I'm just a husband waltzing in the background.
quote by Bruce Greenwood
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Related quotes
The Believer's Jointure : Chapter II.
Containing the Marks and Characters of the Believer in Christ; together with some further privileges and grounds of comfort to the Saints.
Sect. I.
Doubting Believers called to examine, by marks drawn from their love to Him and his presence, their view of his glory, and their being emptied of Self-Righteousness, &c.
Good news! but, says the drooping bride,
Ah! what's all this to me?
Thou doubt'st thy right, when shadows hide
Thy Husband's face from thee.
Though sin and guilt thy spirit faints,
And trembling fears thy fate;
But harbour not thy groundless plaints,
Thy Husband's advent wait.
Thou sobb'st, 'O were I sure he's mine,
This would give glad'ning ease;'
And say'st, Though wants and woes combine,
Thy Husband would thee please.
But up and down, and seldom clear,
Inclos'd with hellish routs;
Yet yield thou not, nor foster fear:
Thy Husband hates thy doubts.
Thy cries and tears may slighted seem,
And barr'd from present ease;
Yet blame thyself, but never dream
Thy Husband's ill to please.
Thy jealous unbelieving heart
Still droops, and knows not why;
Then prove thyself to ease thy smart,
Thy Husband bids the try.
The following questions put to the
As scripture-marks, may tell
And shew, what'er thy failings be,
Thy Husband loves thee well.
MARKS.
Art thou content when he's away?
Can earth allay thy pants?
If conscience witness, won't it say,
Thy Husband's all thou wants?
[...] Read more
poem by Ralph Erskine
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The Believer's Jointure : Chapter I.
Containing the Privileges of the Believer that is espoused to Christ by faith of divine operation.
Sect. I.
The Believer's perfect beauty, free acceptance, and full security, through the imputation of Christ's perfect righteousness, though imparted grace be imperfect.
O Happy soul, Jehovah's bride,
The Lamb's beloved spouse;
Strong consolation's flowing tide,
Thy Husband thee allows.
In thee, though like thy father's race,
By nature black as hell;
Yet now so beautify'd by grace,
Thy Husband loves to dwell.
Fair as the moon thy robes appear,
While graces are in dress:
Clear as the sun, while found to wear
Thy Husband's righteousness.
Thy moon-like graces, changing much,
Have here and there a spot;
Thy sun-like glory is not such,
Thy Husband changes not.
Thy white and ruddy vesture fair
Outvies the rosy leaf;
For 'mong ten thousand beauties rare
Thy Husband is the chief.
Cloth'd with the sun, thy robes of light
The morning rays outshine:
The lamps of heav'n are not so bright,
Thy Husband decks thee fine.
Though hellish smoke thy duties stain,
And sin deforms thee quite;
Thy Surety's merit makes thee clean,
Thy Husband's beauty white.
Thy pray'rs and tears, nor pure, nor good,
But vile and loathsome seem;
Yet, gain by dipping in his blood,
Thy Husband's high esteem.
No fear thou starve, though wants be great,
In him thou art complete;
[...] Read more
poem by Ralph Erskine
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Waltzing Matilda
Words and music: m. cowan
Roy sang this song whilst on an australian tour
It was taped by a fan and circulated.....
Once a jolly swagman, campd by a billabong,
Under the shade of a coolibah tree,
And he sang as he watchd and waited till his billy boiled,
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me.
Waltzing matilda, waltzing matilda,
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me,
And he sang as he sat and waited till his billy boiled,
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me.
Down came a jumbuck to drink at that billabong,
Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee,
And he sang as he shaoved that jumbuck in his tucker bag,
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me.
Waltzing matilda, waltzing matilda,
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me,
And he sang as he shaoved that jumbuck in his tucker bag,
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me.
Up rode the squatter mounted on his thoroughbred,
Down come the troopers, one, two, three,
Whose that jolly jumbuck youve got in your tucker bag?
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me.
Waltzing matilda, waltzing matilda,
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me,
Whose that jolly jumbuck youve got in your tucker bag?
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me.
Up jumped the swagman, sprang into the billabong,
Drowning himself by the coolibah tree,
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong,
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me.
