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How do you work?

How do you work when you’re not in the mood
Your work is sloppy, mediocre and no good
You are insensitive to the world around you
You are out of sync and don’t have a clue

How do you work when your coworker gets a raise
Because that person kisses your boss’ arse always
You worked harder but he gets all the recognition
Tell me how you work in such situation

How do manage to smile at your coworker
When you know that person is a backstabber
That no good somebody you thought was a friend
Would despise and dessert you in the end

Amidst all this, how do you keep yourself sane
You can’t escape this predicament you are in
How do you work is my question my friend
Until next time, ‘til we meet again

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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:

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Out Of Sync

Shes out of sync
And everyone around her
Knows that something is wrong
Shes out of sync
Shes got all the symptoms
Of a girl who skipped a beat
Shes out of sync
A piece of ancient history
Shes a walking mirage
Shes out of sync
She entered through the exit
And never stopped to think
Shes out of sync shes a half step behind
Shes out of luck her body split from her mind
Shes out of orbit shell never connect
Shell run out of time before she accepts shes out of sync
Shes out of sync ---- (sync)
Shes out of sync ---- (sync)
Shes out of sync
And everybody senses
Theres a distance to keep
Shes out of sync
And totally committed
To living in a dark age
Shes out of sync
Shes constantly undoing
Whats already been done
Shes out of sync
Trapped in a silent movie
And shes on the brink
Shes out of focus
Shes a warp in time
Shes discontinued
A break in the line

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Harder They Come

Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nahnah
Nah nah nah nah nah
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nahnah
Nah nah nah nah nah
I dont need no-one whos gonna tie me down
I need you to let me be
Why is it, they always seem to come around?
I dont have time for me
Have some pride, lift your head high
Walk away while you can
Theres nothing I can do to save you now
So take it like a man
The harder they come, the harder they fall
You think Im yours but Im not at all
The harder they come, the harder they fall around me
The harder they come, the harder they fall
Your confident but youll lose it all
The harder they come, the harder they fall around me
Love my freedom, nothings gonna take it from me
Dont want it to end
I cant see why people always try and change me
Thats not my intent
Have some pride, lift your head high
Walk away while you can
Theres nothing I can do to save you now
So take it like a man
The harder they come, the harder they fall
You think Im yours but Im not at all
The harder they come, the harder they fall around me
The harder they come, the harder they fall
Your confident but youll lose it all
The harder they come, the harder they fall around me
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nahnah
Nah nah nah nah nah
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nahnah
Nah nah nah nah nah
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nahnah
Nah nah nah nah nah
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nahnah
Nah nah nah nah nah
The harder they come, the harder they fall
You think Im yours but Im not at all
The harder they come, the harder they fall around me
The harder they come, the harder they fall
Your confident but youll lose it all
The harder they come, the harder they fall around me
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nahnah
The harder they come, the harder they fall
You think Im yours but Im not at all
The harder they come, the harder they fall around me

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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

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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

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Da Bo$$ Would Like To See You

typed by: sonydogg@wanadoo.fr
Dizzle fizzle! Da bizzle! (Boss!)
Tha bling! Tha bling! (Ah ah ah!) [echoes]
Yeah... Uh uh
It's 2002 [echoes]... And whatchu gon' do? (whatchu gon' do?)
I'ma boss up... Ironically speakin' (uh), or it is generally speakin'...
I'm the ambassador, better yet, the PROFESSOR, of G-OLOGY (of G-ology...)
Just bossin' up right now...
Uh uh... Tha Boss would like to see ya (yeah... yeah)
Tha Boss would like to see ya
Bugsy! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
Gotti! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
Capone! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
Soprano! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
DOGGY! First Black with a casino! (Ah ah)
Tha Boss would like to see ya (who me?)
Yeah, I ain't takin' orders no more (Huh-uh!)
Boss Boss... [echoes]
Uh.. I'm tha Boss (ahh!)
It's my house (my house), and I (and I) leave here (yeah, I'm tha Boss)
It's my house (my house), and I (and I) leave here...
Tha Boss would like to see ya (who?)
Bugsy! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
Gotti! Tha Boss would like to see ya... (who? who?)
Capone! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
Soprano! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
DOGGY! Fist Black with a casino (ah ah!)
Boss, boss, boss, boss, boss, boss... [echoes til end]

