Who is Kator Anyhow?
Why, oh why was Kater lifted
From the darkness, where he drifted
All unknown, and raised to honour,
Side by side with Dick O'connor,
In the Council, free from row?
Who is Kater, anyhow?
Did he lend our armies rally,
Like the recent Billy Dalley?
Did he lend a Premier money,
Like -- (No libels here, my sonny. -- Ed. B.)
Was he, like John Davies, found
Very useful underground?
Not at all! his claim to glory
Rests on quite another story.
All obscure he might have tarried,
But he managed to get married --
And (to cut the matter shorter)
Married William Forster's daughter.
So, when Henry Edward Kater
Goes to answer his creator,
Will the angel at the wicket
Say, on reading Kater's ticket --
"Enter! for you're no impostor,
Son-in-law of Billy Forster!"
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Related quotes
Now I'm Following You, Part 2
Let's dance, you can do a little two-step
I'll go anywhere that you step to, 'cause I'm following you.
My feet might be falling out of rhythm,
Don't know what I'm doing with them, but I know I'm following you.
Unlikely as it is to me, on the floor with two left feet
Let's boogie woogie till our hearts skip a beat, but who's counting?
Encore, once again around the dance floor
Romance is in the picture too, now I'm following you.
(Spoken:) Take it away, boys.
On the run.
Be the one.
On the run.
Spoken:
Yeah.
[Calling Dick Tracy, calling Dick Tracy]
[Come here Tracy, this is Sam, what are you doing up there?]
I'll tell ya.
[Calling Dick Tracy, calling Dick Tracy]
[Do you read me, Tracy?]
[To tell you the truth Tracy, I don't know.]
Find out.
An unexamined life is not worth living.
(Spoken:) Come over here!
Let's dance, you can do a little two-step
I'll go anywhere that you step to, 'cause I'm following you.
Encore, once again around the dance floor
Romance is in the picture too, now I'm following you.
But who's counting?
Spoken:
[Ten million, twenty million, thirty million]
What about Dick Tracy?
[Forty million]
Dick, that's an interesting name.
[Fifty million]
Dick Dick [Sixty million] Dick
Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick, [Seventy million], Dick,
Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick [Eighty million], Dick Dick Dick
Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick
[Ninety million.]
Dick.
(Spoken:) My bottom hurts just thinking about it.
Unlikely as it is to me, on the floor with two left feet
Let's boogie woogie till our hearts skip a beat, but who's counting?
Encore, once again around the dance floor
Romance is in the picture too, now I'm following you.
(Spoken:) Would you knock it off please? Thank you
song performed by Madonna
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lost and Given Over
A Mermaid’s not a human thing,
An’ courtin’ such is folly;
Of flesh an’ blood I’d rather sing,
What ain’t so melancholy.
Oh, Berta! Loo! Jaunita! Sue!
Here’s good luck to me and you—
Sing rally! ri-a-rally!
The seas is deep; the seas is wide;
But this I’ll prove whate’er betide,
I’m bully in the alley!
I’m bull-ee in our al-lee!
The Hooghli gal’er face is brown;
The Hilo gal is lazy;
The gal that lives by ’Obart town
She’d drive a dead man crazy;
Come, wet your lip, and let it slip!
The Gretna Green’s a tidy ship—
Sing rally!
The seas is deep; the seas is blue;
But ’ere’s good ’ealth to me and you,
Ho, rally!
The Lord may drop us off our pins
To feed ’is bloomin’ fishes;
But Lord forgive us for our sins—
Our sins is most delicious!
Come, drink it up and fill yer cup!
The world it owes us bite and sup,
And Mimi, Ju-Ju, Sally;
The seas is long; the winds is strong;
The best of men they will go wrong—
Hi, rally! ri-a-rally!
The Bowery gal she knows ’er know;
The Frisco gal is silly;
The Hayti gal ain’t white as snow—
They’re whiter down in Chili.
Now what’s the use to shun the booze?
They’ll flop your bones among the ooze
Sou’-west-by-Sou’ the galley.
The seas is green; the seas is cold;
The best of men they must grow old—
Sing rally! ri-a-rally!
