Detroit Medley
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Fe, fe, fi, fi, fo, fo, fum
Look at Molly now, here she come
Wearin' a wig, hat, shades to match
High healed sneakers and an aligator hat
Wearin' her diamons, wearin' a big ring
She got rasors on her fingers and everything
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Wearin' her perfume, Chanel number five
Got to be the finest looking woman alive
She looks so pretty every time she walks by
The boys are too nervous, even to say hi
Not too skinny, not too fat
She's a real humdinger and I like it like that
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
When you're rockin' and rollin'
Don't you hear your mama call
From the early, early morning to the early, early night
See Miss Molly rockin' in the house of blue light
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
When you're rockin' and rollin'
Don't you hear your mama call
Well c., c.c. rider
Come on see just what you've done
Well I said c., c.c. rider
Come on see just what you've done
You made me loving you
And now, now, now your man has come
Well now I'm goin' c.c. rider
Goin' to see my baby c.c. rider
And I won't be back c.c. rider
B
song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Only Molly Knows
When the day is done
Oh Molly Molly
Will I be the one
When the day is through
Oh Molly Molly
Will I be with you
Tell me what to do
Oh Molly Molly
Let me follow through
'Cos I am lost at sea
Oh Molly Molly
Haven't got a clue
All I have to show
For all the years below
Only Molly knows
When the lights go down
Oh Molly Molly
Will you be around
When the lights are gone
Oh Molly Molly
Will you leave the town
Tell me what is wrong
Oh Molly Molly
Let me sing a song
'Cos I have lost the will
Oh Molly Molly
Cannot carry on
All I have to show
For all the years below
Only Molly knows
When the day is done
Oh Molly Molly
Will I be the one
When the day is through
Oh Molly Molly
Will I be with you
Tell me what to do
Oh Molly Molly
Let me follow through
Where are we to be tomorrow Molly
Haven't got a clue
All I have to show
For all the years below
Only Molly knows
song performed by Travis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Healer
Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm
Hmm, oh Lord, Lord
Hmm, hmm, hmm
hmm, hmm
Hmm, hmm, hmm
Blues a healer, all over the world
Blues a healer, healer, all over the world, all over the world
It healed me, it can heal you
The blues can heal you, early one morning
It can heal you
The blues can heal you
Yeah, yeah
It healed me, healed me
It healed me
I was down
I was down
It healed me
Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord, yes it did, yes it did
Look now
My woman left me
The blues healed me
My woman left me, left me early one morning
Hmm, hmm
The blues healed me, it healed me, healed me
Yeah, yeah!
Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord
Hmm, have mercy
The blues , the blues is a healer
Blues, blues, is a healing healer
it healed, healed, healed
Heal!
Heal, heal, heal!
All over the world, all over the world
It's a healer
One night, I was laying down, feeling so bad, so low, so low
My woman had left me, blues came along and healed me
Heal!
Heal!
(Carlos, it healed me, Carlos)
Carlos!
It healed me!
The blues, it healed , it healed, healer
Hey!
Hey!
Healed me!
Healed me!
Healer!
Hey!
Blues a healer
The blues a healer, all over the world, all over the world
[...] Read more
song performed by Santana
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Shift
Check out the chick with the new dress on
(wearin a shift and it looks real fine)
The call it a shift and it comes on strong
(wearin a shift and it looks real fine)
When shes got it on, well she cant do no wrong
(wearin a shift, wearin a shift)
You may think a dress cant do very much
(wearin a shift really turns me on)
With the slit up the side, you cant resist that touch
(wearin a shift really turns me on)
Its tighter than a moo-moo and its just too much
(wearin a shift, wearin a shift)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(cant go wrong now) (go wrong now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (turns me on now)
Get your girl a shift and shell look real fine
(wearin a shift and its just too much)
It fits like a glove and drives you outta your mind
(wearin a shift and its just too much)
Shell ball it with her shift on and well have a good time
(wearin a shift, wearin a shift)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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When Will We Be Married
(traditional)
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
You have your eye on jimmy
Long jimmy lee
You have your eye on jimmy
Anda fine man he
You have your eye on jimmy
But youd better let him be
Because when you go, molly-o
Youll be gone with me
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
You have your eye on johnny
Thin johnny fee
You have your eye on johnny
And a fine man he
You have your eye on johnny
But youd better let him be
Because when you go, molly-o
Youll be gone with me
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
I made a black bow
For your pretty head
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
I made a black bow
For your bonny head
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
[...] Read more
song performed by Waterboys
Added by Lucian Velea
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When Will We Be Married
(traditional)
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
You have your eye on jimmy
Long jimmy lee
You have your eye on jimmy
Anda fine man he
You have your eye on jimmy
But youd better let him be
Because when you go, molly-o
Youll be gone with me
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
You have your eye on johnny
Thin johnny fee
You have your eye on johnny
And a fine man he
You have your eye on johnny
But youd better let him be
Because when you go, molly-o
Youll be gone with me
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
Bedded in the same bed
I made a black bow
For your pretty head
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
I made a black bow
For your bonny head
When will we be married molly
When will we be wed
When will we be
[...] Read more
song performed by Waterboys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Phenomenal Cat
A long, long time ago,
In the land of idiot boys,
There live a cat, a phenomenal cat,
Who loved to wallow all day.