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The Harder They Come

Well they tell me about the pie up in the sky.
Waiting for me when I die.
But between the day your born and when you die.
They never seem to hear even your cry.
So as soon as the sun will shine.
Im gonna get my shine out whats mine.
And then the harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all.
The harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all.
Well the opus are trying to keep me down.
Trying to drag me under-ground.
And they think that they have got the battle won.
Oh! I say forgive them lord the do not what theyve done.
So as soon as the sun will shine.
Im gonna get my shine out whats mine.
And then the harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all. (what I say, now what I say)
The harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all.
(yeah!)
(yeah!)
Well Ill keep on fighting for the things I want. (for the things I want.)
Though I know that when you dead you gone.
But Id rather be a free man in my grave.
Then living as a puppet or a slave.
So as soon as the sun will shine.
Im gonna get my shine out whats mine.
And then the harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all. (its true)
Oh! the harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all.
Oh! the harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all. (what I say, now what I say)
The harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all.
[instrumental]
The harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all.
Oh! the harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all. (yes.)
The harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all. (what I say.)
The harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all.
Oh! the harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all. (what I say.)
The harder they come, the harder they fall.
One and all.

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Boss Of Me

Yes, no, maybe
I don't know
Can you repeat the question?
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
Life is unfair, so I just stare at the stain on the wall where
The TV'd been, but ever since we've moved in it's been empty
Why I, why I'm in this room
There is no point explaining
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
Life is a test, but I confess
I like this mess I've made so far
Grade on a curve and you'll observe
I'm right below the horizon
Yes, no, maybe, I don't know
Can you repeat the question?
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
Life is unfair

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The Victories Of Love. Book I

I
From Frederick Graham

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

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

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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

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The Boss's Boots

The Shearers squint along the pens, they squint along the ‘shoots;’
The shearers squint along the board to catch the Boss’s boots;
They have no time to straighten up, they have no time to stare,
But when the Boss is looking on, they like to be aware.
The ‘rouser’ has no soul to save. Condemn the rouseabout!
And sling ’em in, and rip ’em through, and get the bell-sheep out ;
And skim it by the tips at times, or take it with the roots—
But ‘pink’ ’em nice and pretty when you see the Boss’s boots.

The shearing super sprained his foot, as bosses sometimes do
And wore, until the shed cut out, one ‘side-spring’ and one shoe;
And though he changed his pants at times—some worn-out and some neat—
No ‘tiger’ there could possibly mistake the Boss’s feet.

The Boss affected larger boots than many Western men,
And Jim the Ringer swore the shoe was half as big again;
And tigers might have heard the boss ere any harm was done—
For when he passed it was a sort of dot and carry one.

But now there comes a picker-up who sprained his ankle, too,
And limping round the shed he found the Boss’s cast-off shoe.
He went to work, all legs and arms, as green-hand rousers will,
And never dreamed of Boss’s boots—much less of Bogan Bill.

Ye sons of sin that tramp and shear in hot and dusty scrubs,
Just keep away from ‘headin’ ’em,’ and keep away from pubs,
And keep away from handicaps—for so your sugar scoots—
And you may own a station yet and wear the Boss’s boots.

And Bogan by his mate was heard to mutter through his hair:
The Boss has got a rat to-day: he’s buckin’ everywhere—
He’s trainin’ for a bike, I think, the way he comes an’ scoots,
He’s like a bloomin’ cat on mud the way he shifts his boots.’

