin pimples
Haters cant get with the mafia click, them fools aint buck enough
We gonna get the dynamite trick, and blow the club up
[gangsta boo]
Crazy lady comin at you, you cant fade me trick
I bet you bet you bottom dollar make you holla
When my soldiers get ya, I dont like that violence stuff
But I believe in gettin buck
If you with me, let me see you tear da, tear da club up
Mafia, mafi-mafia, wont stop with it though
Hypnotizing minds, we got you blind and you cant hear me though
Come and get it while you can trick, before its all gone
Goin once, goin twice, oh my God it just went gone
[crunchy black]
Oh, oh, oh, get buck, get wild

[...] Read more

song performed by Three 6 Mafia
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The King Of Brentford’s Testament

The noble King of Brentford
Was old and very sick,
He summon'd his physicians
To wait upon him quick;
They stepp'd into their coaches
And brought their best physick.

They cramm'd their gracious master
With potion and with pill;
They drench'd him and they bled him;
They could not cure his ill.
'Go fetch,' says he, 'my lawyer,
I'd better make my will.'

The monarch's royal mandate
The lawyer did obey;
The thought of six-and-eightpence
Did make his heart full gay.
'What is't,' says he, 'your Majesty
Would wish of me to-day?'

'The doctors have belabor'd me
With potion and with pill:
My hours of life are counted,
O man of tape and quill!
Sit down and mend a pen or two,
I want to make my will.

'O'er all the land of Brentford
I'm lord, and eke of Kew:
I've three-per-cents and five-per-cents;
My debts are but a few;
And to inherit after me
I have but children two.

Prince Thomas is my eldest son,
A sober Prince is he,
And from the day we breech'd him
Till now, he's twenty-three,
He never caused disquiet
To his poor Mamma or me.

'At school they never flogg'd him,
At college, though not fast,
Yet his little-go and great-go
He creditably pass'd,
And made his year's allowance
For eighteen months to last.

'He never owed a shilling.

[...] Read more

poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Club Soul City

Pack up your bags
Dont look back
Theres a little place
Out cross the the railroad tracks
If youre broken-hearted
And you dont know what to do
But they got a place down there thats just for you
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah
Theres a waitress at the back bar
Goes with the the guy that runs the place
Shes got hair like a weeping willow
And tears running down her face
Shes seen a lot of guys like you coming around
Looking for something that theyve lost
Or trying to lose something that theyve found
Down at
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah
So if youre down on your spirit
And there aint no-one who cares
If youre lost and youre lonely
You wont be lonely down there
You cant miss it, its just up the highway
On the front door theres a sign that says
Restricted to the losing kind
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah
Club soul, club soul city, yeah yeah yeah
Club soul, club soul city, oh yeah

song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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D. S.

Written and composed by michael jackson.
Produced by michael jackson.
They wanna get my ass
Dead or alive
You know he really tried to take me
Down by surprise
I bet he missioned with the cia
He don't do half what he say
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
He out shock in every single way
He'll stop at nothing just to get his political say
He think he hot cause he's bsta
I bet he never had a social life anyway
You think he brother with the kkk?
I bet his mother never taught him
Right anyway
He want your vote just to remain ta.
He don't do half what he say
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Thomas sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Does he send letters to the fbi?
Did he say to either do it or die?
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Thomas sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Tom sneddon is a cold man
Thomas sneddon is a cold man
(ad lib fade)

song performed by Michael Jackson
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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Wednesday's Child (Sheffield Wednesday Soccer Club)

It eats soccer. It breathes soccer. It lives soccer. It fades when it's team fades and it blooms when it's team blooms. It has the letters S.W. permanently etched upon it's brain and it probably even arranges it's Monopoly money in S.W. formations. What is it, you ask? It's a soccer fan. You knew that, didn't you? But it isn't just any soccer fan. It is specifically a Sheffield Wednesday soccer fan. Or addict, for want of a better word.

Yes, of course, even I know about Liverpool, Everton, Arsenal and Man. United fans. They're the normal, run-of-the-mill type but Owls supporters are really Something Else!

I have had the somewhat dubious good fortune of becoming rather well acquainted with one of these strange 'animals' but until today, I'd managed to evade any one-to-one discourse on the merits or demerits of one man's passion for his team. On the face of it, you could say I asked for it. In a weak moment, I queried how his team had fared over the past week or so. It was like asking a hypochondriac the state of his health.

Well, there I was, supposedly having a cup of tea with his wife, my friend Sheila. But Sheila knew the signs and, together with two equally clued-up daughters, had opportunely beaten a hasty retreat into the garden. They had long since paid their dues. Now, it was my turn.

