Footloose
Album: Not Another Teen Movie [Soundtrack] (2001)
I been working so hard
I punch my card
Eight hours, for what?
Now tell me what I got
I get this feeling
That time's just holding me down
I'll hit the ceiling
Or else I'll tear up this town
Now I gotta cut
Loose, footloose
Kick off my Sunday shoes
Please, Louise
Pull me offa my knees
Jack, get back
C'mon before we crack
Lose your blues
Come on and get footloose
You're playing so cool
Obeying every rule
Dig way down in your heart
You're burning, yearning for some
Somebody to tell you
That life ain't passing you by
I'm trying to tell you
It will if you don't even try
now you gotta cut
Loose, footloose
Kick off the Sunday shoes
Oowhee, Marie
Shake it, shake it for me
Whoa, my lord
C'mon, c'mon let's go
Lose your blues
Everybody get footloose
you've got to turn me around
You put your feet on the ground
Now take a hold of your soul
I'm turning
Loose, footloose
Kick off your Sunday shoes
Please, Louise
Pull me offa my knees
Jack, get back
C'mon before we crack
Lose your blues
Come on and get footloose
Footloose, footloose
Kick off your Sunday shoes
Oowhee, Marie
[...] Read more
song performed by Good Charlotte
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Soul Surfing
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack up, jack up
Jack up, jack up
Jack up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack it up, jack up
Jack up, jack up
With your help, turn you on
With your help, turn you on
With your help, turn you on
With your help, turn you on
With your help, turn you on
With your help, turn you on
With your help, turn you on
With your help, with your help, with your with your with your help
With your help, turn you on
With your help, turn you on
With your help, turn you on
[...] Read more
song performed by Fatboy Slim
Added by Lucian Velea
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Book Of The Duchesse
THE PROEM
I have gret wonder, be this lighte,
How that I live, for day ne nighte
I may nat slepe wel nigh noght,
I have so many an ydel thoght
Purely for defaute of slepe
That, by my trouthe, I take no kepe
Of no-thing, how hit cometh or goth,
Ne me nis no-thing leef nor loth.
Al is y-liche good to me --
Ioye or sorowe, wherso hyt be --
For I have feling in no-thinge,
But, as it were, a mased thing,
Alway in point to falle a-doun;
For sorwful imaginacioun
Is alway hoolly in my minde.
And wel ye wite, agaynes kynde
Hit were to liven in this wyse;
For nature wolde nat suffyse
To noon erthely creature
Not longe tyme to endure
Withoute slepe, and been in sorwe;
And I ne may, ne night ne morwe,
Slepe; and thus melancolye
And dreed I have for to dye,
Defaute of slepe and hevinesse
Hath sleyn my spirit of quiknesse,
That I have lost al lustihede.
Suche fantasies ben in myn hede
So I not what is best to do.
But men myght axe me, why soo
I may not slepe, and what me is?
But natheles, who aske this
Leseth his asking trewely.
My-selven can not telle why
The sooth; but trewely, as I gesse,
I holde hit be a siknesse
That I have suffred this eight yere,
And yet my bote is never the nere;
For ther is phisicien but oon,
That may me hele; but that is doon.
Passe we over until eft;
That wil not be, moot nede be left;
Our first matere is good to kepe.
So whan I saw I might not slepe,
Til now late, this other night,
Upon my bedde I sat upright
And bad oon reche me a book,
A romaunce, and he hit me took
[...] Read more
poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
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Cleanness
Clannesse who so kyndly cowþe comende
& rekken vp alle þe resounz þat ho by ri3t askez,
Fayre formez my3t he fynde in for[þ]ering his speche
& in þe contrare kark & combraunce huge.
For wonder wroth is þe Wy3þat wro3t alle þinges
Wyth þe freke þat in fylþe fol3es Hym after,
As renkez of relygioun þat reden & syngen
& aprochen to hys presens & prestez arn called;
Thay teen vnto his temmple & temen to hym seluen,
Reken with reuerence þay rychen His auter;
Þay hondel þer his aune body & vsen hit boþe.
