Last Christmas
Cast: Emilia Clarke, Michelle Yeoh, Emma Thompson, Henry Golding, Patti LuPone, Ingrid Oliver, Sue Perkins, Lydia Leonard, Rebecca Root
trailer for Last Christmas, directed by Paul Feig (2019)
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Henry And Emma. A Poem.
Upon the Model of The Nut-Brown Maid. To Cloe.
Thou, to whose eyes I bend, at whose command
(Though low my voice, though artless be my hand.
I take the sprightly reed, and sing and play,
Careless of what the censuring world may say;
Bright Cloe! object of my constant vow,
Wilt thou a while unbend thy serious brow?
Wilt thou with pleasure hear thy lover's strains,
And with one heavenly smile o'erpay his pains?
No longer shall the Nut-brown Maid be old,
Though since her youth three hundred years have roll'd:
At thy desire she shall again be raised,
And her reviving charms in lasting verse be praised.
No longer man of woman shall complain,
That he may love and not be loved again;
That we in vain the fickle sex pursue,
Who change the constant lover for the new.
Whatever has been writ, whatever said
Henceforth shall in my verse refuted stand,
Be said to winds, or writ upon the sand:
And while my notes to future times proclaim
Unconquer'd love and ever-during flame,
O, fairest of the sex, be thou my muse;
Deign on my work thy influence to diffuse:
Let me partake the blessings I rehearse,
And grant me love, the just reward of verse.
As beauty's potent queen with every grace
That once was Emma's has adorn'd thy face,
And as her son has to my bosom dealt
That constant flame which faithful Henry felt,
O let the story with thy life agree,
Let men once more the bright example see;
What Emma was to him be thou to me:
Nor send me by thy frown from her I love,
Distant and sad, a banish'd man to rove:
But, oh! with pity long entreated crown
My pains and hopes: and when thou say'st that one
Of all mankind thou lovest, oh! think on me alone.
Where beauteous Isis and her husband Thame
With mingled waves for ever flow the same,
In times of yore an ancient baron lived,
Great gifts bestowed, and great respect received.
When dreadful Edward, with successful care
Led his free Britons to the Gallic war,
[...] Read more
poem by Matthew Prior
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The Brothers
'These Tourists, heaven preserve us! needs must live
A profitable life: some glance along,
Rapid and gay, as if the earth were air,
And they were butterflies to wheel about
Long as the summer lasted: some, as wise,
Perched on the forehead of a jutting crag,
Pencil in hand and book upon the knee,
Will look and scribble, scribble on and look,
Until a man might travel twelve stout miles,
Or reap an acre of his neighbour's corn.
But, for that moping Son of Idleness,
Why can he tarry 'yonder'?--In our churchyard
Is neither epitaph nor monument,
Tombstone nor name--only the turf we tread
And a few natural graves.'
To Jane, his wife,
Thus spake the homely Priest of Ennerdale.
It was a July evening; and he sate
Upon the long stone-seat beneath the eaves
Of his old cottage,--as it chanced, that day,
Employed in winter's work. Upon the stone
His wife sate near him, teasing matted wool,
While, from the twin cards toothed with glittering wire,
He fed the spindle of his youngest child,
Who, in the open air, with due accord
Of busy hands and back-and-forward steps,
Her large round wheel was turning. Towards the field
In which the Parish Chapel stood alone,
Girt round with a bare ring of mossy wall,
While half an hour went by, the Priest had sent
Many a long look of wonder: and at last,
Risen from his seat, beside the snow-white ridge
Of carded wool which the old man had piled
He laid his implements with gentle care,
Each in the other locked; and, down the path
That from his cottage to the church-yard led,
He took his way, impatient to accost
The Stranger, whom he saw still lingering there.
'Twas one well known to him in former days,
A Shepherd-lad; who ere his sixteenth year
Had left that calling, tempted to entrust
His expectations to the fickle winds
And perilous waters; with the mariners
A fellow-mariner;--and so had fared
Through twenty seasons; but he had been reared
Among the mountains, and he in his heart
Was half a shepherd on the stormy seas.