It was a reasonably tentative beginning. It is more than probable that Ken, the addict, suspected I would never stay the course but feeling somewhat emotionally trapped by the knowledge that he had no sons with whom to share his enthrallment of the game, what else could I do but don my interested-looking mask, take a deep breath and settle back to hear him out. By tacit consent, we both knew that I was a victim of sorts. Destiny rides again!

My heart sunk a little when I realised that he was starting from scratch. From the actual day when his team first started playing. His enthusiasm was boundless but somehow I found myself becoming absorbed in what he was saying. His eyes took on a bright, azure sparkle and his mouth was motoring at twice the speed of sound as it travelled back and forth in time. I stared in mute fascination. This was for real! This was the guy's life. Dear Lord, where was I when enthusiasm for anything was dished out? I raised my eyes Heavenwards and found myself looking straight into those of a grey, woolly owl who was peering down at me from a built-in show-case. The Sheffield Wednesday Football Club mascot. I knew I was a gonner when I found myself asking how the Club had come to be so named.

Sheffield Wednesday, as we know it today, Ken told me, came into being in 1867 as the football section of the Wednesday Cricket Club, which had been in existence since 1820. The cricket club had been the creation of a group of Sheffield craftsmen who gave it the name 'Wednesday' for the simple reason that that was the day when they took regular afternoons off to pursue their sporting enthusiasms.

Not surprisingly, perhaps, the meeting at which the football section was formed took place on a Wednesday and this, at a local sporting pub, The Adelphi. Members of the cricket club called the meeting because they wanted a way of keeping everybody together during the winter months but the step was probably partly inspired by the dramatic increase in football's popularity in the town over the previous ten years.

Ken's eyes misted over somewhat as he proudly told me that it had been Sheffield who had led the way in organised football even before the birth of the national FA in 1863. So Wednesday no doubt felt it appropriate to have their own football section. At the very least, it would mean that their players would not be tempted to drift off to other clubs at the end of the summer and forget to return in the following spring.

The founders could not have imagined that the infant football section would become the dominant partner. So strong, in fact, that within sixteen years it would break free and Wednesday Football Club would become one of the most famous names in English football - and a force in the professional game to boot (no pun intended!) Would they also have believed that the Cricket Club would survive only until 1924 and then die through lack of support, so that today, it is all but forgotten.

By now, there was no doubt that Ken knew he had my attention for I was leaning forward in my chair, hanging onto every word. Vortex-like, my concentration was being pulled and drawn into the centre of what could only be described as the secret world of the soccer-addict; a passionate and breathtaking intensity which would encompass anything related thereto, from a humble soccer boot to a moth-eaten ticket to some long-ago and memorable match played.

'Look! ' he said, paging through a well-thumbed book, 'here's a picture of Wednesday's first match at Olive Grove. This site was bought from the Duke of Norfolk. Did you know that? ' As if I would! But no reply was necessary as he pressed on regardless to tell me about how officials at the time were unable to persuade either Preston or Aston Villa to provide the opposition for a match but Blackburn Rovers did decide to accept the invitation to play. Things weren't going too well but I wanted to fall off my chair to show him how thrilled I was too when Wednesday recovered from a three-goal deficit to draw 4-4 but he wouldn't have noticed. He was in another world.

And then he was down in the depths again as he showed me pictures of headlines proclaiming how Dooley had broken his leg at Deepdale way back in 1953. It was to be the end of the big centre-forward's career. Oh, shame, Ken, I said. And I really meant it.

1954-55 proved to be a disastrous season with Wednesday finishing bottom of the table, nine points below relegation companions Leicester City. The Owls won only 8 games, losing 24 and conceding 100 goals. However, Ken assured me, they won the Second Division Championship in 1955-56 with three points to spare and in the following season they finished mid-table. But, oh dear, by 1957-58 they were down again. The Addict's voice faded and I thought he had been called by the angels.

'And then....? ' I encouraged. Momentarily, he seemed to surface.

'Go on, get along with you, ' he said with a half-smile, 'you're not really interested.'

'Oh, I am, I am, ' I protested gamely, whereupon he went on to tell me all about the so-called bribes scandal or betting-coup revelations which broke in the Sunday newspapers of 1964. Not only did Wednesday suffer in terms of its reputation but it also lost two of its best players.

The situation sounded sufficiently grave for me to try my mournful-look but no, it wasn't necessary as The Addict changed course and went on to tell me the good news about how in 1971, that bloke Dooley, (who'd broken his leg 18 years or so earlier and subsequently had to have it amputated) had been made manager of the club. He was still an idol in the city and the folk-hero of Hillsborough. But his magic was limited and he proved that he was as human as anyone else in his lack of anticipated performance.

