If you dress in gold or silk, you are still the same green grocer.
Related quotes
Your Gold Dress
You gold dress is whirling around
Like a fan its lifting you high
High above the ground
Never coming down
You gold dress is burning alight
Deafens me with the sound of the sun
Setting fire to the night
And everythings all right
Vibrations coming my way
When youre floating on by
In your gold dress
Vibrations coming to play
When youre filling the sky
With your gold ... dress
Your gold dress is shaming the stars
A thousand melting dali guitars
Make no sound
And dripping slowly down
Your gold dress is all I can see
Blind my eyes but there it will be
Beacon burning bright
And everythings all right
Your gold dress!
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spider Silk
Its lining is that of silk,
Like a from a spider,
For it their spiders are webbing
To determine for the workers to liven their salary.
To test an exam for the student,
Who lightens the silk for the dress he was given
By the tailor.
He exchanged the silk of a spider for its spit.
Spit has venom.
Student is dead from silk.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mr. Shoemaker's Daughter
Hey, mr. shoemaker's daughter,
Hey, mr. shoemaker's daughter,
Don't throw my love away.
I'm coming home today.
Hey, mr. green grocer's daughter,
Hey, mr. green grocer's daughter,
Don't turn your head away.
Don't take the sun away.
Every time i see you i wanna say "hey".
But every time you see me you walking away from me.
I've been gone for such a long, long time,
But i'm coming home, gonna make you mine.
Hey, mr. cake baker's daughter,
Hey, mr. bread baker's daughter,
I'm coming home today.
Don't hide the world[?] away.
Every time i see you i wanna say "hey".
But every time you see me you walking away from me.
I've been gone for such a long, long time,
But i'm coming home, gonna make you mine.
How is that fresh morning feeling?
How is the dawn and the evening?
I will be free today.
Hey, mr. shoemaker's daughter,
Hey, mr. shoemaker's daughter,
I'll see you soon today.
Hey, mr. dress maker's daughter,
Hey, mr. green seller's daughter,
Don't throw my love away.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Girl in the Green Dress
Girl in the green dress
What are your intentions?
You are spellbound with thoughts
But enigma upon enigma
Conceals your secret heart.
Girl in the green dress
What are your aspirations?
The more I sense your spirit
The less I seem to know.
Girl in the green dress
What are your realisations?
Or perhaps you prefer to hide
Behind the shadow of your words.
poem by Phillip Gallant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Palm Trees.
Toward the water,
Toward the sun,
Out one by one
Green hand. Palm trees,
What do you want?
Quickly told me.
The sun shining bright gold,
Rain glittering silver line,
I use gold and silver wire,
twisted brown silk, knit clothes.
poem by Albert Wong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Emerald City Sequence
(quincy jones/charlie smalls)
Emerald city green:
I want to be seen green
Wouldnt be caught dead, red
cause if you are seen green
It means you got mean bread
Youve got to be seen green
To show that youre stuffs layed
If youre not seen green
You better be wearing jade
Oh, youve got to be seen green
Dont tell them your cupboards bare
That you gave up one weeks feed
To pay for your colored hair
Oh, oh, oh
An announcement from the great powerful oz:
I thought it over and green is dead
till I change my mind, the color is red
Emerald city red:
I wouldnt be seen green
Ooo! oo! oo! ah! ah!
I wouldnt be caught dead
And if Im caught at all
Then catch me in dead, red
Ooo!
Youve got to be dead red
Youve got to be real hot
So throw away those green gems
And wear rubies on your yacht
Youve got to be dead, red
Youve got to have flash and flair
And if youre not seen red
Then you shouldnt be seen nowhere
Ah!
How quickly fashion goes down the drain.
Last week when you all was wearin pink
Already for me red was old.
The ultimate brick is gold.
Thats the new color, children
Emerald city gold:
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
You got to be seen gold
Watch out for the new kind
You got to have old gold
Like some from a gold mine
You got to be wearin gold
The twenty four carat kind
And once youve shined it up
It should ought to make you blind, ah!
You got to be seen in gold
To show that youre super slick
It helps to pay tips and tolls
Its the ultimate yellow brick
Its the ultimate
Gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Golden gold
Gold, gold, gold, gold
Gold!
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gold and Green
Gold and Green,
some choose gold
and some choose green.
You don't need to be wise,
to choose a wise decision,
just a matter of want.
Let inspiration and desire
decide your decisions
then may you have your dignity
when you listen and fallow.
I have seen the pure insanity,
again, I have seen many things
but I have seen enough
to know enough.
I have seen pure gold,
within the eyes of love
but I have seen too much,
its overwhelming.
Gold and green,
I have both,
one inside my heart
and one inside my pocket,
but I know enough
and I will empty my pocket.
I choose what I think is wise.
