Precious Cargo
Cast: Bruce Willis, Claire Forlani, Mark-Paul Gosselaar, John Brotherton, Lydia Hull, Daniel Bernhardt, Ashley Kirk, Jenna B. Kelly, Tyler Jon Olson
trailer for Precious Cargo, directed by Max Adams (2016)
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John Daniel
(Dolly Parton)
John Daniel came to town one summer afternoon
Wearin' dirty work clothes so everyone presumed
He was just another logger from the loggin' camp nearby
And he was, but there was somethin' different in John Daniel's eyes
John Daniel was a young man, not more than twenty-four
And there was an air about him that one could not ignore
And in spite of callused hands & dirty clothes, his face was kind
And I wanted so to know what was in John Daniel's mind
John Daniel, tell me where did you come from; tell me where is it you've been
John Daniel, tell me why are you different from all of these other men
John Daniel, there's somethin' about you that I don't quite understand
John Daniel, do you hold the answer to a higher plan?
I rented him a room; he went upstairs like all the rest
It was Saturday and he'd be goin' in to town, I guessed
But he left in a robe and sandals, with a Bible in his hand;
And I thought to myself, John Daniel, I don't understand
Now I'd planned to meet some friends of mine when I got off at three,
In the park we often gather to talk of love and peace
When I got there I found that a crowd had gathered 'round;
And there I saw John Daniel a sittin' on the ground
John Daniel, tell me where did you come from; tell me where is it you've been
John Daniel, tell me why are you different from all of these other men
John Daniel, there's somethin' about you that I don't quite understand
John Daniel, do you hold the answer to a higher plan?
So, "You want to be free," he said, "Well, this is how you can."
As he read from the Bible he held in his hand
We were searchin' for the truth not knowin' where to look,
Not knowin' that the answers all were in John Daniel's book
John Daniel told us all how we could be free
John Daniel taught us all a better way for you and me
He came to us in our own way so we'd be sure to see
He had the light and essence of the man from Galilee
John Daniel, tell me where did you come from; tell me where is it you've been
John Daniel, tell me why are you different from all of these other men
John Daniel, there's something about you that I don't quite understand
John Daniel, do you hold the answer to a higher plan?
John Daniel, John Daniel, John Daniel
John Daniel do you hold the answer to a higher plan?
John Daniel came to town one summer afternoon
Wearin' dirty work clothes so everyone presumed
He was just another logger from the loggin' camp nearby
And he was, but there was somethin' different in John Daniel's eyes
Ooh, John Daniel, tell me where did you come from
Tell me where is it you've been
John Daniel, tell me why are you different from all of these other men
John Daniel, there's something about you that I don't quite understand
John Daniel, do you hold the answer to a higher plan?
song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wat Tyler - Act I
ACT I.
SCENE, A BLACKSMITH'S-SHOP
Wat Tyler at work within. A May-pole
before the Door.
ALICE, PIERS, &c.
SONG.
CHEERFUL on this holiday,
Welcome we the merry May.
On ev'ry sunny hillock spread,
The pale primrose rears her head;
Rich with sweets the western gale
Sweeps along the cowslip'd dale.
Every bank with violets gay,
Smiles to welcome in the May.
The linnet from the budding grove,
Chirps her vernal song of love.
The copse resounds the throstle's notes,
On each wild gale sweet music floats;
And melody from every spray,
Welcomes in the merry May.
Cheerful on this holiday,
Welcome we the merry May.
[Dance.
During the Dance, Tyler lays down his
Hammer, and sits mournfully down before
his Door.
[To him.
HOB CARTER.
Why so sad, neighbour?—do not these gay sports,
This revelry of youth, recall the days
When we too mingled in the revelry;
And lightly tripping in the morris dance
Welcomed the merry month?
TYLER.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Southey
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Robin Hood and the Monk
In somer, when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and long,
Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song,
To se the dere draw to the dale,
And leve the hilles hee,
And shadow hem in the leves grene,
Under the grene wode tre.
Hit befel on Whitson
Erly in a May mornyng,
The son up feyre can shyne,
And the briddis mery can syng.
