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Im Popeye The Sailor Man

Im popeye the sailor man. Im popeye the sailor man.
Im strong to the finich, cause I eats me spinach.
Im popeye the sailor man.
Im one tough gazookus, which hates all palookas.
Wot aint on the up and square.
I biffs em and buffs em and always out roughs em
But none of em gets nowhere.
If anyone dares to risk my fisk, its boff an its wham unerstan?
So keep good be-hav-or, thats your one life saver
With popeye the sailor man.
Im popeye the sailor man, Im popeye the sailor man.
Im strong to the finich, cause I eats me spinach.
Im popeye the sailor man.

song performed by Face To Face
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Dramatic Poem

The deck of an ancient ship. At the right of the stage is the mast, with a large square sail hiding a great deal of the sky and sea on that side. The tiller is at the left of the stage; it is a long oar coming through an opening in the bulwark. The deck rises in a series of steps hehind the tiller, and the stern of the ship curves overhead. When the play opens there are four persons upon the deck. Aibric stands by the tiller. Forgael sleeps upon the raised portion of the deck towards the front of the stage. Two Sailors are standing near to the mast, on which a harp is hanging.

First Sailor. Has he not led us into these waste seas
For long enough?
Second Sailor. Aye, long and long enough.
First Sailor. We have not come upon a shore or ship
These dozen weeks.
Sccond Sailor. And I had thought to make
A good round Sum upon this cruise, and turn --
For I am getting on in life -- to something
That has less ups and downs than robbery.
First Sailor. I am so tired of being bachelor
I could give all my heart to that Red Moll
That had but the one eye.
Second Sailor. Can no bewitchment
Transform these rascal billows into women
That I may drown myself?
First Sailor. Better steer home,
Whether he will or no; and better still
To take him while he sleeps and carry him
And drop him from the gunnel.
Second Sailor. I dare not do it.
Were't not that there is magic in his harp,
I would be of your mind; but when he plays it
Strange creatures flutter up before one's eyes,
Or cry about one's ears.
First Sailor. Nothing to fear.
Second Sailor. Do you remember when we sank that
galley
At the full moon?
First Sailor. He played all through the night.
Second Sailor. Until the moon had set; and when I looked
Where the dead drifted, I could see a bird
Like a grey gull upon the breast of each.
While I was looking they rose hurriedly,
And after circling with strange cries awhile
Flew westward; and many a time since then
I've heard a rustling overhead in the wind.
First Sailor. I saw them on that night as well as you.
But when I had eaten and drunk myself asleep
My courage came again.
Second Sailor. But that's not all.
The other night, while he was playing it,
A beautiful young man and girl came up
In a white breaking wave; they had the look
Of those that are alive for ever and ever.
First Sailor. I saw them, too, one night. Forgael was
playing,
And they were listening ther& beyond the sail.
He could not see them, but I held out my hands

[...] Read more

poem by William Butler Yeats
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Brent River Bride

Flow proudly fair river,
For one who fell under
Your spell was the liver
Doc, Gershon - asunder
Found all his plans, muddled
By nymphs of the water -
He greatly befuddled
Then married the daughter
Of Count Joe of Wandle
Far south of the city
And went on to fondle
Her milk flowing titty.
I send this wet letter
To Brentische planners;
Such amour is better
Than yekkishe manners.

LRH
6.5.06 In reply to GWH's Bride of Brent of 6.5.06

Bride of Brent

Unlike Lucia from far Lammermoor,
fair Linda, hailing from far Chaumonix,
excels when she’s preparing salmon or
deep-frying spuds and spinach that aren’t gammony.

She tried to keep the frog which wooing went
outside the net she guarded as a goalie
till she became the Bride of River Brent
and played the role of Princess Rowley-Powley.

The frog, he always used to say “Heigh-ho, '
because he knew that he could never find a
more lovely princess once she’d kissed him so
he was more charmed than Chaumonix by Linda.

Inspired by Linda, who married me at the Brent Bridge Hotel in August 1996, and by “A frog he would a-wooing go”: [Old folk song].

A Frog he would a-wooing go,
Heigho! says Rowley,
Whether his mother would let him or no.
With a rowley, powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho! says Anthony Rowley.

So off he set with his opera hat,
Heigho! says Rowley,
And on the way he met with a Rat.
With a rowley, powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho! says Anthony Rowley.