Waltzing matilda, waltzing matilda,
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me,
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong,
Youll come a waltzing matilda with me.
song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tom Traubert's Blues
(Tom Waits)
Wasted and wounded
And it ain't what the moon did
I got what I paid for now
See you tomorrow
Hey Frank can I borrow
A couple of bucks from you
To go waltzing Matilda waltzing Matilda
You'll go waltzing Matilda with me
I'm an innocent victim
of a blinded alley
And I'm tired of all these soldiers here
No-one speaks English
And everything's broken
And my strength is soaking away
To go waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
You'll go a waltzing Malitda with me
Now the dogs they are barking
and the taxi cab's parking
A lot they can do for me
I begged you to stab me
You tore my shirt open
And I'm down on my knees tonight
Old bushmills I staggered
You buried the dagger
Your silhouette window light
To go waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me
Now I've lost my St. Christopher
Now that I kissed her
And the one-arm bandit knows
And the maverick Chinaman
with the cold-blooded sigh
And the girls down by the striptease shows go
Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me
No I don't want your sympathy
Fugitives say
that the streets aren't for dreaming now
Manslaughter dragnet
and the ghost that sells memories
Want a piece of the action anyhow
Go waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
You'll go waltzing Matilda with me
And you can ask any sailor
And the keys from the jailor
And the old men in wheelchairs know
That Matilda's the defendant
She killed about a hundred
And she follows wherever you may go
[...] Read more
song performed by Rod Stewart
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VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.
All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.
Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Waltzing Matilda
(sung by tico torres)
Wasted and wounded, it aint what the mood did,
Ive got what I prayed for now
Ill see you tomorrow, hey frank, can I borrow a couple of bucks from you
To go waltzing mathilda, waltzing mathilda,
Youll go waltzing mathilda with me
Im an innocent victim of a blinded alley
And Im tired of all these soldiers here
No one speaks english, and everythings broken, and my stacys are
Soaking wet to go waltzing mathilda, waltzing mathilda,
Youll go waltzing mathilda with me
Now I lost my saint christopher now that Ive kissed her
And the one-armed bandit knows
That the maverick chinaman with his cold-blooded style
And the girls stand by the strip-tease shows, go
Waltzing mathilda, waltzing mathilda,
Youll go waltzing mathilda with me
Now I dont want your sympathy, the fugitive says
That the streets aint for dreaming now
Manslaughter dragnets and the ghosts that sell memories,
Want a piece of the action anyhow
Go waltzing mathilda, waltzing mathilda,
Youll go waltzing mathilda with me
Its a battered old suitcase in a hotel someplace,
And a wound that will never heal
No prima donnas, the perfume is on
Its an old shirt thats stained with blood and whiskey
And goodnight to the street sweepers, the night watchmen, the flame
Keepers
Goodnight mathilda, too
And goodnight mathilda, too
song performed by Bon Jovi
Added by Lucian Velea
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II. Half-Rome
What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet.)
Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd:
This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze:
I'll tell you like a book and save your shins.
Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault?
Lorenzo in Lucina,—here's a church
To hold a crowd at need, accommodate
All comers from the Corso! If this crush
Make not its priests ashamed of what they show
For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse
And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out
The beggarly transept with its bit of apse
Into a decent space for Christian ease,
Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.
Listen and estimate the luck they've had!
(The right man, and I hold him.)
Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this morn
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,
Behind the little marble balustrade;
Disposed them, Pietro the old murdered fool
To the right of the altar, and his wretched wife
On the other side. In trying to count stabs,
People supposed Violante showed the most,
Till somebody explained us that mistake;
His wounds had been dealt out indifferent where,
But she took all her stabbings in the face,
Since punished thus solely for honour's sake,
Honoris causâ, that's the proper term.
A delicacy there is, our gallants hold,
When you avenge your honour and only then,
That you disfigure the subject, fray the face,
Not just take life and end, in clownish guise.
It was Violante gave the first offence,
Got therefore the conspicuous punishment:
While Pietro, who helped merely, his mere death
Answered the purpose, so his face went free.
We fancied even, free as you please, that face
Showed itself still intolerably wronged;
Was wrinkled over with resentment yet,
Nor calm at all, as murdered faces use,
Once the worst ended: an indignant air
O' the head there was—'t is said the body turned
Round and away, rolled from Violante's side
Where they had laid it loving-husband-like.