'This is a mery mornyng,' seid Litull John,
'Be Hym that dyed on tre;
A more mery man then I am one
Lyves not in Cristianté.
'Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,'
Litull John can sey,
'And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme
In a mornyng of May.'
'Ye, on thyng greves me,' seid Robyn,
'And does my hert mych woo:
That I may not no solem day
To mas nor matyns goo.
'Hit is a fourtnet and more,' seid he,
'Syn I my Savyour see;
To day wil I to Notyngham,' seid Robyn,
'With the myght of mylde Marye.'
Than spake Moche, the mylner sun,
Ever more wel hym betyde!
'Take twelve of thi wyght yemen,
Well weppynd, be thi side.
Such on wolde thi selfe slon,
That twelve dar not abyde.'
'Of all my mery men,' seid Robyn,
'Be my feith I wil non have,
But Litull John shall beyre my bow,
Til that me list to drawe.'
'Thou shall beyre thin own,' seid Litull Jon,
'Maister, and I wyl beyre myne,
And we well shete a peny,' seid Litull Jon,
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Wonderful (Remix) (Feat. Ja Rule & R
Wonderful (Remix)?
(Featuring R. Kelly and Ja Rule)
(Intro- Harmony: R. Kelly)
Huuuummmha, ha, ha, huuummm.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh!
Oh, oh, oh, oh!
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh!
Oh, oh, oh, oh!
(Chorus: R. Kelly and Ashanti)
(R. Kelly:) If it wasnt for the money, cars and movies stars and jewels
And all these things I got, I wonder, hey.
Would you still want me (Ashanti: Want you)?
Would you still be calling me (Ashanti: Still calling you)?
You be loving me (Ashanti: Ill be loving you, uhhh-uhhh-uhhh-uhhh)?
(Rap: Ja Rule: Verse 1)
Wanna keep you flawed with no dough?
Pimpin aint easy. Trust me I know.
When gangstas and hos,
Go, go, go, go, go, go together like chinchilla and bad weather,
Im good but been better.
All my bros, chedda and glamorous things, copped a few cars.
A crib with a east and west wing.
Cause this is how Im livin and yall women know the secrets of how to get it and keep it, how to prey on my weakness,
Cause I want the P-U-S-S-Y.
Got a lotta niggaz wonderin it aint just I,
Gotta keep ya cash comin and that's on my life.
If it wasnt for the money and the things I got,
Shit, she probably wouldnt like me.
But I keep her and Irv and Jeffrey quite icy
Sip seraphin.
Who doesnt like me and the Murderous I-N-C?
(Chorus: R. Kelly and Ashanti)
(R. Kelly:) If it wasnt for the money, cars and movies stars and jewels
And all these things I got, I wonder, hey.
Would you still want me (Ashanti: Want you)?
Would you still be calling me (Ashanti: Still calling you)?
You be loving me (Ashanti: Ill be loving you, uhhh-uhhh-uhhh-uhhh)?
(Rap: Ja Rule [and R. Kelly]: Verse 2)
I wonder why love is about money
and why you wanna take it all from me?
Honey,
My life is dark but its lovely.
Crimes, cars, cribs.
Aint that right Kelly
(R. Kelly: Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh!)?
Yall bitches dont know,
Money aint a thang.
Mami need a lil change,
Girl, Im pitchin quarters.
Closest to the arches but live in a fortress.
[...] Read more
song performed by Ashanti
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wat Tyler - Act II
ACT II.
SCENE— BLACKHEATH.
TYLER, HOB, &c.
SONG.
' When Adam delv'd, and Eve span,
' Who was then the gentleman?'
Wretched is the infant's lot,
Born within the straw-roof'd cot!
Be he generous, wise, or brave,
He must only be a slave.
Long, long labour, little rest,
Still to toil to be oppress'd;
Drain'd by taxes of his store,
Punish'd next for being poor;
This is the poor wretch's lot,
Born within the straw-roof'd cot.
While the peasant works— to sleep;
What the peasant sows— to reap;
On the couch of ease to lie,
Rioting in revelry;
Be he villain, be he fool,
Still to hold despotic rule,
Trampling on his slaves with scorn;
This is to be nobly born.
