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Ode of Abigail

Ode of Abigail

Drops of twinkle rain were expecting you,
to render your nocturnal forms; hex play,
Ode of Abigail on waves sprinkled quay;

Was she a mizzle wraith form, blue bayou,
Drenched form waiting persistent to sway;
Drops of twinkle rain were expecting you;

Pelting on fields upwards to skies, eschew,
smiling dream; form made of soul and clay,
Ode of Abigail on waves sprinkled quay;

Out on the faraway to hold, April's dew
Referred to aboves, winter clouds of gray,
Drops of twinkle rain were expecting you;

Blissful to far, a stare she was, sea view,
redeeming icon and lift, Heaven's display;
Ode of Abigail on waves sprinkled quay;

She was unreached, lady agleam on blue,
perceiving Winter's cold raindrops spray,
Drops of twinkle rain were expecting you;
Ode of Abigail on waves sprinkled quay.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Rain Drops

If the rain drops,
It doesn't fall on one man's head;
So, this poem is about to make you learn.

If the rain drops were sticks of cigarettes,
Many of us will smoke to death;
If the rain drops were bullets from heaven,
Many of us will dropp dead at once;
If the rain drops were roses of love,
Many of us will make love one night;
If the rain drops were trees,
Many of us will sleep on them;
If the rain drops were stones,
Many of us will be admitted in the hospitals;
If the rain drops were men,
Many women will fight for them;
If the rain drops were women,
Many men will kill for them;
If the rain drops were birds,
Many of us will learn to fly;
If the rain drops were acid,
Many of us will be admitted in hell;
If the rain drops were flowers,
Many of us will beautify our homes;
If the rain drops were spies,
Many of us will be exposed of our nakedness;
If the rain drops were guns,
Many of us will join the Third World War;
If the rain drops were teachers,
Many of us will be well educated;
If the rain drops were students,
Many of us will still roam the streets;
If the rain drops were parents,
Many of us will be at home;
If the rain drops were bicycles,
Many of the cars will be grounded;
If the rain drops were diamonds,
Many of the mines will be closed down;
If the rain drops were candies,
Many of us will visit the toilet;
If the rain drops were houses,
Many of us will not be homeless;
If the rain drops were Whites,
Many of the Blacks will not be seen;
If the rain drops were Blacks,
Many of the Whites will not be heard of;
If the rain drops were envelopes,
Many of the post offices will work overtime;
If the rain drops were Television Sets,
Many of us will be glued to them;

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poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Bayou Girl

Yea yea,
Na na na na na
Bayou girl
Can you come out tonight
Bayou girl
Can you come out tonight
Ive been waitin on you
Right down by the bayou
Yea yea yea ,
Bayou girl ,
Come on and let your hair down
Bayou girl ,
Come on and let your hair down
I want to dance with you,
All night, uh
By the light of the moon
Thats what I want to do
Na na na na na
Bayou girl
Can you hear me when I call ?
Bayou girl
Can you hear me when I call ?
I want to be with you
All night.....thats all
Yes sir
Na na na na
Goin to knock on your window
Im gonna , Im gonna
Ring your doorbell too
Knock on your window
Im gonna ring your doorbell too
Wont you come out tonight
Yea yea yea
And jam on the bayou
Na na na na
Bayou girl.....
Can you hear me when I call
Bayou girl,
Na na na
Can you hear me when I call
And Im callin you
I want to be with you
All night........and thats all
Yea yea yea yea
I said now bayou girl
I want to know can you come out tonight
Im gonna knock on your window
Yes sir
Gonna ring your doorbell too
Na na na na

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song performed by Van Morrison
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Rain drops fall from heaven

Tears swelling up in my eyes every night
Rain drops fall from heaven
Simply a walking disguise in the light
Rain drops fall from heaven

Wondering when i will be alright
Rain drops fall from heaven
Growing so weak no energy to fight
Rain drops fall from heaven

Losing all hope in my mind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing that i could simply unwind
Rain drops fall from heaven

As time goes love makes me blind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i didn't have to leave her behind
Rain drops fall from heaven

Wanting to make everything right
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i could see her in sight
Rain drops fall from heaven

Wishing I had the strength to fight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i could hold her tight
Rain drops fall from heaven