If so, if corpses can be sensitive,
Why did not he roll right down altar-step,
Roll on through nave, roll fairly out of church,
Deprive Lorenzo of the spectacle,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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III. The Other Half-Rome
Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!
There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Irresistable Bitch
Prince: Every friday night I call your butt up on the phone,
A deeper voice answers, says u're not at home,
Now if you think that I'm a fool, 4 fallin' 4 any line,
Honey put down all your money and u'll beat me everytime
Background: Irresistable bitch
Prince: I love the way you walk
Background: Irresistable bitch
Prince: I love the way you talk
Background: Irresistable bitch
Prince: I really dig the way u kiss
Background: Irresistable...
Prince: Oh mama, I wish I could resist
Prince: My partners ask me why I take so much abuse
Why am I so faithful honey, why are u so loose
They say why am I the one who never gets to take u home...
They don't know the things u do 2 me, when we're alone
Background: Irresistable bitch
Prince: I love the way u walk
Background: Irresistable bitch
Prince: I love the way u talk
Background: Irresistable bitch
Prince: Really dig the way u kiss
Background: Irresistable...
Prince: Oh mama I wish I could resist,
Hurt me, hurt me
Background: Ho-ho, Ho-ho
Background: Ho-ho, Ho-ho
Prince: Stole all my heart, babe
Played it off like it was a joke
Stealin' all my heart babe 2 keep u by my side,
And bleed me 'til I'm broke
Prince: Hell if I know why I let u drive my car...
Don't I know that walkin', won't get me very far
Sure I know that cryin' over u is just in vain...
But all the things I lose goin' to add up to the all the things I've gain
Background: Irresistable bitch
Prince: I love the way u walk
Background: Irresistable bitch
Prince: I love the way u talk
Background: Irresistable bitch
Prince: I really dig the way u kiss
Background: Irresistable...
Prince: Oh mama, I wish I could re...
Hurt Me!
Prince: Stole all my heart, babe
And played it off like it was a joke
Stealin' all my heart babe 2 keep u by my side,
And bleed me 'til I'm broke
music breakdown
Prince: Everybody, everybody dance
[...] Read more
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Three Gossips' Wager
AS o'er their wine one day, three gossips sat,
Discoursing various pranks in pleasant chat,
Each had a loving friend, and two of these
Most clearly managed matters at their ease.
SAID one, a princely husband I have got.
A better in the world there's surely not;
With him I can adjust as humour fits,
No need to rise at early dawn, like cits,
To prove to him that two and three make four,
Or ask his leave to ope or shut the door.
UPON my word, replied another fair,
If he were mine, I openly declare,
To judge from what so pleasantly you say,
I'd make a present of him new-year's day.
For pleasure never gives me full delight,
Unless a little pain the bliss invite.
No doubt your husband moves as he is led;
Thank heav'n a different mortal claims my bed;
To take him in, great nicety we need;
But howsoe'er, at times I can succeed;
The satisfaction doubly then is felt:--
In fond emotion bosoms freely melt.
With neither of you, husband or gallant,
Would I exchange, though these so much you vaunt.
ON this, the third with candour interfer'd;
She thought that oft the god of love appear'd,
Good husbands playfully to fret and vex,
Sometimes to rally couples: then perplex;
But warmer as the conversation grew,
She, anxious that each disputant might view
Herself victorious, (or believe it so,)
Exclaim'd, if either of you wish to show
Who's in the right, with argument have done,
And let us practise some new scheme of fun,
To dupe our husbands; she who don't succeed
Shall pay a forfeit; all replied, "Agreed."
But then, continued she, we ought to take
An oath, that we will full discov'ry make,
To one another of the various facts,
Without disguising even trifling acts.
And then, good upright Macae shall decide;
Thus things arrang'd, the ladies homeward plied.