[...] Read more

poem by Linda Hepner
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The Court Of Love

With timerous hert and trembling hand of drede,
Of cunning naked, bare of eloquence,
Unto the flour of port in womanhede
I write, as he that non intelligence
Of metres hath, ne floures of sentence;
Sauf that me list my writing to convey,
In that I can to please her hygh nobley.

The blosmes fresshe of Tullius garden soote
Present thaim not, my mater for to borne:
Poemes of Virgil taken here no rote,
Ne crafte of Galfrid may not here sojorne:
Why nam I cunning? O well may I morne,
For lak of science that I can-not write
Unto the princes of my life a-right

No termes digne unto her excellence,
So is she sprong of noble stirpe and high:
A world of honour and of reverence
There is in her, this wil I testifie.
Calliope, thou sister wise and sly,
And thou, Minerva, guyde me with thy grace,
That langage rude my mater not deface.

Thy suger-dropes swete of Elicon
Distill in me, thou gentle Muse, I pray;
And thee, Melpomene, I calle anon,
Of ignoraunce the mist to chace away;
And give me grace so for to write and sey,
That she, my lady, of her worthinesse,
Accepte in gree this litel short tretesse,

That is entitled thus, 'The Court of Love.'
And ye that ben metriciens me excuse,
I you besech, for Venus sake above;
For what I mene in this ye need not muse:
And if so be my lady it refuse
For lak of ornat speche, I wold be wo,
That I presume to her to writen so.

But myn entent and all my besy cure
Is for to write this tretesse, as I can,
Unto my lady, stable, true, and sure,
Feithfull and kind, sith first that she began
Me to accept in service as her man:

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Secundus

Incipit Liber Tercius

Ira suis paribus est par furiis Acherontis,
Quo furor ad tempus nil pietatis habet.
Ira malencolicos animos perturbat, vt equo
Iure sui pondus nulla statera tenet.
Omnibus in causis grauat Ira, set inter amantes,
Illa magis facili sorte grauamen agit:
Est vbi vir discors leuiterque repugnat amori,
Sepe loco ludi fletus ad ora venit.

----------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------

If thou the vices lest to knowe,
Mi Sone, it hath noght ben unknowe,
Fro ferst that men the swerdes grounde,
That ther nis on upon this grounde,
A vice forein fro the lawe,
Wherof that many a good felawe
Hath be distraght be sodein chance;
And yit to kinde no plesance
It doth, bot wher he most achieveth
His pourpos, most to kinde he grieveth,
As he which out of conscience
Is enemy to pacience:
And is be name on of the Sevene,
Which ofte hath set this world unevene,
And cleped is the cruel Ire,
Whos herte is everemore on fyre
To speke amis and to do bothe,
For his servantz ben evere wrothe.
Mi goode fader, tell me this:
What thing is Ire? Sone, it is
That in oure englissh Wrathe is hote,
Which hath hise wordes ay so hote,
That all a mannes pacience
Is fyred of the violence.
For he with him hath evere fyve
Servantz that helpen him to stryve:
The ferst of hem Malencolie
Is cleped, which in compaignie
An hundred times in an houre
Wol as an angri beste loure,
And noman wot the cause why.
Mi Sone, schrif thee now forthi:
Hast thou be Malencolien?
Ye, fader, be seint Julien,
Bot I untrewe wordes use,
I mai me noght therof excuse:
And al makth love, wel I wot,

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Tercius

Incipit Liber Quartus

Dicunt accidiam fore nutricem viciorum,
Torpet et in cunctis tarda que lenta bonis:
Que fieri possent hodie transfert piger in cras,
Furatoque prius ostia claudit equo.
Poscenti tardo negat emolumenta Cupido,
Set Venus in celeri ludit amore viri.