If þay in clannes be clos þay cleche gret mede;
Bot if þay conterfete crafte & cortaysye wont,
As be honest vtwyth & inwith alle fylþez,
Þen ar þay synful hemself & sulped altogeder
Boþe God & His gere, & hym to greme cachen.
He is so clene in His courte, þe Kyng þat al weldez,
& honeste in His housholde & hagherlych serued
With angelez enourled in alle þat is clene,
Boþ withine & withouten in wedez ful bry3t;
Nif he nere scoymus & skyg & non scaþe louied,
Hit were a meruayl to much, hit mo3t not falle.
Kryst kydde hit Hymself in a carp onez,
Þeras He heuened a3t happez & hy3t hem her medez.
Me mynez on one amonge oþer, as Maþew recordez,
Þat þus clanness vnclosez a ful cler speche:
Þe haþel clene of his hert hapenez ful fayre,
For he schal loke on oure Lorde with a bone chere';
As so saytz, to þat sy3t seche schal he neuer
Þat any vnclannesse hatz on, auwhere abowte;
For He þat flemus vch fylþe fer fro His hert
May not byde þat burre þat hit His body ne3en.
Forþy hy3not to heuen in haterez totorne,
Ne in þe harlatez hod, & handez vnwaschen.
For what vrþly haþel þat hy3honour haldez
Wolde lyke if a ladde com lyþerly attyred,
When he were sette solempnely in a sete ryche,
Abof dukez on dece, with dayntys serued?
Þen þe harlot with haste helded to þe table,
With rent cokrez at þe kne & his clutte traschez,
& his tabarde totorne, & his totez oute,
Oþer ani on of alle þyse, he schulde be halden vtter,
With mony blame ful bygge, a boffet peraunter,
Hurled to þe halle dore & harde þeroute schowued,
& be forboden þat bor3e to bowe þider neuer,
On payne of enprysonment & puttyng in stokkez;
& þus schal he be schent for his schrowde feble,
Þa3neuer in talle ne in tuch he trespas more.
& if vnwelcum he were to a worþlych prynce,
3et hym is þe hy3e Kyng harder in her euen;
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Americas
Added by Poetry Lover
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She's Got The Jack
She gave me the Queen
She gave me the King
She was wheelin' and dealin'
Just doin' her thing
She was holdin' a pair
But I had to try
Her Deuce was wild
But my Ace was high
But how was I to know
That she'd been dealt with before
Said she'd never had a Full House
But I should have known
From the tattoo on her left leg
And the garter on her right
She'd have the card to bring me down
If she played it right
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
Poker face was her name
Poker face was her nature
Poker straight was her game
If she knew she could get you
She played 'em fast
And she played 'em hard
She could close her eyes
And feel every card
But how was I to know
That she'd been shuffled before
Said she'd never had a Royal Flush
But I should have known
That all the cards were comin'
From the bottom of the pack
And if I'd known what she was dealin' out
I'd have dealt it back
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, and who knows what else?
She's got the jack, yeah, yeah
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack
She's got the jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
She's got the jack
She's got the jack, she's got the jack,
Ooh, It was a bad deal, (Jack)
She gave me the (Jack), hey
She's got the (Jack), she's got the (Jack)
She's got the (Jack), ooh can't you tell
[...] Read more
song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Freak On
You think I don't see you but I do,
Creeping around with your hot pants on,
And them patent leather shoes,
Please forgive me baby,
Cos I've been up here too long,
Come on everybody freak along so that Wheatus can hear ya,
Hey now baby your actin' kinda crazy,
What has come over you?