Oft in the piping shrouds had Leonard heard
The tones of waterfalls, and inland sounds
Of caves and trees:--and, when the regular wind
[...] Read more
poem by William Wordsworth
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The Lawyer’s First Tale: Primitiæ or Third Cousins
I
‘Dearest of boys, please come to-day,
Papa and mama have bid me say,
They hope you’ll dine with us at three;
They will be out till then, you see,
But you will start at once, you know,
And come as fast as you can go.
Next week they hope you’ll come and stay
Some time before you go away.
Dear boy, how pleasant it will be,
Ever your dearest Emily!’
Twelve years of age was I, and she
Fourteen, when thus she wrote to me,
A schoolboy, with an uncle spending
My holidays, then nearly ending.
My uncle lived the mountain o’er,
A rector, and a bachelor;
The vicarage was by the sea,
That was the home of Emily:
The windows to the front looked down
Across a single-streeted town,
Far as to where Worms-head was seen,
Dim with ten watery miles between;
The Carnedd mountains on the right
With stony masses filled the sight;
To left the open sea; the bay
In a blue plain before you lay.
A garden, full of fruit, extends,
Stone-walled, above the house, and ends
With a locked door, that by a porch
Admits to churchyard and to church;
Farm-buildings nearer on one side,
And glebe, and then the countrywide.
I and my cousin Emily
Were cousins in the third degree;
My mother near of kin was reckoned
To hers, who was my mother’s second:
My cousinship I held from her.
Such an amount of girls there were,
At first one really was perplexed:
’Twas Patty first, and Lydia next,
And Emily the third, and then,
Philippa, Phoebe, Mary Gwen.
Six were they, you perceive, in all;
And portraits fading on the wall,
Grandmothers, heroines of old,
And aunts of aunts, with scrolls that told
Their names and dates, were there to show
Why these had all been christened so.
[...] Read more
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough from Mari Magno or Tales on Board
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I Saw It Myself (Short Verse Drama)
Dramatis Personae: Adrian, his wife Ester, his sisters Rebecca and Johanna, his mother Elizabeth, the high priest Chiapas, the disciple Simon Peter, the disciple John, Mary Magdalene, worshipers, priests, two angels and Jesus Christ.
Act I
Scene I.- Adrian’s house in Jerusalem. Adrian has just returned home after a business journey in Galilee, in time to attend the Passover feast. He sits at the table with his wife Ester and his sisters, Rebecca and Johanna. It’s just before sunset on the Friday afternoon.
Adrian. (Somewhat puzzled) Strange things are happening,
some say demons dwell upon the earth,
others angelic beings, miracles take place
and all of this when they had put a man to death,
had crucified a criminal. Everybody knows
the cross is used for degenerates only!
Rebecca. (With a pleasant voice) Such harsh words used,
for a good, a great man brother?
They say that without charge
he healed the sick, brought back sight,
cured leprosy, even made some more food,
from a few fishes and loafs of bread…
Adrian. (Somewhat harsh) They say many things!
That he rode into Jerusalem
to be crowned as the new king,
was a rebel against the state,
even claimed to be
the very Son of God,
now that is blasphemy
if there is no truth to it!
Johanna. I met him once.
He’s not the man
that you make him, brother.
There was a strange tranquilly to Him.
Some would say a divine presence,
while He spoke of love that is selfless,
visited the sick, the poor
and even the destitute, even harlots.
Adrian. (Looks up) There you have it!
Harlots! Tax collecting thieves!
A man is know by his friends,
or so they say and probably
there is some truth to it.
Ester. Husband, do not be so quick to judge.
I have seen Him myself, have seen
Roman soldiers marching Him to the hill
to take His life, with a angry crowd
following and mocking Him.