Upon the vices to procede
After the cause of mannes dede,
The ferste point of Slowthe I calle
Lachesce, and is the chief of alle,
And hath this propreliche of kinde,
To leven alle thing behinde.
Of that he mihte do now hier
He tarieth al the longe yer,
And everemore he seith, 'Tomorwe';
And so he wol his time borwe,
And wissheth after 'God me sende,'
That whan he weneth have an ende,
Thanne is he ferthest to beginne.
Thus bringth he many a meschief inne
Unwar, til that he be meschieved,
And may noght thanne be relieved.
And riht so nowther mor ne lesse
It stant of love and of lachesce:
Som time he slowtheth in a day
That he nevere after gete mai.
Now, Sone, as of this ilke thing,
If thou have eny knowleching,
That thou to love hast don er this,
Tell on. Mi goode fader, yis.
As of lachesce I am beknowe
That I mai stonde upon his rowe,
As I that am clad of his suite:
For whanne I thoghte mi poursuite
To make, and therto sette a day
To speke unto the swete May,
Lachesce bad abide yit,
And bar on hond it was no wit
Ne time forto speke as tho.
Thus with his tales to and fro
Mi time in tariinge he drowh:
Whan ther was time good ynowh,
He seide, 'An other time is bettre;
Thou schalt mowe senden hire a lettre,
And per cas wryte more plein
Than thou be Mowthe durstest sein.'

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
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Emotional Food Chain

Anger eats Balanced
Balanced eats Confusion
Confusion eats Delight
Delight eats Exasperation
Exasperation eats Forgiveness
Forgiveness eats Grief
Grief eats Humor
Humor eats Isolation
Isolation eats Joy
Joy eats Knottiness
Knottiness eats Love
Love eats Moodiness
Moodiness eats Nicety
Nicety eats Outrage
Outrage eats Peace
Peace eats Quick-temperament
Quick-temperament eats Righteousness
Righteousness eats Stupidity
Stupidity eats Trust
Trust eats Unhappiness
Unhappiness eats Vitality
Vitality eats Weariness
Weariness eats X-citement
X-citement eats Yawn
Yawn eats Zest
Zest eats Anger

poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
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Popeye The Sailor Man

(kinky friedman & panama red)
My heart is on my sleeve,
Do you still believe ?
Are you listenin to the tide roll in, watchin ships at sea ?
When I come sailin home again will you be there for me,
There for me ?
Treasure ships of yore
Grace the ocean floor
Columbus sailed for italy, columbus sailed for spain.
Columbus sailed a wishin well, columbus died in chains,
Died in chains.
I dont pretend to know every answer
To everything that life may ask of me.
Hey, Im popeye the sailor man
Im popeye the sailor man
Hey, popeye the sailor man
And I sail the lonely sea eternally.
My true love calls to me from far across the sea.
She says, red skies in the mornin
Sailor take warnin
Sail with me tonight
Sailors delight, sailors delight.
I dont pretend to know every answer
To everything that life may ask of me.
Hey, Im popeye the sailor man
Popeye the sailor man,
Popeye the sailor man
And I sail the lonely sea eternally.
She said, popeye the sailor man
Popeye the sailor man
Oh, popeye the sailor man
Sail on home to me, come sail with me.

song performed by Kinky Friedman
Added by Lucian Velea
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Quintus

Incipit Liber Sextus

Est gula, que nostrum maculavit prima parentem
Ex vetito pomo, quo dolet omnis homo
Hec agit, ut corpus anime contraria spirat,
Quo caro fit crassa, spiritus atque macer.
Intus et exterius si que virtutis habentur,
Potibus ebrietas conviciata ruit.
Mersa sopore labis, que Bachus inebriat hospes,
Indignata Venus oscula raro premit.

---------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------

The grete Senne original,
Which every man in general
Upon his berthe hath envenymed,
In Paradis it was mystymed:
Whan Adam of thilke Appel bot,
His swete morscel was to hot,
Which dedly made the mankinde.
And in the bokes as I finde,
This vice, which so out of rule
Hath sette ous alle, is cleped Gule;
Of which the branches ben so grete,
That of hem alle I wol noght trete,
Bot only as touchende of tuo
I thenke speke and of no mo;
Wherof the ferste is Dronkeschipe,
Which berth the cuppe felaschipe.
Ful many a wonder doth this vice,
He can make of a wisman nyce,
And of a fool, that him schal seme
That he can al the lawe deme,
And yiven every juggement
Which longeth to the firmament
Bothe of the sterre and of the mone;
And thus he makth a gret clerk sone
Of him that is a lewed man.
Ther is nothing which he ne can,
Whil he hath Dronkeschipe on honde,
He knowth the See, he knowth the stronde,
He is a noble man of armes,
And yit no strengthe is in his armes:
Ther he was strong ynouh tofore,
With Dronkeschipe it is forlore,
And al is changed his astat,
And wext anon so fieble and mat,
That he mai nouther go ne come,
Bot al togedre him is benome
The pouer bothe of hond and fot,

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
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The Assembly Of Ladies

In Septembre, at the falling of the leef,
The fressh sesoun was al-togider doon,
And of the corn was gadered in the sheef;
In a gardyn, about twayn after noon,
Ther were ladyes walking, as was her wone,
Foure in nombre, as to my mynd doth falle,
And I the fifte, the simplest of hem alle.

