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Fred Astaire represented the aristocracy, I represented the proletariat.

classic quote by Gene Kelly
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Job Networks and Enlightenment Rooms

The unemployed proletariat had just finished with the Centrelink’s rigmarole,
Of paper forms, and signing his name, and all the stuff the unemployed got to do.
Running around doing the paper chase, which is a part of the dole regime.
Next, it was the Job Networks, the employment organization now privatised.
A new dole treadmill for the unemployed, encouraging an attitude highly industrialized.

“Welcome to Job Network” the t.v. monitor said, on a recorded video machine.
“We are a privatized organization for the purpose of getting you into employment.
We are here to help you to find your talents, and potentials, to improve your
Abilities, so that you can re-enter the work force to have a life of independents.
This is far better than being on welfare forever with your dependants”.

The interviewers in the Job Network office were old grannies,
Complete with false colorings and artificial additives.
“I’m your case manager, I’m assigned to you, and you are here to sign a contract.
The Job Search And Activities Plan and responsibilities and employment to find.
To ensure you’re meeting your obligations to society not to be in your dole grind”.

The granny said.”Under governmental policies your association with us is for all life.”
Granny continued.“There will be no talk-back, yak-back, smart-back nor fart-back.
If we find you to be deficient in abilities, then you have to do a course of some sort.”
The proletariat looked a bit stunned said. “At my age, late forties, it's a bit late.”
Granny said. “It’s never too late to train.” she did not like his mind’s negative state.

The proletariat said to the false colored granny with artificial additives.
“I got a really bum hip, and with it I can't do much, and it seems I can't have a pension.
I’m not 97 per cent dead, nor can I work in a factory any more, it’s quite hopeless.”
Continuing. “I’m 49, over the hill and even at 40 no one is going to hire me any more”.
Granny said. “There’s anti-age-discrimination laws that help’s you in life furthermore.”

The proletariat bemused said. “Funny, I never heard. Daadaa-daatatitit-dududdaada-daaa”
THIS IS THE CHANNEL NINE NEWS, THE MOTORING ORGANIZATION
DISCRIMINATED AGAINST THIS MIDDLE AGED BLOKE FOR A CLERICAL
JOB AND THE ANTI-DISCRIMINATION BOARD IS TAKING ACTION.
FURTHERMORE ITS INTOLERABLE THE UNEMPLOYED CANT HAVE TRACTION.

This made grandma very angry, and she looked at the proletariat with contempt.
And said that the proletariat didn't want to work and had a severe attitude problem.
Grandma said it was about time to do a attitude course against negative attitudes.
It was being held in the same building in the “Enlightenment Room” for all dolies.
Grandma said it’s about time that the proletariats guard against their follies.

“Follies? ? I don’t think I have attitudes nor follies” The proletariat said, and continued.
“I lost my job due to imports from India, how can I possibly find work if Australia
Imports everything in untold billions of dollars worth of imported goods.
Further more, Australia has call centres and “IT” jobs in India, sucking all jobs out
Of Australia, so how could I possibly find work, faaarout.

Grandma was starting to become impatient with this proletariat smart arse.
“We have anti-discrimination laws against what you’re saying.”

[...] Read more

poem by Jerry Behr Number 2
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Fred The Clown

Orange, blue, red, white and brown
The favorite colors of Fred the Clown
A happy and jolly clown he is
But some people he likes to tease

Everyone hates to be with Fred the Clown
But Fred never showed the people a frown
He never felt bad for what he did
The hatred inside the people had hid

The people thought of what to do with Fred the Clown
They decided to talk to the mayor of town
He laughed at what the people said
He laughed until his face gone red

The mayor didn't believe the people
For Fred the Clown gives him a tickle
They always the mayor smiled that way
Ever since Fred came each day

He already knew what Fred was doing
So he decided to call Fred for a meeting
The mayor told him what the people had said
And so left poor little Fred

The people decided to give Fred a chance
So Fred the Clown gave them a dance
The dance was so funny that they laughed all day
Fred the Clown will forever stay

poem by Geneen Meyers
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Fred the Clown

Orange, blue, red, white and brown
The favorite colors of Fred the Clown
A happy and jolly clown he is
But some people he likes to tease

