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Emma's Chance

Cast: Greer Grammer, Joey Lawrence, Missi Pyle, Jennifer Taylor, Christina Robinson, Ryan McCartan, Lia Marie Johnson

trailer for Emma's Chance, directed by Anna Elizabeth James (2016)Report problemRelated quotes
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Joey

Born in red hook, brooklyn, in the year of who knows when
Opened up his eyes to the tune of an accordion
Always on the outside of whatever side there was
When they asked him why it had to be that way, well, he answered, just
Because.
Larry was the oldest, joey was next to last.
They called joe crazy, the baby they called kid blast.
Some say they lived off gambling and runnin numbers too.
It always seemed they got caught between the mob and the men in blue.
Joey, joey,
King of the streets, child of clay.
Joey, joey,
What made them want to come and blow you away?
There was talk they killed their rivals, but the truth was far from that
No one ever knew for sure where they were really at.
When they tried to strangle larry, joey almost hit the roof.
He went out that night to seek revenge, thinkin he was bulletproof.
The war broke out at the break of dawn, it emptied out the streets
Joey and his brothers suffered terrible defeats
Till they ventured out behind the lines and took five prisoners.
They stashed them away in a basement, called them amateurs.
The hostages were tremblin when they heard a man exclaim,
Lets blow this place to kingdom come, let con edison take the blame.
But joey stepped up, he raised his hand, said, were not those kind of men.
Its peace and quiet that we need to go back to work again.
Joey, joey,
King of the streets, child of clay.
Joey, joey,
What made them want to come and blow you away?
The police department hounded him, they called him mr. smith
They got him on conspiracy, they were never sure who with.
What time is it? said the judge to joey when they met
Five to ten, said joey. the judge says, thats exactly what you get.
He did ten years in attica, reading nietzsche and wilhelm reich
They threw him in the hole one time for tryin to stop a strike.
His closest friends were black men cause they seemed to understand
What its like to be in society with a shackle on your hand.
When they let him out in 71 hed lost a little weight
But he dressed like jimmy cagney and I swear he did look great.
He tried to find the way back into the life he left behind
To the boss he said, I have returned and now I want whats mine.
Joey, joey,
King of the streets, child of clay.
Joey, joey,
Why did they have to come and blow you away?
It was true that in his later years he would not carry a gun
Im around too many children, hed say, they should never know of one.
Yet he walked right into the clubhouse of his lifelong deadly foe,
Emptied out the register, said, tell em it was crazy joe.
One day they blew him down in a clam bar in new york

[...] Read more

song performed by Bob DylanReport problemRelated quotes
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Joey

Written by c. jackson & marvin yancy
Joey---, joey----
Joey, where are you going
Where will you sleep tonight
Will you be alright
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Joey, I really love you
Wont you make here your home so youll never live alone anymore, oh
We both took a ride on that merry-go-round
Weve seen a lot of faces of the same ole clowns
But lets not be a part of that continuous game
Lets start a new life that will never change
Joey, where are you going
Wont you take me along, your place is my home
Joey---, hoo, hoo
Theres no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow
True fortunes are deeper than the world is old so
Weve got to dig up and plant love again
Just dont let it vanish, no
And you settle
My joey, where are you going, where are you going
Dont, dont, dont go, joey, joey, joey, joey
Dont you hear me calling, dont you hear me calling to you
Joey, joey, joey, joey, joey, joey, joey, joey, joey
Hoo, dont you hear me calling to you, joey, joey, joey
Dont leave me alone, I wanna be with you
I wanna go with you, I wanna be with you, joey, joey, joey

song performed by Natalie ColeReport problemRelated quotes
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All I Have (feat. Jennifer Lopez)