Now Bogan Bill was shearing rough and chanced to cut a teat ;
He stuck his leg in front at once, and slewed the ewe a bit;
He hurried up to get her through, when, close beside his shoot,
He saw a large and ancient shoe, in mateship with a boot.

He thought that he’d be fined all right—he couldn’t turn the ‘yoe;’
The more he wished the boss away, the more he wouldn’t go;
And Bogan swore amenfully—beneath his breath he swore—
And he was never known to ‘pink’ so prettily before.

And Bogan through his bristling scalp in his mind’s eye could trace,
The cold, sarcastic smile that lurked about the Boss’s face;
He cursed him with a silent curse in language known to few,
He cursed him from his boot right up, and then down to his shoe.

But while he shore so mighty clean, and while he screened the teat,

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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!

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Third Book

'TO-DAY thou girdest up thy loins thyself,
And goest where thou wouldest: presently
Others shall gird thee,' said the Lord, 'to go
Where thou would'st not.' He spoke to Peter thus,
To signify the death which he should die
When crucified head downwards.
If He spoke
To Peter then, He speaks to us the same;
The word suits many different martyrdoms,
And signifies a multiform of death,
Although we scarcely die apostles, we,
And have mislaid the keys of heaven and earth.

For tis not in mere death that men die most;
And, after our first girding of the loins
In youth's fine linen and fair broidery,
To run up hill and meet the rising sun,
We are apt to sit tired, patient as a fool,
While others gird us with the violent bands
Of social figments, feints, and formalisms,
Reversing our straight nature, lifting up
Our base needs, keeping down our lofty thoughts,
Head downward on the cross-sticks of the world.
Yet He can pluck us from the shameful cross.
God, set our feet low and our forehead high,
And show us how a man was made to walk!

Leave the lamp, Susan, and go up to bed.
The room does very well; I have to write
Beyond the stroke of midnight. Get away;
Your steps, for ever buzzing in the room,
Tease me like gnats. Ah, letters! throw them down
At once, as I must have them, to be sure,
Whether I bid you never bring me such
At such an hour, or bid you. No excuse.
You choose to bring them, as I choose perhaps
To throw them in the fire. Now, get to bed,
And dream, if possible, I am not cross.

Why what a pettish, petty thing I grow,–
A mere, mere woman,–a mere flaccid nerve,-
A kerchief left out all night in the rain,
Turned soft so,–overtasked and overstrained
And overlived in this close London life!
And yet I should be stronger.
Never burn
Your letters, poor Aurora! for they stare
With red seals from the table, saying each,
'Here's something that you know not.' Out alas,
'Tis scarcely that the world's more good and wise

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Baby, Im In The Mood For You

Sometimes Im in the mood, I wanna leave my lonesome home
And sometimes Im in the mood, I wanna hear my milk cow moan
And sometimes Im in the mood, I wanna hit the highway road
But then again, but then again, I said oh, I said oh, I said
Oh babe, Im in the mood for you.
Sometimes Im in the mood, lord, I had my overflowin fill
Sometimes Im in the mood, Im gonna make out my final will
Sometimes Im in the mood, Im gonna head for the walkin hill
But then again, but then again, I said oh, I said oh, I said
Oh babe, Im in the mood for you.
Sometimes Im in the mood, I wanna lay right down and die
Sometimes Im in the mood, I wanna climb up to the sky
Sometimes Im in the mood, Im gonna laugh until I cry
But then again, I said again, I said again, I said
Oh babe, Im in the mood for you.
Sometimes Im in the mood, Im gonna sleep in my ponys stall
Sometimes Im in the mood, I aint gonna do nothin at all
Sometimes Im in the mood, I wanna fly like a cannon ball
But then again, but then again, I said oh, I said oh, I said
Oh babe, Im in the mood for you.
Sometimes Im in the mood, I wanna back up against the wall
Sometimes Im in the mood, I wanna run till I have to crawl
Sometimes Im in the mood, I aint gonna do nothin at all
But then again, but then again, I said oh, I said oh, I said
Oh babe, Im in the mood for you.
Sometimes Im in the mood, I wanna change my house around
Sometimes Im in the mood, Im gonna make a change in this here town
Sometimes Im in the mood, Im gonna change the world around
But then again, but then again, I said oh, I said oh, I said
Oh babe, Im in the mood for you.

