At Shrove-tide every one had need of his frying-pan.
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The Brunt Of The Heat
A frying cake blamed a frying pan
And the frying pan, the frying cake
For the brunt of heat they bore from the stove
Like a woman and his son’s wife do.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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In the Frying Pan!
IN the frying pan!
Frying;
Cooking with the art of love,
In style;
And like y
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My Boy Jack
1914-1918
'Have you news of my boy Jack?'
Not this tide.
'When d'you think that he'll come back?'
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
'Has anyone else had word of him?'
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing and this tide.
'Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?'
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind-
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Have You News of my Boy Jack?
'Have you news of my boy Jack?'
Not this tide.
'When d'you think that he'll come back?'
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
'Has anyone else had word of him?'
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing and this tide.
'Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?'
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind-
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Out Of The Frying Pan
out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
It's only two o'clock and the temperture's beginning to soar
And all around the city you see the walking wounded and the living dead
It's never been this hot and i've never been so bored
And breathing is just no fun anymore
And then i saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
I saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
You can feel the pulse of the pavement racing like a runaway horse
The subways are steaming and the skin of the street is gleaming with sweat
I've seen you sitting on the steps outside
And you were looking so restless and reckless and lost
I think it's time for you to come inside
I'll be waiting here with something that you'll never forget
I think it's time for you to come inside
I'll be waiting here with something that you'll never forget
Come on! come on!
And there'll be no turning back
You were only killing time and it'll kill you right back
Come on! come on!
It's time to burn up the fuse
You've got nothing to do and even less to lose
You've got nothing to do and even less to lose
So wander down the ancient hallway
Taking the stairs only one at a time
Follow the sound of my heartbeat now
I'm in the room at the top, you're at the end of the line
Open the door and lay down on the bed
The sun is just a ball of desire
And i wanna take you out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
And i wanna take you out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire!
It's only two o'clock and the tempertures beginning to soar
And all around the city you see the walking wounded and the living dead
It's never been this hot and i've never been so bored
And breathing is just no fun anymore
And then i saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
I saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
Come on! come on!
And there'll be no turning back
You were only killing time and it'll kill you right back
Come on! come on!
It's time to burn up the fuse
You've got nothing to do and even less to lose
You've got nothing to do and even less to lose
So wander down the ancient hallway
Taking the stairs only one at a time
Follow the sound of my heartbeat now
I'm in the room at the top, you're at the end of the line
Open the door and lay down on the bed
The sun is just a ball of desire
And i wanna take you out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
And i wanna take you out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire!
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just As The Tide Was A Flowing
[ music: traditional/lyric: arranged by 10,000 maniacs ]
On one morning
In the month of may
When all the birds
Were singing
I saw a lovely maiden stray
Across the fields at break of day
She softly sung her roundelay
The tide flows in
The tide flows out
Twice every day returning
Her cheeks were red
Her eyes were brown
Her hair in ringlets hanging down
Upon her face to hide the frown
Just as the tide was a flowing
The tide flows in
The tide flows out
Twice everyday returning
A sailors wife at home must bide
She halted heavily she sighed
He parted from poor me , a bride
Im widowed by the sea she cried
Just as the tide was a flowing
The tide flows in
The tide flows out
Twice every day returning
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fishing Song: To J.A. Froude and Tom Hughes
Oh, Mr. Froude, how wise and good,
To point us out this way to glory-
They're no great shakes, those Snowdon Lakes,
And all their pounders myth and story.
Blow Snowdon! What's Lake Gwynant to Killarney,
Or spluttering Welsh to tender blarney, blarney, blarney?
So Thomas Hughes, sir, if you choose,
I'll tell you where we think of going,
To swate and far o'er cliff and scar,
Hear horns of Elfland faintly blowing;
Blow Snowdon! There's a hundred lakes to try in,
And fresh caught salmon daily, frying, frying, frying.
Geology and botany
A hundred wonders shall diskiver,
We'll flog and troll in strid and hole,
And skim the cream of lake and river,
Blow Snowdon! give me Ireland for my pennies,
Hurrah! for salmon, grilse, and-Dennis, Dennis, Dennis!
Eversley, 1856.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Ultima Thule: The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Tide Rises, the Tide Falls, The
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveler hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveler to the shore.
