Loo-ney Time.!
Is it a tourist attraction,?
Loads of action.!
Easy to forget,
Its only a public toilet.
Is everyone dying for a pee?
The entire village wanting a wee.!
Maybe they've nothing to do,
Do they all think, 'Oh I'll pop out to the loo.'!
They're maybe nicking bog rolls! ! ,
Pretending to go for strolls!
Are all of them'spending a penny'?
Saving water in they're own lavtory!
Seemingly from miles around they flock,
The blooding road they'll block.
Are there no toilets where they live.?
Something has to give.
The bloody sewers will collapse,
A solution is needed perhaps.
Pose as an attendant,
Charge them for a'penny spent.'
Say a couple of pound.
Make them think! Before calling around..
'Out of order'sign on the door,
Burst pipe, flooded floor.
Petition, get it knocked down,
Good idea, it does sound,
Just want a quiet street,,
Whilst on my computer seat,
From my window payne,
Don't want to complain.! ! !
poem by Guy Lipmore
Added by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Dip It Low [Full Intention Dub Remix]
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
Pop, Pop, Pop that thang
[Verse 1:]
Says he wants you
He says he needs you
It's real talk, then why not make him wait for you
If he really wants you
If he really needs you
Really got to have you
Take your time and feel him out
When he's a good boy
I mean a really really good boy
Why not let him lay with you
That's when you give it to him good
[Chorus 4x:]
Dip it low
Pick it up slow
Roll it all around
Poke it out like your back broke
Pop pop pop that thing
Ima show you how to make your man say "Ooo"
Dip it low
Pick it up slow
Roll it all around
Poke it out like your back broke
Pop pop pop that thing
Ima show you how to make your man say "Ooo"
[Verse 2:]
You getting bold
He growin' cold
It's just the symptoms of young love
Growin' old
You think it's time
And you're thinking of leaving
But give it time
It's late at night
[...] Read more
song performed by Christina Milian
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Can See For Miles
I know you've deceived me, now here's a surprise
I know you've deceived me, now here's a surprise
I know that you have 'cause there's magic in my eyes
I know that you have 'cause there's magic in my eyes
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
Oh yeah
Oh yeah
If you think that I don't know about the little tricks you've played
If you think that i don't know about the little tricks you've played
And never see you when deliberately you put things in my way
And never see you when deliberately you put things in my way
Well, here's a poke at you
Well, here's a poke at you
You're gonna choke on it too
You're gonna choke on it too
You're gonna lose that smile
You're gonna lose that smile
Beacuse all the while
Beacuse all the while
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
Oh yeah
Oh yeah
You took advantage of my trust in you when I was so far away
You took advantage of my trust in you when i was so far away
I saw you holding lots of other guys and now you've got the nerve to say
I saw you holding lots of other guys and now you've got the nerve to say
That you still want me
That you still want me
Well, that's as may be
Well, that's as may be
But you gotta stand trial
But you gotta stand trial
Because all the while
Because all the while
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
Oh yeah
Oh yeah
I know you've deceived me, now here's a surprise
I know you've deceived me, now here's a surprise
[...] Read more
song performed by Styx
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Gotta Pee
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
Call 911!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
Call 911!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta poo!
song performed by NOFX
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pop Muzik
New york london paris munich
[repeat 32 times]
New york london paris munich
Everybody talk about...pop muzik
Pop...pop...pop...pop...muzik
Pop...pop...pop...pop...muzik
Pop...pop pop...muzik
Pop...pop pop...muzik
Pop...pop pop...muzik
Pop...pop pop...muzik
Pop pop pop pop pop pop pop muzik
[repeat 8 times]
Shooby dooby doo whop
Pop dop shoo whop
Shooby dooby doo whop
Pop dop shoo whop
Radio video
Boogie with a suitcase
You're living in a disco
Forget about the rat race
Let's do the milkshake
Sell it like a hotcake
Try some, buy some
Fee fie foursome
Talk about...pop muzik
Talk about...pop muzik
Talk about...pop muzik
Talk about...pop muzik
Dance to the pop mart
Top of food chain
Listen to the countdown
They're playing our song again
If you wanna be a gun slinger
Don't be a rock singer
Eenie meenie miney moe
Anyway you want to go
Talk about...pop muzik
Talk about...pop muzik
Talk about...pop muzik
Talk about...pop muzik
Pop...pop muzik
Pop pop pop pop pop pop pop muzik
[repeat until end]
song performed by U2
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Libelle of Englyshe Polycye
Here beginneth the Prologe of the processe of the Libelle of Englyshe polycye, exhortynge alle Englande to kepe the see enviroun and namelye the narowe see, shewynge whate profete commeth thereof and also whate worshype and salvacione to Englande and to alle Englyshe menne.