Even if being poor takes much away,
I gain more than green,
I gain Gold.
poem by Malory Joyce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Age becomes reality when you hear someone refer to that attractive young woman standing next to the woman in the green dress, and you find that you're the one in the green dress.
Spotlight Drunk
The challenges...
Are real.
The competition?
Also real.
The feelings...
Those are real,
Real. Real!
These egos are spotlight drunk.
Who will get that slam dunk...
Depicting my qualifications,
To be the man I am?
Well...
That seems to be me.
I don't seek confirmation.
Or anyone to agree.
And no candidate running for public office,
Is going to convince my landlord...
To whom I pay rent.
The grocer...
To whom I spend nearly my last cent!
Or those who supply my utilities...
If I have the ability to keep them on!
And 'if' I can do these things on credit.
I have never approached them to ask!
Not once have they expressed concern,
How I affirm my actions!
They just are tired of hearing me say...
'The check is in the mail.'
Except for the grocer.
If I go in without cash...
I come out with no packed bags.
No one negotiates,
Not even for a loaf of bread...
Milk, eggs or one grape!
If you are in line with items,
Be prepared to pay!
And no one making speeches,
On the streets with rolled up sleeves.
Or from behind podiums...
Suited in silk and tied down,
Will express my cause...
With a delivery to my door,
Of cash...
I can hold in my hands!
For however long that may last.
Somehow...
I know this!
That's just the reality I live.
With none of it being staged.
Or graded for the performance.
Somehow...
I know this!
And my best routine?
That's keeping my head above water.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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May Janet
“STAND UP, stand up, thou May Janet,
And go to the wars with me.”
He’s drawn her by both hands
With her face against the sea.
“He that strews red shall gather white,
He that sows white reap red,
Before your face and my daughter’s
Meet in a marriage-bed.
“Gold coin shall grow in the yellow field,
Green corn in the green sea-water,
And red fruit grow of the rose’s red,
Ere your fruit grow in her.”
“But I shall have her by land,” he said,
“Or I shall have her by sea,
Or I shall have her by strong treason
And no grace go with me.”
Her father’s drawn her by both hands,
He’s rent her gown from her,
He’s ta’en the smock round her body,
Cast in the sea-water.
The captain’s drawn her by both sides
Out of the fair green sea;
“Stand up, stand up, thou May Janet,
And come to the war with me.”
The first town they came to
There was a blue bride-chamber;
He clothed her on with silk
And belted her with amber.
The second town they came to
The bridesmen feasted knee to knee;
He clothed her on with silver,
A stately thing to see.
The third town they came to
The bridesmaids all had gowns of gold;
He clothed her on with purple,
A rich thing to behold.
The last town they came to
He clothed her white and red,
With a green flag either side of her
And a gold flag overhead.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dressing the Doll
THIS is the way we dress the Doll:—
You may make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook,
But this is the way we dress the Doll.
Chorus
Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.
First, you observe, her little chemise,
As white as milk, with ruches of silk;
And the little drawers that cover her knees,
As she sits or stands, with golden bands,
And lace in beautiful filagrees.
Chorus
Now these are the bodies: she has two,
One of pink, with rouches of blue,
And sweet white lace; be careful, do!
And one of green, with buttons of sheen,
Buttons and bands of gold, I mean,
With lace on the border in lovely order,
The most expensive we can afford her!
Chorus
Then, with black at the border, jacket
And this—and this—she will not lack it;
Skirts? Why, there are skirts, of course,
And shoes and stockings we shall enforce,
With a proper bodice, in the proper place,
(Stays that lace have had their days
And made their martyrs); likewise garters,
All entire. But our desire
Is to show you her night attire,
At least a part of it. Pray admire
This sweet white thing that she goes to bed in!
It ’s not the one that ’s made for her wedding:
That is special, a new design,
Made with a charm and a countersign,
Three times three and nine times nine:
These are only her usual clothes.
Look, there ’s a wardrobe! gracious knows
It ’s pretty enough, as far as it goes!
So you see the way we dress the Doll:
You might make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you gave her a crook with pastoral hook,
With sheep, and a shed, and a shallow brook,
And all that, out of the poetry-book.
Chorus
Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll;
If you had not seen, could you guess the Doll?
poem by William Brighty Rands
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring
'YES, Spring has come,' the grocer said,
And tied a final knot of string,
Rang up the change and becked his head,
Elated at the breath of Spring.
'Yes, Spring has come,' the poet said,
And poured his ecstasy in rhymes,
Which eager, homesick exiles read
Long winter-locked in frozen climes.
Perhaps the grocer's way was best,
If joy can better be, or worse:
He saved his rapture unexpressed,
The poet spent his for a verse.
poem by Alice Duer Miller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Miss---,
{On her giving the author a gold and silk
net-work purse of her own weaving}.