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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Rebecca
In my mind , talk about rebecca , suddenly so fine
In my mind , visions of rebecca , suddenly shes mine
All night , seems she put a spell on me , oh yeah
All night , gonna be the death of me
Ill go out and get her
Rebecca , youre dreamin out loud
Rebecca , you got your head in the clouds
Youre savin yourself for someone , rebecca
Hangin on tight , waiting for rebecca , dancin in the dark
Satin and lace , shes so fine and mellow
Creature from the stars
So wrong , runnin with rebecca now , oh yeah
So wrong , gonna be the death of me
Ill go out and get her
Rebecca , youre dreamin out loud
Rebecca , you got your head in the clouds , alright
Youre savin yourself for someone , rebecca
Rebecca , youre runnin away
Rebecca , you cant face the day , alright
Cos you only live for the night
Rebecca , youre always runnin around
(break)
Ooh , talk about rebeccas eyes
Evrything you fantasize
Well, she drag you down to earth
Shes the devil in disguise
Break you down to size
Rebecca , youre dreamin out loud
Rebecca , you got your head in the clouds , alright
Savin yourself for someone
Rebecca , ooh , youre runnin away
Rebecca , you cant face the day , alright
You only live for the night , rebecca
Rebecca , youre dreamin out loud
Rebecca , you got your head in the clouds , alright
Savin yourself for someone , rebecca (fade)
song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Golden Legend: IV. The Road To Hirschau
PRINCE HENRY _and_ ELSIE, _with their attendants, on
horseback._
_Elsie._ Onward and onward the highway runs
to the distant city, impatiently bearing
Tidings of human joy and disaster, of love and of
hate, of doing and daring!
_Prince Henry._ This life of ours is a wild aeolian
harp of many a joyous strain,
But under them all there runs a loud perpetual wail,
as of souls in pain.
_Elsie._ Faith alone can interpret life, and the heart
that aches and bleeds with the stigma
Of pain, alone bears the likeness of Christ, and can
comprehend its dark enigma.
_Prince Henry._ Man is selfish, and seeketh pleasure
with little care of what may betide;
Else why am I travelling here beside thee, a demon
that rides by an angel's side?
_Elsie._ All the hedges are white with dust, and
the great dog under the creaking wain
Hangs his head in the lazy heat, while onward the
horses toil and strain
_Prince Henry._ Now they stop at the wayside inn,
and the wagoner laughs with the landlord's daughter,
While out of the dripping trough the horses distend
their leathern sides with water.
_Elsie._ All through life there are wayside inns,
where man may refresh his soul with love;
Even the lowest may quench his thirst at rivulets fed
by springs from above.
_Prince Henry._ Yonder, where rises the cross of
stone, our journey along the highway ends,
And over the fields, by a bridle path, down into the
broad green valley descends.
_Elsie._ I am not sorry to leave behind the beaten
road with its dust and heat;
The air will be sweeter far, and the turf will be softer
under our horses' feet.
(_They turn down a green lane._)
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Celebrate
[Wyclef]
Ladies and gentleman, the preacher's son
Patti LaBelle is in the building
[Wyclef]
Let's celebrate, have a basement party
A barbeque how we used to do
On the avenue, have a family reunion
Man, how I miss those days
When the kids was kids, no knives on the street
When the ice cream man came around the way
Lord, Miss Patti, won't you help me sing
Lord knows how I miss those days
[Patti (Wyclef)]
Dressing up for church on Easter Sunday (how I miss those days)
Doing the electric slide at every party (how I miss those days)
Oh, if only you knew, what I've been through (you would celebrate)
You would celebrate (everybody just celebrate, how I miss those days)
those days)
[Wyclef (Patti)]
I came in this game through the back door (get up)
I know LaBelle, we were so much more (get up)
We worked it, and earned it, God knows we deserved it (get up)
Keep on striving, I know you'll make it
[Wyclef (Patti)]
Let's celebrate, have a basement party
A barbeque how we used to do (yeah, get up)
On the avenue, have a family reunion
Man, how I miss those days
When the kids was kids, no knives on the street
When the ice cream man came around the way
Lord, Miss Patti, won't you help me sing
Lord knows how I miss those days
[Patti (Wyclef)]
Dressing up for church on Easter Sunday (how I miss those days), get up
Doing the electric slide at every party (how I miss those days)
Oh, if only you knew, what I've been through (you would celebrate)
You would celebrate (everybody just celebrate, how I miss those days)
those days), get up
[Wyclef (Patti)]
I'm gon' box these niggaz