Everyone hates to be with Fred the Clown
But Fred never showed the people a frown
He never felt bad for what he did
The hatred inside the people had hid

The people thought of what to do with Fred the Clown
They decided to talk to the mayor of town
He laughed at what the people said
He laughed until his face gone red

The mayor didn't believe the people
For Fred the Clown gives him a tickle
They always saw the mayor smiled that way
Ever since Fred came each day

He already knew what Fred was doing
So he decided to call Fred for a meeting
The mayor told him what the people had said
And so left poor little Fred

The people decided to give Fred a chance
So Fred the Clown gave them a dance
The dance was so funny that they laughed all day
Fred the Clown will forever stay

poem by Geneen Alyssa Meyers
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Fred Astaire

Romance me...dance me
til I dont care
You havent lived until youve danced on air
Whisper nothings if you dare
Wont you please, be my fred astaire
(jam):
Everybody up...everybody up
Everybody up on the dance floor now
Everybody up...everybody up
Everybody up on the dance floor now
I know they call you mr. lonely heart
But youre the leading man to play the part
You dont have to be a millionaire
All you have to do is be my fred astaire
(chorus):
Get up now...get up now
Get up now...be my fred astaire (x2)
(jam):
When you move its like a melody
Serenading...the very heart of me
Ill be your ginger rogers on the floor
Swirl me. twirl me til I just cant
Take no more
(chorus):
Boy if you could only read my mind
Youve been in my dreams a thousand time
(jam):
(chorus jam):
Everybody up
(get up now)
Everybody up
(get up now)
Everybody up
(be my fred astaire).

song performed by Donna Summer
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Victories Of Love. Book II

I
From Jane To Her Mother

Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
But God's wise way is to give nought
Till we with asking it are tired;
And when, indeed, the change desired
Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise,
It comes by Providence, not Grace;
And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs
Are groans at unexpected cares.
First Baby went to heaven, you know,
And, five weeks after, Grace went, too.
Then he became more talkative,
And, stooping to my heart, would give
Signs of his love, which pleased me more
Than all the proofs he gave before;
And, in that time of our great grief,
We talk'd religion for relief;
For, though we very seldom name
Religion, we now think the same!
Oh, what a bar is thus removed
To loving and to being loved!
For no agreement really is
In anything when none's in this.
Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd
His wife against his hearty breast,
The interior difference seem'd to tear
My own, until I could not bear
The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife,
And show'd, indeed, that faith is life.
He never felt this. If he did,
I'm sure it could not have been hid;
For wives, I need not say to you,

[...] Read more

poem by Coventry Patmore
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The Victories Of Love. Book I

I
From Frederick Graham

Mother, I smile at your alarms!
I own, indeed, my Cousin's charms,
But, like all nursery maladies,
Love is not badly taken twice.
Have you forgotten Charlotte Hayes,
My playmate in the pleasant days
At Knatchley, and her sister, Anne,
The twins, so made on the same plan,
That one wore blue, the other white,
To mark them to their father's sight;
And how, at Knatchley harvesting,
You bade me kiss her in the ring,
Like Anne and all the others? You,
That never of my sickness knew,
Will laugh, yet had I the disease,
And gravely, if the signs are these:

As, ere the Spring has any power,
The almond branch all turns to flower,
Though not a leaf is out, so she
The bloom of life provoked in me;
And, hard till then and selfish, I
Was thenceforth nought but sanctity
And service: life was mere delight
In being wholly good and right,
As she was; just, without a slur;
Honouring myself no less than her;
Obeying, in the loneliest place,
Ev'n to the slightest gesture, grace
Assured that one so fair, so true,
He only served that was so too.
For me, hence weak towards the weak,
No more the unnested blackbird's shriek
Startled the light-leaved wood; on high
Wander'd the gadding butterfly,
Unscared by my flung cap; the bee,
Rifling the hollyhock in glee,
Was no more trapp'd with his own flower,
And for his honey slain. Her power,
From great things even to the grass
Through which the unfenced footways pass,
Was law, and that which keeps the law,
Cherubic gaiety and awe;
Day was her doing, and the lark
Had reason for his song; the dark
In anagram innumerous spelt
Her name with stars that throbb'd and felt;

[...] Read more

poem by Coventry Patmore
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Blokes

Blokes ~ 'Erb
Do you know 'Erb? Now, there's a dinkum sport.
If football's on your mind, why, 'Erb's the sort
To put you wise. It's his whole end and' aim.
Keen? He's as keen as mustard on the game.
Football is in his blood. He thinks an' schemes
All through the season; talks of it an' dreams
An' eats an' sleeps with football on his mind.
Yes: 'Erb's a sport - the reel whole-hearted kind.