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Do I Do

When I see you on the street
My whole body gets weak
When youre standing in a crowd
Your love talks to me so loud
Girl, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you
When I hear you on the phone
Your sweet, sexy voice turns my ear all the way on
Just the mention of your name
Seems to drive my head insane
Girl, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you...baby
Sss..mmm
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, love, love
From the time that I awake
Im imagining the good love that well make
If to me your vibe can do all this
Just imagine how its going to feel when we hug and kiss
Sugar, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you...all right
Sss..mmm
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, your love, your love
Ladies and gentlemen,
I have the pleasure to present on my album
Mr. dizzy gillespie...blow!
Blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow!
Do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, your love, your lo-o-ove
Oh, I dont care how long it might take
cause I know the woman for me, you Ill make
And I will not deny myself the chance
Of being part of what feels like the right romance

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Raise Your Hand

Great, great broad, miss janis joplin, please!
If there's something you need,
Hon that you've never, ever, ever had.
And i know you've never had it.
Oh, honey, don't you just sit there crying,
Don't just sit there feeling bad.
No, no, no.
You'd better get up,
Now, don't you understand ?
And raise you hand.
I said, raise, raise your hand.
You know i'm standing about, yes i am.
And i want to give you all my love.
Oh, won't you open up,
I said, open up your heart.
Please let me try.
You'd better be good.
Don't ya understand ?
Raise your hand.
I said, i wanna see it up in the air, babe,
Right here, right now, yeah!
Whoaaaah, yeah!
If you ever, ever need me,
Honey why won't you come and tell me so now ?
Baby if you want to give all of my loving,
I want to let it go.
You'd better be good, don't you understand,
I said raise it, raise it, raise it, raise it,
Raise.
Honey honey what it was
Honey honey what it was
Honey honey what it was
Whoaaaah
Whoaaaah
Whoaaaah
Whoaaaah
Alright
Alright
Raise your hand 'cause i want you to come along,
Raise your hand 'cause i want you to move
Honey groove
Come along, baby
Come, said come, come on,
Come, come, come on,
Come, come, come on,
Come, come, come on,
Hey now now now now
Hey now now now now
Raise your hand
Raise your hand

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Boss Man

Boss man boss man what do ya say
I gotta get you alone in the mine some day
Boss man boss man turn it around
If you dont look away how can I sit down
Look at this load upon my back
Gotta get this wheel back on the track
I cant hold on but I cant let go
And I cant say yes I cant say no
Holes in my pockets and holes in my shoes
If youre ready for me Im ready for you
The company plan takes all my pay
Got a child in july and another last may
Boss man boss man what do ya say
Gonna get you alone in the mine some day
Push your face down in the coal
cause you got no heart you got no soul
Country lifes the life for me
In ten more years Ill a pensioner be
The younger lad knows when the girls are out
But you might say hes a rural sprout
Boss man boss man what do ya say
Gonna get you alone in the mine some day
Boss man boss man clear the track
Youre gonna tear the skin right offa my back
Boss man, boss man what do ya say
If you cant lend a hand then get outta my way
Itll be murder in the first degree
If you ever lay your hands on me
Boss man boss man pay my rent
A dollar Ive earned is a dollar Ive spent
The company plan takes all my check
For breakin my back and riskin my neck
Boss man boss man what do ya say
I gotta get you alone in the mine some day
I cant hold on but I cant let go
And I cant say yes I cant say no

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Satan Absolved

(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.