SHE, 'mong the three, who felt the most constraint
Ador'd a youth, contemporaries paint,
Well made and handsome, but with beardless chin,
Which led the pair a project to begin;
[...] Read more
poem by La Fontaine
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda
When I was a young man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of a rover
From the murrays green basin to the dusty outback
I waltzed my matilda all over
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said son
Its time to stop rambling cause theres work to be
Done
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war
And the band played waltzing matilda
As we sailed away from the quay
And amidst all the tears and the shouts and the
Cheers
We sailed off to gallipoli
How well I remember that terrible day
And how in that hell that they called suvla bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny turk he was ready, he primed himself well
He
Shells
And in five minutes flat hed blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to australia
But the band played waltzing matilda
As we stopped to bury our slain
And we buried ours and the turks buried theirs
Then
Now those
In
And for
Then a big turkish shell knocked me arse over tit
And when I woke up in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done,
Dead
Never knew there were worse things than dying
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs two legs
No more waltzing matilda for me
So they collected the cripples, the wounded
Maimed
And they shipped us back home to australia
<the legless, the armless>, the blind
Those proud wounded heroes of suvla
And as our ship pulled into circular quay
I looked at the place where
And thank christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity
And the band played waltzing matilda
[...] Read more
song performed by Pogues
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Band Played Waltzing Matilda
When I was a young man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murrays green basin to the dusty outback
I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said Son
It's time to stop rambling 'cause there's work to be
done
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we sailed away from the quay
And amidst all the tears and the shouts and the
cheers
We sailed off to Gallipoli
How well I remember that terrible day
And how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk he was ready, he primed himself well
He
shells
And in five minutes flat he'd blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia
But the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we stopped to bury our slain
And we buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
Then
Now those
In
And for
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over tit
And when I woke up in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done,
dead
Never knew there were worse things than dying
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs two legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me
So they collected the cripples, the wounded
maimed
And they shipped us back home to Australia
<The legless, the armless>, the blind
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where
And thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
[...] Read more
song performed by Pogues
Added by Lucian Velea
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IV. Tertium Quid
True, Excellency—as his Highness says,
Though she's not dead yet, she's as good as stretched
Symmetrical beside the other two;
Though he's not judged yet, he's the same as judged,
So do the facts abound and superabound:
And nothing hinders that we lift the case
Out of the shade into the shine, allow
Qualified persons to pronounce at last,
Nay, edge in an authoritative word
Between this rabble's-brabble of dolts and fools
Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.
"Now for the Trial!" they roar: "the Trial to test
"The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike
"I' the scales of law, make one scale kick the beam!"
Law's a machine from which, to please the mob,
Truth the divinity must needs descend
And clear things at the play's fifth act—aha!
Hammer into their noddles who was who
And what was what. I tell the simpletons
"Could law be competent to such a feat
"'T were done already: what begins next week
"Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain
"Whereof the first was forged three years ago
"When law addressed herself to set wrong right,
"And proved so slow in taking the first step
"That ever some new grievance,—tort, retort,
"On one or the other side,—o'ertook i' the game,
"Retarded sentence, till this deed of death
"Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat
"Crammed to the edge with cargo—or passengers?
"'Trecentos inseris: ohe, jam satis est!
"'Huc appelle!'—passengers, the word must be."
Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.
To hear the rabble and brabble, you'd call the case
Fused and confused past human finding out.
One calls the square round, t' other the round square—
And pardonably in that first surprise
O' the blood that fell and splashed the diagram:
But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue
Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines?
It makes a man despair of history,
Eusebius and the established fact—fig's end!
Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away
With the leash of lawyers, two on either side—
One barks, one bites,—Masters Arcangeli
And Spreti,—that's the husband's ultimate hope
Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,
Bound to do barking for the wife: bow—wow!
Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here
Would settle the matter as sufficiently
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Waltzing Matilda
OH! there once was a swagman camped in the Billabong,
Under the shade of a Coolabah tree;
And he sang as he looked at his old billy boiling,
“Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.”
Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, my darling,
Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag—
Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
Down came a jumbuck to drink at the water-hole,
Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him in glee;
And he sang as he put him away in his tucker-bag,
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!”
Down came the Squatter a-riding his thorough-bred;
Down came Policemen—one, two, and three.
”Whose is the jumbuck you’ve got in the tucker-bag?
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.”
But the swagman, he up and he jumped in the water-hole,
Drowning himself by the Coolabah tree;
And his ghost may be heard as it sings in the Billabong,
“Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?”
Andrew Barton ‘Banjo’ Paterson
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Will you still accept me as your husband? ? ?