'A healthy, manly sport.' That's wot 'Erb says.
You ought to see his form on football days:
Keyed up, reel eager, eyes alight with joy,
Full of wise schemes for his team to employ.
Knows all about it - how to kick a goal,
An' wot to do if they get in a hole.
Enthusiasm? Why, when 'Erb gets set
He is a sight you couldn't well forget.

There ain't a point about it he don't know
All of the teams and players, top to toe.
The rules, the tricks - it's marvellous the way
He follers - Wot? Good Lord, no, he don't play.
'Erb? Playin' football? Blimey! have a heart!
Aw, don't be silly. 'Erb don't have to play;
He knows more than them players any day.

He's never had a football in his hand,
'Cept once, when it was kicked up in the stand.
No, 'Erb ain't never played; he only sits
An' watches 'em, an' yells, an' hoots and splits
His sides with givin' mugs some sound advice
An' tellin' umpires things wot ain't too nice.
Aw, look; your ejication ain't complete
Till you know 'Erb. You reely ought to meet.
~~
Blokes ~ Fred
Do you know Fred? Now there's a man to know
These days when politics are in the air,
An' argument is bargin' to an' fro
Without a feller gittin' anywhere.
Fred never argues; he's too shrewd for that.
He's wise. He knows the game from A to Z.
All politics is talkin' thro' the hat;
An' everyone is wrong - exceptin' Fred.

Fred says there ain't no sense in politics;
Says he can't waste his time on all that rot.
Trust him. He's up to all their little tricks,
You'd be surprised the cunnin' schemes he's got.

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Rocket Town

Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Every time I see you baby(hey yeah, hey yeah)
There's always a tear to be found(hey yeah, hey yeah)
This request just won't stop coming(hey yeah, hey yeah)
So come with me now(go Fred go, go Fred go)
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Every time you keep me guessing(hey yeah, hey yeah)
It's always the same run around(hey yeah, hey yeah)
Ammunition won't stop gunning(hey yeah, hey yeah)
So come with me now(go Fred go, go Fred go)
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Rocket town is a state of mind
Close your eyes, it ain't hard to find
Everytime I taste your honey
There's always a sting to be found
This suggestion won't stop buzzin'(hey yeah, hey yeah)
So come with me now(go Fred go, go Fred go)
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Hey yeah, hey yeah, let me take you down
Ooh hey yeah
Rocket town is a state of mind(go Fred go, go Fred go)
Close your eyes, it ain't hard to find
Rocket town is an attitude
Good for the head
Mental food(repeat)

song performed by Right Said Fred
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Fred

Do you know Fred? Now there's a man to know
These days when politics are in the air,
An' argument is bargin' to an' fro
Without a feller gittin' anywhere.
Fred never argues; he's too shrewd for that.
He's wise. He knows the game from A to Z.
All politics is talkin' thro' the hat;
An' everyone is wrong - exceptin' Fred.

Fred says there ain't no sense in politics;
Says he can't waste his time on all that rot.
Trust him. He's up to all their little tricks,
You'd be surprised the cunnin' schemes he's got.
Fred says compulsory voting is a cow.
He has to vote, or else he would be fined,
But he just spoils his paper anyhow,
An' laughs at' em with his superior mind.

But when a law comes in that hits Fred's purse,
You ought to hear him then. Say, he does rouse;
Kicks up an awful row an' hurls his curse
On every bloomin' member in the House.
He gives 'em nothin'; says they all are crook,
All waitin' for a chance to turn their coats;
Says they are traitors; proves it by the book.
An' can you wonder that he never votes?