Of gentilwomen fayre ther were also,
Disporting hem, everiche after her gyse,
In crosse-aleys walking, by two and two,
And some alone, after her fantasyes.
Thus occupyed we were in dyvers wyse;
And yet, in trouthe, we were not al alone;
Ther were knightës and squyers many one.

'Wherof I served?' oon of hem asked me;
I sayde ayein, as it fel in my thought,
'To walke about the mase, in certayntè,
As a woman that [of] nothing rought.'
He asked me ayein—'whom that I sought,
And of my colour why I was so pale?'
'Forsothe,' quod I, 'and therby lyth a tale.'

'That must me wite,' quod he, 'and that anon;
Tel on, let see, and make no tarying.'
'Abyd,' quod I, 'ye been a hasty oon,
I let you wite it is no litel thing.
But, for bicause ye have a greet longing
In your desyr, this proces for to here,
I shal you tel the playn of this matere.—

It happed thus, that, in an after-noon,
My felawship and I, by oon assent,
Whan al our other besinesse was doon,
To passe our tyme, into this mase we went,
And toke our wayes, eche after our entent;
Some went inward, and wend they had gon out,
Some stode amid, and loked al about.

And, sooth to say, some were ful fer behind,
And right anon as ferforth as the best;
Other ther were, so mased in her mind,
Al wayes were good for hem, bothe eest and west.
Thus went they forth, and had but litel rest;

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Prologus

Incipit Liber Primus

Naturatus amor nature legibus orbem
Subdit, et vnanimes concitat esse feras:
Huius enim mundi Princeps amor esse videtur,
Cuius eget diues, pauper et omnis ope.
Sunt in agone pares amor et fortuna, que cecas
Plebis ad insidias vertit vterque rotas.
Est amor egra salus, vexata quies, pius error,
Bellica pax, vulnus dulce, suaue malum.

I may noght strecche up to the hevene
Min hand, ne setten al in evene
This world, which evere is in balance:
It stant noght in my sufficance
So grete thinges to compasse,
Bot I mot lete it overpasse
And treten upon othre thinges.
Forthi the Stile of my writinges
Fro this day forth I thenke change
And speke of thing is noght so strange,
Which every kinde hath upon honde,
And wherupon the world mot stonde,
And hath don sithen it began,
And schal whil ther is any man;
And that is love, of which I mene
To trete, as after schal be sene.
In which ther can noman him reule,
For loves lawe is out of reule,
That of tomoche or of tolite
Welnyh is every man to wyte,
And natheles ther is noman
In al this world so wys, that can
Of love tempre the mesure,
Bot as it falth in aventure:
For wit ne strengthe may noght helpe,
And he which elles wolde him yelpe
Is rathest throwen under fote,
Ther can no wiht therof do bote.
For yet was nevere such covine,
That couthe ordeine a medicine
To thing which god in lawe of kinde
Hath set, for ther may noman finde
The rihte salve of such a Sor.
It hath and schal ben everemor
That love is maister wher he wile,
Ther can no lif make other skile;
For wher as evere him lest to sette,
Ther is no myht which him may lette.
Bot what schal fallen ate laste,

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
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Dykker-Klokken