Never knowing if she remembers me
Rain drops fall from heaven
Never know if we were meant to be
Rain drops fall from heaven

Wishing i had more time to see
Rain drops fall from heaven
My family that always loved me
Rain drops fall from heaven

Thinking back to the times we had
Rain drops fall from heaven
Smiles and laughter but yet so sad
Rain drops fall from heaven

Just sitting here all alone
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i was way back home
Rain drops fall from heaven

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poem by Joshua Thomas Gage
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

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poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Rode to a Knight Impale - after John Keats - Ode to a Nightingale

. :) kindly refer to notes. :)

My part aches and a rousing stiffness pains
my whole as though viagra I had drank,
or loosened up some pheronomic chains
split seconds past, endorphined, anticipating prank.
'Tis not through envy that I ask a lot,
but seeking through your image happiness,
love-lipped epitome of all that please
amused muse stays aware that what you've got
conjurs wet dreams, streams’ ready eddies numberless,
straw hollow swallows spring in full-throated ease.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
fat vat prime time cocked, erect in deep pelvic berth,
tasting of horny fauna’s jelly beans,
dancing tandem to tambourine song since sunny birth!
O for a beaker full of the warm south,
filled to whet winking brink noways obscene,
with beaded bubbles oozing at the brim,
of purple-hooded mouth;

That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
and with thee knock on doors quite in the swim:
ride far away, knot solve, and quite forget
what you senses leaves had never known,
no weariness, no fever, and no fret.
Here, men lose wit to hear each other groan
as palsy shakes a few, sad, beardless chins,
where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and sighs;
where but to think of size baits rod with sorrow
and leaden-eyed despairs,
No, Beauty, none may mime your lustrous eyes,
where new Love pines, fears un-orgasmic morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
not roped in by vile censors, critics’ pards,
but on untrammelled wings of intimacy,
though most dull brains perplex, their sloth retards.
Already with thee! tender is the night,
and tenderness my motto ‘tis well known
to massage tissues starry nights, sun days,
without the which love’s light
moons absence of reflection, breezes blown
through tortuous gameplays, inexperienced ways.

You should not care what flowers are at your feet,
for all is incense garland, and endows

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Canto the Fourth

I.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O’er the far times when many a subject land
Looked to the wingèd Lion’s marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!

II.

She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.

III.

In Venice, Tasso’s echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone - but beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade - but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!

IV.

But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city’s vanished sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away -
The keystones of the arch! though all were o’er,
For us repeopled were the solitary shore.

V.

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poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
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Blue Bayou

I feel so bad Ive got a worried mind
Im so lonesome all the time
Since I left my baby behind on blue bayou
Saving nickels, saving dimes, working till the sun dont shine
Looking forward to happier times on blue bayou
Im going back some day come what may to blue bayou
Where you sleep all day and the catfish play on blue bayou
All those fishing boats with their sails afloat if I could only see
That familiar sunrise through sleepy eyes, how happy Id be
Go to see my baby again
And to be with some of my friends
Maybe Id be happy then on blue bayou
Im going back some day, gonna stay on blue bayou
Where the folks are fine and the world is mine on blue bayou
Oh, that girl of mine by my side the silver moon and the evening tide
Oh, some sweet day gonna take away this hurtin inside
Ill never be blue, my dreams come true on blue bayou

song performed by Roy Orbison
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Jambalaya

Goodbye joe, me gotta go down the bayou
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou
My yvonne, sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an a crawfish pie an a file gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Thibodaux, fontaineaux, the place is buzzin
Hey, an the kinfolk come to see yvonne by the dozen
Well, and-a dress in style, go hog wild an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an a crawfish pie, an a file gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio
Well a pick guitar, fill fruit jar an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Wanna settle down, far from town, get me a pirogue
Gonna catch all the fish in the bayou
Gonna swap my mon, to buy yvonne, what she need-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya, an a crawfish pie, an a file gumbo
cause, tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an be gay-o
Son of a gun, were gonna have big fun on the bayou

song performed by Van Morrison
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Jambalaya (On The Bayou)

