Funky Stuff
I promise not to let,
The left step go...
Not too far to the left.
Or be bothered by right at all.
I promise not to let,
The left step go...
Not too far to the left.
Or be bothered by right at all.
I promise not to let,
The left step go...
Not too far to the left.
Or be bothered by right at all.
I'd like a life that glides...
Free and easy.
No matter who it is I crush.
Or whose life is turned into mush.
I'd like a life that glides...
Free and easy.
No matter who it is I crush.
Or whose life I turn into mush.
I can't get enough,
Of that funky stuff.
Of that funky stuff,
I can't get enough!
I'd like a life that glides...
Free and easy.
No matter who it is I crush.
Or whose life I turn into mush.
I can't get enough,
Of that funky stuff.
Of that funky stuff,
I can't get enough!
I'd like a life that glides...
Free and easy.
I can't get enough,
Of that funky stuff.
I can't get enough,
Of that funky stuff.
Of that funky stuff,
I can't get enough!
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Crush
Crush, rush,
Crush, rush,
Rush, blush,
Crush, crush,
Its a crush, come to my place and take of your shirt, stay a while, (? ) make you smile,
Crush, crush,
Im need a rush,
You make me blush, I gotta crush,
You can getta way with murder, push me a little bit further,
You come to me with danger, then treat me like a stranger,
Got a crush, needa rush,
You make me blush, I gotta crush,
Lets not get heavy, chemistry is insite/side, dont fight decisions, baby,
Dont leave them behind, love me for a little while,
With your cool decision, Ill work you with my file,
Shes no competition,
Crush, I gotta rush,
You make me blush,
I gotta crush,
We can getta way with murder, crush me a little bit further,
We say we are lovers, we love undercover,
Crush, I gotta crush,
You make me rush,
You made me blush,
You give me rush,
Ah ha, you make me blush,
Too close for comfort, long as I dont get hurt,
I gotta crush, its a little to close for comfort, long as I dont get hurt,
Cos, we can getta way with murder, crush me a little bit further,
Come to me in danger, then treat me like a stranger,
Cos, we can getta way with murder, crush me a little bit further,
We say we are lovers, we love undercover,
Crush, you make me blush,
You make me rush, you play rough,
Ah, Im not tough, I gotta crush,
I gotta crush, hypnotise me,
I gotta crush, tantalise me,
I gotta crush, mesmerise me,
I gotta crush, hypnotise me.
song performed by Grace Jones
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Crush On You
Im a zombie in the moonlight
Im sleepin when its daylight
I really should be alright
But Im feelin kinda uptight
Im messin with a neighbour
Who killed my amp and fender
He looked to sweet and tender
Its hard to tell his gender
Got coffee on the paper
My dogs an alligator
I want you now and later
I got a crush got a crush on you
Got a crush got a crush on you
Im rentin the wrong movie
Im laughin at the wrong guy
Im drivin on the wrong side
My brain is gettin cock-eyed
The flag is never chequered
Cant find my f-beat records
God, give a little lovin
The moneys in the oven
Got dead flies in my scotch with ice
My talents always vaporize
I want your bird of paradise
I got a crush got a crush on you
Got a crush got a crush on you
Crush! crush! we got a good thing goin on
Crush! crush! such a good thing goin on
Im freezin in the summer
Im sweatin in the winter
No middle in the centre
No colours in the printer
No treatment at the pharmacy
No lessons learned from history
No future in the factory
No meaning in the poetry
No changin in the weather
No elvis in the leather
I want you now or never
I got a crush got a crush on you
Got a crush got a crush on you
song performed by Roxette
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Easy Skanking
Easy skanking (skankin it easy);
Easy skanking (skankin it slow);
Easy skanking (skankin it easy);
Easy skanking (skankin it slow).
Excuse me while I light my spliff; (spliff)
Good god, I gotta take a lift: (lift)
From reality I just cant drift; (drift)
Thats why I am staying with this riff. (riff)
Take it easy (easy skankin);
Lord, I take it easy! (easy skankin);
Take it easy (easy skankin);
Got to take it easy (easy skankin).
See: were takin it easy (ooh-wah-da da-da)
We taking it slow, (ooh-wah-da da-da)
Takin it easy (easy);
Got to take it slow (slow-slow)
So take it easy (easy skankin - da-da-da-da-da-da)
Wo-oh, take it easy (easy skankin)
Take it easy (easy skankin - da-da-da-da-da-da)
Take it easy. (easy skankin)
Excuse me while I light my spliff; (spliff)
Oh, god, I gotta take a lift: (lift)
From reality I just cant drift; (drift)
Thats why I am staying with this riff. (riff)
Take it easy (takin it easy);
Got to take it easy (takin it slow);
Take it easy (takin it easy);
Skanky, take it easy (takin it slow).
