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Ill Take Love
(words & music by fuller / barkon)
Some people think that pot of gold
Is all they ever want to hold
But theres a treasure, I think more of
Measure for measure .. Ill take love
Some people think that their success
Is all they need for happiness
But theres a pleasure, I think more of
Measure for measure .. Ill take love
Pound for pound oh yeah and
Ounce for ounce love is all that really counts
So let them have their wealth and fame
Eat caviar and drink champagne
Youre all the treasure Im dreaming of
Measure for measure .. Ill take love
Pound for pound oh yeah and
Ounce for ounce love is all that really counts
So let them have their wealth and fame
Eat caviar and drink champagne
Youre all the treasure Im dreaming of
Measure for measure .. Ill take love
Ill take love, Ill take love
Ill take love, Ill take love
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eat at pleasure, drink with measure.
English proverbs
Submitted by Micheleflowerbomb
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How Do You Measure Up?
If you measure yourself by ambition,
There will always be someone more ambitious than you.
If you measure yourself by money,
There is always someone wealthier than you.
If you measure yourself by power,
There is always someone more powerful than you.
If you measure yourself with material things,
There is always someone with more stuff than you.
If you measure yourself by where you are in life,
There is always someone farther down the path than you.
If you measure yourself by appearance,
There is always someone that appears than you.
If you measure yourself by God,
Then we are all the same.
We are all wonderfully and beautifully made.
God is love.
And love has no end.
So in God's heart,
You will always measure up!
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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To look across at Moira gives me pleasure
To look across at Moira gives me pleasure.
She has a red tape measure.
Her dress is black and all the workroom's dreary,
And I am weary.
But that's like blood—like a thin blood stream trickling
Like a fire quickening.
It's Revolution. Ohé, I take pleasure
In Moira's red tape measure.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Dream - dream
Sorrowful seems this end of mourn;
maybe in tear woods cry - cries adorn,
a foolish end that merits near,
my tragicomical nostalgia to appear;
dream - dream my anguished stare,
amid sea waves and black rocks bare,
for you that didn't ask to be torn,
in sepia stills, modes of a brass horn.
Up in air, where winds are hurting,
potable loneliness, tears are flirting;
drink- drink my exorbitant pleasure,
and spill in clouds, tearful measure.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Epiphanias
THE three holy kings with their star's bright ray,--
They eat and they drink, but had rather not pay;
They like to eat and drink away,
They eat and drink, but had rather not pay.
The three holy kings have all come here,
In number not four, but three they appear;
And if a fourth join'd the other three,
Increased by one their number would be.
The first am I,--the fair and the white,
I ought to be seen when the sun shines bright!
But, alas! with all my spices and myrrh,
No girl now likes me,--I please not her.
The next am I,--the brown and the long,
Known well to women, known well to song.
Instead of spices, 'tis gold I bear,
And so I'm welcome everywhere.
The last am I,--the black and small,
And fain would be right merry withal.
I like to eat and to drink full measure,
I eat and drink, and give thanks with pleasure.
The three holy kings are friendly and mild,
They seek the Mother, and seek the Child;
The pious Joseph is sitting by,
The ox and the ass on their litter lie.
We're bringing gold, we're bringing myrrh,
The women incense always prefer;
And if we have wine of a worthy growth,
We three to drink like six are not loth.
As here we see fair lads and lasses,
But not a sign of oxen or asses,
We know that we have gone astray
And so go further on our way.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Cup Of Happiness
Drink some joy and some fun
From happiness cup before its done
Because the joy that you get from it
Holds in it pleasure kit
The kit of pleasure from where
Happiness can be gathered my dear
Which includes fun and fain
And friendly smiles to take away pain
So do it all and know in it
Joy will come bit by bit
So drink some joy and some fun
From it before your day is done.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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The Grief Of The Heart
The grief of the heart
Is hard to measure
For pain that you feel
is like a pleasure
That only you
can feel inside
Which cover life's area
Both narrow and wide
So don't stop tears
If you feel bad
let it all out
And don't feel sad
And know in life
You have to face
All these things
With a trouble's trace
So don't try to measure
The grief of the heart
For its something to feel
Just like a pleasure.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Picasso's Last Words (Drink To Me)
The Grand Old Painter Died Last Night
His Paintings On The Wall
Before He Went He Bade Us Well
And Said Goodnight To Us All.
Drink To Me, Drink To My Health
You Know I Can't Drink Any More
Drink To Me, Drink To My Health
You Know I Can't Drink Any More
3 O'clock In The Morning
I'm Getting Ready For Bed
It Came Without A Warning
But I'll Be Waiting For You Baby
I'll Be Waiting For You There
So Drink To Me Drink To My Health
You Know I Can't Drink Any More
Drink To Me Drink To My Health
You Know I Can't Drink Any More
Jet... Drink To Me
Drink To Me... Ho Hey Ho
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picassos Last Words
The grand old painter died last night
His paintings on the wall
Before he went he bade us well
And said goodnight to us all.