(Hank Williams)
Goodbye Joe, me gotta go down the bayou
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou
My Yvonne, sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an' a crawfish pie an' a fil'e gumbo
'Cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Thibodaux, Fontaineaux, the place is buzzin'
Hey, an' the kinfolk come to see Yvonne by the dozen
Well, and-a dress in style, go hog wild an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an' a crawfish pie, an' a fil'e gumbo
'Cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio
Well a pick guitar, fill fruit jar an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Wanna settle down, far from town, get me a pirogue
Gonna catch all the fish in the bayou
Gonna swap my mon, to buy Yvonne, what she need-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya, an' a crawfish pie, an' a fil'e gumbo
'Cause, tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we're gonna have big fun on the bayou
(Transcribed by ear; corrections requested and welcomed!)

song performed by Van Morrison
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Hips Sway

Not the harsh sunshine
Cast soft dusk ambers instead
Brow furroughs not be shown
Let only clarity be read
Sway. Just sway

Close your eyes now
Sway
Let your mind wander now
Hips Sway
Let your mind wander
Hips Sway Sway

And like the road
That tells of no fatalities
Let me fool you one more time
Nievete travels smooth-Just fine
When you're with me
Sway Just sway

Close your eyes now
Sway
Let your mind wander now
Hips sway
Let your mind wander
Hips Sway Sway

Let the sweet of my lips
Linger on your finger tips
Longer than the rational of time
Not trying to keep you
Not trying to make you mine
Sway. Just sway

Close your eyes now
Sway
Let your mind wander now
Hips Sway
Let your mind wander
Hips Sway Sway

So when the night shadows
No longer move my way
Persuaded you can not be
Not even one more day
Impaled I will not be
Instead retreat to mountain tops
To face the sky and say
Remember how we used to sway

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poem by Atty Davis
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The Columbiad: Book I

The Argument

Natives of America appear in vision. Their manners and characters. Columbus demands the cause of the dissimilarity of men in different countries, Hesper replies, That the human body is composed of a due proportion of the elements suited to the place of its first formation; that these elements, differently proportioned, produce all the changes of health, sickness, growth and decay; and may likewise produce any other changes which occasion the diversity of men; that these elemental proportions are varied, not more by climate than temperature and other local circumstances; that the mind is likewise in a state of change, and will take its physical character from the body and from external objects: examples. Inquiry concerning the first peopling of America. View of Mexico. Its destruction by Cortez. View of Cusco and Quito, cities of Peru. Tradition of Capac and Oella, founders of the Peruvian empire. Columbus inquires into their real history. Hesper gives an account of their origin, and relates the stratagems they used in establishing that empire.

I sing the Mariner who first unfurl'd
An eastern banner o'er the western world,
And taught mankind where future empires lay
In these fair confines of descending day;
Who sway'd a moment, with vicarious power,
Iberia's sceptre on the new found shore,
Then saw the paths his virtuous steps had trod
Pursued by avarice and defiled with blood,
The tribes he foster'd with paternal toil
Snatch'd from his hand, and slaughter'd for their spoil.

Slaves, kings, adventurers, envious of his name,
Enjoy'd his labours and purloin'd his fame,
And gave the Viceroy, from his high seat hurl'd.
Chains for a crown, a prison for a world
Long overwhelm'd in woes, and sickening there,
He met the slow still march of black despair,
Sought the last refuge from his hopeless doom,
And wish'd from thankless men a peaceful tomb:
Till vision'd ages, opening on his eyes,
Cheer'd his sad soul, and bade new nations rise;
He saw the Atlantic heaven with light o'ercast,
And Freedom crown his glorious work at last.

Almighty Freedom! give my venturous song
The force, the charm that to thy voice belong;
Tis thine to shape my course, to light my way,
To nerve my country with the patriot lay,
To teach all men where all their interest lies,
How rulers may be just and nations wise:
Strong in thy strength I bend no suppliant knee,
Invoke no miracle, no Muse but thee.

Night held on old Castile her silent reign,
Her half orb'd moon declining to the main;
O'er Valladolid's regal turrets hazed
The drizzly fogs from dull Pisuerga raised;
Whose hovering sheets, along the welkin driven,
Thinn'd the pale stars, and shut the eye from heaven.
Cold-hearted Ferdinand his pillow prest,
Nor dream'd of those his mandates robb'd of rest,
Of him who gemm'd his crown, who stretch'd his reign
To realms that weigh'd the tenfold poise of Spain;
Who now beneath his tower indungeon'd lies,
Sweats the chill sod and breathes inclement skies.