[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.

Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.

Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.

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The Boss Over the Board

When he’s over a rough and unpopular shed,
With the sins of the bank and the men on his head;
When he musn’t look black or indulge in a grin,
And thirty or forty men hate him like Sin—
I am moved to admit—when the total is scored—
That it’s just a bit off for the Boss-of -the-board.
I have battled a lot,
But my dream’s never soared
To the lonely position of Boss-of-the-board.
’Twas a black-listed shed down the Darling: the Boss
Was a small man to see—though a big man to cross—
We had nought to complain of—except what we thought,
And the Boss didn’t boss any more than he ought;
But the Union was booming, and Brotherhood soared,
So we hated like poison the Boss-of-the-board.
We could tolerate ‘hands’—
We respected the cook;
But the name of a Boss was a blot in our book.

He’d a row with Big Duggan—a rough sort of Jim—
Or, rather, Jim Duggan was ‘laying for’ him!
His hate of Injustice and Greed was so deep
That his shearing grew rough—and he ill-used the sheep.
And I fancied that Duggan his manliness lower’d
When he took off his shirt to the Boss-of-the-board,
For the Boss was ten stone,
And the shearer full-grown,
And he might have, they said, let the crawler alone.

Though some of us there wished the fight to the strong,
Yet we knew in our hearts that the shearer was wrong.
And the crawler was plucky, it cant be denied,
For he had to fight Freedom and Justice beside,
But he came up so gamely, as often as floored,
That a blackleg stood up for the Boss-of-the-board!
And the fight was a sight,
And we pondered that night—
‘It’s surprising how some of those blacklegs can fight!’

Next day at the office, when sadly the wreck
Of Jim Duggan came up like a lamb for his cheque,
Said the Boss, ‘Dont be childish! It’s all past and gone;
‘I am short of good shearers. You’d better stay on.’
And we fancied Jim Duggan our dignity lower’d
When he stopped to oblige a damned Boss-of-the-board.
We said nothing to Jim,
For a joke might be grim,
And the subject, we saw, was distasteful to him.

The Boss just went on as he’d done from the first,

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Second Book

TIMES followed one another. Came a morn
I stood upon the brink of twenty years,
And looked before and after, as I stood
Woman and artist,–either incomplete,
Both credulous of completion. There I held
The whole creation in my little cup,
And smiled with thirsty lips before I drank,
'Good health to you and me, sweet neighbour mine
And all these peoples.'
I was glad, that day;
The June was in me, with its multitudes
Of nightingales all singing in the dark,
And rosebuds reddening where the calyx split.
I felt so young, so strong, so sure of God!
So glad, I could not choose be very wise!
And, old at twenty, was inclined to pull
My childhood backward in a childish jest
To see the face of't once more, and farewell!
In which fantastic mood I bounded forth
At early morning,–would not wait so long
As even to snatch my bonnet by the strings,
But, brushing a green trail across the lawn
With my gown in the dew, took will and way
Among the acacias of the shrubberies,
To fly my fancies in the open air
And keep my birthday, till my aunt awoke
To stop good dreams. Meanwhile I murmured on,
As honeyed bees keep humming to themselves;
'The worthiest poets have remained uncrowned
Till death has bleached their foreheads to the bone,
And so with me it must be, unless I prove
Unworthy of the grand adversity,–
And certainly I would not fail so much.
What, therefore, if I crown myself to-day
In sport, not pride, to learn the feel of it,
Before my brows be numb as Dante's own
To all the tender pricking of such leaves?
Such leaves? what leaves?'
I pulled the branches down,
To choose from.
'Not the bay! I choose no bay;
The fates deny us if we are overbold:
Nor myrtle–which means chiefly love; and love
Is something awful which one dare not touch
So early o' mornings. This verbena strains
The point of passionate fragrance; and hard by,
This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.
Ah–there's my choice,–that ivy on the wall,
That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow

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