The trewe processe of Englysh polycye
Of utterwarde to kepe thys regne in rest
Of oure England, that no man may denye
Ner say of soth but it is one the best,
Is thys, as who seith, south, north, est and west
Cheryshe marchandyse, kepe thamyralte,
That we bee maysteres of the narowe see.
For Sigesmonde the grete Emperoure,
Whyche yet regneth, whan he was in this londe
Wyth kynge Herry the vte, prince of honoure,
Here moche glorye, as hym thought, he founde,
A myghty londe, whyche hadde take on honde
To werre in Fraunce and make mortalite,
And ever well kept rounde aboute the see.
And to the kynge thus he seyde, 'My brothere',
Whan he perceyved too townes, Calys and Dovere,
'Of alle youre townes to chese of one and other
To kepe the see and sone for to come overe,
To werre oughtwardes and youre regne to recovere,
Kepe these too townes sure to youre mageste
As youre tweyne eyne to kepe the narowe see'.
For if this see be kepte in tyme of werre,
Who cane here passe withought daunger and woo?
Who may eschape, who may myschef dyfferre?
What marchaundy may forby be agoo?
For nedes hem muste take truse every foo,
Flaundres and Spayne and othere, trust to me,
Or ellis hyndered alle for thys narowe see.
Therfore I caste me by a lytell wrytinge
To shewe att eye thys conclusione,
For concyens and for myne acquytynge
Ayenst God, and ageyne abusyon
And cowardyse and to oure enmyes confusione;
For iiij. thynges oure noble sheueth to me,
Kyng, shype and swerde and pouer of the see.
Where bene oure shippes, where bene oure swerdes become?
Owre enmyes bid for the shippe sette a shepe.
Allas, oure reule halteth, hit is benome.
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Added by Poetry Lover
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Homeless
Emaweni webaba
Silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Homeless, homeless
Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
Homeless, homeless
Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
We are homeless, we are homeless
The moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
And we are homeless, homeless, homeless
The moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
Zio yami, zio yami, nhliziyo yami
Nhliziyo yami amakhaza asengi bulele
Nhliziyo yami, nhliziyo yami
Nhliziyo yami, angibulele amakhaza
Nhliziyo yami, nhliziyo yami
Nhliziyo yami somandla angibulele mama
Zio yami, nhliziyo yami
Nhliziyo yami, nhliziyo yami
Too loo loo, too loo loo
Too loo loo loo loo loo loo loo loo loo
Too loo loo, too loo loo
Too loo loo loo loo loo loo loo loo loo
Strong wind destroy our home
Many dead, tonight it could be you
Strong wind, strong wind
Many dead, tonight it could be you
And we are homeless, homeless
Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
Homeless, homeless
Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
Homeless, homeless
Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
Somebody sing hello, hello, hello
Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
Somebody cry why, why, why?
Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
Somebody sing hello, hello, hello
Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
Somebody cry why, why, why?
Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
[...] Read more
song performed by Paul Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Bring It On!
Bring it on.
Don't keep it as a teaser.
Just bring it on.
You must want me on bended knee.
Bring it on!
I'm curious as I can be.
So bring it on!
You've got my interest high,
Tell me what it is but please don't lie!
What's that you've got?