(LL Cool J)
Baby, don't go... Baby, don't go...
Baby, dont go... Baby, don't go...
Baby, don't go... Baby, don't go...
(Jennifer)
Ooh... Yeah... Yeah... Yeah...
(Jennifer)
It's such a shame but I'm leaving
Can't take the way you're mistreating me
And it's crazy, but oh baby
It don't matter, whatever
Don't phase me
(LL Cool J)
I don't believe you wanna leave like this
I don't believe I just had my last real kiss
I do believe we'll laugh and reminisce
Wait a minute, don't bounce baby,
let's talk about this, man...
(Jennifer)
Well I'm bouncin' and I'm out son
I gotta leave you alone
'Cause I'm good
Holdin' down my spot
And I'm good
Reppin' the girls on the block
And I'm good
I got this thing on lock
So without me you'll be fine - right
(Jennifer)
All my pride is all I have
(LL Cool J)
Pride is what you had, baby girl I'm what you have
(Jennifer)
You'll be needing me but too bad
(LL Cool J)
Be easy, don't make decisions while you're mad
(Jennifer)
The path you chose to run alone
(LL Cool J)
I know you're independent, you can make it on your own
(Jennifer)
Here with me you had a home, oh yeah...
(LL Cool J)
But time is of the essence, why spend it alone
(Jennifer)
The nights I waited up for you
Promises you made about coming through
So much time you wasted
That's why I had to replace you
(LL Cool J)

[...] Read more

song performed by LL Cool JReport problemRelated quotes
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Handles Bermuda

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Goodbye Marie

I woke up this mornin'
All cotton mouthed from drinkin'
Wonderin' how I'd make it through the day-ay
Wild eyed and crazy
All burned out from thinkin'
Wonderin' how the hell I's gonna say
Goodbye Marie, oh goodbye Marie-ie
Out the window there's a lonesome highway callin' me
It was fun Marie, but I got to ru-un Marie
If I can not keep your love
At least I'll have your memory
Goodbye Marie
Wakin' up beside you
On a Tijuana mornin'
With that ocean breeze to keep us cool
Three weeks of lovin'
Twenty-one nights of heaven
I stayed just long enough to be your fool
Oh goodbye Marie, oh goodbye Marie-ie
Out the window there's a lonesome highway callin' me
It was fun Marie, but I got to ru-un Marie
If I can not keep your love
At least I'll have your memory
Goodbye Marie
Por favor, pour me
One more tequila
I need all the courage I can fi-ind
This time tomorrow
I'll be back in Houston
Thinkin' about the girl I left behi-ind
So goodbye Marie, oh good Marie-ie
Out the window there's a lonesome highway callin' me
It was fun Marie and I got to ru-un Marie
If I can not keep your love
At least I'll have your memory
Goodbye Marie
Goodbye Marie, oh good Marie
Out the window there's a lonesome highway callin' me
It was fun Marie, but I got to ru-un Marie
If I can not keep your love
At least I'll have your memory
Goodbye Marie [fade]

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marie Devereaux

There once was a girl named Marie Devereaux
Who was born in a small village near Bordeaux
Marie’s Papa was master-maker of fine wine
He made nectar from “The fruit of the vine”

Marie dreamed of one day going to Paris
To dance the “cancan” in some fine cabaret
She’d take her best friend Margeaux with her
Altho Papa longed for Marie to learn ballet

At only 16 Marie looked more like twenty
A dark haired beauty with beautiful legs
She ran across town to fetch Margeaux
Nearly tripped on one of Papa’s wine kegs

Margeaux bowed out at the last minute
“I can’t leave my widowed Mom Alone
I’m the oldest of 9 children Marie
They’d starve if I were to leave home”

Marie ran home, packed and set out
Before “cold feet” changed her mind
Behind Marie someone called out
“Don’t leave Marie” Papa whined

Marie stepped off the train at Lyon station
Overwhelmed by the crowd and loud noise
Marie held her worn suitcase close
When approached by 3 tough looking boys

“Please tell me how to get to Les Folies Bergere”
Marie inquired with a half-hearted smile
One of the boys answered “Too far to walk”
“Go by taxi, because it’s more than 3 miles”