Det var i Aaret — — ak! nu kan jeg Aaret ikke huske;
Men Maanen skinnede ret smukt paa Træer og paa Buske.
Vor Jord er intet Paradiis; som Praas tidt Lykken lyser;
Om Sommeren man har for hedt, om Vinteren man fryser.
At melde i en Elegie, hvor tidt vi her maae græde,
Det nytter jo til ingen Ting, kan ei en Christen glæde.
Det var i Aaret, som De veed, jeg ei kan rigtig huske,
Jeg gik om Aftenen en Tour imellem Krat og Buske;
Det hele Liv stod klart for mig, men jeg var ei fornøiet;
Dog muligt var det Nordens Vind, som fik mig Vand i Øiet.
En Tanke gik, en anden kom, og, for mig kort at fatte,
Tilsidst jeg paa en Kampesteen mig tæt ved Havet satte.
I Ilden er der lidt for hedt, paa Jord, som sagt, man fryser,
Og stige i en Luft-Ballon — — nei! nei! mit Hjerte gyser;
Dog muligt at paa Havets Bund i sikkre Dykker-Klokker
Sit Liv man paa Cothurner gaaer, og ei, som her, paa Sokker.
Saa tænkte jeg, og Reisen blev til næste Dag belavet,
(I Dykker-Klokker, som man veed, kan vandres gjennem Havet).
— Af klart Krystal var Klokken støbt, de Svende frem den trække,
Tilskuere paa Kysten stod, en lang, en broget Række;
Snart var det Hele bragt i Stand, jeg sad saa luunt derinde,
Nu gleed da Snoren, Tridsen peeb, jeg blev saa sær i Sinde, -
For Øiet var det sort, som Nat, og Luften pressed' saare,
Den trykkede som Hjertets Sorg, der lettes ei ved Taare. -
Det var, som Stormens Orgel slog — jeg kan det aldrig glemme!
Som naar i Ørknen en Orkan med Rovdyr blander Stemme.
— Men snart jeg blev til Tingen vant, og dette saae jeg gjerne;
Høit over mig var ravne-sort, det bruste i det Fjerne.
Der Solen stod saa rød og stor, men ei med mindste Straale,
Saa at man uden sværtet Glas „ihr' Hoheit" kunde taale.
Mig syntes Stjerne-Himlen hist i sin Studenter-Kjole
Lig Asken af et brændt Papir, hvor Smaa-Børn gaae af Skole.
— Rundt om mig klarede det op, jeg hørte Fiske bande,
Hver Gang de paa min Klokke løb og stødte deres Pande.
Men Skjæbnen, ak! det slemme Skarn, misundte mig min Glæde,
Og som en Sværd-Fisk var hun nu ved Klokkens Snoer tilstæde,
Og hurtigt gik det: „klip! klip! klip!" rask skar hun Snoren over;
Der sad jeg i min Klokke net, dybt under Havets Vover.
Først blev jeg hed, saa blev jeg kold, saa lidt af begge Dele,
Jeg trøsted' mig; Du kan kun døe, se det er her det Hele.
Men Klokken sank dog ei endnu, den drev paa Havets Strømme,
Jeg lukkede mit Øie til, og lod saa Klokken svømme.
Den foer, ret som med Extra-Post, vist sine tyve Mile,
„Und immer weiter, hop! hop! hop!" foruden Rast og Hvile.
Een Time gik, der gik vel tre, men Døden kom dog ikke,
Saa blev jeg af den Venten kjed, og aabned mine Blikke.
Ak Herreje! ak Herreje! Hvad saae jeg dog paa Bunden!
Den første halve Time jeg som slagen var paa Munden. -
Dybt under mig var Bjerg og Dal med Skove samt med Byer,
Jeg Damer saae spadsere der med store Paraplyer. -

[...] Read more

poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Wham! Rap

Chorus:
Wham! bam!
I am! a man!
Job or no job,
You cant tell me that Im not.
Do! you!
Enjoy what you do?
If not, just stop!
Dont stay there and rot!
You got soul....
You got soul....
I said get, get, get on down,
Said get, get, get, on down.
Hey everybody take a look at me,
Ive got street credibility,
I may not have a job,
But I have a good time,
With the boys that I meet down on the line
I said, I - dont - need - you
So you dont approve,
Well who asked you to?
Hey - jerk - you - work
This boys got better things to do
Hell,
I aint never gonna work, get down in the dirt,
I choose, to cruise.
Gonna live my life, sharp as a knife,
Ive found my groove and I just cant lose.
A.1. style from head to toe,
Cool cat flash gonna let you know,
Im a soul boy - Im a dole boy,
Take pleasure in leisure, I believe in joy!
Chorus
Party nights, and neon lights,
We hit the floors, we hit the heights.
Dancing shoes, and pretty girls.
Boys in leather kiss girls in pearls!
Hot-damn! everybody, lets play!
So they promised you a good job - no way!
One, two, three, rap!
Cmon everybody, dont need this crap!
Chorus
If youre a pub man
Or a club man
Maybe a jet black guy with a hip hi-fi
A white cool cat with a trilby hat
Maybe leather and studs is where youre at
Make the most of every day
Dont let hard times stand in your way
Give a wham give a bam but dont give a damn