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Tide Is Turning
I used to think the world was flat
Rarely threw my hat into the crowd
I felt I had used up my quota of yearning
Used to look in on the children at night
In the glow of their donald duck light
And I frighten myself with the thought of my little ones burning
Oh, oh, oh, the tide is turning
Oh, oh, oh, the tide is turning
Satellites buzzing through the endless night
Exclusive to moonshots and world title fights
Jesus christ, imagine what it must be earning
Who is the strongest
Who is the best
Who holds the aces
The east
Or the west
This is the crap our children are learning
And oh, oh, the tide is turning
Oh, oh, the tide is turning
Oh, oh, oh, the tide is turning
Oh, oh, oh, the tide is turning
Oh, oh, oh, the tide is turning
Now the satellites confused
cos on saturday night
The airwaves were full of compassion and light
And his silicon heart warmed
To the sight of a billion candles burning
But, Im not saying that the battle is won
But on saturday night all those kids in the sun
Wrested technologys sword from the hand of the war lords
Oh, the tide is turning
Oh, the tide is turning
Oh, the tide is turning
Oh, the tide is turning
(repeated)
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Frying Pan's Theology
Shock-headed blackfellow,
Boy (on a pony).
Snowflakes are falling
Gentle and slow,
Youngster says, "Frying Pan
What makes it snow?"
Frying Pan, confident,
Makes the reply --
"Shake 'im big flour bag
Up in the sky!"
"What! when there's miles of it?
Surely that's brag.
Who is there strong enough
Shake such a bag?"
"What parson tellin' you,
Ole Mister Dodd,
Tell you in Sunday-School?
Big pfeller God!
"Him drive 'im bullock dray,
Then thunder go;
Him shake 'im flour bag --
Tumble down snow!"
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Crimson Tide
I wake up in the morning
I see the bright sunshine
O Lord, let be so good
A day to reckon with
I wish the day would speed by
To be with you
O Crimson Tide
O Crimson Tide
I need you my Lady
Come on Crimson Tide
I need you my sweet Lady
Here comes the sunset
Here comes my own sunshine
O Lord let be so good
My day I've reckoned with
I wish the night would slow down
Never to leave you
O Crimson Tide
O Crimson Tide
I need you my Lady
Come on Crimson Tide
I need you my sweet Lady
poem by Kolabomi Adeko
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Ebb Tide
Ebb Tide
First the tide rushes in
Plants a kiss on the shore
Then rolls out to sea
And the sea is very still once more
So I rush to your side
Like the oncoming tide
With one burning thought
Will your arms open wide?
At last we're face to face
And as we kiss through an embrace
I can tell, I can feel
You are love, you are real
Really mine in the rain
In the dark, in the sun
Like the tide at its ebb
I'm at peace in the web of your arms
The Righteous Brothers
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sullen Tide Rush
A sullen tide
rushed upon thy rock-happiness
looking at him
staring
running, hiding
I want his head
regained trust as a pond after a rainstorm
a sullen tide
rust again
Sullen Tide rushes,
soaked rocked-happiness
He came up
without me knowing
I surprised
He asked if I was doing fine
I responded better
I forgot
he reopened scar
Sullen Tide rushes,
soaked rocked-happiness
LET IT OUT!
HATRED
GLOOM KNOCKS ME OUT!
HATRED OVERCOMES
crying, hating,
in a kingdom of Tumult
Cut, cut, cut into pieces
caught in a sullen tide
Hatred overcomes once again
Like a rush of sullen tide
A sullen tide rushes upon thy rocked-happiness
poem by Alexandros Sandoval
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A person has three choices in life. You can swim against the tide and get exhausted, or you can tread water and let the tide sweep you away, or you can swim with the tide, and let it take you where it wants you to go.
quote by Andrew Schneider
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oluwaseun
Love, dove, drove, rove, wove, move, strove, stove;
And like Australians and crocodiles! !
Nut, oluwaseun is my name;
So, sow for yourselves righteousness and reap in mercy!
For, the bullets of war are not helping us.
Shove, shrove, grove, cove, hove, trove, prove;
Seeing what is going on in Syria and thinking about the human race;
But, Oluwaseun is my name;
So, sow for yourselves righteousness and reap in joy!
For, the bombs are now killing us all.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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To have eye one on the cat and another on the frying-pan.
One eye on the frying-pan and the other on the cat.
Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
quote by Tertullian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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