What About A Holiday
(carly simon)
What about a holiday, just the eight of us
You and me and all the stones
Wouldnt want to leave them out
Couldnt find a nice bunch
But you cant expect them to
Navigate the boulevards on their own
Those sweet rolling stones
Gosh, we better go hold their hands
While they cross the street
song performed by Carly Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
And The Money Kept Rolling In (And Out)
Che: And the money kept rolling in from every side
Eva's pretty hands reached out and they reached wide
Now you may feel it should have been a voluntary cause
But that's not the point my friends
When the money keeps rolling in you don't ask how
Think of all the people guaranteed a good time now
Eva's called the hungry to her open up the doors
Never been a fund like the Foundation Eva Peron
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling on in rolling on in rolling on in rolling on in on in
Would you like to try a college education
Own your landlord's house take the family on vacation
Eva and her blessed fund can make your dreams come true
Here's all you have to do my friends
Write your name and your dream on a card or a pad or a ticket
Throw it high into the air and should our lady pick it
She will change your way of life for a week or even two
Name me anyone who cares as much as Eva Peron
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling on out rolling on out rolling on out rolling on out on out
And the money kept rolling out in all directions
To the poor to the weak to the destitute of all complexions
Now cynics claim a little of the cash has gone astray
But that's not the point my friends
When the money keeps rolling out you don't keep books
You can tell you've done well by the happy grateful looks
Accountants only slow things down figures get in the way
Never been a lady loved as much as Eva Peron
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
[...] Read more
song performed by Madonna from Evita Soundtrack (Part 2)
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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The Swanks of Gosh
Come mourn with me for the land of Gosh,
Oh, weep with me for the luckless Glugs
Of the land of Gosh, where the sad seas wash
The patient shores, and the great King Splosh
His sodden sorrow hugs;
Where the fair Queen Tush weeps all the day,
And the Swank, the Swank, the naughty Swank,
The haughty Swank holds sway
The most mendacious, ostentatious,
Spacious Swank holds sway.
'Tis sorrow-swathed, as I know full well,
And garbed in gloom and the weeds of woe,
And vague, so far, is the tale I tell;
But bear with me for the briefest spell,
And surely shall ye know
Of the land of Gosh, and Tush, and Splosh,
And Stodge, the Swank, the foolish Swank,
The mulish Swank of Gosh-
The meretricious, avaricious,
Vicious Swank of Gosh.
Oh, the tall trees bend, and green trees send
A chuckle round the earth,
And the soft winds croon a jeering tune,
And the harsh winds shriek with mirth,
And the wee small birds chirp ribald words
When the Swank walks down the street;
But every Glug takes off his hat,
And whispers humbly, 'Look at that!
Hats off! Hats off to the Glug of rank!
Sir Stodge, the Swank, the Lord High Swank!'
Then the East wind roars a loud guffaw,
And the haughty Swank says, 'Haw!'
His brain is dull, and his mind is dense,
And his lack of saving wit complete;
But most amazingly immense
Is his inane self-confidence
And his innate conceit.
But every Glug, and great King Splosh
Bowed to Sir Stodge, the fuddled Swank,
The muddled Swank of Gosh
The engineering, peeping, peering,
Sneering Swank of Gosh.
In Gosh, sad Gosh, where the Lord Swank lives,
He holds high rank, and he has much pelf;
And all the well-paid posts he gives
Unto his fawning relatives,
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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I Better Be Good
If I ain't cool
My daddy gonna send me
To Military School
If I ain't nice
My girlie gonna freeze me
With cold shoulder ice
If I'm real late
My teacher gonna use me
For alligator bait
So, I better be good
I better be good
If I jump on the gas
The cops are gonna jump
All over my back
If I smoke too much
Doctor says he's gonna
Put my lungs in a crutch
If I'm caught without my pants
Consuelo's dad is gonna shoot
Until he sees me dance
So, I better be good
I had better be good
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - Uh, uh, uh, uh
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
You better be nice tonight
If I spray it on the seat
Lady gonna tie a big knot
In the meat
If I spewey too fast
Lover's gonna stick
My Wrangler in a cast
If zipper grabs skin
I'll know I had it out
When I shoulda kept it in
Ow.
I better be good
I better be good
I better be good
Ooh.