All round the world where’er I roam,
This lesson I am learnin’:
If you’ve got sense you’ll stop at home
And save the bit yer earnin’.
So hang the odds! It’s little odds,
[...] Read more
poem by Edwin James Brady
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Underground[Long Version]
No one can blame you
For walking away
Too much rejection (na na)
No love injection (na na)
Life can be easy
Its not always swell
Dont tell me truth hurts, little girl
cause it hurts like hell
But down in the underground
Youll find someone true
Down in the underground
A land serene
A crystal moon, ah, ah
Its only forever
Not long at all
Lost and lonely
Thats underground
Underground
Daddy, daddy, get me out of here
Ha ha Im underground
Heard about a place today
Nothing never hurts again
Daddy, daddy, get me out of here
Ah ha Im underground
Sister sister, please take me down
Ah ah Im underground
Daddy, daddy, get me out of here
No one can blame you
For walking away
Too much rejection (na na)
No love injection (na na)
But down in the underground
Youll find someone true
Down in the underground
A land serene
A crystal moon, ah, ah
Its only
Its only forever
Its not long at all
The lost and the lonely
Thats underground
Underground
Daddy, daddy, get me out of here
Heard about a place today
Nothing never hurts again
Daddy, daddy, get me out of here
Ha ha Im underground
Sister, sister, please take me down
Ah ha Im underground
Daddy, daddy, get me out
[...] Read more
song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Billy Barlow In Australia
When I was at home I was down on my luck,
And I earned a poor living by drawing a truck;
But old aunt died, and left me a thousand—"Oh, oh,
I'll start on my travels," said Billy Barlow.
Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
So off to Australia came Billy Barlow.
When to Sydney I got, there a merchant I met,
Who said he would teach me a fortune to get;
He'd cattle and sheep past the colony's bounds,
Which he sold with the station for my thousand pounds.
Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
He gammon'd the cash out of Billy Barlow.
When the bargain was struck, and the money was paid,
He said, "My dear fellow, your fortune is made;
I can furnish supplies for the station, you know,
And your bill is sufficient, good Mr. Barlow."
Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
A gentleman settler was Billy Barlow.
So I got my supplies, and I gave him my bill,
And for New England started, my pockets to fill;
But by bushrangers met, with my traps they made free,
Took my horse and left Billy bailed to a tree.
Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
"I shall die of starvation," thought Billy Barlow.
At last I got loose, and I walked on my way;
A constable came up, and to me did say,
"Are you free?" Says I, "Yes, to be sure; don't you know?"
And I handed my card, "Mr. William Barlow."
Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
He said, "That's all gammon," to Billy Barlow.
Then he put on the handcuffs, and brought me away
Right back down to Maitland, before Mr. Day.
When I said I was free, why the J.P. replied,
"I must send you down to be i—dentified."
Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
So to Sydney once more went poor Billy Barlow.
They at last let me go, and I then did repair
For my station once more, and at length I got there;
But a few days before, the blacks, you must know,
Had spear'd all the cattle of Billy Barlow.
Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
"It's a beautiful country," said Billy Barlow.
And for nine months before no rain there had been,
So the devil a blade of grass could be seen;
And one-third of my wethers the scab they had got,
And the other two-thirds had just died of the rot.
Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
"I shall soon be a settler," said Billy Barlow.
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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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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Hudibras: Part 1 - Canto III
THE ARGUMENT
The scatter'd rout return and rally,
Surround the place; the Knight does sally,
And is made pris'ner: Then they seize
Th' inchanted fort by storm; release
Crowdero, and put the Squire in's place;
I should have first said Hudibras.
Ah me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!
What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps
Do dog him still with after-claps!
For though dame Fortune seem to smile
And leer upon him for a while,
She'll after shew him, in the nick
Of all his glories, a dog-trick.
This any man may sing or say,
I' th' ditty call'd, What if a Day?
For HUDIBRAS, who thought h' had won
The field, as certain as a gun;
And having routed the whole troop,
With victory was cock a-hoop;
Thinking h' had done enough to purchase
Thanksgiving-day among the Churches,
Wherein his mettle, and brave worth,
Might be explain'd by Holder-forth,
And register'd, by fame eternal,
In deathless pages of diurnal;
Found in few minutes, to his cost,
He did but count without his host;
And that a turn-stile is more certain
Than, in events of war, dame Fortune.