[...] Read more

song performed by George Michael
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wham Rap (Enjoy What You Do)

Chorus:
Wham! bam!
I am! a man!
Job or no job,
You cant tell me that Im not.
Do! you!
Enjoy what you do?
If not, just stop!
Dont stay there and rot!
You got soul....
You got soul....
I said get, get, get on down,
Said get, get, get, on down.
Hey everybody take a look at me,
Ive got street credibility,
I may not have a job,
But I have a good time,
With the boys that I meet "down on the line"
I said, I - dont - need - you
So you dont approve,
Well who asked you to?
Hey - jerk - you - work
This boys got better things to do
Hell,
I aint never gonna work, get down in the dirt,
I choose, to cruise.
Gonna live my life, sharp as a knife,
Ive found my groove and I just cant lose.
A.1. style from head to toe,
Cool cat flash gonna let you know,
Im a soul boy - Im a dole boy,
Take pleasure in leisure, I believe in joy!
Chorus
Party nights, and neon lights,
We hit the floors, we hit the heights.
Dancing shoes, and pretty girls.
Boys in leather kiss girls in pearls!
Hot-damn! everybody, lets play!
So they promised you a good job - no way!
One, two, three, rap!
Cmon everybody, dont need this crap!
Chorus
If youre a pub man
Or a club man
Maybe a jet black guy with a hip hi-fi
A white cool cat with a trilby hat
Maybe leather and studs is where youre at
Make the most of every day
Dont let hard times stand in your way
Give a wham give a bam but dont give a damn

[...] Read more

song performed by George Michael
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wham Bam

Im gonna walk
Im gonna walk down to the sea
And then Ill swim
Then Ill swim until I see you
Im going to a place that winds
And Ill climb a mountainside
And Ill be there
I will be there just in time
Wham bam!
I hope to meet you
Wham bam!
I hope to meet you, baby
Goddamn!
I hope to meet you
Wham bam!
Id like to thank you, maam
Well, alright
Im gonna crawl
Im gonna crawl down on my knees
And like a snake
Im gonna slither through the reeds
Ill leave a trail
Yeah, Ill leave a trail of chimes
And if you see me
If you seek then you will find
Wham bam!
Im gonna meet you
Wham bam!
Im gonna meet you, baby
Goddamn!
Im gonna meet you
Wham bam!
Id like to thank you.. maam
Well, alright
Im gonna dig
Im gonna dig until I bleed
Ill get so deep
Get so deep, Ill plant my seed
Im gonna mine
Im gonna mine til Im out of time
But when I strike
Yeah, Ill strike and then well find
Wham bam!
Im bound to meet you
Wham bam!
Im bound to meet you, baby
Goddamn!
Im bound to meet you
Wham bam!
Id like to thank you, maam

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song performed by Gomez
Added by Lucian Velea
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Primus

Incipit Liber Secundus

Inuidie culpa magis est attrita dolore,
Nam sua mens nullo tempore leta manet:
Quo gaudent alii, dolet ille, nec vnus amicus
Est, cui de puro comoda velle facit.
Proximitatis honor sua corda veretur, et omnis
Est sibi leticia sic aliena dolor.
Hoc etenim vicium quam sepe repugnat amanti,
Non sibi, set reliquis, dum fauet ipsa Venus.
Est amor ex proprio motu fantasticus, et que
Gaudia fert alius, credit obesse sibi.