No one bothered him
As he sat, content in his tree.
He just lived to eat cause it kept him fat,
And thats how he wanted to stay.
Though he was big and fat,
All the world was good to him,
And he pointed out on the map
All the places he had been.
[cathage,karthom,cannes? ], [india,sardinia? ], kathmandu,
The scilley isles and sahara, too
Fum, fum, diddle-um di
La la la la, la-la la la
La la la la, la-la la la la
La la la la-la la la
Once when he was thin
He had flown to old hong kong,
And had learned the secret of life,
And the sea and the sky beyond.
So he gave up his diet and sat in a tree,
And ate himself through eternity.
Fum, fum, diddle-um di
La la la la la-la la la
La la la la, la-la la la la
La la la la-la la la
Fum, fum, diddle-um di
Fum, fum, diddle-um di
song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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A poem on divine revelation
This is a day of happiness, sweet peace,
And heavenly sunshine; upon which conven'd
In full assembly fair, once more we view,
And hail with voice expressive of the heart,
Patrons and sons of this illustrious hall.
This hall more worthy of its rising fame
Than hall on mountain or romantic hill,
Where Druid bards sang to the hero's praise,
While round their woods and barren heaths was heard
The shrill calm echo of th' enchanting shell.
Than all those halls and lordly palaces
Where in the days of chivalry, each knight,
And baron brave in military pride
Shone in the brass and burning steel of war;
For in this hall more worthy of a strain
No envious sound forbidding peace is heard,
Fierce song of battle kindling martial rage
And desp'rate purpose in heroic minds:
But sacred truth fair science and each grace
Of virtue born; health, elegance and ease
And temp'rate mirth in social intercourse
Convey rich pleasure to the mind; and oft
The sacred muse in heaven-breathing song
Doth wrap the soul in extasy divine,
Inspiring joy and sentiment which not
The tale of war or song of Druids gave.
The song of Druids or the tale of war
With martial vigour every breast inspir'd,
With valour fierce and love of deathless fame;
But here a rich and splendid throng conven'd
From many a distant city and fair town,
Or rural seat by shore or mountain-stream,
Breathe joy and blessing to the human race,
Give countenance to arts themselves have known,
Inspire the love of heights themselves have reach'd,
Of noble science to enlarge the mind,
Of truth and virtue to adorn the soul,
And make the human nature grow divine.
Oh could the muse on this auspicious day
Begin a song of more majestic sound,
Or touch the lyre on some sublimer key,
Meet entertainment for the noble mind.
How shall the muse from this poetic bow'r
So long remov'd, and from this happy hill,
Where ev'ry grace and ev'ry virtue dwells,
And where the springs of knowledge and of thought
In riv'lets clear and gushing streams flow down
Attempt a strain? How sing in rapture high
[...] Read more
poem by Hugh Henry Brackenridge
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Wearin That Loved-on Look
(words & music by dallas frazier - al owens)
I had to leave town for a little while,
You said youd be good while Im gone,
But the look in your eye dun told me you told a lie,
I know theres been some carryin on.
Baby, youre wearin that loved on look, shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop
Baby, youre wearin that loved on look.
The ash trays are all full of ashes,
The floor needs a touch of the mop,
Theres a man downstairs with a long bushy hair,
He said your party was a three day rock.
Baby, youre wearin that loved on look, shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop
Baby, youre wearin that loved on look.
Baby if you ever loved me,
Then bonnie and clyde loved the law,
Well a bird cant fly and I dont like apple pie,
And trees wont grow in arkansas.
Baby, youre wearin that loved on look, shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop
Baby, youre wearin that loved on look.
I had to leave town for a little while,
You said youd be good while Im gone,
But the look in your eye dun told me you told a lie,
I know theres been some carryin on.
Well - baby, youre wearin that loved on look,
Yeah - baby, youre wearin that loved on look
Yeah - baby
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wearin' That Loved On Look (alternate Take)
I had to leave town for a little while,
You said you'd be good while I'm gone,
But the look in your eye dun told me you told a lie,
I know there's been some carryin' on.
Baby, You're wearin' that loved on look, Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop
Baby, You're wearin' that loved on look.
The ash trays are all full of ashes,
The floor needs a touch of the mop,
There's a man downstairs with a long bushy hair,
He said your party was a three day rock.