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poem by Joel Barlow
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February Rain

To be the mud, the bog, the mire;
To soak the bones in February –
Eons from the autumn shower–
Even from a summer berry!

Sparrows chirp a desperate call,
Darting questions at the cows –
Oblivious to the dousing squall, they
Churn the sludge with pastern ploughs.

The crying air was lost in rhythm:
Drums incessant in the drops;
Not a chance for rainbow prism –
Even if the hammering stops!

Metallic chills entrap machines –
Tractors hushed within the shed.
Inside the house, a full cuisine
To bless with mead – and little said!

But out across the tiring field,
A sodden fox is hunting down
His prey of sorts – but nil of yield;
Perhaps he’ll starve; perhaps he’ll drown.

Still the clouds are hammering,
Hammering home their dreary aim –
A chatterbox in constant yammering,
Drenching all to make a claim.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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David

My thought, on views of admiration hung,
Intently ravish'd and depriv'd of tongue,
Now darts a while on earth, a while in air,
Here mov'd with praise and mov'd with glory there;
The joys entrancing and the mute surprize
Half fix the blood, and dim the moist'ning eyes;
Pleasure and praise on one another break,
And Exclamation longs at heart to speak;
When thus my Genius, on the work design'd
Awaiting closely, guides the wand'ring mind.

If while thy thanks wou'd in thy lays be wrought,
A bright astonishment involve the thought,
If yet thy temper wou'd attempt to sing,
Another's quill shall imp thy feebler wing;
Behold the name of royal David near,
Behold his musick and his measures here,
Whose harp Devotion in a rapture strung,
And left no state of pious souls unsung.

Him to the wond'ring world but newly shewn,
Celestial poetry pronounc'd her own;
A thousand hopes, on clouds adorn'd with rays,
Bent down their little beauteous forms to gaze;
Fair-blooming Innocence with tender years,
And native Sweetness for the ravish'd ears,
Prepar'd to smile within his early song,
And brought their rivers, groves, and plains along;
Majestick Honour at the palace bred,
Enrob'd in white, embroider'd o'er with red,
Reach'd forth the scepter of her royal state,
His forehead touch'd, and bid his lays be great;
Undaunted Courage deck'd with manly charms,
With waving-azure plumes, and gilded arms,
Displaid the glories, and the toils of fight,
Demanded fame, and call'd him forth to write.
To perfect these the sacred spirit came,
By mild infusion of celestial flame,
And mov'd with dove-like candour in his breast,
And breath'd his graces over all the rest.
Ah! where the daring flights of men aspire
To match his numbers with an equal fire;
In vain they strive to make proud Babel rise,
And with an earth-born labour touch the skies.
While I the glitt'ring page resolve to view,
That will the subject of my lines renew;
The Laurel wreath, my fames imagin'd shade,
Around my beating temples fears to fade;
My fainting fancy trembles on the brink,
And David's God must help or else I sink.

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poem by Thomas Parnell
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OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)

Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade;
Thou madest Life in man and brute;
Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot
Is on the skull which thou hast made.

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.

Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou:
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

We have but faith: we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see;
And yet we trust it comes from thee,
A beam in darkness: let it grow.

Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell;
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,

But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear:
But help thy foolish ones to bear;
Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.

Forgive what seem’d my sin in me;
What seem’d my worth since I began;
For merit lives from man to man,
And not from man, O Lord, to thee.

Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved.

Forgive these wild and wandering cries,

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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!

O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]

POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR

POEMS

1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song

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poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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The Columbiad: Book II

The Argument

Natives of America appear in vision. Their manners and characters. Columbus demands the cause of the dissimilarity of men in different countries, Hesper replies, That the human body is composed of a due proportion of the elements suited to the place of its first formation; that these elements, differently proportioned, produce all the changes of health, sickness, growth and decay; and may likewise produce any other changes which occasion the diversity of men; that these elemental proportions are varied, not more by climate than temperature and other local circumstances; that the mind is likewise in a state of change, and will take its physical character from the body and from external objects: examples. Inquiry concerning the first peopling of America. View of Mexico. Its destruction by Cortez. View of Cusco and Quito, cities of Peru. Tradition of Capac and Oella, founders of the Peruvian empire. Columbus inquires into their real history. Hesper gives an account of their origin, and relates the stratagems they used in establishing that empire.