Does only going to the corporate office from an exact 9 in the morning to 9 in the bewitching night; prove that a man is indeed an infallibly true husband to his jubilantly vivacious wife?
Does only possessing a perfectly sculptured masculine and virile body; prove that a man is indeed an unconquerably blessed husband to his euphorically tantalizing wife?
Does only earning infinite bundles of quintessential currency note every month; prove that a man is indeed an inimitably worthy husband to his pristinely effulgent wife?
Does only attending the world’s premium cocktail parties and conferences; prove that a man is indeed a pricelessly undefeatable husband to his wondrously enthralling wife?
Does only draping each conceivable pore of the skin with the most opulent fabric; pearls; and ties available in the world; prove that a man is indeed a stupendously enamoring husband to his beautifully effervescent wife?
Does only attracting gargantuan hordes of crowds towards with the mere essence of a celebrity personality; prove that a man is indeed a deservedly smart husband to his insuperably redolent wife?
Does only unceasingly perpetuating the atmosphere with the scent of majestic cigar smoke and kingly wine; prove that a man is indeed a effulgently princely husband to his poignantly intricate wife?
Does only having an inimitably infallible signature proudly embossed on every existing check; prove that a man is indeed a regally eclectic husband to his triumphantly gyrating wife?
Does only conversing at an unbelievably adroit nineteen to the dozen in the most enviably impregnable British accent; prove that a man is indeed an amazingly fulfilling husband to his unimpeachably contemporary wife?
Does only exuding into a billion globules of perseveringly golden sweat every day; prove that a man is indeed an earnestly hard working husband to his piquantly boisterous wife?
Does only possessing supernaturally miraculous qualities of being able to fly bare-chested in freezing air; prove that a man is indeed a truly devoted husband to his eternally replenishing wife?
Does only possessing an unparalleled sense of humor wherein even the most deliriously suicidal metamorphosed into smiling saints; prove that a man is indeed a proficiently versatile husband to his robustly exhilarating wife?
Does only having a magically unwavering baritone that spell bound millions in minute seconds; prove that a man is indeed a bountifully ardent husband to his unfathomably sensuous wife?
Does only writing countless lines of “Nobel Prize Winning” literature on Immortal Love; prove that a man is indeed an uniquely pioneering husband to his unconventionally Samaritan wife?
Does only endlessly winning over every territory of the boundless earth; prove that a man is indeed a fervently unassailable husband to his magnetically enthralling wife?
Does only being inundated with infinite hair and glistening muscle on the chest; prove that a man is indeed an astonishingly audacious husband to his gregariously pretty wife?
Does only being an unequivocally svelte emperor on the world stage of unprecedented power; prove that a man is indeed a wondrously iridescent husband to his gorgeously supple wife?
Does only indefatigably gallivanting in the most scintillating of “Rolls Royce” and “Mercedes”; prove that a man is indeed an unmatched dream husband to his unfathomably vanity wife?
Does only astoundingly sketching the persona of any organism on the unceasing Universe merely by fantasizing about the same; prove that a man is indeed a jubilantly embracing husband to his charmingly benign wife?
And if didn’t posses even a single quality amongst the several spell bindingly enriching ones as listed above; although each beat of my immortally throbbing heart loves you like noone else could on this tirelessly proliferating planet; will you still accept me as your husband; O! darling wife? ? ?
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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What should a husband do? ? ?
What should a husband do; if his wife indefatigably nagged him; tirelessly made him feel like a naked impoverished beggar; right in the center of the boisterously crowded street; and under the broadest of daylight?
What should a husband do; if his wife was more indifferent than the acrimoniously stabbing deserts; aimlessly staring towards the amorphously non-existent winds; whilst he inconsolably trembled in the most inexplicable of pain and disease?
What should a husband do; if his wife was the biggest blackmailer on the trajectory of planet divine; an entity who if once came to know of his weaknesses; would continue to backlash at him like the most venomous scorpion; at the tiniest of opportunity?
What should a husband do; if his wife preferred to talk more passionately than the Sun to every stranger and obliterated stone on the dusty street; remaining an emotionless ghost right infront of his earnest eyes?
What should a husband do; if his wife didn’t ask him even once of what he did and achieved the entire day; even though he’d catapulted to such dizzy heights of philanthropic success; that none could ever perceive in the wildest of their dreams?
