Related quotes
Whether it was the tenant who seduced the landlord's wife, or the landlord who seduced the tenant's wife, it is the tenant who would leave the house.
Disease is the tax which the soul pays for the body, as the tenant pays house-rent for the use of the house.
quote by Ramakrishna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Opera or Ballet
Oh joyous delight - finally reached the end of
my lovely Agreement, it should be an opera
sung to the music of Carmina Burana - if a
ballet, danced to the courtiers’ march in
Romeo and Juliet, the climax amazing
The tenant should fund the bill for drafting and
signing the serious contract, the self-satisfied
landlord can inspect and evict as he likes, the
effacing tenant had better beware - I see two
men in Victorian clothing - fencing
About the nefarious terms, no favours shall
nullify the terms by which the landlord can
pocket the deposit, any wrong step made
by the tenant shall render beneficial
occupation impossible - Should the
tenant improve the premises, no advantage
shall accrue to him, should the place burn
down - it will be seen as a scheme and he
shall be held responsible, the end to be
perfect - The angry tenant
shall kill the overbearing landlord with one
blow, then enjoy exercising his right to
beneficial occupation indefinitely - at
least, in the opera or ballet
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mengcheng Cove
I have a new house, at the mouth of the Mengcheng.
The tree at the old one — the willow — feels more sorrow;
though someone new — I don’t know who — will come,
it still has just sorrow for the previous tenant.
poem by Wang Wei, translated by William P. Coleman
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Agrarian Unrest....
my father is a landlord.
He sent me to a big university in the city.
I studied philosophy.
The university taught me about equality.
Compassion. We studied existentialism
The poverty of the masses.
The agrarian unrest.
The essence of man
The quality of life
Justifications of living
Explanations of death
After life.
I wrote a class report about a child who ate
only a handful of rice for breakfast
plus brown sugar as viand
and then a glass of water for his thirst
from the nearby river
and then he was left in the house
as his father works in the field
and his mother
sells vegetables in the market.
When i left the child, The
heavy silence of the world fell upon my shoulder.
One day father took me for a vacation in our land.
There are mountains. Lots of trees.
A beautiful place.
There is a house there
Dilapidated. A tenant lives there
There is a hungry child.
Drought. Long hot days.
I pity the poor condition. But i no longer ask for the cause.
Then the tenant asks me if i can give him land.
Or a part of father's land.
I have no answer.
I could have told him, I do not own anything,
I do not live here
and father is still alive...
And wants me to be firm and cruel.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A tenant is he
A tenant is he the would-be bee
Too husband a flower.
That wishes not, her ambles free
In fear of the seed-plougher!
O her rose of purest white
Now crimsons the purple night
Clings ravenous the bower
That would-be sting endower!
O she would, encapsulate!
All of his space and time...,
O she would, emasculate!
Him, bring him unto her climb.
Bring him unto her watchtower!
He a homeless tenant, outlier...
He is her; man of the hour!
He is to be her bee emulsifier.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Granny Them Words
Make hay while the sun shines
Don’t be idle don’t waste time
Think before you talk
You must creep before you walk
Idle hands find idle things to do
Do unto others as you want done unto you
Short cut leads to short life
Every man needs a house for his wife
Go to school get an education
For the world is full of corruption
Birds of a feather flock together
Respect your mother and father
Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise
Like a song from a flock of birds
These where Granny Theme Words
This poem is dedicated to my deceased grandmother Maude Patterson may she rest in peace.
poem by Anthony Yorke
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We are like tenant farmers chopping down the fence around our house for fuel when we should be using Nature's inexhaustible sources of energy — sun, wind and tide. … I'd put my money on the sun and solar energy. What a source of power! I hope we don't have to wait until oil and coal run out before we tackle that.
quote by Thomas Edison
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Houses
1898 -- A Song of the Dominions
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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House Of Jazz
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin' and a fightin' on a TV show
Lightin' blindin' in the middle of the road
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap 'n' tickler
To make you growl
Spitin' and bitin' on a TV show
Tightenin' frightenin' givin' out a load
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Come on in
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
song performed by by AC/DC from Stiff Upper Lip
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of Jazz
(young - young)
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin and a fightin on a tv show
Lightin blindin in the middle of the road
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz, yes
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap n tickler
To make you growl
A spitin and bitin on a tv show
Tightenin frightenin givin out a load
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Come on in
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Idle in June
She dares not let the world hear her speak,
She's getting thin and looking meek,
A grey hair is splitting in her widows peak
She lays idle in the month of June.
