Those bosoms can be sold cheapest which are stolen ready made.
Related quotes
Stolen
Let truth be told
Until its sold
Silence is golden
Too bad its all been stolen
Stolen! stolen! stolen!
Our defense is your defense
Your defense in some sense
Some sensless way unfolded
Folded cause its all been stolen
Stolen! stolen! stolen!
The gilded scale was burning
Just as your back was turning
Just as our trust was leaving
Youd have us all believing
These truths we hold
Self-evident
Bought and sold
The more you hunt the more I sing
Then quickly rewrite everything
Truth returns bloated, swollen
Then dissapears - its been stolen!
Stolen!
The gilded scale was burning
Just as your back was turning
Just as our trust was leaving
Youd have us all believing
These truths we hold
Self-evident
Bought and sold
Its all been stolen! [x2]
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Farewell of a Virginia Slave Mother
Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage
Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool spring where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Farewell
Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool sprmg where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never Been Sold Before
You ask me, babe, "Can you work tonight?"
I've been up, babe, since broad daylight
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me before
I just can't become your lousy who-o-ore
Yeah, I'm stacked nice, they really like my style
Fifty bucks, babe, ha, can't even buy my smile
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me before
I just can't become your lousy who-o-ore
I-I-I-I find I come around just to lay this money on you, babe
I'm sick of streets, chicks and dicks, and I'm,
I'm really sick of you
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me befo-ore
I just can't become your little whore
No, no, no, no
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gloom
Do you feel sorrowful? I sometimes do,
When busy thought tells me the sufferings
Of some in our south land. Their brows are not
So fair as thine, by much, but yet they are
Our sisters, for the mighty God hath given
To them the boon of an immortal soul.
Yet they are made through life's long years to toil,
Scourge-driven like the brute; and with the fine
And delicate pulses of a human heart,
Stirring to anguish in their bosoms, sold!
Ay, like the meanest household chattel, sold!
Vended from hand to hand, while with each wrench
Their torn hearts bleed at every throbbing pore.
Alas! how can I but feel sorrowful,
To think upon their woes?
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sold Me Out
I always knew that theyd get me somehow sooner or later,
But with a bullet in the head, a knife in the back,
Not a pocket calculator.
Sorry mister, youre all wiped up,
Youre all washed up,
Sold you out.
Got no dreams, got no ambition,
Cant decide, cause theres no decision,
Got no claim to any position,
Cant compete with the competition.
Youre always complaining,
Its so depressing,
But if youre old enough,
Start to confess it.
You say, you sold me out,
To get a better deal for yourself,
You sold me out,
And now we want some of your precious wealth,
Because you sold me out.
Sold me out,
Sold me out,
Sold me out.
You sold me out,
To get a better deal for yourself.
You sold me out,
And now its every man for himself.
Work all your life, put the money in the bank,
Sign on the dotted line.
Try to draw it out, the jokes on you,
Put up the empty sign.
Sorry mister, were all sold out.
Sold me out,
Sold me out,
Sold me out,
Sold me out.
You, Im talkin to you.
You sold me out,
To get a better deal for yourself.
You sold me out,
And now we want some of your precious wealth.
And sell you out,
Like you sold me out.
Are you in so deep, that you cant get out?
Got no dreams, got no ambition,
Cant decide, cause theres no decision,
Got no claim to any position,
Cant compete with the competition.
Sold me out,
Sold me out,
Sold me out,
Sold me out.
(repeat)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are You Ready?
Are you ready, are you ready?
Are you ready, are you ready?
Are you ready to meet jesus?
Are you where you ought to be?
Will he know you when he sees you
Or will he say, depart from me?
Are you ready, hope youre ready.
Am I ready, am I ready?
Am I ready, am I ready?
Am I ready to lay down my life for the brethren
And to take up my cross?
Have I surrendered to the will of god
Or am I still acting like the boss?
Am I ready, hope Im ready.
When destruction cometh swiftly
And theres no time to say a fare-thee-well,
Have you decided whether you want to be
In heaven or in hell?
Are you ready, are you ready?
Have you got some unfinished business?
Is there something holding you back?
Are you thinking for yourself
Or are you following the pack?
Are you ready, hope youre ready.
Are you ready?
Are you ready for the judgment?
Are you ready for that terrible swift sword?
Are you ready for armageddon?
Are you ready for the day of the lord?