But Sheila was rattling crockery in the kitchen and the thought of a nice cup of tea was becoming more and more enticing. Escape was out of the question. We still had about twenty years more to work through! There's a limit to a body's endurance and a feminine mind's appreciation of a predominantly masculine interest.

So, a little less stoically now, I went 'up' with the Owls and 'down' with the Owls as we travelled through from one Division to another over a timespan of many years. But much of their pain was to dissolve in relief when in 1985, they reached their highest position for 25 years by coming fifth in the FA Cup semi-Final. Even if they did lose to Everton.

In that same year, Wednesday were to equalise in the dying seconds of the match with Chelsea. They were 3-O up at half-time and I can well imagine how Ken had nearly fallen off his chair when hearing on the BBC World Service later that evening that the game had ended at 4-4. He still hasn't got over the sheer horror of it all.

There was no stopping him now and I just had to give in and hear about how the next time round, Chelsea lost the toss with the Owls' Chairman tossing the coin and the replay going to Stamford Bridge. Wednesday lost 2-1 proving that the Chelsea bogey had struck again. 'We can't even beat a bunch of pensioners, ' the Addict grinned. I was impressed by his ability not to take himself and his beloved team too seriously.

'And last year, you actually visited the Club, didn't you? ' I asked, determined to hastily gobble up the few remaining years so that I could go and have my tea. I knew of course that the highlight of his addicthood had been when Wednesday were promoted to First Division by beating Man. United in the Rumbelows League Cup Final at Wembley and didn't want to go into all that lot again. Like I said, there's a limit........

'Ah yes, ' he replied dreamily. Even he was beginning to tire. But no, not yet. I had a feeling we were about to move into extra time. More like injury-time, one would say.

'Come, ' he said, leading me towards a cupboard filled with everything and anything that could have any association whatsoever with his team. I'd seen it all before and I would see it again, but there's an indisputable thrill of sharing both old-time and current mementoes and memorabilia of a soccer club, some six thousand miles away, right here in the living room of one of its most ardent supporters.

[...] Read more

poem by Margaret Kollmer
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Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist

Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist,
discovers a tiny brown lesion
on the end of his nose.
he uses his wife’s
concave make up mirror
to examine it more closely
and confirms his worse suspicions:
It’s malignant.
Coolly, he makes
one appointment with his dermatologist
and another in Samara.
After brushing his teeth
he takes another look
at the tiny brown Angel of Death.
It flakes off
-a brown booger.
Buzz cancels his appointments
and craves a celebratory drink terribly,
but summons his fantastic will power
and resists the urge.

II
Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist,
lands on the Dark Side of the Moon
and meets the indigenous Moonpupiks,
who are heavily armed yet friendly.
He has sex with many tribeswomen,
but fends off the attentions of the polymorphous perverse
tribesmen, and tells all that they must
dropp their religion and adopt the
State Religion of NASA, Tanglicanism,
which uses Tang for communion wine.
The natives say they don’t mind a bit
as they are lapsed Moonitarians
and were looking for something to fill the gap.
Disappointed they don’t offer more conversion resistance,
Buzz orders the leaders beheaded
and claims the Dark Side of the Moon
in the name of Rio Tinto,
an Australian mining corporation
whose logo he wears on his helmet
and ship.
Then he wakes up.

II(a)
Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist
takes another nap and,
against the advice of his fellow astronauts,
brings 4 or 5 Moonpupiks (MOON pu pix)
back to the Court of Richard Nixon, Imperial Vizard,

[...] Read more

poem by Percy Dovetonsils
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Bang Your Pans If You Wish

Bang your pans,
If you wish...
With empty cans,
If you wish...
And then demand,
If you wish...

To make your situation,
Like a personal damnation.

Bang your pans,
If you wish...
With empty cans,
If you wish...
And then demand,
If you wish...

To make your situation,
Like a personal damnation.

You're not the only one,
Who has loaded shoulders.
Today the young and older ones...
Have little to eat.

You're not the only one,
Whose shoulders are bent over.
Who needs to lay their head somewhere,
And get some sleep!

Bang your pans,
If you wish...
With empty cans,
If you wish...
And then demand,
If you wish...

To make your situation,
Like a personal damnation.

Bang your pans,
If you wish...
With empty cans,
If you wish...
And then demand,
If you wish...