Marie hailed a cab and said “Les Folies Bergere”
The cabbie smiled n’ thought “Another dreamer”
He’d taxied many a Dewey-eyed girl there before
He didn’t care, as it was not his to dissuade her

The cab pulled up to Les Folies Bergere
Marie paid cabbie the fare
But to her despair…
A sign on the door read “Closed for repair”

In but a moment Marie’s dream was shattered
With eyes full of tears she started to cry
A dancing career was all that had mattered
A nearby voice said “Here Mademoiselle, dry your eyes”

[...] Read more

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Aspects Of Robinson

Robinson at cards at the Algonquin; a thin
Blue light comes down once more outside the blinds.
Gray men in overcoats are ghosts blown past the door.
The taxis streak the avenues with yellow, orange, and red.
This is Grand Central, Mr. Robinson.


Robinson on a roof above the Heights; the boats
Mourn like the lost. Water is slate, far down.
Through sounds of ice cubes dropped in glass, an osteopath,
Dressed for the links, describes an old Intourist tour.
—Here’s where old Gibbons jumped from, Robinson.


Robinson walking in the Park, admiring the elephant.
Robinson buying the Tribune, Robinson buying the Times. Robinson
Saying, “Hello. Yes, this is Robinson. Sunday
At five? I’d love to. Pretty well. And you?”
Robinson alone at Longchamps, staring at the wall.


Robinson afraid, drunk, sobbing Robinson
In bed with a Mrs. Morse. Robinson at home;
Decisions: Toynbee or luminol? Where the sun
Shines, Robinson in flowered trunks, eyes toward
The breakers. Where the night ends, Robinson in East Side bars.


Robinson in Glen plaid jacket, Scotch-grain shoes,
Black four-in-hand and oxford button-down,
The jeweled and silent watch that winds itself, the brief-
Case, covert topcoat, clothes for spring, all covering
His sad and usual heart, dry as a winter leaf.

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The Queen's Marie

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane,
Wi ribbons in her hair;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton,
Than ony that were there.

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane,
Wi ribbons on her breast;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton,
Than he listend to the priest.

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane,
Wi gloves upon her hands;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton,
Than the queen and a' her lands.

She hadna been about the king's court
A month, but barely one,
Till she was beloved by a' the king's court,
And the king the only man.

She hadna been about the king's court
A month, but barely three,
Till frae the king's court Marie Hamilton,
Marie Hamilton durst na be.

The king is to the Abbey gane,
To pu the Abbey tree,
To scale the babe frae Marie's heart;
But the thing it wadna be.

O she has rowd it in her apron,
And set it on the sea:
'Gae sink ye, or swim ye, bonny babe,
Ye's get na mair o me.'

Word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha,
And word is to the noble room,
Amang the ladyes a',
That Marie Hamilton's brought to bed,
And the bonny babe's mist and awa.

Scarcely had she lain down again,
And scarcely faen asleep,
When up then started our gude queen,
Just at her bed-feet,
Saying 'Marie Hamilton, where's your babe?
For I am sure I heard it greet.'

'O no, O no, my noble queen!

[...] Read more

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The Queen's Marie

MARIE HAMILTON 's to the kirk gane,
   Wi' ribbons in her hair;
The King thought mair o' Marie Hamilton
   Than ony that were there.

Marie Hamilton 's to the kirk gane
   Wi' ribbons on her breast;
The King thought mair o' Marie Hamilton
   Than he listen'd to the priest.

Marie Hamilton 's to the kirk gane,
   Wi' gloves upon her hands;
The King thought mair o' Marie Hamilton
   Than the Queen and a' her lands.

She hadna been about the King's court
   A month, but barely one,
Till she was beloved by a' the King's court
   And the King the only man.

She hadna been about the King's court
   A month, but barely three,
Till frae the King's court Marie Hamilton,
   Marie Hamilton durstna be.

The King is to the Abbey gane,
   To pu' the Abbey tree,
To scale the babe frae Marie's heart;
   But the thing it wadna be.