Hey now sugar your actin' like a hooker,
Gotta do what you gotta do,
To get your freak on shoowap,
Baby where have you been,
Come get your freak on shoowap,
I think its time we begin,
Come get your freak on shoowap,
Don't make me say it again,
Come get your freak on shoowap,
I heard you were asking for a ride,
You say "take me home in your brothers jeep,
To a place where we can hide",
Please forgive me baby,
But your coming on too strong,
Aww, come on baby its ok maybe Pete will get with ya,
Hey now baby your actin' kinda crazy,
What has come over you?
Hey now sugar your actin' like a hooker,
Gotta do what you gotta do,
To get your freak on shoowap,
Baby where have you been,
Come get your freak on shoowap,
I think its time we begin,
Come get your freak on shoowap,
Don't make me say it again,
Come get your freak on shoowap,
C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon,
C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon,
C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon,
C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon,
C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon ooh,
One more time, one more time, one more time,
C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon,
C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon,
C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon,
C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon,
C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon ooh,
Come on everybody freak it along so that Wheatus can hear ya,
Hey now baby your actin' kinda crazy,
What has come over you?
Hey now sugar your actin' like a hooker,
Gotta do what you gotta do,
[...] Read more
song performed by Wheatus
Added by Lucian Velea
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Adrienne Vittadini
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[...] Read more
poem by Caasder Fronds
Added by Poetry Lover
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Steamheaters
She wants a love...
She can take into her arms.
Hold her with her charms.
And sing love songs,
To allure
And captivate!
Heating...
Without setting off the alarm!
He wants a love...
No other one has had.
When it is 'his' booty...
He likes it slow not fast!
And he's glad no one has had,
To touch his booty's ass!
If that has to happen,
He knew he would be sad!
And...
'What' they want...
Maybe a bit too soon.
They need more memory moments.
Before beginning to cast eyes on that 'fullmoon'!
As they lay naked on the basement floor...
Sighing and grinding in lovebird swoons!
'WHAT? '
Steamheaters drip...
Just 'getting it'!
They both are wet,
From the basement water!
Steamheaters kiss...
With sexiness.
He sucked her tits,
'Til her husband caught her,
With his best friend...
'getin' it! '
'Uh...
For clarification,
Will you say that again, please? '
You want it sung?
'No,
I just want it heard.
I may have misunderstood!
What I thought your blurted,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Punch & Judy
(fish / marillion)
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Washing machine, pinstripe dream
Stripped the gloss from a beauty queen
Punch and judy, judy
Found our nest, in the daily express
Met the vicar in a holy vest
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Brought up the children church of e
Now I vegetate with a colour tv
Worst ever thing that ever happened to me
Oh, for d.i.v.o.r.c.e.
Oh judy
Whatever happened to pillow fights
Whatever happened to jeans so tight, friday nights
Whatever happened to lovers lane
Whatever happened to passion games
Sunday walks in the pouring rain
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Curling tongs, mogadons, I got a headache baby, dont take so long
Single beds, middle age dread
Losing the war in the waistlands spread
Who left the cap of the toothpaste tube
Who forgot to flush the loo
Leave your sweaty socks outside the door
Dont walk across my polished floor, oh judy
Whatever happened to morning smiles
Whatever happened to wicked wiles, permissive styles
Whatever happened to twinkling eyes
Whatever happened to hard fast drives
Complements on unnatural size
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch
[...] Read more
song performed by Marillion
Added by Lucian Velea
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C'mon C'mon
On another day c'mon c'mon
With these ropes I tied can we do no wrong
Now we grieve cause now is gone
Things were good when we were young
With my teeth locked down I can see the blood
Of a thousand men who have come and gone
Now we grieve cause now is gone
Things were good when we were young
Is it safe to say? (c'mon c'mon)
Was it right to leave? (c'mon c'mon)
Will I ever learn? (c'mon c'mon)
(c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon)
As I make my way c'mon c'mon
These better nights that seem too long
Now we grieve cause now is gone
Things were good when we were young
With my teeth locked down I can see the blood
Of a thousand men who have come and gone
Now we grieve cause now is gone
Things were good when we were young
Is it safe to say? (c'mon c'mon)
Was it right to leave? (c'mon c'mon)
Will I never learn? (c'mon c'mon)
(c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon)
Is it safe to say? (c'mon c'mon)
Was it right to leave? (c'mon c'mon)
Will I never learn? (c'mon c'mon)
(c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon)
And know this day these deepened wounds don't heal so fast
Can't hear me croon of a million lies that speak no truth
Of a time gone by that now is through
song performed by Von Blondies
Added by Lucian Velea
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Footloose
I been working so hard
Keep punching my card
Eight hours, for what?