What should a husband do; if his wife ghoulishly went of into the realms of unbreakable sleep; whilst he was undergoing the most volatile catharsis of his heart; sharing the most latent ingredients of his soul with her persona?
What should a husband do; if his wife vindictively abused him every unfurling instant of the day and night; when every other entity on the planet loved him for the astounding records that he’d achieved; for all the endless love that he was trying to perennially spread?
What should a husband do; if his wife mischievously flirted and philandered with every other man on the Universe; even though he endeavored his very best to quench even the most evanescent of her desire?
What should a husband do; if his wife sadistically ridiculed even the most sacred of his beliefs; nonchalantly dismissed every element of his devotion; to bond as one with the spirit of the Omnipotent God?
What should a husband do; if his wife devised an infinite ways to pull his leg and make him lick the most disdainful of dust; instead of inspiring him to unflinching face the world and rise to the most truthfully ultimate of skies?
What should a husband do; if his wife wholeheartedly supported the indiscriminate felling of trees just to impart more free space to their land; whilst he on the other hand shed a billion tears of sorrow at even the tiniest snapping of a leaf?
What should a husband do; if his wife wholesomely dictated her insane idiosyncrasies on their only child; threatening to leave him forever and go publicly to her parents house; if he dared to intervene with his suggestions for his very own heavenly offspring?
What should a husband do; if his wife guffawed like the greatest of marauding demons; at every ardently heart-rendering tear dropp that dribbled from his eye; for treacherously depraved humanity?
What should a husband do; if his wife interminably preferred to read every bit of delirious balderdash written on this earth; whilst countless lines of poetry that he’d immortally dedicated and written for her; lay fretfully rotting and obsolete on his writing shelves?
What should a husband do; if his wife unstoppably sermonized him to go to a flagrantly unceremonious mental asylum; whilst he all he ever attempted to do in his life; was to help her successfully accomplish every task of hers?
What should a husband do; if his wife was severely prejudiced and his worst critic; salaciously excoriating the most inimitably priceless of his art to feckless totters; in her fits of preposterously manipulative practicality?
What should a husband do; if his wife unsparingly teamed up with her parents; to demonstrate the epitome of cadaverous rudeness towards him; for every kind and humanitarian deed that he did?
What should a husband do; if his wife felt that bearing his child was the greatest sin on the soil of this fathomless Universe; as it would satanically disproportion her body; integrity; identity and unabashed entity?
What should a husband do; if his wife’s only mission was to squabble and thrash him with the mace of abhorrence; right from the first cry of dawn; for ostensibly not the slightest rhyme or reason?
Should he Kill Her? Or Should he Kill Himself? Or Should he kill both? Or Should be Divorce Her? Or Should he remarry? Or should he keep his second wife alongwith Her? Or should he abandon all worldly pleasures and go to the peak of Everest to perpetually meditate?
Well if I for one was in his shoes; then I wouldn’t do any of the above. Instead just accept all what was happening around me; as a part of my inevitably regretful destiny…..
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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With Your Love
Balins:
Don't Know what's happened to me since I met you
Feel like I'm fallen in love since I met you
I've got to know what your doin' to me with your Love
(Slick, Kanter & Chaquico Background)
With Your Love
Balins:
What Your doin' to me with your love
(Slick, Kanter & Chaquico Background)
With Your Love
Balins:
What Your doin' to me with your love
(Slick, Kanter & Chaquico Background)
With Your Love (hold Love 4 seconds)
Balins:
What your doin' babe it feels so good whatever it is.
Knew from the start it had to be you
You got my heart, I don't know what I'm gonna do...
With Your love
Heaven sent the sign, then sent you
I'm goin' out of my mind since I let you..
I've got to know what your doin' to me with your Love
(Slick, Kanter & Chaquico Background)
With Your Love
Balins:
What Your doin' to me with your love
(Slick, Kanter & Chaquico Background)
With Your Love
Balins:
What Your doin' to me with your love
(Slick, Kanter & Chaquico Background)
With Your Love (hold Love 4 seconds)
Balins:
What your doin' babe it feels so good whatever it is.
Whatever it is and whatever it's called
I know that it's you
I can't help getting involved..