To make your situation,
Like a personal damnation.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poor Tom

(page/plant)
Heres a tale of tom
Who worked the railroads long
His wife would cook his meal
As he would change the wheel
Poor tom, seventh son, always knew whats goin on
Aint a thing that you can hide from tom
There aint nothing that you can hide from tom
Worked for thirty years
Sharing hopes and fears
Dreamin of the day
He could turn and say
Poor tom, works done, been lazin out in the noonday sun
Aint a thing that you can hide from tom
His wife was annie mae
With any man a game shed play
When tom was out of town
She couldnt keep her dress down
Poor tom, seventh son, always knew whats goin on
Aint a thing that you can hide from tom
And so it was one day
People got to annie mae (? )
Tom stood, a gun in his hand
And stopped her runnin around
Poor tom, seventh son, gotta die for what youve done
All those years of work are thrown away
To ease your mind is that all you can say?
But what about that grandson on your knee?
Them railroad songs, tom would sing to me
Aint nothing that you can hide from tom
Keep-a truckin

song performed by Led Zeppelin
Added by Lucian Velea
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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
Added by Poetry Lover
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Paradise Knife & Gun Club

(chick rains)
Joe bob was rough as a cob
And prone to blow his stack
Kenny dean was in a suicide scene
Sneaking behind joes back
Sneaking around with joes girl, june
She liked the boys in the band
And when they all got together on saturday night
It was easy to understand why
They called it saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
And theres drinking and dancing to the music of bobby lee and the blackjacks
It was saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
If you was looking for some trouble you could find it I guarantee
Now the only other place was a man named jack
And he wouldnt take talking back
He was married to a woman named may
She took up the slack
Well he knocked you out and shed drag you out
And leave you in the parking lot
And when you wake up in the morning with a busted head
Youre just happy that was all you got
On saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
And theres drinking and dancing to the music of bobby lee and the blackjacks
It was saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
If you was looking for some trouble you could find it I guarantee
Well the night joe bob found out
That kenny dean was sneaking around with june
He caught bobby lee and the band
In the middle of an old hank williams tune
Bobby lee cried out your cheatin heart
And that was just the spark it took
And when the fighting got started
Everybody took part and that whole damn building shook
Until the sheriff came out and stopped the bout
Hauled everybody to jail
When the judge saw the blood and the chewed up ears
He turned a whiter shade of pale
He said, good God yall
Whats happened here, somebody start a wwiii
Well kenny dean just grinned the best he could
Said your honor it seems to me
Like it was just another saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
And theres drinking and dancing to the music of bobby lee and the blackjacks
It was saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
If you was looking for some trouble you could find it I guarantee
On saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
And theres drinking and dancing to the music of bobby lee and the blackjacks
It was saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club
If you was looking for some trouble you could find it I guarantee
On saturday night at the paradise knife and gun club

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song performed by Lonestar
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tom Van Arden

Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
Our warm fellowship is one
Far too old to comprehend
Where its bond was first begun:
Mirage-like before my gaze
Gleams a land of other days,
Where two truant boys, astray,
Dream their lazy lives away.

There's a vision, in the guise
Of Midsummer, where the Past
Like a weary beggar lies
In the shadow Time has cast;
And as blends the bloom of trees
With the drowsy hum of bees,
Fragrant thoughts and murmurs blend,
Tom Van Arden, my old friend.

Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
All the pleasures we have known
Thrill me now as I extend
This old hand and grasp your own--
Feeling, in the rude caress,
All affection's tenderness;
Feeling, though the touch be rough,
Our old souls are soft enough.

So we'll make a mellow hour:
Fill your pipe, and taste the wine--
Warp your face, if it be sour,
I can spare a smile from mine;
If it sharpen up your wit,
Let me feel the edge of it--
I have eager ears to lend,
Tom Van Arden, my old friend.

Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
Are we 'lucky dogs,' indeed?
Are we all that we pretend
In the jolly life we lead?--
Bachelors, we must confess,
Boast of 'single blessedness'
To the world, but not alone--
Man's best sorrow is his own!

And the saddest truth is this,--
Life to us has never proved
What we tasted in the kiss
Of the women we have loved:
Vainly we congratulate

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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Intermission Ii

No you not goin
I am goin to the club, I am goin,
No, Im not havin it
I am goin to the club wit you and the boys
You not hangin out wit the boys
No...
I aint never been Im goin...(ring)
Ima go and get the phone but
I am goin to the club
Hello
T-boz
Yeah
Uh, get down to the studio quick you hafta
Hurry you gotta do your part
Yeah, yeah alright Ill be there
Alright...
Thanks, bye
Look, I gotta go to the studio so whats it gonna be
You gon take me or what?
Dang, you gotta go to the studio...
I was gonna take you to the club but ah....
Now why you lyin?
Look, let me tell you somethin, just forget that
*bang, whop, punch...*
Ahhhhhhhh.......
Dont nobody have to take that from nobody
And wit dat I dont know who he think I am...
Shoot, Im about to go, Im gonna go to the studio alright
Ima take the car, he aint gonna go nowhere
Hey, what you doin?
What you think Im doin?
Leaving, leaving, leaving....
Hey, come here...
Tionne.....................