Tell you what:
Herb for my wine; (ooh-wa-da-da-da)
Honey for my strong drink; (ooh-wa-da-da-da)
Herb for my wine; (ooh-wa-da-da-da)
Honey for my strong drink.
I shake it easy (takin it easy);
Skanky, take it easy (skankin it slow);
Take it (takin it easy) easy;
Take it (skankin it slow) easy;
Take it easy (takin it easy);
Oh-oh-ooh! (skankin it slow);
Little bit easier (takin it easy);
Skanky, take it easy (skankin it slow).
Take it easy! take it easy! take it easy! /fadeout/
song performed by Bob Marley
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
II. Half-Rome
What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet.)
Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd:
This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze:
I'll tell you like a book and save your shins.
Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault?
Lorenzo in Lucina,—here's a church
To hold a crowd at need, accommodate
All comers from the Corso! If this crush
Make not its priests ashamed of what they show
For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse
And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out
The beggarly transept with its bit of apse
Into a decent space for Christian ease,
Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.
Listen and estimate the luck they've had!
(The right man, and I hold him.)
Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this morn
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,
Behind the little marble balustrade;
Disposed them, Pietro the old murdered fool
To the right of the altar, and his wretched wife
On the other side. In trying to count stabs,
People supposed Violante showed the most,
Till somebody explained us that mistake;
His wounds had been dealt out indifferent where,
But she took all her stabbings in the face,
Since punished thus solely for honour's sake,
Honoris causâ, that's the proper term.
A delicacy there is, our gallants hold,
When you avenge your honour and only then,
That you disfigure the subject, fray the face,
Not just take life and end, in clownish guise.
It was Violante gave the first offence,
Got therefore the conspicuous punishment:
While Pietro, who helped merely, his mere death
Answered the purpose, so his face went free.
We fancied even, free as you please, that face
Showed itself still intolerably wronged;
Was wrinkled over with resentment yet,
Nor calm at all, as murdered faces use,
Once the worst ended: an indignant air
O' the head there was—'t is said the body turned
Round and away, rolled from Violante's side
Where they had laid it loving-husband-like.
If so, if corpses can be sensitive,
Why did not he roll right down altar-step,
Roll on through nave, roll fairly out of church,
Deprive Lorenzo of the spectacle,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
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.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Give Your Heart To The Hawks
1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,
That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass
Under the old trees with rosy fruit.
In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a
basket,
The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.
Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.
Fayne snatched for it and missed;
Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small
Finely cut features in a dance of delight;
Fayne with one sweep flung at his face
All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
III. The Other Half-Rome
Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!
There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Still Not A Player
Up in the hot tub, poppin bubb-ly
Spot love, punish me
But it dont stop, watch the pun get wicked
When I (stick it) even luke be like dont stop, get it get it
I dont wanna be a playa no more
Im not a playa I just crush a lot
But big punisher, still got what youre lookin for
Uptown baby, uptown
I dont wanna be a playa no more
Im not a playa I just crush a lot
But you know big punisher still down behind
Whos down to crush a lot
Hey yo Im still not a playa but you still a hater
Elevator to the top hah, see you later, Im gone
Penthouse suite, penthouse freaks
In house beach, french countesse, ten thou piece
Rent-out lease, with a option to buy
Coppin a five-oh benz for when Im not, far up in the sky
Puffin the lye, from my twinzito
Up in the benzito with my kiko from queens, nicknamed perico
We go back like pas and wearin pjs
Now we reach the peakage, runnin trains for three days
Who wanna ride it wont cost you a dollar
Whether soft or harder of course you still gonna holla
My my, Im big huh, I rip my, through your
Im sick, you couldnt measure my, with six rulers
Hold up, chula, Im all about gettin loot
But I knock that boot, if you out to get hoof
I dont wanna be a playa no more
Im not a playa I just crush a lot
But big punisher, still got what youre lookin for
Uptown baby, uptown
I dont wanna be a playa no more
Im not a playa I just crush a lot
But you know big pun and brock still down behind
Whos down to crush tonight
I dont wanna be a playa no more
Im not a playa I just crush a lot
But you know big pun and brock still down behind
Whos down to crush tonight
I love from butter pecan to blackberry molass
I dont discriminate, I regulate every shade of the
Long as you show class, and pass my test
Fat, highly intelligent bachlorettes
Thats the best, I wont settle for less
I wanna get a brunette, with unforgettable sex
I lay your head on my chest, come feel my heartbeat
We can park the jeep, pump mobb deep, and just spark the
Its hard to creep since I found joe
Every pretty round brown, wanna go down low
[...] Read more
song performed by Incubus
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Backdoor Medley
I. backdoor love affair
Got to have you, baby, even
Though you say that you dont care.