' When Adam delv'd, and Eve span,
' Who was then the gentleman?'
JACK STRAW.
The mob are up in London— the proud courtiers
Begin to tremble.
TOM MILLER.
Aye, aye, 'tis time to tremble;
Who'll plow their fields, who'll do their drudgery now?
And work like horses, to give them the harvest?
JACK STRAW.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Southey
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto VI.
I.
O who, that shared them, ever shall forget
The emotions of the spirit-rousing time,
When breathless in the mart the couriers met,
Early and late, at evening and at prime;
When the loud cannon and the merry chime
Hail'd news on news, as field on field was won,
When Hope, long doubtful, soar'd at length sublime,
And our glad eyes, awake as day begun,
Watch'd Joy's broad banner rise, to meet the rising sun!
O these were hours, when thrilling joy repaid
A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears!
The heart-sick faintness of the hope delay'd,
The waste, the woe, the bloodshed, and the tears,
That track'd with terror twenty rolling years,
All was forgot in that blithe jubilee!
Her downcast eye even pale Affliction rears,
To sigh a thankful prayer, amid the glee,
That hail'd the Despot's fall, and peace and liberty!
Such news o'er Scotland's hills triumphant rode,
When 'gainst the invaders turn'd the battle's scale,
When Bruce's banner had victorious flow'd
O'er Loudoun's mountain, and in Ury's vale;
And fiery English blood oft deluged Douglas-dale,
And fiery Edward routed stout St. John,
When Randolph's war-cry swell'd the southern gale,
And many a fortress, town, and tower, was won,
And fame still sounded forth fresh deeds of glory done.
II.
Blithe tidings flew from baron's tower,
To peasant's cot, to forest-bower,
And waked the solitary cell,
Where lone Saint Bride's recluses dwell.
Princess no more, fair Isabel,
A vot'ress of the order now,
Say, did the rule that bid thee wear
Dim veil and wollen scapulare,
And reft thy locks of dark-brown hair,
That stern and rigid vow,
Did it condemn the transport high,
Which glisten'd in thy watery eye,
When minstrel or when palmer told
Each fresh exploit of Bruce the bold?-
And whose the lovely form, that shares
Thy anxious hopes, thy fears, thy prayers?
No sister she of convent shade;
So say these locks in lengthen'd braid,
So say the blushes and the sighs,
[...] Read more
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto V.
I.
On fair Loch-Ranza stream'd the early day,
Thin wreaths of cottage-smoke are upward curl'd
From the lone hamlet, which her inland bay
And circling mountains sever from the world.
And there the fisherman his sail unfurl'd,
The goat-herd drove his kids to steep Ben-Ghoil,
Before the hut the dame her spindle twirl'd,
Courting the sunbeam as she plied her toil, -
For, wake where'er he may, Man wakes to care and coil.
But other duties call'd each convent maid,
Roused by the summons of the moss-grown bell;
Sung were the matins, and the mass was said,
And every sister sought her separate cell,
Such was the rule, her rosary to tell.
And Isabel has knelt in lonely prayer;
The sunbeam, through the narrow lattice, fell
Upon the snowy neck and long dark hair,
As stoop'd her gentle head in meek devotion there.
II.
She raised her eyes, that duty done,
When glanced upon the pavement-stone,
Gemm'd and enchased, a golden ring,
Bound to a scroll with silken string,
With few brief words inscribed to tell,
'This for the Lady Isabel.'
Within, the writing farther bore,-
''Twas with this ring his plight he swore,
With this his promise I restore;
To her who can the heart command,
Well may I yield the plighted hand.
And O! for better fortune born,
Grudge not a passing sigh to mourn
Her who was Edith once of Lorn!'
One single flash of glad surprise
Just glanced from Isabel's dark eyes,
But vanish'd in the blush of shame,
That, as its penance, instant came.
'O thought unworthy of my race!
Selfish, ungenerous, mean, and base,
A moment's throb of joy to own,
That rose upon her hopes o'erthrown!-
Thou pledge of vows too well believed,
Of man ingrate and maid deceived,
Think not thy lustre here shall gain
Another heart to hope in vain!