With Your Love
Instrumental Break 32 Seconds
Balins: at 3 seconds of Break
Baby, Sweet Baby
Balins: at 14 Seconds of Break
Take it away
(Slick, Kanter & Chaquico Background): 18 Seconds in Break
With Your Love
(Slick, Kanter & Chaquico Background): 21 Seconds in Break
With Your Love
(Slick, Kanter & Chaquico Background)
With Your Love (hold Love 4 seconds): 24 Seconds in Break
Balins:
[...] Read more
song performed by Jefferson Starship
Added by Lucian Velea
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IX. Juris Doctor Johannes-Baptista Bottinius, Fisci et Rev. Cam. Apostol. Advocatus
Had I God's leave, how I would alter things!
If I might read instead of print my speech,—
Ay, and enliven speech with many a flower
Refuses obstinate to blow in print,
As wildings planted in a prim parterre,—
This scurvy room were turned an immense hall;
Opposite, fifty judges in a row;
This side and that of me, for audience—Rome:
And, where yon window is, the Pope should hide—
Watch, curtained, but peep visibly enough.
A buzz of expectation! Through the crowd,
Jingling his chain and stumping with his staff,
Up comes an usher, louts him low, "The Court
"Requires the allocution of the Fisc!"
I rise, I bend, I look about me, pause
O'er the hushed multitude: I count—One, two—
Have ye seen, Judges, have ye, lights of law,—
When it may hap some painter, much in vogue
Throughout our city nutritive of arts,
Ye summon to a task shall test his worth,
And manufacture, as he knows and can,
A work may decorate a palace-wall,
Afford my lords their Holy Family,—
Hath it escaped the acumen of the Court
How such a painter sets himself to paint?
Suppose that Joseph, Mary and her Babe
A-journeying to Egypt, prove the piece:
Why, first he sedulously practiseth,
This painter,—girding loin and lighting lamp,—
On what may nourish eye, make facile hand;
Getteth him studies (styled by draughtsmen so)
From some assistant corpse of Jew or Turk
Or, haply, Molinist, he cuts and carves,—
This Luca or this Carlo or the like.
To him the bones their inmost secret yield,
Each notch and nodule signify their use:
On him the muscles turn, in triple tier,
And pleasantly entreat the entrusted man
"Familiarize thee with our play that lifts
"Thus, and thus lowers again, leg, arm and foot!"
—Ensuring due correctness in the nude.
Which done, is all done? Not a whit, ye know!
He,—to art's surface rising from her depth,—
If some flax-polled soft-bearded sire be found,
May simulate a Joseph, (happy chance!)—
Limneth exact each wrinkle of the brow,
Loseth no involution, cheek or chap,
Till lo, in black and white, the senior lives!
Is it a young and comely peasant-nurse
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bible in Poetry: 1 Corinthians 7
Marriage:
1’Tis good for man, not to marry.
2 With so much immorality,
Each man should have his own, one wife,
And each woman, own, one husband.
3 The husband should fulfill to wife,
His marital duty always;
And likewise, wife to her husband.
4 Wife's body doesn’t belong to her
Alone, but to her husband too.
In the same way, husband's body
Does not belong to him alone
But also to his wife as well.
5 Do not deprive each other then,
Except by mutual consent and
For just sometime, so that you may
Devote yourselves to some prayer.
Then come again together for
As Satan will not tempt you for
Your lack of self-control in life.
6 I say this as a concession,
And this is not a command then.
7 I wish all men were as I am.
Each man has his own gift from God;
One has this gift, another, that.
8 Now to unmarried and widows:
’Tis good to stay unmarried too.
9 If they can’t control themselves then,
’Tis better they should get married
Than, burn with passion in your life.
10 Lord’s command to the married ones:
A wife must not separate from husband.
11 But if she does, she must stay unmarried,
Or else be reconciled to her husband.
A husband mustn’t divorce his wife.
12 To rest I say (I, not the Lord) :
If any brother has a wife,
Who isn’t a believer but then,
She is willing to live with him,
He must not divorce her, as yet.
13 And if a woman has husband,
Who isn’t a believer as yet,
But is willing to live with her,
She must not divorce him as well.
14 For the unbelieving husband
Has been sanctified through his wife,
And the unbelieving wife too,
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
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