Aw, say, you must know Fred. You'll hear his skite
Upon street corners all about the place.
An' if you up an' say it serves him right,
He answers that it only proves his case:
Them politicians wouldn't tax him so
Unless they were all crooked, like he said,
Where is the sense in votin' when they go
An' rob a man like that. Hurray for Fred!

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Poet Laurie Ate

Laurie was my dog
And he loved to bite
He wasn't very clever
And not at all bright.
He didn't like my friend
A mad poet called Fred
One day Laurie bit him
On the back of his head.
Fred wasn't at all pleased
And bit my dog back
So Laurie retaliated
And went on the attack.
They wrestled on the floor
And Fred got bit a lot
So to get my dog off him
I hit the mutt with a flowerpot.
But Laurie was very tough
And the pot bounced off his head
Then poor old Fred stopped moving
In fact he was now Dead.
I didn't know what to do
The poet didn't deserve to die
Looking down at Laurie
I asked this crazy dog Why?
But he just didn't care
And kept chewing at Fred
This loony dog was eating him
The he swallowed dead Fred's head.
Poor Fred was now all gone
But this must have been his fate
To lose his life to a psycho dog
The poet Laurie ate.

poem by Kevin Halls
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The Falcon

I RECOLLECT, that lately much I blamed,
The sort of lover, avaricious named;
And if in opposites we reason see,
The liberal in paradise should be.
The rule is just and, with the warmest zeal,
To prove the fact I to the CHURCH appeal.

IN Florence once there dwelled a gentle youth,
Who loved a certain beauteous belle with truth;
O'er all his actions she had full control;--
To please he would have sold his very soul.
If she amusements wished, he'd lavish gold,
Convinced in love or war you should be bold;
The cash ne'er spare:--invincible its pow'rs,
O'erturning walls or doors where'er it show'rs.
The precious ore can every thing o'ercome;
'Twill silence barking curs: make servants dumb;
And these can render eloquent at will:--
Excel e'en Tully in persuasive skill;
In short he'd leave no quarter unsubdued,
Unless therein the fair he could include.

SHE stood th' attack howe'er, and Frederick failed;
His force was vain whenever he assailed;
Without the least return his wealth he spent:
Lands, houses, manors of immense extent,
Were ev'ry now and then to auction brought;
To gratify his love was all he thought.

THE rank of 'squire till lately he had claimed;
Now scarcely was he even mister named;
Of wealth by Cupid's stratagems bereft,
A single farm was all the man had left;
Friends very few, and such as God alone,
Could tell if friendship they might not disown;
The best were led their pity to express;
'Twas all he got: it could not well be less;
To lend without security was wrong,
And former favours they'd forgotten long;
With all that Frederick could or say or do,
His liberal conduct soon was lost to view.

WITH Clytia he no longer was received,
Than while he was a man of wealth believed;
Balls, concerts, op'ras, tournaments, and plays,
Expensive dresses, all engaging ways,
Were used to captivate this lady fair,
While scarcely one around but in despair,
Wife, widow, maid, his fond affection sought;
To gain him, ev'ry wily art was brought;

[...] Read more

poem by La Fontaine
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The Ballad Of Rose O Shea

She lived with her blind mother beside a purling stream
In their little white washed cottage in the Valley of Rosheen
Her hair as dark as raven's wing and her eyes blue as ripened sloes
The sightless widow's only child the lovely maid named Rose.

Her blind and bedridden mother of chronic cancer died
And she sold the little white washed cot in Rosheen country side
And she left the green vale of Rosheen and Rosheen bogland brown
And sailed across the Irish sea for to live in London Town.

She settled in to City life this sweet Irish colleen
And she grew used to London traffic and the bustling city scene
She worked and saved some money and she earned her livelihood
As a bar maid in a bar room in London's Cricklewood.

It was here she met the man she loved the man she was to wed
An English son of an Irishman a red haired chap named Fred
And on a blustery morn in March a rainy saturday
Miss Rose Reen from Rosheen became Mrs Rose O Shea.

Ah but Fred he was a wild one a wild, wild man was he
He liked his drink and women and he spent his money free
He liked whiskey and women and was unfaithful to his wife
And he proved unsuited for marriage and the married way of life.