Baby, You're wearin' that loved on look, Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop
Baby, You're wearin' that loved on look.
Baby if you ever loved me,
Then Bonnie and Clyde loved the law,
Well a bird can't fly and I don't like apple pie,
And trees won't grow in Arkansas.
Baby, You're wearin' that loved on look, Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoop
Baby, You're wearin' that loved on look.
I had to leave town for a little while,
You said you'd be good while I'm gone,
But the look in your eye dun told me you told a lie,
I know there's been some carryin' on.
Well - Baby, You're wearin' that loved on look,
Yeah - Baby, You're wearin' that loved on look
Yeah - Baby
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Good Golly Miss Molly
Good golly miss molly, sure like to ball.
Good golly, miss molly, sure like to ball.
When youre rockin and a rollin cant hear your momma call.
From the early early mornin till the early early night
You can see miss molly rockin at the house of blue lights.
Good golly, miss molly, sure like to ball.
When youre rockin and a rollin cant hear your momma call.
Well, now momma, poppa told me: son, you better watch your step.
If I knew my momma, poppa, have to watch my dad myself.
Good golly, miss molly, sure like to ball.
When youre rockin and a rollin cant hear your momma call.
I am going to the corner, gonna buy a diamond ring.
Would you pardon me if its a nineteen carat golden thing.
Good golly, miss molly, sure like to ball.
When youre rockin and a rollin cant hear your momma call.
Good golly, miss molly, sure like to ball.
Good golly, miss molly, sure like to ball.
When youre rockin and a rollin cant hear your momma call.
song performed by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hi Heel Sneakers
(words & music by robert higginbotham)
Put on your red dress baby cause were going out tonight, oh yeah!
Put on your red dress baby cause were going out tonight, yeah!
Well now wear some boxing gloves in case some fool might start a fight
You know what Im sayin
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, put your wig hat on your head, oh yeah!
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, slap that wig right on your head, yeah!
Well Im pretty sure now baby, pretty soon youre gonna knock em dead
Oh gonna mess around baby
All right!
Da da da da etc.
Put on your red dress baby cause were going out tonight, oh yeah!
Put on your red dress baby cause were going out tonight, yeah!
Well now wear some boxing gloves in case some fool might start a fight
You know what Im sayin
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, put your wig hat on your head, oh yeah!
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, slap that wig right on your head, yeah!
Well Im pretty sure now baby, pretty soon youre gonna knock em dead
Walk around baby!
Da da da etc.
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, put your wig hat on your head, oh yeah!
Put on your hi-heel sneakers, slap that wig right on your head, yeah!
Well Im pretty sure now baby, pretty soon youre gonna knock em dead
All right take it home baby!
Da da da etc.
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peter Bell The Third
BY MICHING MALLECHO, Esq.
Is it a party in a parlour,
Crammed just as they on earth were crammed,
Some sipping punch-some sipping tea;
But, as you by their faces see,
All silent, and all-damned!
Peter Bell, by W. Wordsworth.
Ophelia.-What means this, my lord?
Hamlet.-Marry, this is Miching Mallecho; it means mischief.
~Shakespeare.
PROLOGUE
Pet er Bells, one, two and three,
O'er the wide world wandering be.-
First, the antenatal Peter,
Wrapped in weeds of the same metre,
The so-long-predestined raiment
Clothed in which to walk his way meant
The second Peter; whose ambition
Is to link the proposition,
As the mean of two extremes-
(This was learned from Aldric's themes)
Shielding from the guilt of schism
The orthodoxal syllogism;
The First Peter-he who was
Like the shadow in the glass
Of the second, yet unripe,
His substantial antitype.-
Then came Peter Bell the Second,
Who henceforward must be reckoned
The body of a double soul,
And that portion of the whole
Without which the rest would seem
Ends of a disjointed dream.-
And the Third is he who has
O'er the grave been forced to pass
To the other side, which is,-
Go and try else,-just like this.
Peter Bell the First was Peter
Smugger, milder, softer, neater,
Like the soul before it is
Born from that world into this.
The next Peter Bell was he,
Predevote, like you and me,
To good or evil as may come;
His was the severer doom,-
[...] Read more
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Turning The Heat To Hotter
Nobody came to party knew somebody who sat,
In a corner to sigh.
This was a heat to hotter party.
Nobody came to party knew somebody who sat,
In a corner to sigh.
This was a heat to hotter party.
Everybody here took off the roof to cry,
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'
And sweating bodies soakin'.
'High, high, high...high.'
Everybody on the scene holla'd and screamed...
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'
Nobody came to this party knew somebody who sat.
This was a heat to hotter party.
Everybody here took off the roof to cry,
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'
And sweating bodies soakin'.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bury Me In My Shades
In a pad with no heat, up on Sullivan Street,
The last of the hipsters lay dyin'.