Oh, tell me what I got
I get this feeling
That times just holding me down
Ill hit the ceiling
Or else Ill tear up this town
Tonight I gotta cut
(chorus)
Loose, footloose
Kick off your sunday shoes
Please, louise
Pull me offa my knees
Jack, get back
Cmon before we crack
Lose your blues
Everybody cut footloose
Youre playing so cool
Obeying every rule
Dig way down in your heart
Youre yearning, burning for some
Somebody to tell you
That life aint passing you by
Im trying to tell you
It will if you dont even try
You can fly if youd only cut
(chorus)
Loose, footloose
Kick off your sunday shoes
Oowhee, marie
Shake it, shake it for me
Whoa, milo
Cmon, cmon let go
Lose your blues
Everybody cut footloose
First - we got to turn you around
Second - you put your feet on the ground
Third - now take a hold of your soul
Four - whooooooooa, Im turning it
Loose, footloose
(chorus)
song performed by Kenny Loggins
Added by Lucian Velea
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Louise
Louise
It seemed a long time ago
Louise
Ill always remember that day
I crawled on my knees
Begging you to stay
You made me shiver louise
You made me quiver
Now I do the strangest things
I think such lonely thoughts
Forgetting all
Just forgetting you
Louise
Anything at all
Not to think of you
Anything at all
Dont deny it is not true
Louise
I feel I am getting weaker
A life blue on gloomy waves
I feel I am diving deeper
Into the darkest caves
Theres nothing at all
To find a way
Louise louise louise
My heart used to beat
Now it only weeps
Louise louise louise
Uncared the city sleeps
I am twisted in the streets
I am shivering
Into the strangest things
Lonely thoughts and forgetting you louise
And you promised me
You told me
You told me empty lies
Louise louise louise
( my only cord is not to adore , I have to say, it is my only way )
Louise leave me , leave me
No longer interfere
Louise
Louise
song performed by Xymox
Added by Lucian Velea
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John Sinclair
It aint fair, john sinclair
In the stir for breathing air
Wont you care for john sinclair?
In the stir for breathing air
Let him be, set him free
Let him be like you and me
They gave him ten for two
What else can the judges do?
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta set him free
If hed been a soldier man
Shooting gooks in vietnam
If he was the cia
Selling dope and making hay
Hed be free, theyd let him be
Breathing air, like you and me
They gave him ten for two
What else can the judges do?
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta set him free
They gave him ten for two
They got ali otis too.
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta set him free
Was he jailed for what he done?
Or representing everyone
Free john now, if we can
From the clutches of the man
Let him be, lift the lid
Bring him to his wife and kids
They gave him ten for two
What else can the bastards do?
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta,
Gotta, gotta, gotta set him free
song performed by Lennon John
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jack The Idiot Dunce
Whos the fool with the cross-eyed stare,
The turned up nose and moronic glare?
Whos that simpleton standing over there?
Jack, jack the idiot dunce.
Whos that dumb-looking freckle-faced runt?
Jack, jack the idiot dunce.
He walks like his feet are on back to front,
Jack, jack the idiot dunce.
When he waddles down the street he looks kind of queer,
Jack, jack the idiot dunce,
Because hes got two left feet and taxi-door ears,
Jack, jack the idiot dunce.