Are you ready, I hope youre ready.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fairy Song
We the fairies blithe and antic,
Of Dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us,
Stolen sweets are always sweeter;
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels;
Stolen, stolen be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time to go orchard robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling
Were it not for stealing, stealing.
poem by Thomas Randolph
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard
We, the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.
Stolen sweets are always sweeter,
Stolen kisses much completer,
Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
Stolen, stolen, be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time for orchard-robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling,
Were it not for stealing, stealing.
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The only freedom I care about is the freedom to do right; the freedom to do wrong I am ready to part with on the cheapest terms to anyone who will take it of me.
quote by Thomas Huxley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song of The Coffle Gang
This song is said to be sung by Slaves, as they are chained in gangs,
when parting from friends for the far off South-children taken from
parents, husbands from wives, and brothers from sisters.
See these poor souls from Africa,
Transported to America:
We are stolen, and sold to Georgia, will you go along with me?
We are stolen and sold to Georgia, go sound the jubilee.
See wives and husbands sold apart,
The children's screams!-it breaks my heart;
There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me?
There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee.
O, gracious Lord? when shall it be,
That we poor souls shall all be free?
Lord, break them Slavery powers-will you go along with me?
Lord, break them Slavery powers, go sound the jubilee.
Dear Lord! dear Lord! when Slavery'll cease,
Then we poor souls can have our peace;
There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me?
There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sold My Soul
I prayed to God and jesus
But I guess they didnt hear
My sacrfice was useless
My pleas fell on deaf ears
So I cried in desperation
Bowed to evil sorcery
I looked to the lord in heaven
But he must have looked away
My crying eyes repentant
Please send her love to light my day
So I cried in desperation
Bowed to evil sorcery
I sold my soul
Sold my soul
I sold my soul to the devil
So I cried in desperation
Bowed to evil sorcery
I sold my soul
Sold my soul
I sold my soul to the devil
Sold my soul
Sold my soul
I sold my soul
Sold my soul
Sold my soul to the devil
To the devil
Sold my soul
Sold my soul
I sold my soul
I sold my soul
I sold my soul to the devil
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Holy Sonnet 15
Wilt thou love God as he thee? then digest,
My soul, this wholesome meditation,
How God the Spirit, by angels waited on
In heaven, doth make His temple in thy breast.
The Father having begot a Son most blest,
And still begetting—for he ne'er begun—
Hath deign'd to choose thee by adoption,
Co-heir to His glory, and Sabbath' endless rest.
And as a robb'd man, which by search doth find
His stolen stuff sold, must lose or buy it again,
The Sun of glory came down, and was slain,
Us whom He had made, and Satan stole, to unbind.
'Twas much, that man was made like God before,
But, that God should be made like man, much more.
poem by John Donne from Holy Sonnets
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The excess of hope and faith
Hope is the cheapest source of pleasure
But the excess of it is expiated by pain.
Faith is the cheapest source of pleasure
But the excess of it is expiated by loss.
13.03.32008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whos That Girl?
there were places we would go
at midnight
there were secrets that nobody else would know
theres a reason but i dont know why,
i dont know why
dont know why
i thought they all belonged to me
whose that girl
wheres she from?
no she cant be the one
that you want
that has stolen my world
its not real its not right
its my day its my night
by the way whose that girl
livin' my life
oh no
livin' my life
seems like everythings the same around me
then i look again and everything has changed
im not dreamin' so i dont know why
dont know why
shes everywhere i want to be
whose that girl
wheres she from?
no she cant be the one
that you want
that has stolen my world(stolen my world)
its not real its not right
its my day its my night
by the way whose that girl
livin' my life
im the one that made you laugh
i made you feel
i made you sad
im not sorry
for what we did
for who we were
im not sorry
im not her
whose that girl
wheres she from?
no she cant be the one
that you want
that has stolen my world(stolen my world)
its not real its not right
its my day its my night
by the way whose that girl
livin' my life
oh no
livin' my life
song performed by by Hilary Duff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Is it Ever Ready?
When is it ever ready...
For us to make up our minds,
It is time to get what we put off
To get something done?
When is it ever ready...
For us?
When is it ever ready...
To stop and wait.
For us to negotiate,
This is the moment...
That has arrived,
For us to get up and move?
Just to prove we can delay
Another day...
