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Dainty Davie
Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers;
And now comes in the happy hours,
To wander wi' my Davie.
Meet me on the warlock knowe,
Dainty Davie, Dainty Davie;
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear Dainty Davie.
The crystal waters round us fa',
The merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round us blaw,
A wandering wi' my Davie.
Meet me on the warlock knowe,
Dainty Davie, Dainty Davie;
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear Dainty Davie.
As purple morning starts the hare,
To steal upon her early fare,
Then thro' the dews I will repair,
To meet my faithfu' Davie.
Meet me on the warlock knowe,
Dainty Davie, Dainty Davie;
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear Dainty Davie.
When day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws o' Nature's rest,
I flee to his arms I loe' the best,
And that's my ain dear Davie.
Meet me on the warlock knowe,
Dainty Davie, Dainty Davie;
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear Dainty Davie.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I Got Plenty O Nuttin
I got plenty of nothing
And nothings plenty for me
I got no car - got no mule
I got no misery
Folks with plenty of plenty
Theyve got a lock on the door
Afraid somebodys gonna rob em
While there out (a) making more - what for
I got no lock on the door - thats no way to be
They can steal the rug from the floor - thats ok with me
cause the things that I prize - like the stars in the skies - are all free
I got plenty of nothing
And nothings plenty for me
I got my gal - got my song
(I) got heaven the whole day long
- got my gal - got my love - got my song
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epigram at Brownhill Inn
At Brownhill we always get dainty good cheer,
And plenty of bacon each day in the year;
We've a' thing that's nice, and mostly in season,
But why always Bacon-come, tell me a reason?
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Villanelle of His Lady’s Treasures
I took her dainty eyes, as well
As silken tendrils of her hair:
And so I made a Villanelle!
I took her voice, a silver bell,
As clear as song, as soft as prayer;
I took her dainty eyes as well.
It may be, said I, who can tell,
These things shall be my less despair?
And so I made a Villanelle!
I took her whiteness virginal
And from her cheek two roses rare:
I took her dainty eyes as well.
I said: “It may be possible
Her image from my heart to tear!”
And so I made a Villanelle.
I stole her laugh, most musical:
I wrought it in with artful care;
I took her dainty eyes as well;
And so I made a Villanelle.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plenty
[Chorus One: Erykah Badu]
When she wants plenty, she gets plenty
When she wants plenty, she gets plenty
When she wants plenty, she gets plenty
then she gets plenty more, uhh
{repeat Chorus One}
[Guru]
Uhh
Watchin her drivin by, in her new whip so fly
Wish she could sing me a lullaby, to scoop her I've got to try
In her eyes, there's a flame that burns right through my soul
Can't pretend to be cool, about to lose my control
Yeah I know she's got plenty; admirers, she's got many
Like an exotic fantasy, into a frenzy she sends me
Wow I have to sit down, and gather my wits now
I wanna caress those hips now, wanna kiss those lips now
[Badu]
Hello? Hey babyyy
I know you called and I didn't answer twice
But baby that's oh-kay it's nice
for you to call anyway see, okay, see uhh
Hey babyyy
You know it's okay if you don't call me
anymore cause I got a-plenty
truckload of niggaz like you at my door {*dial tone*}
[Chorus One]
[Guru]
Yup
And every day is her day, and every year is her year
Anyone tried to violate, they could straight dissapear
She don't care if you play yourself, tryin to step to her
The illest of gangsters, I show and respect to her
Truly glamourous, she ain't impressed and it shows
She don't like your new clothes, she don't care about your playa pose
Do you suppose I could hook up and spend time with her?
She's just how I dreamed - I'll bust my nine for her
[Chorus Two: Erykah Badu]
When she gets plenty, she gets plenty
When she gets plenty, she gets plenty
When she wants plenty, she gets plenty
any damn thang she wants, uhh
[Guru]
Uhh
Surgeon General - I provide vit
song performed by by Erykah Badu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A bit but and a bit ben maks a mim maiden at the board end.
Plenty
There's a horn of plenty,
plenty to go around.
But where he comes from
there's not much to be found.
He thinks about the plenty.
He wonders where they are?
When he stops his wonderin'
he knows they are too far,
too far away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He that borrows and bigs, maks feasts and thigs, drinks an's no dry, nane a' these three are thrifty.
Here Lies The Blithe Spring
HERE lies the blithe Spring,
Who first taught birds to sing,
Yet in April herself fell a-crying:
Then May growing hot,
A sweating sickness she got,
And the first of June lay a-dying.
Yet no month can say,
But her merry daughter May
Stuck her coffins with flowers great plenty:
The cuckoo sung in verse
An epitaph o'er her hearse,
But assure you the lines were not dainty.
poem by Thomas Dekker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O fools! can you not see
O fools! can you not see a traffic nearer,
In my sweet lady's face, where nature showeth
Whatever treasure eye sees or heart knoweth,
Rubies and diamonds dainty,
And orient pearls such plenty,
Coral and ambergris, sweeter and dearer,
Than which the South Seas or Moluccas lend us,
Or either Indies, East or West, do send us.
poem by John Wilbye
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dainty Thing's The Villanelle
A DAINTY thing's the Villanelle,
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
A double-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.
You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime--
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.
Still fair to see and good to smell
As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Villanelle
A dainty thing's the Villanelle.
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
A doublc-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.
You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime-
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.
Still fair to see and good to smell
As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flowers
I will not have the mad Clytie,
Whose head is turned by the sun;
The tulip is a courtly queen,
Whom, therefore, I will shun;
The cowslip is a country wench,
The violet is a nun; -
But I will woo the dainty rose,
The queen of everyone.
The pea is but a wanton witch,
In too much haste to wed,
And clasps her rings on every hand
The wolfsbane I should dread; -
Nor will I dreary rosemary
That always mourns the dead; -
But I will woo the dainty rose,
With her cheeks of tender red.
The lily is all in white, like a saint,
And so is no mate for me -
And the daisy's cheek is tipped with blush,
She is of such low degree;
Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves,
And the broom's betrothed to the bee; -
But I will plight with the dainty rose,
For fairest of all is she.
poem by Thomas Hood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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