O she has row'd it in her apron,
   And set it on the sea--
'Gae sink ye or swim ye, bonny babe,
   Ye'se get nae mair o' me.'

Word is to the kitchen gane,
   And word is to the ha',
And word is to the noble room
   Amang the ladies a',
That Marie Hamilton 's brought to bed,
   And the bonny babe 's miss'd and awa'.

Scarcely had she lain down again,
   And scarcely fa'en asleep,
When up and started our gude Queen
   Just at her bed-feet;
Saying--'Marie Hamilton, where 's your babe?
   For I am sure I heard it greet.'

'O no, O no, my noble Queen!

[...] Read more

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Luggage Canada

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In Pursuit of the Poetic Soul of Ryan Adams

In Pursuit of the Poetic Soul of Ryan Adams

By Uriah Lee Hamilton

Last day of summer, football Saturday afternoon. A Warm breeze was pushing me toward Ann Arbor like a happy autumn leaf in pursuit of the beautiful poetic soul of Ryan Adams. Lovely charming mood all the way playing Easy Tiger and Demolition and feeling like the universe was kind and smiling.
Exit off 94 West onto State Street and all excited to make my way to Liberty Street and the heart of the College town I love. Kids were milling around everywhere in their gold and blue, gleeful and happy that Michigan is now playing 500 football after a discouraging start. Parking spaces across the street from Michigan Theater in the parking structure are all taken, I have to drive to the roof and still wait for a football fan to leave.
Me and my friend Cassandra start walking around and dig everything and everyone we see. Ann Arbor brings out your gentle Jack Kerouac nature, the part of you that wants to praise everything for it’s sad but beautiful, integral purpose to this existence.
We enter an Eastern clothing and folk art store that is positively charming and enlightening. I can’t remember the name of the store. Perhaps, it is called the Enchanted Sarong. It almost felt like George Harrison was there with us, beautiful carved statues of Buddha and Krishna and Ganesha were everywhere. The sales lady was friendly and helpful and said sweetly, “we’re Om friendly” as we asked about carved symbols for the breath-word Om. The serene incense Nag Champa drifted through the room but it was now time to leave and make our way to the Ryan Adams concert at Michigan Theater.
I purchased my tickets the very minute they went on sale and prayed I had front row despite my tickets saying double A. No Such luck, but I was still happy to be in row 27. As I was waiting for the show to begin, I saw my concert friend Jeremy and got his attention. He looked as happy and as excited as myself and said he had spent a fortune at some cool record store. Jeremy then handed me a beautiful soundboard copy of Ryan Adams at the Gem Theater in downtown Detroit June 20th 2007. Man, how I’ve been longing for that show! I then gave Jeremy a copy of Ryan’s punk rock band the Finger.
Now the lights go out and the music begins. Ryan Opens with Goodnight Rose and closes with Goodnight Hollywood Boulevard. Everything in-between is just magical. The first auspicious sign was that Ryan came out playing guitar! ! In June, he only sang, he didn’t play any instruments, some injury sidelined him. The June Show as a result was more subtle, almost like MTV Unplugged. Subtle but amazing. Last night was more rocking and adventurous with reworked extended arrangements, ala the Grateful Dead. In particular was a long and lovely version of Off Broadway from Easy Tiger. At the completion of Off Broadway, I shouted, “That was gorgeous! ” Of course, I may have added an expletive, all in the interest of ecstatic joy for music.
Ryan told a story during the show about running into a girl on her way to the concert that didn’t recognize him because he dresses like a plumber. My friend after the show said she thought she saw Ryan Adams on the street near the theater. I asked, “Really? ” She said, “I saw someone that looked like a plumber.” I can say, I didn’t see Ryan on the streets anywhere in Ann Arbor yesterday, but I have been known to miss a plumber or two in my day.
The first two songs in the encore made the whole show for me. Ryan came out by himself with an acoustic guitar and sang Call Me On Your Way Back Home. Toward the end of the song, Ryan played harmonica and I screamed like a schoolgirl, pretty much the way I do whenever Bobby Dylan plays harmonica! And if that wasn’t enough to make the end of summer completely magical, Ryan then sat down at the piano and sang Sylvia Plath: Oh my God, the point of tears! I’ve waited six years to hear him sing that song live from the Album Gold. As I told my friend, that was the song that sealed the deal making Ryan Adams my modern hero! If you want to get my attention and loyalty, sing about one of the tragic poets I love.

