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What Difference Does It Make ?
All men have secrets and here is mine
So let it be known
We have been through hell and high tide
I can surely rely on you ...
And yet you start to recoil
Heavy words are so lightly thrown
But still i'd leap in front of a flying bullet for you
So, what difference does it make ?
So, what difference does it make ?
It makes none
But now you have gone
And you must be looking very old tonight
The devil will find work for idle hands to do
I stole and i lied, and why ?
Because you asked me to !
But now you make me feel so ashamed
Because i've only got two hands
Well, i'm still fond of you, oh-ho-oh
So, what difference does it make ?
Oh, what difference does it make ?
Oh, it makes none
But now you have gone
And your prejudice won't keep you warm tonight
Oh, the devil will find work for idle hands to do
I stole, and then i lied
Just because you asked me to
But now you know the truth about me
You won't see me anymore
Well, i'm still fond of you, oh-ho-oh
But no more apologies
No more apology
Oh, i'm too tired
I'm so very tired
And i'm feeling very sick and ill today
But i'm still fond of you, oh-ho-oh
Oh, my sacred one ...
Oh ...
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Difference Does It Make?
All men have secrets and here is mine
So let it be known
We have been through hell and high tide, I can surely rely on you?
And yet you start to recoil, heavy words are so lightly thrown
But still Id leap in front of a flying bullet for you
So, what difference does it make?
So, what difference does it make?
It makes none but you have gone
And you must be looking very old tonight
The devil will find work for idle hands to do
I stole and I lied, and why? because you asked me to!
But now you make feel so ashamed because Ive only got two hands well, Im still fond of you
So, what difference does it make?
It makes none but you have gone and your prejudice wont keep you warm tonight
The devil will find work for idle hands to do
I stole and I lied, and why? just because you asked me to! but you know the truth about me you wont see me anymore, Im still fond of you
So, no more apologies no more apologies Im too tired Im too sick and tired and Im feeling very sick and ill today
But Im still fond of you
song performed by by Face To Face
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Satan always finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.
quote by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If the devil catch a man idle he'll set him at work.
Against Idleness and Mischief
How doth the little busy Bee
Improve each shining Hour,
And gather Honey all the day
From every opening Flower!
How skilfully she builds her Cell!
How neat she spreads the Wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet Food she makes.
In Works of Labour or of Skill
I would be busy too:
For Satan finds some Mischief still
For idle Hands to do.
In Books, or Work, or healthful Play
Let my first Years be past,
That I may give for every Day
Some good Account at last.
poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The devil tempts all men, but idle men tempt the devil.
The devil tempts all other men, but idle men tempt the devil.
Idle men tempt the devil; the devil tempts all others.
The devil tempts all, but the idle tempt the devil.
Why some religions do not work
the heaven of some religions is grey
it is forboding and spells misfortune
some religions do not work because
the virtue of forgiveness is left out
of the boat to heaven, a blessing
witheld from the heart - the devil finds
it one best workshop to work on his dream
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How doth the little buissy bee
How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!
How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labors hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labor or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be passed,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.
poem by Isaac Watts from Divine Songs Attempted in Easy Language for the Use of Children (1715)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Lost Time
On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time.
But it is never lost, my lord.
Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts,
buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed
and imagined all work had ceased.
In the morning I woke up
and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Origin Of The Liquor Dealer
The devil in hell gave a festival,
And he called his imps from their wine-
Called them up from the ruddy cup,
And marshalled them into line.
And each to his place sprang the imps apace,
And they stood there, side by side.
'Now, listen well, O ye hosts of hell!
And mark me,' the devil cried.
'There is work to do for all of you,
Held for this night in store.
Then stir up the fire, till it burneth higher
Than ever it burned before.
When the coals glow hot, set ye the pot
Half full of the best brimstone.
And three of the worst and the most accursed
Hell claimeth as its own
Of demons bring, when the pot shall sing,
And cast them into the boil.'
Then over the region scattered the legion
Away to the fiendish toil.
They work with a will, and they work until
Three imps are aboil in the pot;
And the devil stands, and stirs with his hands
The liquid, seething hot;
And the demons revel around the devil
With many a fiendish shout,
Till he cries 'Ho, ho!' and the demons go
And turn the liquid out.
Turn it in, to a lake of gin,
Where the devil bathes, to cool.
Then lift it up, and turn on a cup
Of wine they dip from a pool.
Then they dip it in ale, till it turneth pale,
In beer, till it gloweth red.
It? nay, HE! for the thing they see
Is a man, from heel to head.
And he clasps the hands of the devil who stands
Bowing before his face.
And he says, 'Dear friend, will you please to send
A lad to show me my place?'
And the devil winks sly: and he says, 'Ay, ay!'
Old fellow, I guess you'll do.
You can work more wrong with that oily tongue
Than all my malicious crew.
'You must go to the earth! In th' halls of mirth,
In the teeming city's heart-
In any place that you show your face
I will help you do your part.
I will give you a name-it is steeped in shame,
But the world will use you well.
It is 'Liquor Dealer.' It means
soul stealer
And Major-General of Hell.
Go forth, my friend, and work to the end,
I will pay you in gleaming gold;
For every soul you drown in the bowl,
I will give you wealth untold.'
Then forth he went, this fiend hell-sent,
And he doeth his work to-day-
Doeth it well; and the hosts of hell
Are singing his praise alway.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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American Idle
An excuse
Getting through
Kick around your leeway
An idea
Overdue
Work-shy with hunger pains
Wear out your dunce's cap
Wear out your pocket flaps
But don't wear out your mind
Because you can't have mine
American Idle
Overfill your seidel
'Cause excess is romance
And everyone's convinced
Channel-surfing
Devil's food
Kick around your leeway
Snake oil rigged
Fate is sealed
Work-shy with stomach pains
Wear out your dunce's cap
Wear out your pocket flaps
But don't wear out your mind
Because you can't have mine
American Idle
Overfill your seidel
'Cause excess is romance
And everyone's convinced
poem by Michael Fischer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My heart is my hands
My hands
Is
Only my hands...
Not for
your hands....
So...
I want too work
My hands...
I want too serve
My hands...
I want to do about
Somthing of my
Hands...
My hands is
Free for only
Sleeping time only...
my hands is
working all the times
My hands not only
Hands...
It is human workers...
Allways for my friends...
My hands...is my heart...
My heart is my hands.....
Ok...How is your hands...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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