In a London hospital maternity ward on a pleasant August morn
A baby son to Rose O Shea and her husband Fred was born
And Rose was now a mother and Fred he was a dad
And Freddy junior was the name they gave the little lad.

But the added responsibility did not reform Fred Shea
And in the bar rooms at the weekends he still spent most of his pay
He had grown tired of his wife Rose like a bored child with his toy
And he showed very little interest in his little baby boy.

Fred found himself a new love a sexy little miss
And his relationship with her went further than a kiss
He walked out on his Irish wife and his young baby son
And he went to live with his new love his golden haired loved one.

The dark haired female from Rosheen erred in her marriage choice
And for her costly error she paid a heartbreak price
She took her son to orphan home with aching breaking heart
And with her blue eyed six months baby boy a tearful Rose did part.

In life it's very easy lose and very hard to win
And women often times suffer at the hands of callous men
And some women forced to part with their young babe like Mrs Rose O Shea
And for some life's a punishment or so 'twould seem that way.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Decadence Dance

francis!
Francis! be careful!
Trying so hard to keep up with the joneses
Running a rat racing won by our noses
Always put one foot in front of the other
And dance to the beat of the dacadent drummer
Just buy a brand new pair of fred astaire shoes
Climbing to the top, never gonna stop
Its the same old song and one two three and dec-a-dance
Dance, dance
Dance, dance
Dancing to the dacadence dance, dance
Everybody decadancing
Dancing to the decadence
Dancing to the decadence dance
Its hard to stop once the music gets started
til the soles of your feet harden up like your heart did
Stepping in line with the sign of the timer
Seduced by the tune of the decadent dancer
Just buy a brand new pair of fred astaire shoes
Climbing to the top, never gonna stop
Its the same old song and one two three and dec-a-dance
Dance, dance
Dance, dance
Dancing to the dacadence dance, dance
Everybody decadancing
Dancing to the decadence
Dancing to the decadence dance

song performed by Extreme
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A Girl Named Fred

Once upon a time not many years ago
a girl named Fred fell in love with a boy named Fran.
Although the names seemed an odd combination
and could easily be confused by people who did not know
that Fred was a girl and Fran was a boy.
They made the perfect couple as everyone agreed
and when their wedding day arrived,
the priest who was standing in
did not know about the names
only that he was marrying a Fred to a Fran.
Turning to Fran he said,
Fred with you take this woman
to be your lawful wedded wife.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should be husband.
The priest looked up a bit dismayed, but just carried on.
Turning to Fred said Fran will you take this man
to be your lawful wedded husband.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should wife.
The priest’ eyes rolled around in his head
very dazed and confused.
The silent sniggers in the congregation began to grow louder
as peels of laughter not bells rang out within the church.
The poor priest was now in utter disarray
and after blessing the rings;
he handed them back the wrong way about.
Then the poor priest red faced said
to whomever I pronounce you man and wife.
Just to make things more riotous
someone switched the Wedding March
to Rock Around The Clock,
which sent the bride and groom bopping down the isle,
and the poor priest he had a nervous breakdown
saying he would never perform
a wedding ceremony again.
He would stick to funerals
as there was only one body involved
and they wouldn’t talk back to him.

poem by David Harris
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What if it were true?

Hector, Ajax and Hercules
and other heroes such as these.
All suffered from the same disease.
They thought they were invincible.

Now every one of them is dead.
I know this from the books I’ve read.
Unlike my ancient Uncle Fred.
Who thought it might be possible.

To find a way to stay alive
a certain method to survive
Towards this end then he would strive
Although it seemed improbable.

A coward too afraid to die.
Although he was clever guy
well versed in ancient history.
He thought he could be comfortable.

If he could find a vampire who
he thought could be persuaded to
make him into a vampire too
and grant him immortality.

I half believed when I was small
My uncle often came to call
but always late after night fall.
Which made me feel uncomfortable.

But now I take a different view.
I don’t believe his tales were true
Nor do I think my siblings do.
I think it is impossible.

By bright sunlight I am certain
but after dark I think again.
What if my uncle Fred did gain
his wish for immortality.

I hoped that he was telling lies
and so it came as no surprise.
To find one single rule applies.
Vampires do not seek publicity.

Real vampires do not advertise
They consider it’s not wise.
Although my uncle really tries
his stories cannot convince me.