Take home on a number one belt (get up)
We gonna pop that thug, oh no, to celebrate the wealth (get up)
See, I'm a take that hay and turn it into loot
Cause who ever God blessed no man can test (get up)
Who ever God blessed, no man can test
What goes up must surely come down, yes
So watch who you hurt on your way up
Cause they'll be laughing at you on your way down
Tell the judge we don't want incarceration
Cause we came for the celebration, hey
[...] Read more
song performed by Wyclef Jean
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peggy Sue
If you knew a-peggy sue
Then youd know why I feel blue
My peggy a-my peggy sue
Well I love you, girl, yes I love you, peggy sue
Peggy sue, peggy sue
Oh how my heart yearns for you
Oh peggy--my peggy sue
Well I love you, girl, yes I love you, peggy sue
Peggy sue, peggy sue
Pretty pretty pretty pretty peggy sue
Oh peggy a-my peggy sue
Well I love you, girl, and I need you, peggy sue
I love you, peggy sue
With a love so rare and true
Oh peggy--my-my peggy sue
Well I love you, girl, and I want you, peggy sue
Peggy sue, peggy sue
Pretty pretty pretty pretty peggy sue
My peggy a-my peggy sue
Well I love you, girl, and I want you, peggy sue
Well I love you, girl, and I want you, peggy sue
(pretty pretty pretty pretty peggy sue)
song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Golden Legend: II. A Farm In The Odenwald
A garden; morning;_ PRINCE HENRY _seated, with a
book_. ELSIE, _at a distance, gathering flowers._
_Prince Henry (reading)._ One morning, all alone,
Out of his convent of gray stone,
Into the forest older, darker, grayer,
His lips moving as if in prayer,
His head sunken upon his breast
As in a dream of rest,
Walked the Monk Felix. All about
The broad, sweet sunshine lay without,
Filling the summer air;
And within the woodlands as he trod,
The twilight was like the Truce of God
With worldly woe and care;
Under him lay the golden moss;
And above him the boughs of hemlock-tree
Waved, and made the sign of the cross,
And whispered their Benedicites;
And from the ground
Rose an odor sweet and fragrant
Of the wild flowers and the vagrant
Vines that wandered,
Seeking the sunshine, round and round.
These he heeded not, but pondered
On the volume in his hand,
A volume of Saint Augustine;
Wherein he read of the unseen
Splendors of God's great town
In the unknown land,
And, with his eyes cast down
In humility, he said:
'I believe, O God,
What herein I have read,
But alas! I do not understand!'
And lo! he heard
The sudden singing of a bird,
A snow-white bird, that from a cloud
Dropped down,
And among the branches brown
Sat singing
So sweet, and clear, and loud,
It seemed a thousand harp strings ringing.
And the Monk Felix closed his book,
And long, long,
With rapturous look,
He listened to the song,
And hardly breathed or stirred,
Until he saw, as in a vision,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Golden Legend: VI. The School Of Salerno
A traveling Scholastic affixing his Theses to the gate
of the College.
_Scholastic._ There, that is my gauntlet, my banner, my shield,
Hung up as a challenge to all the field!
One hundred and twenty-five propositions,
Which I will maintain with the sword of the tongue
Against all disputants, old and young.
Let us see if doctors or dialecticians
Will dare to dispute my definitions,
Or attack any one of my learned theses.
Here stand I; the end shall be as God pleases.
I think I have proved, by profound research
The error of all those doctrines so vicious
Of the old Areopagite Dionysius,
That are making such terrible work in the churches,
By Michael the Stammerer sent from the East,
And done into Latin by that Scottish beast,
Erigena Johannes, who dares to maintain,
In the face of the truth, the error infernal,
That the universe is and must be eternal;
At first laying down, as a fact fundamental,
That nothing with God can be accidental;
Then asserting that God before the creation
Could not have existed, because it is plain
That, had he existed, he would have created;
Which is begging the question that should be debated,
And moveth me less to anger than laughter.
All nature, he holds, is a respiration
Of the Spirit of God, who, in breathing, hereafter
Will inhale it into his bosom again,
So that nothing but God alone will remain.
And therein he contradicteth himself;
For he opens the whole discussion by stating,
That God can only exist in creating.
That question I think I have laid on the shelf!
(_He goes out. Two Doctors come in disputing, and
followed by pupils._)
_Doctor Serafino._ I, with the Doctor Seraphic, maintain,
That a word which is only conceived in the brain
Is a type of eternal Generation;
The spoken word is the Incarnation.
_Doctor Cherubino._ What do I care for the Doctor Seraphic,
With all his wordy chaffer and traffic?