Wearin' his shades, so like no one could tell
Like whether or not he was cryin'.
All the junkies and loners
An' coffee shop owners
Were all gathered 'round his bed.
He took one last puff
Of some imported stuff
And this are the last words he said.
He said, 'Send my sandals home to Mom,
Hang my T-shirt away.
Burn my guitar
In Washington Squar',
'Cause I never learned how to play.
Give my pad
To some needy lad
And tell him the rent is all paid.
Keep my cash,
An' my stash,
An' my hash,
But bury me in my shades.
Bury me in my shades, boys,
Bury me in my shades.
Burn my guitar
In Washington Squar',
But bury me in my shades.'
He said, 'Give my Brooklyn chicks away
To anyone who needs 'em.
Give all of my poems away
To anyone who'll read 'em.
Dig me a grave 'neath the coffeeshop,
And let a sad folksong be played.
Get everyone high
On the moment I die,
Bury me in my shades.
Bury me in my shades, boys,
Bury me in my shades.
Burn my guitar
In Washington Squar',
But bury me in my shades.'
We threw his sandals out in the hall,
We left his T-shirt lay.
We sold his guitar
At the corner bar
To someone who knew how to play.
We smoked all his stash,
And spent all his cash,
And threw all his poems away.
And Bob got his records,
[...] Read more
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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The Diverting History Of John Gilpin, Showing How He Went Farther Than He Intended, And Came Safe Home Again
John Gilpin was a citizen
Of credit and renown,
A trainband captain eke was he
Of famous London town.
John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear:
Though wedded we have been
These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen.
To-morrow is our wedding-day,
And we will then repair
Unto the Bell at Edmonton
All in a chaise and pair.
My sister, and my sister’s child,
Myself, and children three,
Will fill the chaise; so you must ride
On horseback after we.
He soon replied, I do admire
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.
I am a linendraper bold,
As all the world doth know,
And my good friend the calendrer
Will lend his horse to go.
Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, That’s well said;
And for that wine is dear,
We will be furnish’d with our own,
Which is both bright and clear.
John Gilpin kiss’d his loving wife;
O’erjoy’d was he to find,
That, though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.
The morning came, the chaise was brought,
But yet was not allow’d
To drive up to the door, lest all
Should say that she was proud.
So three doors off, the chaise was stay’d,
Where they did all get in;
Six precious souls, and all agog
To dash through thick and thin.
[...] Read more
poem by William Cowper
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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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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 7
AND thou, O matron of immortal fame,
Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;
Cajeta still the place is call’d from thee,
The nurse of great Æneas’ infancy.
Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia’s plains; 5
Thy name (’t is all a ghost can have) remains.
Now, when the prince her fun’ral rites had paid,
He plow’d the Tyrrhene seas with sails display’d.
From land a gentle breeze arose by night,
Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, 10
And the sea trembled with her silver light.
Now near the shelves of Circe’s shores they run,
(Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,)
A dang’rous coast: the goddess wastes her days
In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays: 15
In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night,
And cedar brands supply her father’s light.
From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main,
The roars of lions that refuse the chain,
The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears, 20
And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors’ ears.
These from their caverns, at the close of night,
Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.
Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe’s pow’r,
(That watch’d the moon and planetary hour,) 25
With words and wicked herbs from humankind
Had alter’d, and in brutal shapes confin’d.
Which monsters lest the Trojans’ pious host
Should bear, or touch upon th’ inchanted coast,
Propitious Neptune steer’d their course by night 30
With rising gales that sped their happy flight.
Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore,
And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.
Now, when the rosy morn began to rise,
And wav’d her saffron streamer thro’ the skies; 35
When Thetis blush’d in purple not her own,
And from her face the breathing winds were blown,
A sudden silence sate upon the sea,
And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.
The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, 40
Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood:
Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course,
With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force,
That drove the sand along, he took his way,
And roll’d his yellow billows to the sea. 45
About him, and above, and round the wood,
The birds that haunt the borders of his flood,
That bath’d within, or basked upon his side,
To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied.
The captain gives command; the joyful train 50
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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
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poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da
Desmond has a barrow in the market place
Molly is the singer in a band
Desmond says to molly-girl i like your face
And molly says this as she takes him by the hand.
Obladi oblada life goes on bra
Lala how the life goes on
Obladi oblada life goes on bra
Lala how the life goes on.
Desmond takes a trolly to the jewellers store
Buys a twenty carat golden ring
Takes it back to molly waiting at the door
And as he gives it to her she begins to sing.
In a couple of years they have built
A home sweet home
With a couple of kids running in the yard
Of desmond and molly jones.
Happy ever after in the market place
Molly lets the children lend a hand
Desmond stays at home and does his pretty face
And in the evening she's a singer with the band.
And if you want some fun-take obladi oblada.
song performed by Beatles
Added by Lucian Velea
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