Got to have you, baby, even
Though you say that you dont care.
Any way you want it,
Settle for a backdoor love affair.
Ii. mellow down easy
Jump, jump here, jump, jump there,
Jump, jump, baby, everywhere.
Dont you mellow down easy,
Babe, you got to mellow down easy.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Got to mellow down easy.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Got to mellow down easy, babe.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Got to mellow down easy.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Mellow down easy when you really wanna blow your top.
Shake, shake here, shake, shake there,
Shake, shake, baby, everywhere.
Dont you mellow down easy,
Babe, you got to mellow down easy.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Got to mellow down easy.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Got to mellow down easy, babe.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Got to mellow down easy.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Mellow down easy when you really wanna blow your top.
Shake, shake here, shake, shake there,
Shake, shake, baby, everywhere.
Dont you mellow down easy,
Babe, you got to mellow down easy.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Got to mellow down easy.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Got to mellow down easy, babe.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Got to mellow down easy.
Dont you mellow down easy.
Mellow down easy when you really wanna blow your top.
Iii. backdoor love affair no.2
Baby baby baby baby, dont you want a man like me?
Uh-huh uh-huh, yes I do, yes I do.
Oh, baby baby baby baby, dont you want a man like me?
Uh-huh uh-huh, uh-huh uh-huh, uh-huh uh-huh.
Oh, I give you lovin by the daytime,
[...] Read more
song performed by ZZ Top
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Gaberlunzie's Walk
The Laird is dead, the laird is dead,
An' dead is cousin John,
His henchmen ten, an' his sax merrie men,
Forbye the steward's son.
An' his ain guid gray that he strode sae gay
When hunt was up an' on,
An' the win' blew fair, an' the grews pu'd sair,
An' dawn was on Maol-don,
An' the skeigh steeds neigh'd, an' the slot-hounds bay'd,
An' up gaed the mornin' sun,
An' awa' gaed the deer wi' the merrie men's cheer,
Awa' owre the auld Maol-don,
An' awa' wi' a shout ran the rabble an' the rout,
An' awa' rode cousin John,
Wi' his horn, his horn, thro' the merry merry morn,
His hunter's horn sae shrill!
An' 't was 'Ho, heigho, hereawa',
Hereawa', hereawa'!
Ho, heigho, hereawa'!'
A' roun' the hill!
Walie! walie! they're a' gane dead,
A' owre the seas an' awa'
The laird an' his men, the sax an' the ten,
They gaed to fight and to fa'.
An' walie, an' wae, an' hech! the weary day!
The laird is dead an' a'!
A' in ae grave by the margent o' the wave
Thegither they lay doun,
Sax feet deep, where dead men sleep,
A' i' the faeman's grun'.
Foremost i' the van, wi' his bagpipes i' his han',
The steward's ae braw son,
An' next the young laird-gin the guid Lord had spared!-
A' as he led them on,
Wi' his bonnie brow bare an' his lang fair hair,
An' his bluidy braid-sword drawn;
An' hard by his chief, that in life was sae lief,
In death cam cousin John,
Wi' his horn, his horn, thro' the merry merry morn,
His hunter's horn sae shrill
When 't was 'Ho, heigho, hereawa',
Hereawa', hereawa'!'
[...] Read more
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Liquor
My baby did a low down dirty thang
My baby turned my mind to mush
She took my liquor
Left me the can to crush
My baby did a low down dirty thang
She had the gangster lean
Lookin' a little flushed
She took my liquor
Left me the can to crush
My baby did a low down dirty thang
My baby turned my mind to mush
She took my liquor
Left me the can to crush
My baby did that low down dirty thang
My baby workin' gangster lean
Lookin' flush
Bitch took my liquor
And left me the motha.... can to crush
song performed by ZZ Top
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Take Love Easy
Easy
Easy
Take love easy, easy easy
Never let your feelings show
Make it breezy, breezy breezy
Easy come and easy go
Never smile too brightly brightly
When your heart is riding high
Let your heart break, oh so slightly
When your baby says goodbye
That well known flame is mighty hot
As all of us have learned
So handle it with velvet gloves
And you wont get your fingers burned
Take love easy, easy
On the free and easy plan
And if you cant take it easy
Take it easy as you can
Take love easy, easy
Never let your feelings show
Make it breezy, breezy, easy
Easy, easy come and easy go
Never smile too brightly brightly
When your heart is riding high
Let your heart break, oh so slightly
When your baby says goodbye
That well known flame is mighty hot
As all of us have learned
So handle it, handle it with velvet gloves
And you wont get your fingers burned
Take love easy, easy easy
On the free and easy plan
And if you cant take it easy
Take it easy as you can
Take it easy
Take it easy
Take it easy, take it easy, take it easy, take it easy
song performed by Ella Fitzgerald
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Easy Thing