And when we laugh at the clothes he wears,
Jack just smiles cos he dont care.
Whos that fool? whos that ninny?
Whos that twit? whos that chump?
The idiot dunce, the idiot dunce.
Who is always the bottom of the class?
Jack, jack the idiot dunce.
Whos a fool? whos a boob?
Whos a kook and an ass?
Jack, jack the idiot dunce.
When we take examinations he never gets a pass,
Jack, jack the idiot dunce.
And we all put him down cos he cant think fast,
Jack, jack the idiot dunce.
We ridicule him and punch him around,
But jack just laughs and stands his ground,
The idiot dunce, the idiot dunce.
Yeah, hes so unco-ordinated.
Yeah, and so disorientated,
And when we have a high school hop
You ought to see that idiot bop
And his arms and his legs
Seem to have minds of their own,
And you dont need brains
To have educated muscles and bones.
Yeah, you ought to see him dance
He moves like hes in a trance,
And when we have a high school hop
You ought to see that idiot rock,
And hes finally proved
That you dont need a high i.q.
To make your body move.
Now hes created a dance that everybodys trying to do.
Jack, jack the idiot dunce.
Do the idiot dunce.
All right put your finger on your nose,
Now cross those eyes.
Put your hands on your hips,
[...] Read more
song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Morning
Sunday morning silence, curtain stay closed late
No one thinks of kitchens mornings in a filthy state
Dishes cups and beer stains, ashtrays on the floor
Sunday morning papers are left outside the front door
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
(sunday, bloody sunday rest)
Glass of fizzy water helps to start the day
Sit and listen to sunday silence, problems fade away
Sunday cars and drivers break the morning air
Uncollected milk outside reveals theres no one there
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Bathrobes hang in waiting, windows steaming up
Somewhere in the sink downstairs lies an unwashed cup
Tea and toast for breakfast clear away the plates
Wash-up prepare for cooking sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
song performed by Madness
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Lay of Poor Louise
Ah, poor Louise! the livelong day
She roams from cot to castle gay;
And still her voice and viol say,
Ah, maids, beware the woodland way,
Think on Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! The sun was high,
It smirch'd her cheek, it dimm'd her eye,
The woodland walk was cool and nigh,
Where birds with chiming streamlets vie
To cheer Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! The savage bear
Made ne'er that lovely grove his lair;
The wolves molest not paths so fair-
But better far had such been there
For poor Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! In woody wold
She met a huntsman fair and bold;
His baldric was of silk and gold,
And many a witching tale he told
To poor Louise.
Ah, poor Louise! Small cause to pine
Hadst thou for treasures of the mine;
For peace of mind that gift divine,
And spotless innocence, were thine,
Ah, poor Louise!
Ah, poor Louise! Thy treasure's reft!
I know not if by force or theft,
Or part by violence, part by gift;
But misery is all that's left
To poor Louise.
Let poor Louise some succour have!
She will not long your bounty crave,
Or tire the gay with warning stave-
For Heaven has grace, and earth a grave,
Poor poor Louise.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Added by Poetry Lover
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Hit Me With A Rock
When I was a little boy
(when I was just a boy)
And my mother would call my name
(when I was just a boy)
Shed say I had to be in the house by seven
(when I was just a boy)
But Id stay out late at night
(when I was just a boy)
And when Id finally get back in
Oh, I know shed hit me, shed hit me
Shed sit me on her knees and whip me
Oh, shed hit me with a rock
Shed whip me with a rock, oh baby
Shed hit me (hit me with a rock)
Shed hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me
(hit me with a rock)
And when I was grown to be a man
(grown to be a man)
The minute the boss would call my name
(grown to be a man)
And say I had to be in the office by seven
(grown to be a man)
Im a constipated man
(grown to be a man)
And when Id finally get back in
Oh, my bossd hit me, hed hit me
Hed tie me to a chair and whip me
Oh hed hit me with a rock
Hed whip me with a rock, oh baby
Hed hit me (hit me with a rock)
Hed hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me
(hit me with a rock)
When I was grown to be president
(was the president)
The minute the congressd call my name
(was the president)
And said some papers had to be signed by thursday
(had to be signed by thursday)
Id fly away to pakistan
(was the president)
And the second that Id get back home
Oh, I know theyd hit me, theyd hit me
With leather and chains theyd whip me
Oh, theyd hit me with a rock
Theyd whip me with a rock, oh baby
Theyd hit me. (hit me with a rock)
Theyd hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me
(hit me with a rock)
Hit me, hit me, hit me
(hit me with a rock)
[...] Read more
song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Soccer Under 20
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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Mon Frere Camille
Mon frere Camille he was first class blood
W'en he come off de State las' fall,
Wearin' hees boot a la mode box toe
An' diamon' pin on hees shirt also
Sam' as dem feller on Chi-caw-go;
But now he 's no blood at all,
Camille, mon frere.