For thou shalt rest, thou tempting gaud,
Where worldly thoughts are overawed,
[...] Read more
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Using Boot Camp
twink boot camp
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[...] Read more
poem by Caasder Fronds
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Wat Tyler - Act III
ACT III.
SCENE—SMITHFIELD.
PIERS (meeting JOHN BALL.)
You look disturb'd, my father?
JOHN BALL.
Piers, I am so.
Jack Straw has forced the Tower: seized the Archbishop,
And beheaded him.
PIERS.
The curse of insurrection!
JOHN BALL.
Aye, Piers! our nobles level down their vassals—
Keep them at endless labour like their brutes,
Degrading every faculty by servitude:
Repressing all the energy of the mind.
We must not wonder then, that like wild beasts,
When they have burst their chains, with brutal rage
They revenge them on their tyrants.
PIERS.
This Archbishop!
He was oppressive to his humble vassals:
Proud, haughty, avaricious.—
JOHN BALL.
A true high-priest!
Preaching humility with his mitre on!
Praising up alms and Christian charity
Even whilst his unforgiving hand distress'd
His honest tenants.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Southey
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Bible Stories: Daniel, Bel and the Dragon
When King Astyages died,
Cyrus of Persia became king;
Daniel was his honored companion.
The Babylonians’ idol was Bel;
Each day, they offered twelve bushels of flour,
Forty sheep and fifty gallons of wine;
The king too worshipped Bel;
But Daniel worshipped his own God!
When the King asked Daniel,
‘Why don’t you worship Bel? ’
Daniel answered he didn’t revere
Any man-made idols,
But worshipped the One, living God,
Who’d created heaven and the earth.
The king asked him, “Isn’t Bel’s a living God?
He eats and drinks each day”
But Daniel told him not to be deceived;
The idol was just inner clay,
And outer brass that never ate nor drank.
The angered King ushered the priests,
And ordered them to prove
That Bel ate /drank each day;
If so, Daniel would die for blasphemy;
If not, all of them would be killed;
The priests agreed to prove the same;
There were seventy priests, their wives and children.
The king entered the temple;
The priests asked him to place the food
And wine himself, and shut the door,
And seal it by his signet ring;
The priests didn’t care as below the statue,
They had a secret route through which they went
In and out, devouring the offerings.
When the food had been placed,
Then Daniel sifted ashes all
O’er the temple-floor;
With the help of servants,
in the king’s presence and left;
The door was sealed by the king’s ring.
At night, the priests and others secretly
went in and ate everything;
Next day, the king with Daniel came
And opened the sealed temple door,
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto III.
I.
Hast thou not mark'd, when o'er thy startled head
Sudden and deep the thunder-peal has roll'd,
How when its echoes fell, a silence dead
Sunk on the wood, the meadow, and the wold?
The rye-glass shakes not on the sod-built fold,
The rustling aspen's leaves are mute and still,
The wall-flower waves not on the ruin'd hold,
Till, murmuring distant first, then near and shrill,
The savage whirlwind wakes, and sweeps the groaning hill.
II.
Artornish! such a silence sunk
Upon thy halls, when that grey Monk
His prophet-speech had spoke;
And his obedient brethren's sail
Was stretch'd to meet the southern gale
Before a whisper woke.
Then murmuring sounds of doubt and fear,
Close pour'd in many an anxious ear,
The solemn stillness broke;
And still they gazed with eager guess,
Where, in an oriel's deep recess,
The Island Prince seem'd bent to press
What Lorn, by his impatient cheer,
And gesture fierce, scarce deign'd to hear.
III.
Starting at length with frowning look,
His hand he clench'd, his head he shook,
And sternly flung apart;-
'And deem'st thou me so mean of mood,
As to forget the mortal feud,
And clasp the hand with blood inbrued
From my dear Kinsman's heart?
Is this thy rede? - a due return
For ancient league and friendship sworn!
But well our mountain proverb shows
The faith of Islesmen ebbs and flows.