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
[...] Read more
song performed by Alice Cooper
Added by Lucian Velea
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Simple Simon
Simon found love, in love he thinks he found himself
Only has a heart for her and her alone
He walks down crowded streets and doesn't feel alone
Oh, never alone
Walks in space with his feet firmly on the ground
Camp on love sign people I talk about
Johnny knows love song people I talk about
Simon, oh oh oh
Simon, oh oh oh
Camp on love sign people I talk about
Johnny knows love song people I talk about
Simon, oh oh oh
Simon, oh oh oh
Well she's just a simple girl, yeah
Spends her time on crossword games and cigarettes, ah
She lives all alone in a military zone where sam's can't get in
Facts and evidence, she probably give you no clues away
No clues away
Camp on love sign people I talk about
Johnny knows love song people I talk about
Simon, oh oh oh
Simon, oh oh oh
Camp on love sign people I talk about
Johnny knows love song people I talk about
Simon, oh oh oh
Simon, oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh
Camp on love sign people I talk about
Johnny knows love song people I talk about
Simon, oh oh oh
Simon, oh oh oh
Camp on love sign people I talk about
Johnny knows love song people I talk about
Simon, oh oh oh
Simon, oh oh oh
Simon found love, in love he thinks he found himself
Only has a heart for her and her alone
He walks down crowded streets and doesn't feel alone, oh never alone
Walks in space with his feet firmly on the ground
Camp on love sign people I talk about
Johnny knows love song people I talk about
Simon, oh oh oh
Simon, oh oh oh
Camp on love sign people I talk about
Johnny knows love song people I talk about
Simon, oh oh oh
Simon, oh oh oh
Submitted by Michael Hack
song performed by INXS
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hooray Hooray
=================================================
Boney M - Hooray! Hooray! (It's A Holi-holiday)
=================================================
Diggy di di doo diggy diggy di doo (hi dee hi dee ho)
Diggy di di doo diggy diggy di di (hi dee hi dee ho)
Diggy di di doo diggy diggy di di (hi dee hi dee ho)
Diggy di di doo diggy diggy di doo (hi dee hi dee ho)
Theres place I know where we should go (hi dee hi dee ho)
Wont you take me there, your lady fair (hi dee hi dee ho)
Theres a brook nearby, the grass grows high (hi dee hi dee ho)
Where we both can hide side by side (hi dee hi dee ho)
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday
Theres a country fair not far from there (hi dee hi dee ho)
On a carousels the ding-dong bell (hi dee hi dee ho)
On the loop-di-loop well swing and swoop (hi dee hi dee ho)
And what else well do is up to you (hi dee hi dee ho)
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday
Well, Im game, fun is the thing Im after
Now lets all live it up today, get set for love and laughter
Well, lets go, time isnt here for wasting
Life is so full of sweet sweet things, Id like to do some tasting
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday
On the country side well take a ride (hi dee hi dee ho)
Where the stars all shine and lots of time (hi dee hi dee ho)
Back of your old car we might get far (hi dee hi dee ho)
In the summer breeze we feel at ease (hi dee hi dee ho)
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday, its a holi-holiday
song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thanks To The Rolling Sea
(words & music by batchelor - roberts)
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Fish on the table and fish on the fire, fried fish hanging on the tree
Everything here that your heart desires, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling sea
Living is good and living is fine, were happy as can be
We owe all this to the salty brine, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling sea
We work all day but our hearts are gay, and while we work we sing
The mighty sea is good to us and weve got everything
Abalone steaks and tuna fish cakes, taste so heavenly
We know who we owe it to, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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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!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hooray! Hooray! Its A Holi-holiday
Digge ding ding ding digge digge ding ding
Hey - di - hey - di - hoh
Digge ding ding ding digge digge ding ding
Hey - di - hey - di - hoh
Theres a place I know where we should go - heydiheydihoh
Won t you take me there your lady fair - heydiheydihoh
Theres a brook near-by the grass grows high - heydiheydihoh
Where we both can hide side by side - heydiheydihoh
Hooray! hooray! its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray! hooray! its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday
Theres a country fair not far from there - heydiheydihoh
On a carousel the dingdong bell - heydiheydihoh
On the loop di loop we swing and swoop - heydiheydihoh
And what else well do is up to you - heydiheydihoh
Hooray! hooray! its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray! hooray! its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday
Well, Im game
Fun is the thing Im after
Now lets alive it up today
Get set for love and laughter
Well, lets go
Time isnt here for wasting
Life is so full of sweet sweet things
Id like to do some tasting
Hooray! hooray! its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray! hooray! its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday
In the country side we take a ride - heydiheydihoh
Where the stars will shine lots of time - heydiheydihoh
Back of your old car we might get far - heydiheydihoh
In the summerbreeze we feel at ease - heydiheydihoh
Hooray! hooray! its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray! hooray! its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday, its a holi-holiday
song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Holiday
Key: G
(w/m by Jimmy Buffett)
The weather channel girl with her perfect weather curl
Is talkin' cold, cold, cold.
You can't get out of bed, you can't remember what you've said,
You're feelin' old, old, old.
Is it a fever or depression, anger or obsession,
What's the remedy?
We're not talkin' rocket science, the answer to your question's
Very plain to see.