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Tough cat Sam returns

Tough cat Sam is restless
he wants to box again
retirement is boring he says
he misses the action and even the pain.
Jess says he's lost the plot
and he's being a grumpy old cat
although Sam maybe knocking on a bit
he can still do a hundred press ups on the mat.
He wants to fight the reigning champ
a psycho cat by the name of feral Fred
he hasn't lost a fight in years
and two poor opponents ended up dead.
But Sam has been working out
and eating lots and lots of raw fish
feral Fred has heard all about this
and says he'll grant Sam his wish.
The Feline Gazette ran the headline
that Sam is too old and must be mad
they wrote some nasty things in their paper
saying he was washed up and very sad.
But Tough cat Sam had heard it before
and announced that he was in really good nick
while feral Fred laughed and taunted Sam
saying he was just an old cat and thick.
So Sam had his fight with feral Fred
and for fifteen rounds they went paw to paw
and when the fight finally came to an end
feral Fred was lying knocked out on the floor.
Tough cat Sam was the champion again
the oldest cat to retain the boxing crown
and as Sam proudly said to the feline press
' I'm living proof you can't keep a good cat down!

poem by Kevin Halls
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As Soon as Fred Gets Out of Bed

As soon as Fred gets out of bed,
his underwear goes on his head.
His mother laughs, "Don't put it there,
a head's no place for underwear!"
But near his ears, above his brains,
is where Fred's underwear remains.

At night when Fred goes back to bed,
he deftly plucks it off his head.
His mother switches off the light
and softly croons, "Good night! Good night!"
And then, for reasons no one knows,
Fred's underwear goes on his toes.

poem by Jack Prelutsky
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Charlie And Fred

The Hollies
Charlie and Fred
(Allan Clarke/Tony Hicks/Graham Nash)
Track 8 on album 'Butterfly' october 1967
He rides on his horse and cart, Charlie does.
working from six until nine.
Collecting old rags and used bicycles,
old iron of description of any kind.
Here comes Charlie, Charlie the Ragman.
Throw out your old clothes for Charlie and Fred.
Earning a living off things we've discarded.
Earning enough for the board and the bed.
You hear him shout "Rags and old iron."
Everyone knows him that way.
Once a week, they come 'round calling.
How long it's been, I can't say.
chorus
They live all alone in a hovel.
He puts his money away.
Taking enough to just live on,
and at the end of the day
he's saving enough
to put Fred out to graze.
(repeat)
Has anyone seen Charlie lately?
Charlie just ain't been around.
Everyone's seen Fred is grazing,
chewing the grass from the ground.
Children say Charlie is happy
giving balloons to the angels instead.
Where is Charlie, Charlie the Ragman?
Don't throw your clothes out.

song performed by Hollies
Added by Lucian Velea
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Re-Entry

[ringmaster:] "step right up, step right up everyone. whether you're good or bad, happy or sad,
whether you're an emotional wreck, or a blissful speck in the black hole of an existance we
call life. step right up, and witness something you will be soon to never forget. feast your
ears on the most ferociously soothing waves of sonic communication to ever be created. built
for you by the master..."
[fred:] "hey!"
[ringmaster:] "...built for you by the mast..."
[fred:] "hey, shutup already, what is it?"
[ringmaster:] "what is it?"
[fred:] "um... yeah, dog. what is it?"
[ringmaster:] "what is it?"
[fred:] "dude, chill man."
[ringmaster:] "it... is limp bizkit!"
all around the world, you know me
all around the world, we know you

song performed by Limp Bizkit
Added by Lucian Velea
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This Time of Year a Twelvemonth Past

This time of year a twelvemonth past,
When Fred and I would meet,
We needs must jangle, till at last
We fought and I was beat.

So then the summer fields about,
Till rainy days began,
Rose Harland on her Sundays out
Walked with the better man.

The better man she walks with still,
Though now 'tis not with Fred:
A lad that lives and has his will
Is worth a dozen dead.

Fred keeps the house all kinds of weather,
And clay's the house he keeps;
When Rose and I walk out together
Stock-still lies Fred and sleeps.

poem by Alfred Edward Housman
Added by Poetry Lover
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