For now the late faint-hearted rout,
O'erthrown, and scatter'd round about,
Chas'd by the horror of their fear
From bloody fray of Knight and Bear,
(All but the dogs, who, in pursuit
Of the Knight's victory, stood to't,
And most ignobly fought to get
The honour of his blood and sweat,)
Seeing the coast was free and clear
O' th' conquer'd and the conqueror,
Took heart again, and fac'd about,
As if they meant to stand it out:
For by this time the routed Bear,
Attack'd by th' enemy i' th' rear,
Finding their number grew too great
For him to make a safe retreat,
[...] Read more
poem by Samuel Butler
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69
Dick meets jane and a fire starts
Jane leaves dick and it breaks his heart
Dick asked jane, whyd you leave me?
Cause youre not dangerous, rough or sleazy
Now dicks dangerous
Now dicks rough
Now dicks sleazy
Nice guy dick dont live here anymore
Dick bought a swanky love pad down by the shore
Chorus
Hes going prime time
Online
69
All the girls come around to get dick
They all adore him now cause he acts like a prick
Each one tries to tie dick down
Dick never falls in love, on the girls start coming round
Dick dont fall for their sweetness
He knows their weakness
Dick knows a secret
Secret is dick leased himself a nice car
Girls like car
Girls like dick
Dick scores
Chorus
Solo
Suddenly jane wants back in dicks life
cause jane hears dicks a popular guy
Jane looks good, dick takes her home
Dick kicks hers out after he gets his bone
Now jane wants him
Now jane needs him
Now jane loves him
Jane loves dick now that she got the heave ho
Jane got what she wanted
Dick aint a nice guy no more
Chorus
Spoken by woman: but I want dick!
Solo
song performed by Poison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Soccer Rollback
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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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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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator
Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!
It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!
Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonny
(rod stewart, jim cregan, bernie taupin & kevin savigar)
Sonny, Ive been missing you tonight,
Sonny, something deep inside me has died.
I gave up the purest love
A woman could give to a man.
Evrything I ever had
Has slipped right through my hands
cause she walks like you,
She talks like you,
She feels like you,
But she aint you,
She smiles like you,
Cries like you,
Denies like you,
But shell never be you.
Sonny, she dont move me anymore,
Sonny, Ive never hurt this way before.
Shes trying hard to replace you
But theres something shell never know.
She can borrow all your style
But shell never possess your soul
cause she acts like you,
Attacks like you,
She cracks like you,
But she aint you,
She needs like you,
Pleads like you,
Feels like you,
But shell never be you.
Sonny
Sonny
Im down on my knees
Sonny wont you come back, come back,
Come back to me please.
Someday, well hide the pain away, and
Sonny, I know that ... that we can laugh again.
I should have known and had more sense
Sinking to a childish pride.
All I got was your looking glass
Without your heart in side
cause she craves like you,
Behaves like you,
And lays like you,
But she aint you,
She plays like you,
Prays like you,
Does evrything like you,
But she aint you.
She hides like you,
Denies like you,
[...] Read more
song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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Row Jimmy
Julie catch a rabbit by his hair
Come back steppin like to walk on air
Get back home where you belong
And dont you run off no more.
Dont hang your head, let the two time roll
Grass shack nailed to a pine wood floor
Ask the time baby I dont know
Come back later, gonna let it show.
I say row jimmy row, gonna get there, I dont know,
Seems a common way to go, get out and row, row, row, row, row.
Heres a half dollar if you dare
Double twist when you hit the air,
Look at julie down below,
The levee doin the do-pas-o.
I say row jimmy row, gonna get there, I dont know
Seems a common way to go, get out and row, row, row, row, row.
Broken heart dont feel so bad,
You aint got half of what you thought you had.
Rock you baby to and fro
Not too fast and not too slow.
I say row jimmy row, gonna get there, I dont know,
Seems a common way to go, get out and row, row, row, row, row.
Thats the way its been in town,
Ever since they tore the jukebox down.
Two bit piece dont buy no more,
Not so much as it done before.