High o'er his world as thus Columbus gazed,
And Hesper still the changing scene emblazed,
Round all the realms increasing lustre flew,
And raised new wonders to the Patriarch's view.

He saw at once, as far as eye could rove,
Like scattering herds, the swarthy people move
In tribes innumerable; all the waste,
Wide as their walks, a varying shadow cast.
As airy shapes, beneath the moon's pale eye,
People the clouds that sail the midnight sky,
Dance thro the grove and flit along the glade,
And cast their grisly phantoms on the shade;
So move the hordes, in thickets half conceal'd,
Or vagrant stalking thro the fenceless field,
Here tribes untamed, who scorn to fix their home,
O'er shadowy streams and trackless deserts roam;
While others there in settled hamlets rest,
And corn-clad vales a happier state attest.

The painted chiefs, in guise terrific drest,
Rise fierce to war, and beat their savage breast;
Dark round their steps collecting warriors pour,
Some fell revenge begins the hideous roar;
From hill to hill the startling war-song flies,
And tribes on tribes in dread disorder rise,
Track the mute foe and scour the howling wood,
Loud as a storm, ungovern'd as a flood;
Or deep in groves the silent ambush lay,
Lead the false flight, decoy and seize their prey,
Their captives torture, butcher and devour,
Drink the warm blood and paint their cheeks with gore.

Awhile he paused, with dubious thoughts opprest,
And thus to Hesper's ear his doubts addrest:
Say, to what class of nature's sons belong
The countless tribes of this untutor'd throng?
Where human frames and brutal souls combine,
No force can tame them, and no arts refine.
Can these be fashion'd on the social plan,
Or boast a lineage with the race of man?
When first we found them in yon hapless isle,
They seem'd to know and seem'd to fear no guile;
A timorous herd, like harmless roes, they ran,

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
Added by Poetry Lover
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Jambalay (On The Bayou)

JAMBALAYA
Goodbye, Joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh.
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou.
My Yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
'cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Thibodaux, Fontaineaux, the place is buzzin',
kinfolk come to see Yvonne by the dozen.
Dress in style and go hog wild, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
'cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Settle down far from town, get me a pirogue
and I'll catch all the fish in the bayou.
Swap my mon to buy Yvonne what she need-o.
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
'cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
- Hank Williams

song performed by Hank Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya

Goodbye joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh
Me gotta go pole the pirogue down the bayou
My yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, well have good fun on the bayou
Jambalaya, a-crawfish pie and-a fillet gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my machez amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Thibodeaux, fountaineaux, the place is buzzin
Kinfolk come to see yvonne by the dozen
Dress in style, go hog wild, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya, a-crawfish pie and-a fillet gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my machez amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya, a-crawfish pie and-a fillet gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my machez amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.

song performed by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Added by Lucian Velea
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Big Bayou

(gib gilbeau)
I took a long, long trip to the city
I was determined to get somewhere
I spent all my hard earned money
I had saved to put me there
Big bayou where did you go
To the river thats running slow
And to the gulf of mexico
Big bayou carry me home
I took a cotton picking job in memphis
And the people there treated me good
But my luck run bad in nashville
I had to walked the streets of hollywood
Big bayou where did you go
To the river thats running slow
Into the gulf of mexico
Big bayou carry me home
Oh lord Im going home
Where the fish jump in the air
You know I dont need a lot of money
Cause I aint going nowhere
Big bayou where did you go
To the river thats running slow
Into the gulf of mexico
Big bayou carry me home
Big bayou carry me home
To the river thats running slow
Into the gulf of mexico
Big bayou where did you go
Im gonna catch a southbound
Train home one of these days

song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya

Music & lyrics : hank williams
Goodbye, joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh.
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou.
My yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fil* gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Thibodaux, fontaineaux, the place is buzzin,
Kinfolk come to see yvonne by the dozen.
Dress in style and go hog wild, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fil gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Settle down far from town, get me a pirogue
And Ill catch all the fish in the bayou.
Swap my mon to buy yvonne what she need-o.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fil gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.

song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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