W'at 's makin' dat change on mon frere
Camille?
Wall! lissen for minute or two,
An' I 'll try feex it up on de leetle song
Dat 's geevin' some chance kin' o' help it
along
So wedder I'm right or wedder I'm wrong
You 'll know all about heem w'en I get
t'roo,
Mon frere Camille.
He never sen' leter for t' orteen year
So of course he mus' be all right
Till telegraph 's comin' from Kan-Ka-Kee
'I 'm leffin' dis place on de half pas't'ree
W'at you want to bring is de beg' buggee
An' double team sure for me t' orsday night
Ton frere Camille.'
I wish you be dere w'en Camille arrive
I bet you will say 'W'at 's dat?'
For he 's got leetle cap very lak tuque bleu
Ole habitant 's wearin' in bed, dat's true,
An' w'at do you t'ink he carry too?
Geev it up? Wall! small valise wit' de fine
plug hat.
Mon frere Camille.
'Very strange.' I know you will say right off,
For dere 's not'ing wrong wit' hees clothes,
An' he put on style all de bes' he can
Wit' diamon' shinin' across hees han'
An' de way he's talkin' lak Yankee man
Mus' be purty hard on hees nose,
Mon frere Camille.
But he 's splain all dat about funny cap,
An' tole us de reason w'y,
It seem no feller can travel far,
An' specially too on de Pullman car,
'Less dey wear leetle cap only 'cos dollarre,
Dat 's true if he never die,
[...] Read more
poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Avowyng of Arthur
He that made us on the mulde,
And fair fourmet the folde,
Atte His will, as He wold,
The see and the sande,
Giffe hom joy that will here
Of dughti men and of dere,
Of haldurs that before us were,
That lifd in this londe.
One was Arther the Kinge,
Wythowtun any letting;
Wyth him was mony lordinge
Hardi of honde.
Wice and war ofte thay were,
Bold undur banere,
And wighte weppuns wold were,
And stifly wold stond.
This is no fantum ne no fabull;
Ye wote wele of the Rowun Tabull,
Of prest men and priveabull,
Was holdun in prise:
Chevetan of chivalry,
Kyndenesse and curtesy,
Hunting full warly,
As wayt men and wise.
To the forest thay fare
To hunte atte buk and atte bare,
To the herte and to the hare,
That bredus in the rise.
The King atte Carlele he lay;
The hunter cummys on a day -
Sayd, 'Sir, ther walkes in my way
A well grim gryse.
'He is a balefull bare -
Seche on segh I nevyr are:
He hase wroghte me mycull care
And hurte of my howundes,
Slayn hom downe slely
Wyth feghting full furcely.
Wasse ther none so hardi
Durste bide in his bandus.
On him spild I my spere
And mycull of my nothir gere.
Ther moue no dintus him dere,
Ne wurche him no wowundes.
He is masly made -
All offellus that he bade.
Ther is no bulle so brade
That in frith foundes.
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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