The king's chaff is better than other folk's corn.
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A king's chaff is worth more than other men's corn.
John Barley-Corn, My Foe
John Barley-corn, my foe, John,
The song I have to sing
Is not in praise of you, John,
E'en though you are a king.
Your subjects they are legion, John,
I find where'er I go:
They wear your yoke upon their necks,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
By your despotic sway
The people of our country, John,
Are suffering to-day.
You lay the lash upon their backs;
Yet willingly they go
And pay allegiance at the polls,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
You've broken many a heart,
And caused the bitter tear, John,
From many an eye to start,
The widow and the fatherless
From pleasant homes to go,
And lead a life of sin and shame,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
May Heaven speed the hour,
When Temperance shall wear the crown
And Rum shall lose its power;
When from the East unto the West
The people all shall know
Their greatest curse has been removed,
John Barley-Corn, my foe!
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Corn Circles
Corn circles
Appearing all over the land
Corn circles
Appearing all over the land
Nobody knows where they come from
Nobody understands
Corn circles
Mysterious symbols in the fields
Corn circles
Mysterious symbols in the fields
No one knows - are they phony
Or maybe are they real?
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
Corn circles
Is somebody playing a trick?
Corn circles
Pixies, witches, hoaxers
Take your pick
Throw a few theories out there
See what sticks!
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
Corn circles
Patterns in the gold
Corn circles
Pretty patterns in the gold
Like something out of the future
Or something very old
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Women's song of the corn
How beautiful are the corn rows,
Stretching to the morning sun,
Stretching to the evening sun.
Very beautiful, the long rows of corn.
How beautiful is the white corn,
I husk it,
I grind it.
Very beautiful, my white corn.
How beautiful is the red corn,
I gather it and make fine meal,
I am glad doing this.
Very beautiful, my red corn.
How beautiful is the black corn,
I give it to my father,
To my mother,
I give it to my child.
Very beautiful, the black corn.
How beautiful is the mottled corn,
Like the sky with little clouds,
I eat it looking at the sky.
Very beautiful, my mottled corn.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Newspaper editors are men who separate the wheat from the chaff, and then print the chaff.
quote by Adlai Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An editor is someone who separates the wheat from the chaff and then prints the chaff.
quote by Adlai E. Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Editor: a person employed by a newspaper, whose business it is to separate the wheat from the chaff, and to see that the chaff is printed.
quote by Elbert Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Editor a person employed by a newspaper, whose business it is to separate the wheat from the chaff, and to see that the chaff is printed.
quote by Elbert Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Editor: a person employed on a newspaper whose business it is to seperate the wheat from the chaff, and to see that the chaff is printed.
quote by Elbert Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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News to the king, good news for all
'NEWS to the king, good news for all,'
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'News of the battle,' the heralds call,
'We have won the field; we have taken the town;
We have beaten the rebels and crushed them down.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
'Who was my bravest?' quoth the king,
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'Whom shall I honour for this great thing?'
'Threescore were best, where none were worst;
But Walter Wendulph was aye the first.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
'What of my husband?' quoth the bride,
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'Comes he to-morrow; how long will he bide?'
'Put off thy bridegear, busk thee in black;
Walter Wendulph will never come back.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You really get the most out of sweet corn if you pick the corn off the stalk and rush it to a pot of boiling water. The longer you wait, the more sugar you lose. But if you get it in the first half hour, that is the sweetest corn ever.
quote by Sam Donaldson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hide Away Folk Family
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away
Tippy-toe to the front door, mother,
cause theres a guy with a long, long fuse
And the one thing you cant hide is all the fear you feel inside
As the fuse is spelling out these words
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away
Tippy-toe to the flat-bed, father,
Because theyre pouring out our gasoline
And sadly the cross-eyed bears been put to sleep behind the stairs
And his shoes are laced with irony
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away
Hello. this is leslie down with the daily home astrology report.
Taurus: contemplate domestic turmoil.
Aquarius: abandon hope for future plans.
Hide away folk family
Or else someones gonna get ya (someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away folk family
Better hide away
Better hide away (hide away)
Hide away (folk family) folk family (or else someones gonna get ya)
Someones gonna get ya
Hide away
Hide away
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Women's harvest song
I am waving a ripe sunflower,
I am scattering sunflower pollen to the four world-quarters.
I am joyful because of my melons,
I am joyful because of my beans,
I am joyful because of my squashes.
The sunflower waves.
So did the corn wave
When the wind blew against it,
So did my white corn bend
When the red lightning descended upon it,
It trembled as the sunflower
When the rain beat down its leaves.
Great is a ripe sunflower,
And great was the sun above my corn-fields.
His fingers lifted up the corn-ears,
His hands fashioned my melons,
And set my beans full in the pods.
Therefore my heart is happy
And I will lay many blue prayer-sticks at the shrine of Ta-wa.
I will give corn to Ta-wa,
Yellow corn, blue corn, black corn.
I wave the sunflower,
The sunflower heavy with pollen.
I wave it, I turn it, I sing,
Because I am happy.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Emperor of Germany is the king of kings, the King of Spain king of men, the King of France king of asses, the King of England king of devils.
Dead Folk Don't Talk
On the day she died they all came,
though I was shocked they recalled her name
but they drank our booze and ate our cake
yeah they ate our cake alright.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
Nobody came and nobody called
when she was ill and dying.
Nobody seemed to care at all
and now they're all here crying.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
So I sat there dazed and out of control
listening to them talking,
but when she were alive, the house was still,
just me and mother sighing.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
And afterwards, when they all went
I carried out her last requests.
I moved her gas fire, paid the rent
and left a note to the dairyman.
Nobody came and nobody called
when she was ill and dying.
Nobody seemed to care at all
and if they say they did, they're lying.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I Were King
I often wish I were a King,
And then I could do anything.
If only I were King of Spain,
I'd take my hat off in the rain.
If only I were King of France,
I wouldn't brush my hair for aunts.
I think, if I were King of Greece,
I'd push things off the mantelpiece.
If I were King of Norroway,
I'd ask an elephant to stay.
If I were King of Babylon,
I'd leave my button gloves undone.
If I were King of Timbuctoo,
I'd think of lovely things to do.
If I were King of anything,
I'd tell the soldiers, "I'm the King!"
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fairie's Fair
Who’s that dancing on the moonlight air,
Heel tapping, Toe-heel rapping?
Oberon opening the fairies’ fair
To jig away sorrow on the grave of Care.
Come along, old folk, cold fork, bold folk,
Drop your shears at the midnight stroke.
Elves are crying: "Who’ll come buying
Jugs of Joy from a fairy’s cloak?"
Mab is sitting on a silver shoe,
Bright eyes laughing, Light lips quaffing
Airy bubbles from a cup of dew,
Her bracelets tinkle with delights for you.
Come along tall folk, small folk, all folk,
Race the stream where the fat frogs croak,
Buy a bobbin! There goes Robin
Tying Time to a daisy’s yoke!
poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The whole world is in revolt. Soon there will be only five Kings left--the King of England, the King of Spades, The King of Clubs, the King of Hearts, and the King of Diamonds.
quote by King Farouk of Egypt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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