Chorus: You need a Holiday, (you need a holiday) take a Holiday (take a
holiday).
Find a far-off wonderland where you might regain
Command of your life today.
Take a Holiday, (take a holiday) you need a Holiday (you need a holiday).
Grab a pack and hit the trail, take a sail
And wind up in some moonlit bay.
2nd Ver: You're caught up in the Internet,
You think it's such a great asset, but you're wrong, wrong, wrong.
And all that fiber optic gear
Still cannot take away the fear like an island song.
Disregard confession, stop tryin' to make impressions
On your corporate climb.
It might come as quite a shock but you can't really own that rock,
It's just a waste of time (state of mind).
Chorus: So take a Holiday. You need a Holiday.
Find a place to find yourself, take your life down off that shelf,
Quit actin' so blase.
Take a Holiday. You need a Holiday.
Grab a pack and hit the trail, take a sail
And wind up in some moonlit bay.
Trombone Instrumental (C / Cm6 / G / D-2 / E-2 / Am / D-2 / D+ 2 / G / G7 )
Steel Drum Instr (C / Cm6 / G / D-2 / E-2 / Am / D-2 / D+ 2 / G / -notes
B-Bb-A-Ab-G)
3rd Ver: Well it's only up to you, no one else can tell you to
Go out and have some fun.
Though if you want to stay alive, evade the big nose dive,
Be a ko-mee-dee-yun.
Chorus: And take a Holiday. You need a Holiday.
Find a far-off wonderland where you might regain
Command of your life today.
Take a Holiday. You need a Holiday.
Grab a pack and hit the trail, take a sail
And wind up in some moonlit bay.
Chorus: So take a Holiday. You need a Holiday.
Find a place to find yourself, take your life down off that shelf,
Quit actin' so blase.
Take a Holiday. You need a Holiday.
Grab a pack and hit the trail, take a sail
And wind up in some moonlit bay.
[...] Read more
song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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The Brady Bunch
You can watch mr. rogers
You can watch threes company
And you can turn on fame or the nelywed game
Or the addams family
I say, you can watch barney miller
And you can watch your mtv
And you can watch till your eyes fall out of your head
Thatll be ok with me
And you can watch (tv)
You can watch johnny carson
You can watch phil donahue
And you can use tv guide to help you decide
With capsulized review
Say, you can watch 60 minutes
Even captain kangaroo
But theres only one set, so what ever you watch
Well, you know I gotta watch it too
Say, give it up, give it up, televisions taking its toll
Thats enought, thats enough, gimme the remote controll
I been nice, I been good, please dont do this to me
Turn it off, turn it off, I dont want to have to see
The brady bunch
Not the brady bunch
Well, the brady bunch
Yeah, the brady bunch
Its the story of a lovely lady
Who was bringing up three very lovely girls
All of them had hair of gold, like their mother
The youngest one in curls
Its a story of a man named brady
Who was busy with three boys of his own
They were four men living all together
Yeah, but they were all alone
Until the one day, one day when the lady met the fellow
And they knew, and they knew it was much more than a hunch
Then they knew this group must somehow form a family
Thats the way, thats the way, thats the way they all became
The brady bunch
Well, the brady bunch
Yeah, the brady bunch
Well, the brady bunch
Oh, its the brady bunch
Its the brady bunch
Oh, the brady bunch, yeah
Oh, the brady bunch
Its the brady bunch
Well, its the brady bunch
Well, its the brady bunch
Well, its the brady bunch
Its the brady bunch
song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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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.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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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,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Room For Everything
Oooooh...
You were looking away from me
Western skies calling you
Colors spilling, running, dazzling you
I was looking the other way
Voices call from the east
I saw my roots of the trees there, planted at my feet
It could be Im searching
For a place so small
With room for everything
Where worlds on worlds revolve
But how can we wait?
I wouldnt hold you
No, I wouldnt hold you
I wouldnt hold you back
Suppose I was the clever one
And words came easy to me
I could say I was writing a song
About you, you and me
Maybe that verse is yet to be found
But waits inside of me
A secret room, a tangled web
To unweave
It could be Im searching
For a place so small
With room for everything
Where worlds on worlds revolve
But how can we wait
Knowing our way
How can we hold on
Still, you know its not too late
I wouldnt hold you
No, I wouldnt hold you
I wouldnt hold you back
I wouldnt hold you
No, I wouldnt hold you
I wouldnt hold you back
I wouldnt hold you
No, I wouldnt hold you
I wouldnt hold you back
I wouldnt hold you
No, I wouldnt hold you
I wouldnt hold you back
song performed by 10000 Maniacs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Holida
[transcribed by dave a]
Holiday
By: jimmy buffett, ralph macdonald, bill eaton, william salter
1996
The weather channel girl
With her perfect weather curl
Is talking cold, cold, cold
You cant get out of bed
You cant remember what youve said
Youre feeling old, old, old
Is it fever or depression
Anger or agression
Whats the remedy?