Drink to me, drink to my health
You know I cant drink any more
Drink to me, drink to my health
You know I cant drink any more
3 oclock in the morning
Im getting ready for bed
It came without a warning
But Ill be waiting for you baby
Ill be waiting for you there
So drink to me drink to my health
You know I cant drink any more
Drink to me drink to my health
You know I cant drink any more
French interlude
Temp change
Jet... drink to me
Drunken chorus
French (tempo) drink to me... ho hey ho
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Solitude
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow it's mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Who Can Measure?
Who can measure?
The pungent pleasure,
Avarice, wrath and rage,
Of the blood lickers.
Who can measure?
The depth of shrieks,
Of the bleeding humanity;
The loudness,
Of the exploding shells;
The blackness,
Of the mushrooms rising;
The callousness,
Of the rulers,
The passive spectators,
Waiting for their turn,
And encroaching doom.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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One Bumper at Parting
One bumper at parting! -- though many
Have circled the board since we met,
The fullest, the saddest of any
Remains to be crown'd by us yet.
The sweetness that pleasure hath in it
Is always so slow to come forth,
That seldom, alas, till the minute
It dies, do we know half its worth.
But come -- may our life's happy measure
Be all of such moments made up;
They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,
Thy die 'midst the tears of the cup.
As onward we journey, how pleasant
To pause and inhabit awhile
Those few sunny spots, like the present,
That 'mid the dull wilderness smile!
But Time, like a pitiless master,
Cries "Onward!" and spurs the gay hours --
Ah, never doth Time travel faster
Than when his way lies among flowers.
But come -- may our life's happy measure
Be all of such moments made up;
They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,
They die 'midst the tears of the cup.
We saw how the sun look'd in sinking,
The waters beneath him how bright;
And now, let our farewell of drinking
Resemble that farewell of light.
You saw how he finish'd by darting
His beam o'er a deep billow's brim --
So, fill up, let's shine at our parting,
In full liquid glory, like him.
And oh! may our life's happy measure
Of moments like this be made up,
'Twas born on the bosom of Pleasure,
It dies 'mid the tears of the cup.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Invitation for a Voyage (L'Invation au Voyage)
My sisterchild, my dear!
Imagine going there
Gently to live together, just us two,
To love and think not why
To love and live and die
Together in the land that is like you.
The soaking suns that rise
Through those cloud-raveled skies
Will move me with the selfsame mystery
And witchery that lie
Within each traitor eye
That shines out through your tears to look at me.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
A furniture that bears
The polish of the years
Will be the decoration of our chamber,
The very rarest blooms
Commingling their perfumes
With vague and sundry redolence of amber.
Those ceilings richly wrought,
And mirrors deep as thought,
And every wall with Eastern splendors hung
They all would speak apart
To nothing but the heart
In nothing but its tender mother tongue.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
See vessels in the sweep
Of those canals, asleep,
Whose way it is to wander from their berth.
See how, to answer some
Small wish of yours, they come
Our way through all the waters of this earth.
At close of day the sun
Robes hayfields one by one,
Then the canals, and soon the town outright,
In hyacinth and gold;
The world that we behold
Subsides to slumber in a warm low light.
There, there is but beauty, measure,
Luxury, repose and pleasure
poem by Charles Baudelaire from Les Fleurs du Mal (1857), translated by A.Z. Foreman
Submitted by anonym
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Passive Breathing
Air passively transports the parts of dust,
They read us as particles of dust and link.
May air be inhaled and astonishment kept
In our fortune and pleasure, the real measure.
Air I breathe to exhale, air I contentedly measure
In my bags of might, inside the borders of my body.
If you need oxygen then deliver,
For this element needs determination and a powerful
Sensation is felt by the chest.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Don't Drink
Don't drink, boys, don't!
There is nothing of happiness, pleasure, or cheer,
In brandy, in whiskey, in rum, ale, or beer.
If they cheer you when drunk, you are certain to pay
In headaches and crossness the following day.
Don't drink, boys, don't!
Boys, let it alone!
Turn your back on your deadliest enemy-Drink!
An assassin disguised; nor for one moment think,
As some rashly say, that
true
women admire
The man who can boast that he's playing with fire.
Boys, let it alone!
No, boys, don't drink!
If the habit's begun, stop now! stop to-day!
Ere the spirit of thirst leads you on and away
Into vice, shame, and drunkenness. This is the goal,
Where the spirit of thirst leads the slave of the bowl.
No, boys,
don't
drink!
Boys, touch not, nor taste!
Don't think you can stop at the social 'First Glass.'
Too many have boasted that power, alas!
And found they were slaves to this seeming good friend,
And have grown into drunkards and knaves, in the end.
Boys, touch not, nor taste!
Don't drink, boys,
Don't
!
If the loafers and idlers scoff, never heed:
True men and true women will wish you 'God-speed.'
There is nothing of purity, pleasure, or cheer
To be gotten from whiskey, wine, brandy, or beer.
Don't drink, boys,
Don't
!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Pleasure Trip
Hurrah! We are going for tour of pleasure
At children's park we shall ride on rotarian chair
Crossing narrow streets shall go far away
Shall run to sky, to vast field through milky-way
Young friends prepare for travel for roaming
Avoid roguish, get on bus for pleasure hunting
The coming gladness is how much could you measure?
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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