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Byron

Canto the Eighth

I
Oh blood and thunder! and oh blood and wounds!
These are but vulgar oaths, as you may deem,
Too gentle reader! and most shocking sounds:
And so they are; yet thus is Glory's dream
Unriddled, and as my true Muse expounds
At present such things, since they are her theme,
So be they her inspirers! Call them Mars,
Bellona, what you will -- they mean but wars.

II
All was prepared -- the fire, the sword, the men
To wield them in their terrible array.
The army, like a lion from his den,
March'd forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay, --
A human Hydra, issuing from its fen
To breathe destruction on its winding way,
Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain
Immediately in others grew again.

III
History can only take things in the gross;
But could we know them in detail, perchance
In balancing the profit and the loss,
War's merit it by no means might enhance,
To waste so much gold for a little dross,
As hath been done, mere conquest to advance.
The drying up a single tear has more
Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.

IV
And why? -- because it brings self-approbation;
Whereas the other, after all its glare,
Shouts, bridges, arches, pensions from a nation,
Which (it may be) has not much left to spare,
A higher title, or a loftier station,
Though they may make Corruption gape or stare,
Yet, in the end, except in Freedom's battles,
Are nothing but a child of Murder's rattles.

V
And such they are -- and such they will be found:
Not so Leonidas and Washington,
Whose every battle-field is holy ground,
Which breathes of nations saved, not worlds undone.
How sweetly on the ear such echoes sound!
While the mere victor's may appal or stun
The servile and the vain, such names will be
A watchword till the future shall be free.

[...] Read more

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Hans Christian Andersen

June

'Glemt er nu Vaarens Kamp og Vinter-Sorgen,
Til Glæde sig forvandler hvert et Suk.
Skjøn som en Brud, den anden Bryllups-Morgen,
Ei længer Barn, og dog saa ung og smuk,
Den skjønne Junimaaned til os kommer;
Det er Skærsommer! -

*
De høie Popler hæve sig saa slanke,
I Hyldetræet qviddrer Fuglen smukt.
Paa Gjærdet groer den grønne Humle-Ranke,
Og Æble-Blomstret former sig til Frugt.
Den varme Sommerluft fra Skyen strømmer,
Sødt Hjertet drømmer!

Paa Engen slaae de Græs; hør, Leen klinger.
Paa Himlen smukke Sommerskyer staae.
Og Kløvermarken Røgelse os svinger,
Mens høit i Choret alle Lærker slaae.
- Med Vandringsstav hist Ungersvenden kommer
Hjem i Skærsommer.


Ungersvenden.
Alt jeg Kirketaarnet øiner,
Spiret kneiser stolt derpaa.
Og hvor Marken hist sig høiner,
End de fire Pile staae.
Her er Skoven. Store Rødder
Før af Træerne der laae.
Her, som Dreng, jeg plukked' Nødder,
Og trak Jordbær paa et Straa!
- Barndoms Minder mig besjæle!
Jeg vil flyve, jeg vil dvæle!
Grønne Skov, min Barndoms Ven,
Kan Du kjende mig igjen?
Grønne Hæk, du brune Stamme,
Jeg, som før, er end den samme,
Har vel seet og hørt lidt meer,
Ellers Du den Samme seer! -
Her er Pladsen end med Vedet,
Godt jeg kjender Parken der!
Her er Stenten tæt ved Ledet,
Gud, hvor lille den dog er!
Alt jeg kjender her saa godt,
Men det er saa nært, saa smaat -
Det var stort, da jeg var liden,
Jeg er bleven større siden! -
- Lille Fugl paa grønne Qvist,
Saae Du mig derude hist,