Though gold and silk their charms unite
To make thy curious web delight,
In vain the varied work would shine,
If wrought by any hand but thine;
Thy hand that knows the subtler art,
To weave those nets that catch the heart.
Spread out by me the roving coin,
Thy nets may catch, but not confine;
Nor can I hope thy silken chain
The glittering vagrants shall restrain.
Why, Stella, was it then decreed
The heart once caught should ne'er be freed.
poem by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Village Green
Out in the country,
Far from all the soot and noise of the city,
Theres a village green.
Its been a long time
Since I last set eyes on the church with the steeple
Down by the village green.
twas there I met a girl called daisy
And kissed her by the old oak tree.
Although I loved my daisy, I saw fame,
And so I left the village green.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And now all the houses
Are rare antiquities.
American tourists flock to see the village green.
They snap their photographs and say gawd darn it,
Isnt it a pretty scene?
And daisys married tom the grocer boy,
And now he owns a grocery.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And I will return there,
And Ill and daisy,
And well sip tea, laugh,
And talk about the village green.
We will laugh and talk about the village green.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lilac And Gold And Green
Lilac and gold and green!
Those are the colours I love the best,
Spring's own raiment untouched and clean,
When the world is awake and yet hardly dressed,
And the stranger sun, her bridegroom shy,
Looks at her bosom and wonders why
She is so beautiful, he so blest.
Lilac and green and gold!
Those were the colours you wore to--day,
Robed you were in them fold on fold,
Clothed in the light of your love's delay.
And I held you thus in my arms, once only,
And wondered still, as you left me lonely,
How the world's beauty was changed to grey.
Lilac and gold and green!
I would die for the truth of those colours true!
Lilac for loyalty, gold for my queen,
And green the faith of my love for you.
Here is a posy of all the three.
My heart is with it. So think of me,
And our weeping skies shall once more be blue.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A silk dress doesn't mean clean undergarments.
Ode to Karen and the Summer
June wore her green dress, long her favorite color
the color of her ancient Roman clan
Roman Green
June wore her green dress...as my finger traced a soft essay
upon your perfect back
June wore green
Karen wore blonde
and all around us was light
the solstice was the turning point- solstice curve
poignant as the course of the sun through our summer bodies
the season of the short-lived beings
dead through the dry folds of winter
to flood to life in green vigor
I'm green as a frog, green as any new bug rushing or Mayfly lingering
June's nephews, July and August, were lulled to boredom
by wine and soft days
and left us the blessing
to wallop and play in the gardens
Karen on a summer sidewalk
or a tv show
or a dream in the light
or green eyes
poem by Jimi Doyle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Song Against Grocers
God made the wicked Grocer
For a mystery and a sign,
That men might shun the awful shops
And go to inns to dine;
Where the bacon's on the rafter
And the wine is in the wood,
And God that made good laughter
Has seen that they are good.
The evil-hearted Grocer
Would call his mother "Ma'am,"
And bow at her and bob at her,
Her aged soul to damn,
And rub his horrid hands and ask
What article was next
Though MORTIS IN ARTICULO
Should be her proper text.
His props are not his children,
But pert lads underpaid,
Who call out "Cash!" and bang about
To work his wicked trade;
He keeps a lady in a cage
Most cruelly all day,
And makes her count and calls her "Miss"
Until she fades away.
The righteous minds of innkeepers
Induce them now and then
To crack a bottle with a friend
Or treat unmoneyed men,
But who hath seen the Grocer
Treat housemaids to his teas
Or crack a bottle of fish sauce
Or stand a man a cheese?
He sells us sands of Araby
As sugar for cash down;
He sweeps his shop and sells the dust
The purest salt in town,
He crams with cans of poisoned meat
Poor subjects of the King,
And when they die by thousands
Why, he laughs like anything.
The wicked Grocer groces
In spirits and in wine,
Not frankly and in fellowship
As men in inns do dine;
But packed with soap and sardines
And carried off by grooms,
For to be snatched by Duchesses
And drunk in dressing-rooms.
The hell-instructed Grocer
Has a temple made of tin,
And the ruin of good innkeepers
Is loudly urged therein;
But now the sands are running out
From sugar of a sort,
The Grocer trembles; for his time,
Just like his weight, is short.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Green Green Grass Of Home
The old home town looks the same as I step off the train
Meeting every train in my mind's eye till the man in mail came
Hair like gold, lips like cherry
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
Green, green grass of home, green green grass of home.
Only dream I know of is to be found hair like gold, lips like a cherry
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me, on the steps of my sweet dream
It's good I dreamt the green, green grass of home
I wait and look around me at the broken walls that surround me
And out here I was on the ground.
There's a garden in the path of progress unharmed through winter's day break
Then I'll touch the green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me from the chains of the old dark hollow
The green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me on the steps, my sweet dream
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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