Now after Pride the secounde
Ther is, which many a woful stounde
Towardes othre berth aboute
Withinne himself and noght withoute;
For in his thoght he brenneth evere,
Whan that he wot an other levere
Or more vertuous than he,
Which passeth him in his degre;
Therof he takth his maladie:
That vice is cleped hot Envie.
Forthi, my Sone, if it be so
Thou art or hast ben on of tho,
As forto speke in loves cas,
If evere yit thin herte was
Sek of an other mannes hele?
So god avance my querele,
Mi fader, ye, a thousend sithe:
Whanne I have sen an other blithe
Of love, and hadde a goodly chiere,
Ethna, which brenneth yer be yere,
Was thanne noght so hot as I
Of thilke Sor which prively
Min hertes thoght withinne brenneth.
The Schip which on the wawes renneth,
And is forstormed and forblowe,
Is noght more peined for a throwe
Than I am thanne, whanne I se
An other which that passeth me
In that fortune of loves yifte.
Bot, fader, this I telle in schrifte,
That is nowher bot in o place;
For who that lese or finde grace
In other stede, it mai noght grieve:
Bot this ye mai riht wel believe,
Toward mi ladi that I serve,
Thogh that I wiste forto sterve,

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poem by John Gower
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The Bloody Sun

“O WHERE have ye been the morn sae late,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
O where have ye been the morn sae late?
And I wot I hae but anither.”
“By the water-gate, by the water-gate,
O dear mither.”

“And whatten kin’ o’ wark had ye there to make,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And whatten kin’ o’ wark had ye there to make?
And I wot I hae but anither.”
“I watered my steeds with water frae the lake,
O dear mither.”

“Why is your coat sae fouled the day,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
Why is your coat sae fouled the day?
And I wot I hae but anither.”
“The steeds were stamping sair by the weary banks of clay,
O dear mither.”

“And where gat ye thae sleeves of red,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And where gat ye thae sleeves of red?
And I wot I hae but anither.”
“I have slain my ae brither by the weary water-head,
O dear mither.”

“And where will ye gang to mak your mend,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And where will ye gang to mak your mend?
And I wot I hae not anither.”
“The warldis way, to the warldis end,
O dear mither.”

“And what will ye leave your father dear,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your father dear?
And I wot I hae not anither.”
“The wood to fell and the logs to bear,
For he’ll never see my body mair,
O dear mither.”

“And what will ye leave your mither dear,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your mither dear?
And I wot I hae not anither.”
“The wool to card and the wool to wear,
For ye’ll never see my body mair,
O dear mither.”

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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Loves In Need Of Love Today

Good morn or evening friends
Heres your friendly announcer
I have serious news to pass on to every-body
What Im about to say
Could mean the worlds disaster
Could change your joy and laughter to tears and pain
Its that
Loves in need of love today
Dont delay
Send yours in right away
Hates goin round
Breaking many hearts
Stop it please
Before its gone too far
The force of evil plans
To make you its possession
And it will if we let it
Destroy ev-er-y-body
We all must take
Precautionary measures
If love and please you treasure
Then youll hear me when I say
Oh that
Loves in need of love today
Loves in need of love today
Dont delay
Dont delay
Send yours in right away
Right a-way
Hates goin round
Hates goin round
Breaking many hearts
Break-ing hearts
Stop it please
Stop it please
Before its gone too far
Gone too far
People you know that
Loves in need of love today
Loves in need of love today
Dont delay
Dont de-lay
Send yours in right away
Right a-way
You know that hates
Hates
Hates goin round
Goin round
Breaking many hearts
Break-ing hearts

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song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rose

'Ah, wot's the use?' she sez. 'Lea' me alone!
Why can't I go to 'ell in my own way?
I never arst you 'ere to mag an' moan.
Nor yet,' she sez, 'to pray.
I'll take wot's comin', an' whine no excuse.
So wot's the use?

'Me life's me own!' she sez. 'You got a nerve
You two - to interfere in my affairs.
Git out an' give advise where it may serve:
Stay 'ome an' bleat yer pray'rs.
Did I come pleadin' for yer pity? No!
Well, why not go?'

Pride! Dilly pride an' down-an'-out despair:
When them two meet there's somethin' got to break.
I got that way, to see 'er sittin' there,
I felt like I could take
That 'arf-starved frame uv 'er's by might an' main,
An' shake 'er sane.

That's 'ow it is when me an' parson roam
Down to the paradise wot Spadgers knows,
To find the 'ovel that she calls 'er 'ome,
An' 'ave a word with Rose.
Imgagin' 'igh-strung cliners in dispute
Ain't my long suit.

'Huh! Rescue work!' she sneers. 'Er eyes is bright;
'Er voice is 'ard. 'I'm a deservin' case.
Me? Fancy! Don't I look a pretty sight
To come to savin' grace?
Pity the sinner - Aw, don't come that trick!
It makes me sick!'