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Jennifer Ever

She always waits for someone
Someone who'll never leave
Reveiling her decision
Her arms cover me
My couple, no one
To anyone believe
She always waits for someone
Someone, someone just like me
Jennifer
Jennifer Ever
Jennifer
Jennifer always tells me
Please don't be afraid
I just want to hold you
I only want you to stay
My couple, no one
To anyone believe
She always waits for someone
Someone, someone just like me
Jennifer
Jennifer Ever
Jennifer
Jennifer
Jennifer Ever
Jennifer
My couple, no one
To anyone believe
She always waits for someone
Someone, someone just like me
Jennifer
Jennifer Ever
Jennifer

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Marie Claire

Down in the valley, beside the Seine
Where it's cold and damp in the autumn rain,
A couple once opened a restaurant,
And called it the Café d'Aubijon.

The chef was Henri Apollinaire,
His wife, the beautiful Marie Claire,
And Henri worshipped his wife, complete
From her hair right down to her darling feet.

Marie had more of a roving eye
For the guests and the diners, passing by,
While Henri slaved over plates of veal,
Marie saw hearts she would like to steal.

She flirted, fluttered and teased with eyes
That promised much to the less than wise,
She often removed her wedding ring
And leant so close, she was whispering.

She'd show each guest to his tiny room
In the long drawn lull of the afternoon,
Then disappear for an hour or so
While Henri dealt with the guests below.

Then down amongst the crème brûlé,
The Guinea Fowl and the consommé,
The Chef sat brooding about his life,
Breaking his heart for his faithless wife.

So many guests had come and gone
From Caen, Toulouse, from Avignon,
From Brest, Limoux, from Vaux Sur Mer,
He wondered what he was doing there.

But every time that he saw his wife
His heart said: 'She's the love of my life! '
He never would think to challenge her there,
Her loss would shackle him in despair!

A change came suddenly over her
When a guest called André Carpentier
Took up her offer of room and board
And sneered at Henri's estouffade.

Too thin, too thick, the wine was sour,
He sniped, was muttering by the hour,
For nothing was well enough done, by half,
And Marie Claire had begun to laugh.

[...] Read more

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The Death Of Marie Toro

We're taking Marie Toro to her home in Père-La-Chaise;
We're taking Marie Toro to her last resting-place.
Behold! her hearse is hung with wreaths till everything is hid
Except the blossoms heaping high upon her coffin lid.
A week ago she roamed the street, a draggle and a slut,
A by-word of the Boulevard and everybody's butt;
A week ago she haunted us, we heard her whining cry,
We brushed aside the broken blooms she pestered us to buy;
A week ago she had not where to rest her weary head . . .
But now, oh, follow, follow on, for Marie Toro's dead.

Oh Marie, she was once a queen -- ah yes, a queen of queens.
High-throned above the Carnival she held her splendid sway.
For four-and-twenty crashing hours she knew what glory means,
The cheers of half a million throats, the délire of a day.
Yet she was only one of us, a little sewing-girl,
Though far the loveliest and best of all our laughing band;
Then Fortune beckoned; off she danced, amid the dizzy whirl,
And we who once might kiss her cheek were proud to kiss her hand.
For swiftly as a star she soared; she had her every wish;
We saw her roped with pearls of price, with princes at her call;
And yet, and yet I think her dreams were of the old Boul' Mich',