Her hands are cracked and stained from mud,
although she bathes in lathered suds
There's a little of me inside her blood
She lays idle in the month of June
She carries child at her old age,
She's stuck inside her fleshy cage,
Her father birthed her insidious rage
She lays idle in the month of June.
They locked her in a cell up high,
The crime of seeking suicide
Some women they are born only to die,
She lays idle in the month of June.
One day, I know, I'll see her soon,
How I loathe the month of June,
We'll met again come the next new moon,
I won't forget her, idle in the month of June.
poem by H.J. Shreeve
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Felix Schmidt
It was only a little house of two rooms --
Almost like a child's play-house --
With scarce five acres of ground around it;
And I had so many children to feed
And school and clothe, and a wife who was sick
From bearing children.
One day lawyer Whitney came along
And proved to me that Christian Dallman,
Who owned three thousand acres of land,
Had bought the eighty that adjoined me
In eighteen hundred and seventy-one
For eleven dollars, at a sale for taxes,
While my father lay in his mortal illness.
So the quarrel arose and I went to law.
But when we came to the proof,
A survey of the land showed clear as day
That Dallman's tax deed covered my ground
And my little house of two rooms.
It served me right for stirring him up.
I lost my case and lost my place.
I left the court room and went to work
As Christian Dallman's tenant.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House with Nobody in It
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.
I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.
This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.
If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.
Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.
But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.
So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mischief
LET those who're fond of idle tricks,
Of throwing stones, and hurling bricks,
And all that sort of fun,
Now hear a tale of idle Jim,
That warning they may take by him,
Nor do as he has done.
In harmless sport or healthful play
He did not pass his time away,
Nor took his pleasure in it;
For mischief was his only joy:
No book, or work, or even toy,
Could please him for a minute.
A neighbour's house he'd slyly pass,
And throw a stone to break the glass,
And then enjoy the joke!
Or, if a window open stood,
He'd throw in stones, or bits of wood,
To frighten all the folk.
If travellers passing chanced to stay,
Of idle Jim to ask the way,
He never told them right;
And then, quite harden'd in his sin,
Rejoiced to see them taken in,
And laugh'd with all his might.
He'd tie a string across the street,
Just to entangle people's feet,
And make them tumble down:
Indeed, he was disliked so much,
That no good boy would play with such
A nuisance to the town.
At last the neighbours, in despair,
This mischief would no longer bear:
And so–to end the tale,
This lad, to cure him of his ways,
Was sent to spend some dismal days
Within the county jail.
poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mischief
Let those who're fond of idle tricks,
Of throwing stones, and hurling bricks,
And all that sort of fun,
Now hear a tale of idle Jim,
That warning they may take by him,
Nor do as he has done.
In harmless sport or healthful play
He did not pass his time away,
Nor took his pleasure in it;
For mischief was his only joy:
No book, or work, or even toy,
Could please him for a minute.
A neighbour's house he'd slyly pass,
And throw a stone to break the glass,
And then enjoy the joke!
Or, if a window open stood,
He'd throw in stones, or bits of wood,
To frighten all the folk.
If travellers passing chanced to stay,
Of idle Jim to ask the way,
He never told them right;
And then, quite harden'd in his sin,
Rejoiced to see them taken in,
And laugh'd with all his might.
He'd tie a string across the street,
Just to entangle people's feet,
And make them tumble down:
Indeed, he was disliked so much,
That no good boy would play with such
A nuisance to the town.
At last the neighbours, in despair,
This mischief would no longer bear:
And so to end the tale,
This lad, to cure him of his ways,
Was sent to spend some dismal days
Within the county jail.
poem by Jane Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beside The Idle Summer Sea
Beside the idle summer sea,
And in the vacant summer days,
Light Love came fluting down the ways,
Where you were loitering with me.
Who have not welcomed even as we,
That jocund minstrel and his lays
Beside the idle summer sea
And in the vacant summer days?
We listened, we were fancy-free;
And lo! in terror and amaze
We stood alone – alone and gaze
With an implacable memory
Beside the idle summer sea.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When the idle poor become the idle rich, you'll never know just who is who, or which is which.
quote by E.Y. Harburg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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