Does it have my name on it?
Is it in a box?
Is it cool or hot?
What's that you've got?
Is it good or not?
Bring it on.
Don't keep it as a teaser.
Just bring it on.
You must want me on bended knee.
Bring it on!
I'm curious as I can be.
So bring it on!
Just bring it on!
Aaahhh...
Pop pop pahdop pop pop.
What's that you've got?
Aaahhh...
Pop pop pahdop pop pop.
What's that you've got?
Aaahhh...
Pop pop pahdop pop pop.
What's that you've got?
Aaahhh...
Pop pop pahdop pop pop.
What's that you've got?
Don't keep it as a teaser,
You'll distance me.
Aaahhh...
Pop pop pahdop pop pop.
Bring it.
Aaahhh...
Pop pop pahdop pop pop.
Bring it.
Aaahhh...
Pop pop pahdop pop pop.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.
This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers,--
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed!
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pre.
Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion,
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest;
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.
PART THE FIRST
I
In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward,
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant,
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood-gates
Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows.
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and cornfields
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the northward
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village.
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of hemlock,
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries.
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and gables projecting
Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway.
There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the sunset
Lighted the village street and gilded the vanes on the chimneys,
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Too-ra-loo-ra
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Hush now, dont you cry
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Thats an irish lullaby
Over in killarney, many years ago
My mother sang a song to me in tones so soft and low
Just a simple little ditty in her good old irish way
And Id give the world if I could hear that song of hers
Today
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Hush now, dont you cry
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Thats an irish lullaby
song performed by Kenny Loggins
Added by Lucian Velea
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To-Ra-Loo-Ra
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Hush now, don't you cry
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
That's an Irish lullaby
Over in Killarney, many years ago
My mother sang a song to me in tones so soft and low
Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way
And I'd give the world if I could hear that song of hers
today
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Hush now, don't you cry
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
That's an Irish lullaby
song performed by Kenny Loggins
Added by Lucian Velea
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Make My Head Go Pop
(words & music: per gessle)
Published by hiphappy
I dont know much about you but Im pretty sure I wanna be with you
I havent got a clue what is wrong, what is right, what is left to do
I read a magazine
I watch tv-screen
I dive into a dream only to find me in love with you
I wish youll never stop to make my head go pop
You make my head go pop pop p-pop pop pop pop every time youre around
Its a pleasant valley sunday and everthing seems to be beautiful
People go to church but Im found contemplating by the swimmingpoll
Im gazing at the sun
I watch him bringing joy to everyone
I feed the ducks with a bum only to find me in
Love with you
I wish youll never stop to make my head go pop
You make my head go pop pop pop pop pop pop
You make my head go pop pop p-pop pop pop pop ever time
Youre around
Press to play and never stop to make my head
Go pop
Yea, you make my head go pop pop pop pop pop pop
Every time youre around
Make my head go pop pop pop
Make my head go pop pop
Go pop pop
I feed the ducks with a bun only to find me in love with you
song performed by Roxette
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Can See For Miles
I know youve deceived me, now heres a surprise
I know that you have cause theres magic in my eyes
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
Oh yeah
If you think that I dont know about the little tricks youve played
And never see you when deliberately you put things in my way
Well, heres a poke at you
Youre gonna choke on it too
Youre gonna lose that smile
Beacuse all the while
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
Oh yeah
You took advantage of my trust in you when I was so far away
I saw you holding lots of other guys and now youve got the nerve to say
That you still want me
Well, thats as may be
But you gotta stand trial
Because all the while
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
Oh yeah
I know youve deceived me, now heres a surprise
I know that you have cause theres magic in my eyes
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
Oh yeah
The eiffel tower and the taj mahal are mine to see on clear days
You thought that I would need a crystal ball to see right through the haze
Well, heres a poke at you
Youre gonna choke on it too
Youre gonna lose that smile
Beacuse all the while
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
And miles and miles and miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Daddy Pop
Oh daddy
Oooh, sock it to me
See my brother talkin plently head
Steady wishin he could sleep in your bed
Steady wishin he was in your car
Just a steady wishin that he was who you are
Pop daddy - daddy pop
Brother steady talkin while
The girlies steady hop
Pop daddy - daddy pop
Punchin in the rock and roll clock (oh daddy)