To make an excuse,
To collect with the other excuses...
Made!
When is it ever ready?
Time seems to never be!
It seems to do what it chooses without us!
To experience...
Or ignore completely.
As we sit to cuss its noncommitment.
Observing it as it cares less,
About how some of us waste it...
With more uselessness!
To eventually confess.
When is it ever ready?
That is probably not a concern...
Nor a priority,
Or on its agenda.
Time is man made.
To set limits...
As if man allows 'it' to benefit,
And exist.
To put up with a man's nonsense.
Or a woman's.
Either way...
No one can say,
They have more of it...
Than anyone.
To just let it sit!
And ask of it...
If and When it is ever ready!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bought And Sold
Bought and sold.
Bought,
And sold.
Bought and sold...
As if no feelings I keep.
But deep inside I'm touched.
Nothing here is cheaply rushed.
Bought and sold...
On what to me has been told.
Not me I'm not of mush.
Nor easily crushed to dust.
Excesses on the cheapness of life,
Has made a weakness increase...
And,
Bought and sold.
Bought,
And sold.
Bought and sold.
Too many given anything.
Just to say they've gotten a piece,
To be...
Bought and sold.
Bought and sold...
On what to me has been told.
Not me I'm not of mush.
Nor easily crushed to dust.
Bought and sold...
As if no feelings I keep.
But deep inside I'm touched.
Nothing here is cheaply rushed.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
To be sold,
On what they're told.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
Bought and sold,
On what they're told.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
To be sold,
On what they're told.
Bought and sold,
On what they're told.
Just...
To sell.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All For A Friend!
I SOLD MY TENT TO BUY MY HOUSE!
I SOLD MY SANDALS TO BUY MY SHOE!
I SOLD MY HORSE TO BUY MY AUTOMOBILE!
I SOLD MY TROUBLES TO BUY MY PEACE!
BEHOLD! I WILL BE GLAD TO SELL THE CHURCHES AND BUY A TRUE FRIEND!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Remember Your Past
Try to remember our past,
Remember who made you what you are today;
try to remember your past in times like this.
You dumped me like a trash,
You lied to me like a thief,
You treated me like a fool,
You sold me like a baby,
But do remember the past always.
I have made you what you are today,
Like another client on the Libyan Desert;
Do give credit wher it is due,
Do remember my love for you;
I thought you were my friend but,
Today i am your enemy.
Many are dead and gone,
Many are still waiting to learn;
But, do remember your past.
In this life,
Some may like you and others may hate you;
But, some medicines are easier taken than others.
I thought you were my friend but,
Today i am your enemy.
Now you are against me,
You've turned away from me to another;
You've really disappointed me.
My heart is very sad,
But my mind will always remember you;
You've stolen my trust to marry another man.
Try to be righteous for once,
Try to learn for the better;
Do remember your past at all times.
In the greatest time of trouble,
In the finals of love;
You've really disappointed me.
In the finals of history,
That is when you will look for me;
In the finals of trust,
Money is not everything;
First impressions do matters a lot.
One day,
The bells will ring down on you;
One day,
You will surely remember me for all my love;
You are a grown up woman,
But you've stolen my trust to marry another man.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who's That Girl (acoustic Version)
There were places we would go at midnight
There were secrets that nobody else would know (Uoo)
There's a reason but I don't know why
I know don't why, I don't know why
I thought they all belonged to me...
[CHORUS]
Who's that girl?
Where's she from?
No, she can't be the one
That you want
That has stolen my world
It's not real, it's not right
It's my day, it's my night
By the way, who's that girl
Living my life
Oh no, livin' my life
Seems like everything's the same around me (around me)
Then I look again and everything has changed
I'm not dreaming, so I don't know why?
I don't know why, I don't know why?
She's everywhere I wanna be...
Who's that girl?
Where's she from?
No, she can't be the one
That you want
That has stolen my world
It's not real, it's not right
It's my day, it's my night
By the way, who's that girl
Living my life...
I'm the one who made you laugh
Who made you feel
And made you sad
I'm not sorry
For what we did, and who we were
I'm not sorry, I'm not her!
Who's that girl?
Where's she from?
No, she can't be the one
That you want
That has stolen my world
It's not real, it's not right
It's not day, it's my night
By the way, who's that girl
Livin' my life
Oh no, living my life
song performed by by Hilary Duff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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