Be it even so - believe, ere long,
He that now bears shall wreak the wrong.-
Call Edith - call the Maid of Lorn!
My sister, slaves! - for further scorn,
Be sure nor she nor I will stay.-
Away, De Argentine, away! -
We nor ally nor brother know,
In Bruce's friend, or England's foe.'
IV.
But who the Chieftain's rage can tell,
[...] Read more
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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How the Boy Stole Christmas
Based on 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas', by Dr. Seuss.
Done for a school project=)
Once, upon a falling snowflake,
In a land far, far away,
There lived all the Whats,
Preparing for Christmas day.
There was one What that stuck out,
The richest What of them all,
He had light brown hair, and big brown eyes
His given name was Paul.
Paul was a greedy boy,
His best friend was Ebenezer Scrooge
And anytime Paul lied,
His little nose turned huge!
Paul was the only What in Whattown,
That really hated this time of the year,
He ruined all the children’s fun,
His pranks were in full gear.
Paul thought Christmas was just trouble,
He only thought of himself,
He thought that Santa Claus was stupid,
And hurt the feelings of every single elf.
He hated everybody that liked Christmas,
There was only one exception of his,
A beautiful What named Rachel,
Whom he never wanted to diss.
Now every story has a problem,
And this one’s is pretty big,
Paul crushed on the Christmas-lover Rachel,
But Rachel thought Paul was a pig.
You see, Rachel was an EXTREME Christmas fanatic,
Loving every aspect of it,
She volunteered everywhere that she could,
And her money? Donated every bit.
She helped out at school and Church,
Sang carols at the old folks’ home,
Baked cookies with younger children,
Made ornaments out of foam.
Rachel hated anybody that hated Christmas,
She was like a packaged deal,
[...] Read more
poem by Selina Marie
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Bruce
Doctor, doctor you gotta help me yeah
You gotta make it right for me
It seems this other mans name has been following me around
And it just wont let me be
You see I got this name and hes got this name too know
Well theyre kinda close only a blind crazy fool
Would think I was him its like saying green is blue
But let me tell you brother it started being a bother
When he made the cover of time magazine
I was at this party in the wild-hilled hills
Just the other night
Her name was shelly I introduced myself
She just smiled and said all right
Well we got talkin and drinkin wine
And she said she liked my music thought it was fine
She said, lets make love, your place or mine
And in the middle of the passion I was on the borderline
When she called out a name but it wasnt mine
She called me bruce, bruce
I can hear her calling bruce, bruce
I can hear her calling bruce, bruce
I can hear her
My name is rick Im gonna stick it to ya babe
And theres this kid walking carrying a guitar
You know I told him that I played
He asked me my name you know I told him
I said it plain as clear as day
Well he seemed really, clearly, sincerely impressed
And as he pulled a piece paper for me to sign from his vest
He said, I thought born to run was one of your best
Awww wait a minute man, who do you think I am?
He answered, mr. springsteen, your a famous man.
He called me bruce, bruce
I can hear him calling bruce, bruce
He called me bruce, bruce
I can hear him
My name is richard gonna hit it to you babe
You know my mama called me long distance yesterday
And as she got off the phone I swear I heard her say
Bye bye bruce, bruce
I can hear her calling bruce, bruce
She called me bruce, bruce
I can hear her
My name is ricky gonna stick it to you babe
song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto IV.
I.
Stranger! if e'er thine ardent step hath traced
The northern realms of ancient Caledon,
Where the proud Queen of Wilderness hath placed,
By lake and cataract, her lonely throne;
Sublime but sad delight thy soul hath known,
Gazing on pathless glen and mountain high,
Listing where from the cliffs the torrents thrown
Mingle their echoes with the eagle's cry,
And with the sounding lake, and with the moaning sky.
Yes! 'twas sublime, but sad. - The loneliness
Loaded thy heart, the desert tired thine eye;
And strange and awful fears began to press
Thy bosom with a stern solemnity.
Then hast thou wish'd some woodman's cottage nigh,
Something that show'd of life, though low and mean;
Glad sight, its curling wreath of smoke to spy,
Glad sound, its cock's blithe carol would have been,
Or children whooping wild beneath the willows green.