'Isterical she was, or nearly so:
Too little grub, an' too much time to fret
Ingrowin' grouch sich as few women know,
Or want to know - an' yet,
When I glance at the parson, there I see
Raw misery.

I've knowed ole Snowy since the days uv old;
Yet never 'ad I got so close to see
A world-wise man 'oo's 'cart is all pure gold
An' 'uman charity.
For, all that girl was suff'rln', well I knoo,
'E suffered too.

'My child,' 'e sez, 'I don't come 'ere to preach.

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Call Of Stoush

Wot price ole Ginger Mick? 'E's done a break -
Gone to the flamin' war to stoush the foe.
Wus it fer glory, or a woman's sake?
Ar, arst me somethin' easy! I dunno.
'Is Kharki clobber set 'im off a treat,
That's all I know; 'is motive's got me beat.

Ole Mick 'e's trainin' up in Cairo now;
An' all the cops in Spadger's Lane is sad.
They miss 'is music in the midnight row
Wot time the pushes mix it good an' glad.
Fer 'e wus one o' them, you understand,
Wot 'soils the soshul life uv this fair land.'

A peb wus Mick; a leery bloke wus 'e,
Low down, an' given to the brinnin' cup;
The sort o' chap that coves like you an' me
Don't mix wiv, 'cos of our strick bringin's-up.
An' 'e wus sich becos unseein' Fate
Lobbed 'im in life a 'undred years too late.

'E wus a man uv vierlence, wus Mick,
Coarse wiv 'is speech an' in 'is manner low,
Slick wiv 'is 'ands, an' 'andy wiv a brick
When bricks wus needful to defeat a foe.
An' now 'e's gone an' mizzled to the war,
An' some blokes 'as the nerve to arst 'Wot for? '

Wot for? gawstruth! 'E wus no patriot
That sits an' brays advice in days uv strife;
'E never flapped no flags nor sich like rot;
'E never sung 'Gawsave' in all 'is life.
'E wus dispised be them that make sicg noise:
But now - O strike! - 'e's 'one uv our brave boys.'

'E's one uv our brave boys, all right, all right.
'Is early trainin' down in Spadgers Lane
Done 'im no 'arm fer this 'ere orl-in fight:
'Is loss o' culcher is 'is country's gain.
'Im wiv 'is carst-ir'n chiv an' leery ways -
An' swell tarts 'eavin' 'im sweet words o' praise.

Why did 'e go? 'E 'ad a decent job,
'Is tart an' 'im they could 'a' made it right.
Why does a wild bull fight to guard the mob?
Why does a bloomin' bull-ant look fer fight?
Why does a rooster scrap an' flap an' crow?
'E went becos 'e dam well 'ad to go.

'E never spouted no 'igh-soundin' stuff

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Wham! Rap 86

Hey everybody take a look at me,
Ive got street credibility,
I may not have a job,
But I have a good time,
With the boys that I meet down on the line
I dont need you
So you dont approve,
Well, who asked you to?
Hey, jerk you work
This guys got better things to do
Hell
I aint never gonna work, get down in the dirt
I choose, to cruise
Gonna live my life, sharp as a knife
Ive found my groove and I just cant lose
Im style from head to toe
Cool cat flash gonna let you know
Im a soul boy - Im a dole boy -
Take pleasure in leisure, I believe in joy!
Chorus:
Wham!
Bam!
I am!
A man!
Job or no job
You cant tell me that Im not
Do!
You!
Enjoy what you do?
If not
Just stop!
Dont stay there and rot!
Party nights, and neon lights
We hit the floors, we hit the heights
Dancing shoes, and pretty girls
Boys in leather kiss girls in pearls!
Hot - damn! everybody, lets play!
So they promised you a good job - no way!
One, two, three, rap!
Cmon everybody, dont need this crap!
Chorus
If youre a pub man
Or a club man
Maybe a jet black guy with a hip hi-fi
A white cool cat with a trilby hat
Maybe leather and studs is where youre at
Make the most of every day
Dont let hard times stand in your way
Give a wham give a bam but dont give a damn
cos the benefit gang are gonna pay!

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song performed by George Michael
Added by Lucian Velea
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