_Doctor Serafino._ You make but a paltry show of resistance;
Universals have no real existence!
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Please, Mrs. Henry
Well, i've already had two beers
I'm ready for the broom
Please, missus henry, won't you
Take me to my room?
I'm a good ol' boy
But i've been sniffin' too many eggs
Talkin' to too many people
Drinkin' too many kegs
Please, missus henry, missus henry, please!
Please, missus henry, missus henry, please!
I'm down on my knees
An' i ain't got a dime
Well, i'm groanin' in a hallway
Pretty soon i'll be mad
Please, missus henry, won't you
Take me to your dad?
I can drink like a fish
I can crawl like a snake
I can bite like a turkey
I can slam like a drake
Please, missus henry, missus henry, please!
Please, missus henry, missus henry, please!
I'm down on my knees
An' i ain't got a dime
Now, don't crowd me, lady
Or i'll fill up your shoe
I'm a sweet bourbon daddy
An' tonight i am blue
I'm a thousand years old
And i'm a generous bomb
I'm t-boned and punctured
But i'm known to be calm
Please, missus henry, missus henry, please!
Please, missus henry, missus henry, please!
I'm down on my knees
An' i ain't got a dime
Now, i'm startin' to drain
My stool's gonna squeak
If i walk too much farther
My crane's gonna leak
Look, missus henry
There's only so much i can do
Why don't you look my way
An' pump me a few?
Please, missus henry, missus henry, please!
Please, missus henry, missus henry, please!
I'm down on my knees
An' i ain't got a dime
song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peggy Sue
(holly / petty / allison)
If you knew, peggy sue,
Then you know why I feel blue
Without peggy, my peggy sue.
Well, I love you girl.
Yes, I love you, peggy sue.
Peggy sue, peggy sue,
Oh, how my heart yearns for you.
Oh, peggy, my peggy sue.
Well, I love you girl.
Yes, I love you, peggy sue.
I love you, peggy sue,
With a love so rare and true.
Oh, peggy, my peggy sue.
Well, I love you girl.
I want you, peggy sue.
Peggy sue, peggy sue.
Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty peggy sue.
Oh, peggy, my peggy sue.
Well, I love you girl.
Yes, I need you, peggy sue.
I love you, peggy sue,
With a love so rare and true.
Oh, peggy, my peggy sue.
Well, I love you girl,
And I want you, peggy sue.
song performed by Hollies
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Golden Legend: V. A Covered Bridge At Lucerne
_Prince Henry_. God's blessing on the architects who build
The bridges o'er swift rivers and abysses
Before impassable to human feet,
No less than on the builders of cathedrals,
Whose massive walls are bridges thrown across
The dark and terrible abyss of Death.
Well has the name of Pontifex been given
Unto the Church's head, as the chief builder
And architect of the invisible bridge
That leads from earth to heaven.
_Elsie_ How dark it grows!
What are these paintings on the walls around us?
_Prince Henry_ The Dance Macaber!
_Elsie_ What?
_Prince Henry_ The Dance of Death!
All that go to and fro must look upon it,
Mindful of what they shall be, while beneath,
Among the wooden piles, the turbulent river
Rushes, impetuous as the river of life,
With dimpling eddies, ever green and bright,
Save where the shadow of this bridge falls on it.
_Elsie._ O, yes! I see it now!
_Prince Henry_ The grim musician
Leads all men through the mazes of that dance,
To different sounds in different measures moving;
Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum,
To tempt or terrify.
_Elsie_ What is this picture?
_Prince Henry_ It is a young man singing to a nun,
Who kneels at her devotions, but in kneeling
Turns round to look at him, and Death, meanwhile,
Is putting out the candles on the altar!
_Elsie_ Ah, what a pity 't is that she should listen
to such songs, when in her orisons
She might have heard in heaven the angels singing!
_Prince Henry_ Here he has stolen a jester's cap and bells,
And dances with the Queen.
_Elsie_ A foolish jest!
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Tale III
THE GENTLEMAN FARMER.
Gwyn was a farmer, whom the farmers all,
Who dwelt around, 'the Gentleman' would call;
Whether in pure humility or pride,
They only knew, and they would not decide.