And yet I'm sure within her heart she loved us best of all.
For one night in the Purple Pig, upon the rue Saint-Jacques,
We laughed and quaffed . . . a limousine came swishing to the door;
Then Raymond Jolicoeur cried out: "It's Queen Marie come back,
In satin clad to make us glad, and witch our hearts once more."
But no, her face was strangely sad, and at the evening's end:
"Dear lads," she said; "I love you all, and when I'm far away,
Remember, oh, remember, little Marie is your friend,
And though the world may lie between, I'm coming back some day."
And so she went, and many a boy who's fought his way to Fame,
Can look back on the struggle of his garret days and bless
The loyal heart, the tender hand, the Providence that came
To him and all in hour of need, in sickness and distress.
Time passed away. She won their hearts in London, Moscow, Rome;
They worshiped her in Argentine, adored her in Brazil;
We smoked our pipes and wondered when she might be coming home,
And then we learned the luck had turned, the things were going ill.
Her health had failed, her beauty paled, her lovers fled away;
And some one saw her in Peru, a common drab at last.
So years went by, and faces changed; our beards were sadly gray,
And Marie Toro's name became an echo of the past.

You know that old and withered man, that derelict of art,
Who for a paltry franc will make a crayon sketch of you?
In slouching hat and shabby cloak he looks and is the part,
A sodden old Bohemian, without a single sou.
A boon companion of the days of Rimbaud and Verlaine,

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Conroy's Gap

This was the way of it, don't you know --
Ryan was "wanted" for stealing sheep,
And never a trooper, high or low,
Could find him -- catch a weasel asleep!
Till Trooper Scott, from the Stockman's Ford --
A bushman, too, as I've heard them tell --
Chanced to find him drunk as a lord
Round at the Shadow of Death Hotel.
D'you know the place? It's a wayside inn,
A low grog-shanty -- a bushman trap,
Hiding away in its shame and sin
Under the shelter of Conroy's Gap --
Under the shade of that frowning range
The roughest crowd that ever drew breath --
Thieves and rowdies, uncouth and strange,
Were mustered round at the "Shadow of Death".

The trooper knew that his man would slide
Like a dingo pup, if he saw the chance;
And with half a start on the mountain side
Ryan would lead him a merry dance.
Drunk as he was when the trooper came,
to him that did not matter a rap --
Drunk or sober, he was the same,
The boldest rider in Conroy's Gap.

"I want you, Ryan," the trooper said,
"And listen to me, if you dare resist,
So help me heaven, I'll shoot you dead!"
He snapped the steel on his prisoner's wrist,
And Ryan, hearing the handcuffs click,
Recovered his wits as they turned to go,
For fright will sober a man as quick
As all the drugs that the doctors know.

There was a girl in that shanty bar
Went by the name of Kate Carew,
Quiet and shy as the bush girls are,
But ready-witted and plucky, too.
She loved this Ryan, or so they say,
And passing by, while her eyes were dim
With tears, she said in a careless way,
"The Swagman's round in the stable, Jim."

Spoken too low for the trooper's ear,
Why should she care if he heard or not?
Plenty of swagmen far and near --
And yet to Ryan it meant a lot.
That was the name of the grandest horse
In all the district from east to west;

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Johnson’s Antidote

Down along the Snakebite River, where the overlanders camp,
Where the serpents are in millions, all of the most deadly stamp;
Where the station-cook in terror, nearly every time he bakes,
Mixes up among the doughboys half-a-dozen poison-snakes:
Where the wily free-selector walks in armour-plated pants,
And defies the stings of scorpions, and the bites of bull-dog ants:
Where the adder and the viper tear each other by the throat,—
There it was that William Johnson sought his snake-bite antidote.
Johnson was a free-selector, and his brain went rather queer,
For the constant sight of serpents filled him with a deadly fear;
So he tramped his free-selection, morning, afternoon, and night,
Seeking for some great specific that would cure the serpent’s bite.
Till King Billy, of the Mooki, chieftain of the flour-bag head,
Told him, “Spos’n snake bite pfeller, pfeller mostly drop down dead;
Spos’n snake bite old goanna, then you watch a while you see,
Old goanna cure himself with eating little pfeller tree.”
“That’s the cure,” said William Johnson, “point me out this plant sublime,”
But King Billy, feeling lazy, said he’d go another time.
Thus it came to pass that Johnson, having got the tale by rote,
Followed every stray goanna, seeking for the antidote.