song performed by TLC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Uncle Tom's Cabin

Just for the record let's get the story straight
Me and Uncle Tom were fishin' it was gettin'
Pretty late
Out on a cypress limb above the wishin' well
Where they say it got no bottom say it take
You down to Hell
Over in the bushes and off to the right
Come two men talkin' in the pale moonlight
Sheriff John Brady and Deputy Hedge
Haulin' two limp bodies down to the water's edge
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's Cabin oh yea
I know a secret that I just can't tell
They didn't see me and Tom in the tree
Neither one believin' what the other could see
Tossed in the bodies let 'em sink on down
To the bottom of the well
Where they'd never be found
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's cabin oh yea
I know a secret that I just can't tell
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's Cabin
Know a secret that I just can't tell
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's Cabin
Know who put the bodies in the wishin' well
Soon as they were gone me & Tom got down
Prayin' real hard that we wouldn't make a sound
Runnin' through the woods back to Uncle Tom's shack
Where the full moon shines through the roof tile cracks
Oh my God Tom who are we gonna tell
The sheriff he belongs in a prison cell
Keep your mouth shut that's what we're gonna do
Unless you wanna wind up in the wishin' well too
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's Cabin
Know a secret that I just can't tell
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's Cabin
Know who put the bodies, know who put the bodies
in the wishin' well

song performed by Warrant
Added by Lucian Velea
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Uncle Tom's Cabin

Just for the record let's get the story straight
Me and Uncle Tom were fishin' it was gettin'
Pretty late
Out on a cypress limb above the wishin' well
Where they say it got no bottom say it take
You down to Hell
Over in the bushes and off to the right
Come two men talkin' in the pale moonlight
Sheriff John Brady and Deputy Hedge
Haulin' two limp bodies down to the water's edge
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's Cabin oh yea
I know a secret that I just can't tell
They didn't see me and Tom in the tree
Neither one believin' what the other could see
Tossed in the bodies let 'em sink on down
To the bottom of the well
Where they'd never be found
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's cabin oh yea
I know a secret that I just can't tell
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's Cabin
Know a secret that I just can't tell
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's Cabin
Know who put the bodies in the wishin' well
Soon as they were gone me & Tom got down
Prayin' real hard that we wouldn't make a sound
Runnin' through the woods back to Uncle Tom's shack
Where the full moon shines through the roof tile cracks
Oh my God Tom who are we gonna tell
The sheriff he belongs in a prison cell
Keep your mouth shut that's what we're gonna do
Unless you wanna wind up in the wishin' well too
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's Cabin
Know a secret that I just can't tell
I know a secret down at Uncle Tom's Cabin
Know who put the bodies, know who put the bodies
in the wishin' well

song performed by Warrant
Added by Lucian Velea
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Country Club

(Catesby Jones/Dennis Lord)
I took a double take out on the interstate
When I saw her makin' eyes at me
So I followed her down - the clubhouse drive
Past the pool on the 18th green
In the parkin' lot...I said it's mighty hot
Maybe I could buy you a beer
She said I'm glad you asked...but I'll have to pass
Cause only members are allowed in here...and I said
Well I'm a member of a country club
Country music is what I love
I drive an old Ford pick-up truck
I do my drink-in from a dixie cup
Yea I'm a bona-fide dancin' fool
I shoot a mighty mean game of pool
At any honky-tonk roadside pub
I'm a member of a country club
You look so invitin'...thought it might be excitin'
For a woman with a limousine
To go bouncin around...in a beat up truck
With a man...in wore out jeans
It's five o'clock before Friday night
Here's where the fun begins
So don't worry 'bout your reputation
Cause you can tell all your friends
Well I'm a member of a country club
Country music is what I love
I drive an old Ford pick-up truck
I do my drink-in from a dixie cup
Yea I'm a bona-fide dancin' fool
I shoot a mighty mean game of pool
At any honky-tonk roadside pub
I'm a member of a country club
Well I'm a member of a country club
Country music is what I love
I drive an old Ford pick-up truck
I do my drink-in from a dixie cup
Yea I'm a bona-fide dancin' fool
I shoot a mighty mean game of pool
At any honky-tonk roadside pub
I'm a member of a country club

song performed by Travis Tritt
Added by Lucian Velea
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