Far different he from that dull plodding tribe
Whom it was his amusement to describe;
Creatures no more enliven'd than a clod,
But treading still as their dull fathers trod;
Who lived in times when not a man had seen
Corn sown by drill, or thresh'd by a machine!
He was of those whose skill assigns the prize
For creatures fed in pens, and stalls, and sties;
And who, in places where improvers meet,
To fill the land with fatness, had a seat;
Who in large mansions live like petty kings,
And speak of farms but as amusing things;
Who plans encourage, and who journals keep,
And talk with lords about a breed of sheep.
Two are the species in this genus known;
One, who is rich in his profession grown,
Who yearly finds his ample stores increase,
From fortune's favours and a favouring lease;
Who rides his hunter, who his house adorns;
Who drinks his wine, and his disbursements scorns;
Who freely lives, and loves to show he can, -
This is the Farmer made the Gentleman.
The second species from the world is sent,
Tired with its strife, or with his wealth content;
In books and men beyond the former read
To farming solely by a passion led,
Or by a fashion; curious in his land;
Now planning much, now changing what he plann'd;
Pleased by each trial, not by failures vex'd,
And ever certain to succeed the next;
Quick to resolve, and easy to persuade, -
This is the Gentleman, a farmer made.
Gwyn was of these; he from the world withdrew
Early in life, his reasons known to few;
Some disappointments said, some pure good sense,
The love of land, the press of indolence;
His fortune known, and coming to retire,
If not a Farmer, men had call'd him 'Squire.
Forty and five his years, no child or wife
Cross'd the still tenour of his chosen life;
Much land he purchased, planted far around,
And let some portions of superfluous ground
To farmers near him, not displeased to say
'My tenants,' nor 'our worthy landlord,' they.
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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Peggy Sue
If you knew peggy sue,
Then you know why I feel blue without peggy,
My peggy sue-ue-ue-ue.
Oh, well, I love you, gal,
Yes, I love you, peggy sue.
Peggy sue, peggy sue,
Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty peggy sue.
Oh ho, peggy,
My peggy sue-ue-ue-ue-ue.
Oh, well, I love you, girl,
And I need you, peggy sue.
I love you, peggy sue,
With that love so rare and true,
Oh ho, peggy,
My peggy sue-ue-ue-ue-ue.
Oh, yes, I love you, girl,
And I want you, peggy sue.
Look out!
Peggy sue, peggy sue,
Oh, how my heart yearns for you,
Oh ho, peggy,
My peggy sue-ue-ue-ue-ue.
Oh, well, I love you, girl,
And I want you, peggy sue.
Oh, yes, I love you, girl,
And I want you, peggy sue.
Oh!
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peggy Sue
If you knew peggy sue,
Then you know why I feel blue without peggy,
My peggy sue-ue-ue-ue.
Oh, well, I love you, gal,
Yes, I love you, peggy sue.
Peggy sue, peggy sue,
Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty peggy sue.
Oh ho, peggy,
My peggy sue-ue-ue-ue-ue.
Oh, well, I love you, girl,
And I need you, peggy sue.
I love you, peggy sue,
With that love so rare and true,
Oh ho, peggy,
My peggy sue-ue-ue-ue-ue.
Oh, yes, I love you, girl,
And I want you, peggy sue.
Look out!
Peggy sue, peggy sue,
Oh, how my heart yearns for you,
Oh ho, peggy,
My peggy sue-ue-ue-ue-ue.
Oh, well, I love you, girl,
And I want you, peggy sue.
Oh, yes, I love you, girl,
And I want you, peggy sue.
Oh!