Such are the scenes, where savage grandeur wakes
An awful thrill that softens into sighs;
Such feelings rouse them by dim Rannoch's lakes,
In dark Glencoe such gloomy raptures rise:
Or farther, where, beneath the northern skies,
Chides wild Loch-Eribol his caverns hoar-
But, be the minstrel judge, they yield the prize
Of desert dignity to that dread shore,
That sees grim Coolin rise, and hears Coriskin roar.
II.
Through such wild scenes the champion pass'd,
When bold halloo and bugle blast
Upon the breeze came loud and fast.
'There,' said the Bruce, 'rung Edward's horn!
What can have caused such brief return?
And see, brave Ronald,- see him dart
O'er stock and stone like hunted hart,
Precipitate, as is the use,
In war or sport, or Edward Bruce.
- He marks us, and his eager cry
Will tell his news ere he be nigh.'
III.
Loud Edward shouts, 'What make ye here,
Warring upon the mountain-deer,
When Scotland wants her King?
A bark from Lennox cross'd our track,
With her in speed I hurried back,
[...] Read more
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Kelly Watch The Stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
The stars
The stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
The stars
The stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
Kelly watch the stars
The stars
The stars.
song performed by Air
Added by Lucian Velea
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Soul Of A Woman
Kelly price feat/shawn smith
I need healing....
1 - I need a healing for my soul
So give me a healing for my soul
Repeat 1
I need healing
[kelly] hello?
[shawn] kelly?
Just for my soul
I need healing
Yeah, yeah
[kelly] hello
[shawn] kelly, please dont hang up
[kelly] look, I dont have time for this, alright?
[shawn] listen, Ive heard everythign you said today
I dont understand what it is you need from me
Just, please....
Let me come by so we can talk?
[kelly] whatever
Just for my soul
Repeat 1 while:
[kelly] I must be crazy
What was I thinkin?
I should have just told him he couldnt come
I wont open the door when he gets here
Thats all
I just wont open the door
He knows Im here though
Oh god
Im just so tired of this
[kelly] alright, alright, alright
[shawn] damn, I thought you wasnt gonna let me in, sweetheart
[kelly] you almost thought right
Howd you get here so fast anyway?
Whatd you do, fly?
[shawn] why you always gotta be so sarcastic towards me, sweetheart?
Listen, I didnt come here to argue
I didnt come here to fuss or fight
I came here to make things right
I want you to know that I understand what I did
And I wanna make things better between me and you
[kelly] how you figure you can do that?
[shawn] well, I can start by saying that I love you
I mean, ah......
[kelly] Ive heard that before
[shawn] I dont know what to say, um, this is....
I know I did so many things wrong, but..
[kelly] I dont believe you
[shawn] i, I love you, I really do
Can you take me back, please?
[...] Read more
song performed by Kelly Price
Added by Lucian Velea
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Soul Of A Woman[Interlude]
Kelly price feat/shawn smith
I need healing....
1 - I need a healing for my soul
So give me a healing for my soul
Repeat 1
I need healing
[kelly] hello?
[shawn] kelly?
Just for my soul
I need healing
Yeah, yeah
[kelly] hello
[shawn] kelly, please dont hang up
[kelly] look, I dont have time for this, alright?
[shawn] listen, Ive heard everythign you said today
I dont understand what it is you need from me
Just, please....
Let me come by so we can talk?
[kelly] whatever
Just for my soul
Repeat 1 while:
[kelly] I must be crazy
What was I thinkin?
I should have just told him he couldnt come
I wont open the door when he gets here
Thats all
I just wont open the door
He knows Im here though
Oh god
Im just so tired of this
[kelly] alright, alright, alright
[shawn] damn, I thought you wasnt gonna let me in, sweetheart
[kelly] you almost thought right
Howd you get here so fast anyway?
Whatd you do, fly?
[shawn] why you always gotta be so sarcastic towards me, sweetheart?
Listen, I didnt come here to argue
I didnt come here to fuss or fight
I came here to make things right
I want you to know that I understand what I did
And I wanna make things better between me and you
[kelly] how you figure you can do that?