. . . . .
Loafing once beside the river, while he thought his heart would break,
There he saw a big goanna fighting with a tiger-snake,
In and out they rolled and wriggled, bit each other, heart and soul,
Till the valiant old goanna swallowed his opponent whole.
Breathless, Johnson sat and watched him, saw him struggle up the bank,
Saw him nibbling at the branches of some bushes, green and rank;
Saw him, happy and contented, lick his lips, as off he crept,
While the bulging in his stomach showed where his opponent slept.
Then a cheer of exultation burst aloud from Johnson’s throat;
“Luck at last,” said he, “I’ve struck it! ’tis the famous antidote.

“Here it is, the Grand Elixir, greatest blessing ever known,—
Twenty thousand men in India die each year of snakes alone.
Think of all the foreign nations, negro, chow, and blackamoor,
Saved from sudden expiration, by my wondrous snakebite cure.
It will bring me fame and fortune! In the happy days to be,
Men of every clime and nation will be round to gaze on me—
Scientific men in thousands, men of mark and men of note,
Rushing down the Mooki River, after Johnson’s antidote.
It will cure delirium tremens, when the patient’s eyeballs stare
At imaginary spiders, snakes which really are not there.
When he thinks he sees them wriggle, when he thinks he sees them bloat,
It will cure him just to think of Johnson’s Snakebite Antidote.”

Then he rushed to the museum, found a scientific man—
“Trot me out a deadly serpent, just the deadliest you can;
I intend to let him bite me, all the risk I will endure,

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Hold You Down

JENNIFER LOPEZ LYRICS
"Hold You Down"
(feat. Fat Joe)
[Verse 1]
[Jennifer:]
Now you've been holding me down
For such a long time now
From back then
To now in my story
Straight from the hood
You've always been there for me
And ya had my back
(When they) Back when everybody said
I wasn't anything
It was you who had me holdin' on
No matter what was goin' on
So no whatever ya need I got you
[Fat Joe:]
Reminiscing that 6 train from way back
Now its sky blue phantoms and stretch may backs
Sweepin' them floors in them Bronx apartments
Mira esta que on that red carpet
With Pun and Ja you was the first to call me
I never told you but you was there for me
Whatever you need, I'll be there for you
Crack - I got ya back for real (True story)
[Bridge]
[Jennifer:]
Now my loyalty, will always be
With you, if you just promise me
That you'll stay real just like you are
'Cause baby you don't have to change (no)
[Chorus]
[Jennifer:]
You don't know how much you mean to me
Whenever you down
You know that you can lean on me
No matter the situation
Boy, I'm gon' hold you down
[Fat Joe:]
You don't know how much you mean to me
Whenever you down
You know that you can lean on me
No matter the situation
Girl, I'm gon' hold you down
[Verse 2]
[Fat Joe:]
2005 Rakim and Jody Watley
Why'd she paint such a picture so perfect
Quite possibly

[...] Read more

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Sweet Marie

Sweet marie you mean a lot to me
In my memory I hold you very dearly
Once in all my dreams, my plans, hopes and future schemes
There was sweet marie
But my home is where my heart is
And my heart is not at home
Whenever we are parted
I feel so all alone
With twilight falling
The moon is calling sweet marie
What the sea tells only sea shells
Are whispering sweet marie
Into the darkness goes this message sweet marie
Some lovers are sometimes parted
They must end what they have started
All thats left is the broken hearted, I must depart my sweet marie
Somewhere out in arizona
Such a long way from california
I felt so alone there
I was two thousand miles away from home there
Tonight were going to play boston
I still dont know what the hell is going on
Oh but I wrote this song
To keep me thinking on about my sweet marie
Sweet marie you mean a lot to me
This melody it keeps haunting me
My sweet marie
In harmony, its will me constantly, sweet marie
But my home is where my heart is
My heart its not at home
Now that we are parted
I feel so all alone

song performed by Thin LizzyReport problemRelated quotes
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