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Celebrate (feat. Patti LaBelle & Cassidy)
(feat. Cassidy, Patti LaBelle)
[Wyclef]
Ladies and gentleman, the preacher's son
Patti LaBelle is in the building
[Wyclef]
Let's celebrate, have a basement party
A barbeque how we used to do
On the avenue, have a family reunion
Man, how I miss those days
When the kids was kids, no knives on the street
When the ice cream man came around the way
Lord, Miss Patti, won't you help me sing
Lord knows how I miss those days
[Patti (Wyclef)]
Dressing up for church on Easter Sunday (how I miss those days)
Doing the electric slide at every party (how I miss those days)
Oh, if only you knew, what I've been through (you would celebrate)
You would celebrate (everybody just celebrate, how I miss those days)
Get up, you would celebrate (celebrate, everything's gonna be ok, how I miss those days)
[Wyclef (Patti)]
I came in this game through the back door (get up)
I know LaBelle, we were so much more (get up)
We worked it, and earned it, God knows we deserved it (get up)
Keep on striving, I know you'll make it
[Wyclef (Patti)]
Let's celebrate, have a basement party
A barbeque how we used to do (yeah, get up)
On the avenue, have a family reunion
Man, how I miss those days
When the kids was kids, no knives on the street
When the ice cream man came around the way
Lord, Miss Patti, won't you help me sing
Lord knows how I miss those days
[Patti (Wyclef)]
Dressing up for church on Easter Sunday (how I miss those days), get up
Doing the electric slide at every party (how I miss those days)
Oh, if only you knew, what I've been through (you would celebrate)
You would celebrate (everybody just celebr
song performed by Wyclef Jean
Added by Lucian Velea
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Two Gardens in Linndale
Two brothers, Oakes and Oliver,
Two gentle men as ever were,
Would roam no longer, but abide
In Linndale, where their fathers died,
And each would be a gardener.
“Now first we fence the garden through,
With this for me and that for you,”
Said Oliver.—“Divine!” said Oakes,
“And I, while I raise artichokes,
Will do what I was born to do.”
“But this is not the soil, you know,”
Said Oliver, “to make them grow:
The parent of us, who is dead,
Compassionately shook his head
Once on a time and told me so.”
“I hear you, gentle Oliver,”
Said Oakes, “and in your character
I find as fair a thing indeed
As ever bloomed and ran to seed
Since Adam was a gardener.
“Still, whatsoever I find there,
Forgive me if I do not share
The knowing gloom that you take on
Of one who doubted and is done:
For chemistry meets every prayer.”
“Sometimes a rock will meet a plough,”
Said Oliver; “but anyhow
’Tis here we are, ’tis here we live,
With each to take and each to give:
There’s no room for a quarrel now.
“I leave you in all gentleness
To science and a ripe success.
Now God be with you, brother Oakes,
With you and with your artichokes:
You have the vision, more or less.”
“By fate, that gives to me no choice,
I have the vision and the voice:
Dear Oliver, believe in me,
And we shall see what we shall see;
Henceforward let us both rejoice.”
“But first, while we have joy to spare
We’ll plant a little here and there;
[...] Read more
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Added by Poetry Lover
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Michelle
Michelle
I heard your lured howling
I cant resist temptation
I cant resist your smile
I cought your raddle eyes
Michelle
Michelle
My hagridden goblin
Michelle
My mellow
Michelle
Michelle
I must be insane
Its not me to blame
She loves only fame
Michelle caused me really pain
Michelle
Michelle
Michelle
Michelle
Auw
song performed by Xymox
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Golden Legend: Prologue & 1.
THE SPIRE OF STRASBURG CATHEDRAL.
Night and storm. LUCIFER, with the Powers of the
Air, trying to tear down the Cross.
_Lucifer._ HASTEN! hasten!
O ye spirits!
From its station drag the ponderous
Cross of iron, that to mock us
Is uplifted high in air!
_Voices._ O, we cannot!
For around it
All the Saints and Guardian Angels
Throng in legions to protect it;
They defeat us everywhere!
_The Bells._ Laudo Deum verum
Plebem voco!
Congrego clerum!
_Lucifer._ Lower! lower!
Hover downward!
Seize the loud, vociferous bells, and
Clashing, clanging, to the pavement
Hurl them from their windy tower!
_Voices._ All thy thunders
Here are harmless!
For these bells have been anointed,
And baptized with holy water!
They defy our utmost power.
_The Bells. Defunctos ploro!
Pestem fugo!
Festa decoro!
_Lucifer._ Shake the casements!
Break the painted
Panes that flame with gold and crimson!
Scatter them like leaves of Autumn,
Swept away before the blast!
_Voices._ O, we cannot!
The Archangel
Michael flames from every window,
With the sword of fire that drove us
Headlong, out of heaven, aghast!
_The Bells._ Funera plango!
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Added by Poetry Lover
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