I say row jimmy row, gonna get there I dont know
Seems a common way to go, get out and row, row, row, row, row.
song performed by Grateful Dead
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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The Columbiad: Book III
The Argument
Actions of the Inca Capac. A general invasion of his dominions threatened by the mountain savages. Rocha, the Inca's son, sent with a few companions to offer terms of peace. His embassy. His adventure with the worshippers of the volcano. With those of the storm, on the Andes. Falls in with the savage armies. Character and speech of Zamor, their chief. Capture of Rocha and his companions. Sacrifice of the latter. Death song of Azonto. War dance. March of the savage armies down the mountains to Peru. Incan army meets them. Battle joins. Peruvians terrified by an eclipse of the sun, and routed. They fly to Cusco. Grief of Oella, supposing the darkness to be occasioned by the death of Rocha. Sun appears. Peruvians from the city wall discover Roch an altar in the savage camp. They march in haste out of the city and engage the savages. Exploits of Capac. Death of Zamor. Recovery of Rocha, and submission of the enemy.
Now twenty years these children of the skies
Beheld their gradual growing empire rise.
They ruled with rigid but with generous care,
Diffused their arts and sooth'd the rage of war,
Bade yon tall temple grace their favorite isle,
The mines unfold, the cultured valleys smile,
Those broad foundations bend their arches high,
And rear imperial Cusco to the sky;
Wealth, wisdom, force consolidate the reign
From the rude Andes to the western main.
But frequent inroads from the savage bands
Lead fire and slaughter o'er the labor'd lands;
They sack the temples, the gay fields deface,
And vow destruction to the Incan race.
The king, undaunted in defensive war,
Repels their hordes, and speeds their flight afar;
Stung with defeat, they range a wider wood,
And rouse fresh tribes for future fields of blood.
Where yon blue ridges hang their cliffs on high,
And suns infulminate the stormful sky,
The nations, temper'd to the turbid air,
Breathe deadly strife, and sigh for battle's blare;
Tis here they meditate, with one vast blow,
To crush the race that rules the plains below.
Capac with caution views the dark design,
Learns from all points what hostile myriads join.
And seeks in time by proffer'd leagues to gain
A bloodless victory, and enlarge his reign.
His eldest hope, young Rocha, at his call,
Resigns his charge within the temple wall;
In whom began, with reverend forms of awe,
The functions grave of priesthood and of law,
In early youth, ere yet the ripening sun
Had three short lustres o'er his childhood run,
The prince had learnt, beneath his father's hand,
The well-framed code that sway'd the sacred land;
With rites mysterious served the Power divine,
Prepared the altar and adorn'd the shrine,
Responsive hail'd, with still returning praise,
Each circling season that the God displays,
[...] Read more
poem by Joel Barlow
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Nonsuited
“Dear Richard, come at once;”—so ran her letter;
The letter of a married female friend:
“She likes you both, and really knows no better
Than I myself do, how her choice will end.
Be sure of this, the first who pops will get her.
He's here for Chris——” Whatever else was penned
Dick never knew: nor knows he to this day
How he got drest, and mounted—and away!
Like arrow from the bow, like lightning-streak,
Including thunder following fierce and quick,
By ridge and flat, through scrub and foaming creek
Dick galloped like a very lunatic;
Whipped, jerked, and spurred, but never word did speak,
Although his thoughts rushed furious and thick,
Headed by one he strove in vain to wipe out,
The fear that this same “he” might put his pipe out.
And faster yet, and ever faster grew
The maddening music of the pace, until
The station-roofs gleamed suddenly in view,
Quivering in noon-heat on the vine-clad hill:
When all at once his bridle-rein he drew,
But not from craven fear or flagging will,—
Though, truth to tell, his heart a moment sank
To see the river nearly “bank and bank.”
For Bowstring was the choice of all his stud,
And he at least had no fair bride to win;
And wherefore should he risk him in the flood?—
A question Bowstring also asked within:
For though he was a squatter's horse by blood,
And held the grazing interest more than kin,
He eyed the huge logs wheeling, bobbing, bowling,
As if his soul objected to “log-rolling.”