Were not talking rocket science
The answer to your questions
Very plain to see
Chorus
You need a holiday
Take a holiday
Find a far off wonderland
Where you might regain command
Of your life today
Take a holiday
You need a holiday
Grab a pack and hit the trail
Take a sail
And wind up in some moonlight bay
Youre caught up in the internet
You think its such a great asset
But youre wrong, wrong, wrong
All that fiber optic gear
Still cannot take away the fear
Like an island song
Disregard confession
Stop trying to make impressions
On your corporate climb
It might come as quite a shock
But you cant really own that rock
Its just a waste of time
So, take a holiday
You need a holiday
Find a place to find yourself
Take your life down off that shelf
Quit acting so blase
Take a holiday
You need a holiday
Grab a pack and hit the trail
Take a sail
And wind up in some moonlight bay
Well its only up to you
[...] Read more
song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tannhauser
The Landgrave Hermann held a gathering
Of minstrels, minnesingers, troubadours,
At Wartburg in his palace, and the knight,
Sir Tannhauser of France, the greatest bard,
Inspired with heavenly visions, and endowed
With apprehension and rare utterance
Of noble music, fared in thoughtful wise
Across the Horsel meadows. Full of light,
And large repose, the peaceful valley lay,
In the late splendor of the afternoon,
And level sunbeams lit the serious face
Of the young knight, who journeyed to the west,
Towards the precipitous and rugged cliffs,
Scarred, grim, and torn with savage rifts and chasms,
That in the distance loomed as soft and fair
And purple as their shadows on the grass.
The tinkling chimes ran out athwart the air,
Proclaiming sunset, ushering evening in,
Although the sky yet glowed with yellow light.
The ploughboy, ere he led his cattle home,
In the near meadow, reverently knelt,
And doffed his cap, and duly crossed his breast,
Whispering his 'Ave Mary,' as he heard
The pealing vesper-bell. But still the knight,
Unmindful of the sacred hour announced,
Disdainful or unconscious, held his course.
'Would that I also, like yon stupid wight,
Could kneel and hail the Virgin and believe!'
He murmured bitterly beneath his breath.
'Were I a pagan, riding to contend
For the Olympic wreath, O with what zeal,
What fire of inspiration, would I sing
The praises of the gods! How may my lyre
Glorify these whose very life I doubt?
The world is governed by one cruel God,
Who brings a sword, not peace. A pallid Christ,
Unnatural, perfect, and a virgin cold,
They give us for a heaven of living gods,
Beautiful, loving, whose mere names were song;
A creed of suffering and despair, walled in
On every side by brazen boundaries,
That limit the soul's vision and her hope
To a red hell or and unpeopled heaven.
Yea, I am lost already,-even now
Am doomed to flaming torture for my thoughts.
O gods! O gods! where shall my soul find peace?'
He raised his wan face to the faded skies,
Now shadowing into twilight; no response
Came from their sunless heights; no miracle,
As in the ancient days of answering gods.
[...] Read more
poem by Emma Lazarus
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Three Women
My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.
Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.
Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.
Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.
1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.
Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,
[...] Read more
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Thespis: Act I
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
GODS
Jupiter, Aged Diety
Apollo, Aged Diety
Mars, Aged Diety
Diana, Aged Diety
Mercury
THESPIANS
Thespis
Sillimon
TimidonTipseion
Preposteros
Stupidas
Sparkeio n
Nicemis
Pretteia
Daphne
Cymon
ACT I - Ruined Temple on the Summit of Mount Olympus
[Scene--The ruins of the The Temple of the Gods, on summit of
Mount Olympus. Picturesque shattered columns, overgrown with
ivy, etc. R. and L. with entrances to temple (ruined) R. Fallen
columns on the stage. Three broken pillars 2 R.E. At the back of
stage is the approach from the summit of the mountain. This
should be "practicable" to enable large numbers of people to
ascend and descend. In the distance are the summits of adjacent
mountains. At first all this is concealed by a thick fog, which
clears presently. Enter (through fog) Chorus of Stars coming off
duty as fatigued with their night's work]
CHO. Through the night, the constellations,
Have given light from various stations.
When midnight gloom falls on all nations,
We will resume our occupations.
SOLO. Our light, it's true, is not worth mention;
What can we do to gain attention.
When night and noon with vulgar glaring
A great big moon is always flaring.
[During chorus, enter Diana, an elderly goddess. She is carefully
wrapped up in cloaks, shawls, etc. A hood is over her head, a
respirator in her mouth, and galoshes on her feet. During the
[...] Read more
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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