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Fun, Fun, Fun
Well, she got her daddys car
And she cruised through the hamburger stand-now,
Seems she forgot all about the library
Like she told her ol man-now,
And with the radio blastin goes cruisin
Just as fast as she can-now
And shell have fun, fun, fun,
Till her daddy takes the t-bird away
Well you knew all along that your dad
Was gettin wise to you-now
(shouldna lied now, shouldna lied)
And since he took your set of keys youve been
Thinkin that your fun is all through-now
(shouldna lied now, shouldna lied)
But you can come along with me cause we
Gotta lotta things to do-now
And well have fun, fun, fun
Now that daddy took the t-bird away
Fun, fun, fun
Now that daddy took the t-bird away
Fun, fun, fun
Now that daddy took the t-bird away
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Princes and Prelates
When Princes and Prelates and het-headed zealots
All Europe hae set in a lowe,
The poor man lies down, nor envies a crown,
And comforts himsel with a mowe.—
And why shouldna poor folk mowe, mowe, mowe,
And why shouldna poor folk mowe:
The great folk hae siller, and houses and lands,
Poor bodies hae naething but mowe.—
When Brunswick's great Prince cam a cruising to France
Republican billies to cowe,
Bauld Brunswick's great Prince wad hae shawn better sense
At hame with his Princess to mowe.—
And why shouldna, &c.
Out over the Rhine proud Prussia wad shine,
To spend his best blood he did vow;
But Frederic had better ne'er forded the water,
But spent as he docht in a mowe.—
And why, &c.—
By sea and by shore! the Emperor swore,
In Paris he'd kick up a row;
But Paris saw ready just leugh at the laddie
And bad him gae tak a mowe.—
And why, &c.—
And Kate laid her claws on poor Stanislaus,
And Poland has bent like a bow:
May the deil in her arse ram a huge prick of brass!
And damn her in hell with a mowe!
And why, &c.—
But truce with commotions and new-fangled notions,
A bumper I trust you'll allow:
Here's George our gude king and Charlotte his queen,
And lang may they tak a gude mowe!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Barefooted Boys
I.
By the sword of St. Michael
The old dragon through;
By David his sling
And the giant he slew;
Let us write us a rhyme,
As a record to tell
How the South on a time
Stormed the ramparts of Hell
With her barefooted boys!
II.
Had the South in her border
A hero to spare,
Or a heart at her altar,
Lo! its life's blood was there!
And the black battle-grime
Might never disguise
The smile of the South
On the lips and the eyes
Of her barefooted boys!
III.
There's a grandeur in fight,
And a terror the while,
But none like the light
Of that terrible smile -
The smile of the South,
When the storm-cloud unrolls
The lightening that loosens
The wrath in the souls
Of her barefooted boys!
IV.
It withered the foe
Like the red light that runs
Through the dead forest leaves,
And he fled from his guns!
Grew the smile to a laugh,
Rose the laugh to a yell.
As the iron-clad hoofs
Clattered back into Hell
From our barefooted boys!
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Barefooted Friar
I'll give thee, good fellow, a twelvemonth or twain,
To search Europe through, from Byzantium to Spain;
But ne'er shall you find, should you search till you tire,
So happy a man as the Barefooted Friar.
Your knight for his lady pricks forth in career,
And is brought home at even-song bunny'd through with a spear;
I confess him in haste - for his lady desires
No comfort on earth save the Barefooted Friar's.
Your monarch? - Pshaw! many a prince has been known
To barter his robes for our cowl and our gown,
But which of us e'er felt the idle desire
To exchange for a crown the grey hood of a Friar!
The Friar has walk'd out, and where'er he has gone,
The land and its fatness is mark'd for his own;
He can roam where he lists, he can stop when he tires,
For every man's house is the Barefooted Friar's.
He's expected at noon, and no wight till he comes
May profane the great chair, or the porridge of plums
For the best of the cheer, and the seat by the fire,
Is the undenied right of the Barefooted Friar.
He's expected at night, and the pasty's made hot,
They broach the brown ale, and they fill the black pot,
And the goodwife would wish the goodman in the mire,
Ere he lack'd a soft pillow, the Barefooted Friar.
Long flourish the sandal, the cord, and the cope,
The dread of the devil and trust of the Pope;
For to gather life's roses, unscathed by the briar,
Is granted alone to the Barefooted Friar.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Barefooted
I am walking barefooted and naked because,
I have my mind on you;
I am walking barefooted and naked because,
I have my love for you;
But Moab will wail fro Moab.
You are the one that i love and,
Naked and barefooted i do go about daily for you;
But gladness and joy will be taken away very soon from Moab.