See all the people wonder why
You set your goals high - high as the sky
See the people runnin from the truth
Livin in the past
When they need to be livin the new
Pop daddy (oh yeah) - daddy pop
Brother steady talkin while
The girlies steady hop
Pop daddy - daddy pop
Punchin in the rock and roll clock
Pop - daddy pop
Pop - punchin in the rock and roll clock
Talk, guitar, talk
(oh daddy)
Daddy pop is the writer and love is the book
U better look it over before you overlook
One - oh daddy
Two - oh yeah
Three - ooo, sock it to me
Four - oh (come on), your the best
See all my critics wastin time
Worryin about the daddy while he beat you blind
Get your life together - stop your cryin
Whenever you say that you cant -
Thats when you need to be tryin
Pop daddy - daddy pop (oh daddy)
Brother steady talkin while (steady, steady, steady)
The girlies steady hop
Pop daddy - daddy pop
Punchin in the rock and roll clock (punchin in... punchin in)
What kind of fool is this, that thinks daddy will miss
What kind of boy would dis, a list, as long as his-tory itself
I got grooves and grooves up on the shelf (oh daddy)
Deep purple concord jams (oh yeah)
This party I will slam (I dont think)
I dont think you understand (sock it to me)
Whatever you cant do - daddy can
The one and only daddy pop
(oh daddy) one and only - daddy pop
[...] Read more
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Song: Popular Culture
Oh I'm sick to death of spin,
And this banal, self-serving sin,
That justifies usurpation like a king.
When shove will come to push,
Weilding power without blush,
This vigilante State is so right-wing!
Pop, pop, popular history,
Grows a crop of myth and mystery,
Where legends reap the cynical flattery,
That maintains the lie:
Of who we are,
What we've become,
In whose name,
Was violence done;
Of why we're here,
And how we came.
Who's excused,
And who's to blame.
Of where we're going,
And where we're from;
And what we're doing,
To right the wrongs...
Pop, pop, popular culture.
Does it diminish or exalt ya?
Pop, pop, popular culture.
Is it Art or just sheer torture?
Pop, pop, popular culture;
Soporific by it's nature,
From mediocre to bad.
Pop, pop, popular culture,
Confers on all a bland inertia,
Embracing every fad:
Of how we look,
The way we feel;
What is image,
And what is real.
Of what to eat,
And what to wear;
How best to cheat,
Or how to care.
The puzzle of love,
The seizures of hate;
How best to survive,
The quirks of cruel fate.
The rule of the stars,
Or the lives of the great;
Hints from the famous,
[...] Read more
poem by Dave SmithWhite
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Courtship of Miles Standish
I
MILES STANDISH
In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives
Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, "Not Angles, but Angels."
Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.
Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,
Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth.
"Look at these arms," he said, "the war-like weapons that hang here
Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection!
This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate,
Well I remember the day! once save my life in a skirmish;
Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish
Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the Flemish morasses."
Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing:
"Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet;
He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon!"
Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:
"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;
That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.
Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;
So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn.
Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,
Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,
Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,
And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers!"
This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams
Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment.
Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain continued:
"Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer planted
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Added by Poetry Lover
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Courtship of Miles Standish, The
I
MILES STANDISH
In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives
Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, "Not Angles, but Angels."
Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.
Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,
Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth.
"Look at these arms," he said, "the war-like weapons that hang here
Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection!
This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate,
Well I remember the day! once save my life in a skirmish;
Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish
Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the Flemish morasses."
Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing:
"Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet;
He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon!"
Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:
"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;
That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.
Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;
So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn.
Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,
Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,
Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,
And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers!"
This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams
Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment.
Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain continued:
"Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer planted
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Pillage Hangman - Parody LONGFELLOW - The Village Blacksmith
Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The Smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can
And looks the whole world in the face
For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming furge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church
and sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach.
He hears his daughter's voice
singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling, -rejoicing, -sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Remember That Turkey Stuffed
Slip me a witch and be done with it.
Then give me a hee-hi-ho!
Let's both benefit from this wickedness.
Then slip me a ho-to-go!
La la la la lahhhh
Lee lee lee lee leeeee
Loo loo loo loo loo lah low.
And for all who have not had a good screwing all this year...
May those turkeys you stuff have tasty rears.
Slip me a witch and be done with it.
Then give me a hee-hi-ho!
Let's both benefit from this wickedness.
Then slip me a ho-to-go!
La la la la lahhhh
Lee lee lee lee leeeee
Loo loo loo loo loo lah low.
And for all who have not had a good screwing all this year...
May those turkeys you stuff have tasty rears.
May you taste a good turkey stuffed...
With cheer!
La la la la lahhhh
Lee lee lee lee leeeee
Loo loo loo loo loo lah low.
And for all who have not had a good screwing all this year...
May those turkeys you stuff,
Have juicy rears!
'Oh...
Such a festive decadence.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Dip It Low Ft. Shawnna
(Shawnna)
Uh, Uh
Uh, Uh, Shawnna (Yeah)
Uh, Uh, Christina
Look
I got some game for you Chickens
Listen a minute, please
'Case you be stuck with them (Shhh)
Hit you up then they leave
You gotta stop for a minute
Watch for a minute, breathe
Take you a squat for a minute
Listen to what I speak
I'm tryin to keep it real
Not tryina make a scene
You tryina keep your man
You gotta make him scream
You gotta put it down
Drop it and dip it low
Wind it around a while
Stop 'n now let it go
(Christina)
Says he wants you
He says he needs you
It's real talking when I make him wait for you
If he really wants you
If he really needs you
Really got to have you
Take your time and feel him out
When it's a good boy
I mean a really really good boy
Why not let him lay with you?
That's when you give it to him good
Dip it low
Pick it up slow
Roll it all around
Poke it out, Let your back roll
Pop t'pop t'pop that thing
Imma show you how to make your man say "Ohh"
Dip it low
Pick it up slow
Roll it all around
Poke it out, Let your back roll
Pop t'pop t'pop that thing
Imma show you how to make your man say "Ohh"
You getting warm
He growin' cold
It's just the symptoms of young love
Growin' old
You think it's time
[...] Read more
song performed by Christina Milian
Added by Lucian Velea
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Loot
If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back,
If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line,
If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack,
You will understand this little song o' mine.
But the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we are debarred,
For the same with English morals does not suit.
(~Cornet~: Toot! toot!)
W'y, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin' clobber
With the --
(~Chorus~) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Loot! loot! loot!
Ow the loot!
Bloomin' loot!
That's the thing to make the boys git up an' shoot!
It's the same with dogs an' men,
If you'd make 'em come again
Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot!
(~ff~) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!
If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life,
You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell;
An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't feel 'is knife
That you ain't told off to bury 'im as well.
Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade the beggars under
Why lootin' should be entered as a crime;
So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' clear
'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime.
(~Chorus~) With the loot, . . .
Now remember when you're 'acking round a gilded Burma god
That 'is eyes is very often precious stones;
An' if you treat a nigger to a dose o' cleanin'-rod
'E's like to show you everything 'e owns.
When 'e won't prodooce no more, pour some water on the floor
Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot
(~Cornet~: Toot! toot!) --
When the ground begins to sink, shove your baynick down the chink,
An' you're sure to touch the --
(~Chorus~) Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!
Ow the loot! . . .
When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'unting, you must always work in pairs --
It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find --
For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs,
An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be'ind.
When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems beyond a doubt
As if there weren't enough to dust a flute
(~Cornet~: Toot! toot!) --
Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ousetops take a look,
For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot.
(~Chorus~) Ow the loot! . . .
[...] Read more
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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