[shawn] well, I can start by saying that I love you
I mean, ah......
[kelly] Ive heard that before
[shawn] I dont know what to say, um, this is....
I know I did so many things wrong, but..
[kelly] I dont believe you
[shawn] i, I love you, I really do
Can you take me back, please?
[...] Read more
song performed by Kelly Price
Added by Lucian Velea
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Kelly's Conversion
KELLY the Ranger half opened an eye
To wink at the Army passing by,
While his hot breath, thick with the taint of beer,
Came forth from his lips in a drunken jeer.
Brown and bearded and long of limb
He lay, as the Army confronted him
And, clad in grey, one and all did pray
That his deadly sins might be washed away—
But Kelly stubbornly answered ‘Nay.'
Then the captain left him in mild despair,
But before the music took up its blare
A pale-faced lassie stepped out and spoke—
A little sad girl in a sad grey cloak—
‘Rise up, Kelly! your work's to do:
Kelly, the Saviour's a-calling you!'
He strove to look wise; rubbed at his eyes;
Looked down at the ground, looked up at the skies;
And something that p'r'aps was his conscience stirred:
He seemed perplexed as again he heard
The girl with the garments of saddest hue
Say, ‘Kelly, the Saviour's a-calling you!'
He got on his knees and thence to his feet,
And stumbled away down the dusty street;
Contrived to cadge at the pub a drink,
But still in his ear the glasses chink
And jingle only the one refrain,
Clear as the lassie's voice again:
‘Kelly, Kelly, come here to me!
Kelly the Rager, I've work for thee!'
He trembled, and dropped the tumbler, and slopped
The beer on the counter: the barman stopped,
With a curious eye on his haggard face.
‘Kelly, old fellow! you're going the pace.
Don't you fancy it's time to take
A pull on yourself—put your foot on the brake?
You'll have the horrors, without a doubt,
This time next week, if you don't look out.'
But he didn't—he sobered himself that night:
‘That time next week' he was nearly right:
Yet still at the mill, though he'd stopped the grog,
As the saw bit into the green pine log,
The wood shrieked out to him in its pain
A fragment caught of the same refrain,
As the swift teeth cut and the sawdust flew—
‘Kelly, Kelly, I've work for you!'
Then the seasons fell and the floods came down
And laid the dust in the frightened town.
No more the beat of hoofs and feet
Was heard the length of the crooked street;
[...] Read more
poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Added by Poetry Lover
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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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The Shadow
Paul Jannes was working very late,
For this watch must be done by eight
To-morrow or the Cardinal
Would certainly be vexed. Of all
His customers the old prelate
Was the most important, for his state
Descended to his watches and rings,
And he gave his mistresses many things
To make them forget his age and smile
When he paid visits, and they could while
The time away with a diamond locket
Exceedingly well. So they picked his pocket,
And he paid in jewels for his slobbering kisses.
This watch was made to buy him blisses
From an Austrian countess on her way
Home, and she meant to start next day.
Paul worked by the pointed, tulip-flame
Of a tallow candle, and became
So absorbed, that his old clock made him wince
Striking the hour a moment since.
Its echo, only half apprehended,
Lingered about the room. He ended
Screwing the little rubies in,
Setting the wheels to lock and spin,
Curling the infinitesimal springs,
Fixing the filigree hands. Chippings
Of precious stones lay strewn about.
The table before him was a rout
Of splashes and sparks of coloured light.
There was yellow gold in sheets, and quite
A heap of emeralds, and steel.
Here was a gem, there was a wheel.
And glasses lay like limpid lakes
Shining and still, and there were flakes
Of silver, and shavings of pearl,
And little wires all awhirl
With the light of the candle. He took the watch
And wound its hands about to match
The time, then glanced up to take the hour
From the hanging clock.
Good, Merciful Power!
How came that shadow on the wall,
No woman was in the room! His tall
Chiffonier stood gaunt behind
His chair. His old cloak, rabbit-lined,
Hung from a peg. The door was closed.
Just for a moment he must have dozed.
He looked again, and saw it plain.
[...] Read more
poem by Amy Lowell
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