And by that curious telegraphic force,
Outspeaking half-a-dozen formal speeches,
That works its quick inexplicable course
Through saddle-cloth, pigskin, and buckskin breeches,
Until the dumb opinion of a horse
Its sympathetic rider's spirit reaches—
Dick, feeling under him the strong flanks quiver,
Knew that his thoroughbred would funk the river
A moment more, Dick from his seat had leapt,
Ungirthed, uncurbed, unreined his trembling steed;
Who straightway vanished from his sight, nor kept
The high tradition of a loyal breed,
But quickened by no stimulus except
His own unbridled (and unsaddled) greed,
[...] Read more
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Box Car Harry
The railroad dick looked straight at him, eyes unwavering, beady-eyed, menacing, and Harry counted his change to see if there was enough for a bribe; searched his thoughts for an escape route, but he was not as young as he used to be and the dick was young, legs like a deer.
He tussled Barney’s hair and said:
“Go there in that thar car and wait for me, got to dump the dick. Wait for my whistle.”
Barney looked up him hesitantly and Harry stammered hoarsely
“Go! ”
Barney scrambled on all fours the way Harry had taught him and quickly disappeared under cover of the dark Chicago night.
Always, the dick against the Bos, the rich against the poor was Harry’s thought, been that way since her was born, the wanders, the lose, the lose people on the road trying to find an odd job and a meal, against the railroad fat cats trying to exterminate the railroad people, who what was just trying to get by.
Harry held his breath and told himself to concentrate and finally turned back to the dick and showed himself, full on so as the dick could get a good look at him. The dick wide-eyed and incredulous stared hard at Harry surprised by the brazenness of the tramp and stood stock still for a moment, prey in the eyes of the predator.
Harry swayed a little left and then a little right like a running back taunting the linebacker, which way boy, am I going to bolt, which way is the question. Harry feinted a dash to the right and the dick crouched right ready for the chase, Harry smiled and then feinted to the left, testing the dick’s reflexes. The dick danced to the left enjoying the thrilling moment before the chase.
Harry guessed Barney had had time to secure himself in the car and then dashed straight toward the dick, who was thoroughly surprised and steeled himself for what he thought would be a crash between the two men. But Harry at the last minute slanted right allowing the dick to remain close behind but not enough to lay hand on him.
He headed for track 13 for the Great Northern line car.
The dick was breathing behind him; Harry could hear his labored breaths, close enough but not close enough to grab, what was what Harry wanted.
He hit the Northern line yard and saw number 13 looming. The dick was laughing behind him yelping with the sheer joy of it all, feeling he had Harry cornered because the Northern lot was a closed in one, a big wall in the back, a closed station and of course cars, most closed.
But Harry was aiming toward 13 and left up into the car and waited for the dick to catch up and see him. Harry looked down at the man’s heaving chest smiling his best Harry smile.
To be Continued
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
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Dont Lose My Number
They came at night leaving fear behind
Shadows were on the ground
Nobody knew where to find him
No evidence was found
Im never coming back
They heard him cry
And I believe him
Well he never meant to do anything wrong
Its gonna get worse if he waits too long
Billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere
That I can find you
Oh now billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere that I can find you, oh no
Searching through the day and into the night
They wouldnt stop till they found him
They didnt know him and they didnt understand
They never asked him why
Get out of my way
They heard him shout
Then a blinding light
Ooh all I could see was him running down the street
Out of the shadows and into the night
Now billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere
That I can find you, oh
Now billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere that I can find you, oh
Dont give up
Keep running, keep hiding
Dont give up
Billy, if you know youre right
Dont give up
You know that I am on your side
Dont give up
Oh billy, you better, you better, you better run for your life
Now billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere
That I can find you, oh
Now billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere that I can find you, oh
They came at night leaving fear behind
Shadows were on the ground
Nobody knew where to find him
No evidence was found
Im never coming back
They heard him cry
And I believe him
He never meant to do anything wrong
Its gonna get worse if he waits too long
[...] Read more
song performed by Phil Collins
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dont Lose My Number
They came at night leaving fear behind