Love, love is so hard
Love is so hard to find
When love, such an easy thing
Such an easy thing
Such an easy thing to lose, yeah
Words, words are so hard
Words are so hard to find
When love, such an easy thing
Such an easy thing
Such an easy thing to lose, yeah
When you find your love
Will you know its real
When you lose it all
Will you really feel love
Love, love is so hard
Love is so hard to find
cause loves such an easy thing
Such an easy thing
Such an easy thing to lose, yeah
When you find your love
Will you know its real
When you lose it all
Will you really feel love
Love, love is so hard
Love is so hard to find
cause love (love) such an easy thing (so easy)
Such an easy thing (love is so easy)
Such an easy thing to lose, yeah (love)
Love (love) such an easy thing (so easy)
Such an easy thing (love is so easy)
Such an easy thing to lose, yeah (love, love is so easy to lose)
Love (love) such an easy thing (so easy)
Such an easy thing (love is so easy)
Such an easy thing to lose, yeah (love)
Love (love) such an easy thing (so easy)
Such an easy thing (love is so easy)
Such an easy thing to lose, (love, love is so easy to lose)
song performed by Kiss
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Crush On You
You found out
Kick it
You found out i've got a crush on you
You must have heard it from my best friend
She's always talking when she should be listening
Can't keep a secret to save her life
But still I trusted her with all I had inside
I never knew a rumour could spread so fast
But now the word is out all over town
That i'm longing for you
How did you know cos I never told
You found out i've got a crush on you
No more charades my heart's been displayed
You found out i've got a crush on you
Maybe I was the one who left a trace
Was there a message written on my face
Were my emotions so easily read
That you could know my thoughts before a word was said
Was it my eyes that let you know I had control
Because the way you moved was so self-assured
You knew I would surrender
How did you know cos I never told
You found out i've got a crush on you
No more charades my heart's been displayed
You found out i've got a crush on you
Kick it
One time
Get it up
Get down
How did you know cos I never told
You found out
No more charades my heart's been displayed
You found out
How did you know cos I never told
You found out i've got a crush on you
No more charades my heart's been displayed
You found out i've got a crush on you
You found out i've got a crush on you
You found out i've got a crush on you
song performed by Aaron Carter
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
He's Bothered Again!
Where are they?
Do they have him?
Will they know?
And troubled is he
Disturbed is he
Am I troubled?
How much bothered can his soul get?
Bothered about his own life
Bothered about bothering about his life
Bothered about wealth
Bothered about bothering about wealth
And weaker and weaker he is as the day go by
And worse still shall be his story
Because he is bothered about nature
And things in it
But he is never bothered about aiding nature
Or the things in it
Such person,
I am bothered about
Because he bothers to effect no change
And bothers that he hasn't effected a change
And why he did not effect any change
But not how he could effect such change
He also bothers about those who aren't bothered
He bothers for them
His stupidity is the source of their livelihood
He bothers why they do not bother
He bothers about those who effect changes
He bothers how long it took for such change
He bothers the risk taken
He never bothers how they do it
But he bothers if they were a bandit
And everyday, he keeps bothering
And knows not that he bothers his life
And his health
And his sanity
But those who bother aren't stupid
Except if they bother like he does
poem by Ivan Chizurum Ezeigbo
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
V. Count Guido Franceschini
Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Policeman G.
To Policeman G. the Inspector said:
"When you pass the 'shops' you must turn your head;
If you took a wager, that would be a sin;
So you'll earn no stripes if you run them in."
Mush-a-ring-tiy-ah,
Fol-de-diddle-doh!
To the House Committee, the Inspector said:
"'Tis a terrible thing how the gamblers spread,
For they bet on the steeple, and they bet on the Cup,
And the magistrates won't lock them up."
Mush-a-ring-tiy-ah,
Fol-de-diddle-doh!
But Policeman G., as he walks his beat,
Where ghe gamblers are -- up and down the street --
Says he: "What's the use to be talkin' rot --
If they'd make me a sergeant, I could cop the lot!"
With my ring-tiy-ah,
Fol-de-diddle-doh!
"But, begad if you start to suppress the 'shop',
Then the divil only knows where you're going to stop;
For the rich and the poor, they would raise a din,
If at Randwick I ran fifty thousand in."
Mush-a-ring-tiy-ah,
Fol-de-diddle-doh!
"Though ye must not box -- nor shpit -- nor bet,
I'll find my way out to Randwick yet;
For I'm shtandin' a pound -- and it's no disgrace --
On Paddy Nolan's horse -- for the Steeplechase!"
Mush-a-ring-tiy-ah,
Fol-de-diddle-doh!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!