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The Lay of the Laborer

A spade! a rake! a hoe!
A pickaxe, or a bill!
A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow,
A flail, or what ye will—
And here's a ready hand
To ply the needful tool,
And skill'd enough, by lessons rough,
In Labor's rugged school.

To hedge, or dig the ditch,
To lop or fell the tree,
To lay the swarth on the sultry field,
Or plough the stubborn lea;
The harvest stack to bind,
The wheaten rick to thatch,
And never fear in my pouch to find
The tinder or the match.

To a flaming barn or farm
My fancies never roam;

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poem by Thomas Hood
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Fraulein

Well my fraulein done told me
When I was in goosesteps.
She said I would gas them
And now Im a big man
Filling up autos
That beep at me often
I drop what Im doing
And wait on them cheerfullv
Some choose the big pump
And others the small
Its a small small world
And I hear dem autos call
Well Im a big time pumper
And I pumpem full of my gas
And if you give me static
Ill tell ya blow it up your ass
My station is pretty
I keep it in top shape
The customers dig me
cause I got the answers

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song performed by Devo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Faster Than The Speed Of Night

(jim steinman)
Producer for bonnie: jim steinman
I dont want to let another minute get by
Theyre slipping through our fingers, but were ready to fly
The nightll be our cover and well huddle below
We got the music in our bodies and the radio
And when the morning arrives itll all be gone
Disappearing in (to) the crack of dawn
We better make our move now before the sun is awake
Its time to put up or shut up and to pick up the pace
And I dont want to let another minute get by
Love is going to get us while the moon is in the sky
We may be running out of night, but never running out of steam
Were acting on a hunch, and well be acting out a dream
There really isnt any time to lose
Theyre going to catch us if we wait until it gets too light
Youre such a pretty boy
Let me show you what to do, and youll do it
But you gotta move faster
Faster than the speed of night

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song performed by Bonnie Tyler
Added by Lucian Velea
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Faster Than The Speed Of The Night

(Jim Steinman)
I don't want to let another minute got by
They're slipping tho ough out finger, but we're ready to fly
The night'll be our cover and we'll huddle below
We got the music in our bodies and the radio
And when the mourning arrives it'll all be gone
Disappearing in (to) the crack of dawn
We better make our move now before the sun is awake
It's time to put up or shut up and to pick up the pace
And I don't want to let another minute go by
Love is going to get us while the moon is in the sky
We may be running out of night, but never running out of steam
We're acting on a hunch, and we'll be acting out a dream
There really isn't any time to lose
They're going to catch us if we wait until it gets too light
You're such a pretty boy
Let me show you what to do, and you'll do it
But you gotta move faster
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the speed of night

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song performed by Bonnie Tyler
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Plea Of The Midsummer Fairies

I

'Twas in that mellow season of the year
When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves
Till they be gold,—and with a broader sphere
The Moon looks down on Ceres and her sheaves;
When more abundantly the spider weaves,
And the cold wind breathes from a chillier clime;—
That forth I fared, on one of those still eves,
Touch'd with the dewy sadness of the time,
To think how the bright months had spent their prime,

II

So that, wherever I address'd my way,
I seem'd to track the melancholy feet
Of him that is the Father of Decay,
And spoils at once the sour weed and the sweet;—
Wherefore regretfully I made retreat

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poem by Thomas Hood
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We changed our image. At least when we ran out on the field or broke the huddle, we would look like winners.

quote by Hayden Fry
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I don't know anyone who actually likes the dark or night-time. I don't care how much they say it doesn't bother them. That's why we used to huddle in caves and light fires when the sun went down.

quote by Paul Kane
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The Saint and His Disciple

You seek comfort to your soul from the saint
and his fond embrace thrills your body quaint.
His holy brain, you fuddle;
tumble him down to huddle.
The media expose your scandals to taint.

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Redemption

behind the refrigerator door
they don't have much to say
huddle don't resist
as fumbling fingers grip
whisk one of them away

oh when will the messiah come
in the form of eggs or ham or cheese
or possibly some leftover
they murmur with unease

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Native Indian Feast

feathers on their heads wet
canvass canopy start to drip
drums chant to heaven's part
trinkets hand made in tepees
find their way in small cases
where few bucks gets you piece

clouds not kind to lowlanders
it keeps on pouring for hours
dancers huddle beneath with me
their faces aren't that happy
food wagon cooking food, sweet
burgers, hot dogs good to eat

poem by Manonton Dalan
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