Shadows were on the ground
Nobody knew where to find him
No evidence was found
Im never coming back
They heard him cry
And I believe him
Well he never meant to do anything wrong
Its gonna get worse if he waits too long
Billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere
That I can find you
Oh now billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere that I can find you, oh no
Searching through the day and into the night
They wouldnt stop till they found him
They didnt know him and they didnt understand
They never asked him why
Get out of my way
They heard him shout
Then a blinding light
Ooh all I could see was him running down the street
Out of the shadows and into the night
Now billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere
That I can find you, oh
Now billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere that I can find you, oh
Dont give up
Keep running, keep hiding
Dont give up
Billy, if you know youre right
Dont give up
You know that I am on your side
Dont give up
Oh billy, you better, you better, you better run for your life
Now billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere
That I can find you, oh
Now billy, billy dont you lose my number
Cos youre not anywhere that I can find you, oh
They came at night leaving fear behind
Shadows were on the ground
Nobody knew where to find him
No evidence was found
Im never coming back
They heard him cry
And I believe him
He never meant to do anything wrong
Its gonna get worse if he waits too long
[...] Read more
song performed by Phil Collins
Added by Lucian Velea
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Don't Loose My Number
They came at night leaving fear behind
Shadows were on the ground
Nobody knew where to find him
No evidence was found
"I'm never coming back"
They heard him cry
And I believe him
Well he never meant to do anything wrong
It's gonna get worse if he waits too long
Billy, Billy don't you lose my number
Cos you're not anywhere
That I can find you
Oh now Billy, Billy don't you lose my number
Cos you're not anywhere that I can find you, oh no
Searching through the day and into the night
They wouldn't stop till they found him
They didn't know him and they didn't understand
They never asked him why
"Get out of my way"
They heard him shout
Then a blinding light
Ooh all I could see was him running down the street
Out of the shadows and into the night
Now Billy, Billy don't you lose my number
Cos you're not anywhere
That I can find you, oh
Now Billy, Billy don't you lose my number
Cos you're not anywhere that I can find you, oh
Don't give up
Keep running, keep hiding
Don't give up
Billy, if you know you're right
Don't give up
You know that I am on your side
Don't give up
Oh Billy, you better, you better, you better run for your life
Now Billy, Billy don't you lose my number
Cos you're not anywhere
That I can find you, oh
Now Billy, Billy don't you lose my number
Cos you're not anywhere that I can find you, oh
They came at night leaving fear behind
Shadows were on the ground
Nobody knew where to find him
No evidence was found
"I'm never coming back"
They heard him cry
And I believe him
He never meant to do anything wrong
It's gonna get worse if he waits too long
[...] Read more
song performed by Phil Collins
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pearl
Pearl of delight that a prince doth please
To grace in gold enclosed so clear,
I vow that from over orient seas
Never proved I any in price her peer.
So round, so radiant ranged by these,
So fine, so smooth did her sides appear
That ever in judging gems that please
Her only alone I deemed as dear.
Alas! I lost her in garden near:
Through grass to the ground from me it shot;
I pine now oppressed by love-wound drear
For that pearl, mine own, without a spot.
2
Since in that spot it sped from me,
I have looked and longed for that precious thing
That me once was wont from woe to free,
To uplift my lot and healing bring,
But my heart doth hurt now cruelly,
My breast with burning torment sting.
Yet in secret hour came soft to me
The sweetest song I e'er heard sing;
Yea, many a thought in mind did spring
To think that her radiance in clay should rot.
O mould! Thou marrest a lovely thing,
My pearl, mine own, without a spot.
3
In that spot must needs be spices spread
Where away such wealth to waste hath run;
Blossoms pale and blue and red
There shimmer shining in the sun;
No flower nor fruit their hue may shed
Where it down into darkling earth was done,
For all grass must grow from grains that are dead,
No wheat would else to barn be won.
From good all good is ever begun,
And fail so fair a seed could not,
So that sprang and sprouted spices none
From that precious pearl without a spot.
4
That spot whereof I speak I found
When I entered in that garden green,
As August's season high came round
When corn is cut with sickles keen.
There, where that pearl rolled down, a mound
With herbs was shadowed fair and sheen,
With gillyflower, ginger, and gromwell crowned,
And peonies powdered all between.
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Added by Poetry Lover
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