Like a carved ivory, you are as fair as the moon;
Like the highlights of the mountains,
You are easily reached up in love than others;
So we need no war around us.
Life is as bright as the sun on the sweet bed of spices,
And true love is like the fragrance of Lebanon;
But like a carved ivory on your love,
This love is sweeter than wine!
A carved ivory,
Of our legs of love and the peace that it brings;
And like the harp of ten strings,
I am like the native green tree of love to your heart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tread Careful
Tread careful
Because youre treading on my dreams.
Tread careful
Because Ive just one heart
Tread careful
Let me down slowly
Or Ill forget how to dream.
Chorus:
I wont forget anything
(I love you)
I wont forgive anyone
(do you love me? )
Tread careful
You hear the sound of my breathing
Tread careful
Because I feel this sound
Tread careful
Im falling in a glasshouse
Im trying hard to begin
Because I want it to get harder
Tread careful
Before I change my mind
Tread careful
I could surprise you
I know something you want to do.
(repeat chorus)
Tread careful
Im sure you dont care but
Tread careful
I could change your mind
Tread careful
Ive been waiting for you
There is no comfort in here.
(repeat chorus)
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Little Boy in the Morning
He will not come, and still I wait.
He whistles at another gate
Where angels listen. Ah I know
He will not come, yet if I go
How shall I know he did not pass
barefooted in the flowery grass?
The moon leans on one silver horn
Above the silhouettes of morn,
And from their nest-sills finches whistle
Or stooping pluck the downy thistle.
How is the morn so gay and fair
Without his whistling in its air?
The world is calling, I must go.
How shall I know he did not pass
Barefooted in the shining grass?
poem by Francis Ledwidge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chairity begins at hame, but shouldna end there.
Sonnet-Tell Me, Lord
How can I walk on thorns, barefooted, God?
How can I pass the desert, Camel-less?
How can I cross the river, boat-less, Lord?
How can I climb the peak, equipment-less?
How can I swim River of Crocodiles?
How can I build my house on damp, loose soil?
How can I, a lame person, run the miles?
How can I enemy's designs, lone foil?
How can I pray with ease with burdened heart?
How can I blessed be with sins in me?
How can I win over the devils smart?
How can I earn Heaven if I'm earthly?
How can a pebble -stone become a gem?
How can you forgive me if I don't them?
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hide Away Folk Family
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away
Tippy-toe to the front door, mother,
cause theres a guy with a long, long fuse
And the one thing you cant hide is all the fear you feel inside
As the fuse is spelling out these words
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away
Tippy-toe to the flat-bed, father,
Because theyre pouring out our gasoline
And sadly the cross-eyed bears been put to sleep behind the stairs
And his shoes are laced with irony
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away
Hello. this is leslie down with the daily home astrology report.
Taurus: contemplate domestic turmoil.
Aquarius: abandon hope for future plans.
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away (hide away)
Hide away (folk family) folk family (or else someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away
Hide away
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rose Amidst the thorns
Roses in profusion
bloomed along our garden wall.
They were both red and yellow-
tea hybrids, I recall.
There were thorns too,
as I well knew,
standing guard among the blooms.
A careless creature soon would learn
to give the rose wide berth
An agony of thorns awaits
the careless of the earth.
Yet thorns permit the bees to come
and pollen to transpose.
and, if careful, they'll admit
my own scent seeking nose
I think thorns serve their purpose well
else roses would be trampled
The thorns are roses' guardians
and not inconsequential.
Without a thorn, the rose, forlorn,
is destined for the ashes.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose With Thorns
The rose with thorns
Beautiful passion red rose
But dangerous with thorns
Picked off the garden
By a bard on
Realize he was bleeding
Thought roughly about his feelings
About why the rose had thorns
Never again would he pick up the red rose with thorns
The rose only brought him pain
Thoe he did not go insane
By wanting to stomp on it
But he just forfeit on it
He just let the rose there on the ground
And the rose was hoping it would be found
So the bard on
Left the garden
Checked his finger with the thorn pulled it out
finger was bleeding and never looked back at the rose with the thorns
poem by Jose antonio Torres galeana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fear Not My Friend
As you tread the path alone,
As you tread till the walk ends,
Stop not, my friend.
Birds flying to Siberia stop not,
Then why should you?
As the boulders large slice your toes,
As the thorns sharp hurt your heels,
Fear not, my friend.
Fishermen venturing into deep seas fear not
Then why should you?
Every path has to end somewhere,
Every walk has to finish at one point,
Stop not and fear not my friend.
In the pains of these fleeting moments,
We must learn to have a dream,
We must dream to live a life too.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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