When the partridge sings in the stone quarry bring the wood into the haystack.
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Armenian Folk-Song--The Partridge
As beats the sun from mountain crest,
With 'pretty, pretty',
Cometh the partridge from her nest;
The flowers threw kisses sweet to her
(For all the flowers that bloomed knew her);
Yet hasteneth she to mine and me--
Ah! pretty, pretty;
Ah! dear little partridge!
And when I hear the partridge cry
So pretty, pretty,
Upon the house-top, breakfast I;
She comes a-chirping far and wide,
And swinging from the mountain side--
I see and hear the dainty dear!
Ah! pretty, pretty;
Ah! dear little partridge!
Thy nest's inlaid with posies rare.
And pretty, pretty
Bloom violet, rose, and lily there;
The place is full of balmy dew
(The tears of flowers in love with you!)
And one and all impassioned call;
'O pretty, pretty--
O dear little partridge!'
Thy feathers they are soft and sleek--
So pretty, pretty!
Long is thy neck and small thy breast;
The color of thy plumage far
More bright than rainbow colors are!
Sweeter than dove is she I love--
My pretty, pretty--
My dear little partridge!
When comes the partridge from the tree,
So pretty, pretty!
And sings her little hymn to me,
Why, all the world is cheered thereby--
The heart leaps up into the eye,
And echo then gives back again
Our 'Pretty, pretty,'
Our 'Dear little partridge!'
Admitting the most blest of all
And pretty, pretty,
The birds come with thee at thy call;
In flocks they come and round they play,
And this is what they seem to say--
They say and sing, each feathered thing;
'Ah! pretty, pretty;
Ah! dear little partridge!'
poem by Eugene Field
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Needle In A Haystack
(william stevenson / norman whitfield)
Well, well, I once believed
All fellas were nice
But girls, listen to me
And take my advice
A-girls, youd better get yourselves
On the right track
cause finding a good man, girls
Is like finding a
(needle in a haystack)
A-what did I say, girls?
(needle in a haystack)
Girls, those fellas are sly, slick and shy, yeah
Oh, dont you ever let them catch you looking starry-eyed
Theyll tell you that their love is true
And theyll walk right over you
Now girls, youd better know these things
A-right off a-the bat
cause finding a good man, girls
Is like finding a
(needle in a haystack)
What did I say, girls?
(needle in a haystack)
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Well, now girls, I say, Im tellin you the natural facts
cause finding a good man, girls
Is like finding a
(needle in a haystack)
What did I say, girls?
(needle in a haystack)
Im telling you, girls
Youd better look before you leap
Still water sometimes is a-very deep
Youll be in sorrow when you discover
That youre just his pasttime lover
Girls, youd better know these things
A-right off a-the bat
cause finding a good man, girls
Is like finding a
(needle in a haystack)
What did I say, girls?
(needle in a haystack)
I say youd better take heed
And listen to me
Youd better play hard to get
Or youre gonna regret
The day you were born, yeah
A-when you leaves you alone
I bet, youd better regret
Oh, youd better regret
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Velvet
(paul waaktaar / lauren savoy)
Her skin is like velvet
Her face cut from stone
Her eyes when shes smiling
Will never reach home
But hear how she sings
Her touch would be tender
Her lips would be warm
But when were together
Im always alone
But hear how she sings
But hear how she sings
Hear how she sings
Her skin is like velvet
So I went to her home
Her place like a palace
With things you cant own
Her skin is like velvet
And hear how she sings
Hear how she sings...
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
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Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Dressed At The Quarry
Tell her that you are her father and,
Let her turn to the muse of your love;
And like the stones dressed at the quarry,
For this day is now set out before you.
Supporting beams,
Against the walls of your love i will rest;
For i have slits of light of love on you,
And like the stones dressed at the quarry.
Your love is under my construction and,
It will be dressed up like the stones from a quarry;
So spread out your wings of love over me and,
And let me lead you to my home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Inscriptions Written with a Slate Pencil upon a Stone
THE LARGEST OF A HEAP LYING NEAR A DESERTED QUARRY, UPON ONE OF THE ISLANDS AT RYDAL
Stranger! this hillock of mis-shapen stones
Is not a Ruin spared or made by time,
Nor, as perchance thou rashly deem'st, the Cairn
Of some old British Chief: 'tis nothing more
Than the rude embryo of a little Dome
Or Pleasure-house, once destined to be built
Among the birch-trees of this rocky isle.
But, as it chanced, Sir William having learned
That from the shore a full-grown man might wade,
And make himself a freeman of this spot
At any hour he chose, the prudent Knight
Desisted, and the quarry and the mound
Are monuments of his unfinished task.
The block on which these lines are traced, perhaps,
Was once selected as the corner-stone
Of that intended Pile, which would have been
Some quaint odd plaything of elaborate skill,
So that, I guess, the linnet and the thrush,
And other little builders who dwell here,
Had wondered at the work. But blame him not,
For old Sir William was a gentle Knight,
Bled in this vale, to which he appertained
With all his ancestry. Then peace to him,
And for the outrage which he had devised
Entire forgiveness!--But if thou art one
On fire with thy impatience to become
An inmate of these mountains,--if, disturbed
By beautiful conceptions, thou hast hewn
Out of the quiet rock the elements
Of thy trim Mansion destined soon to blaze
In snow-white splendour,--think again; and, taught
By old Sir William and his quarry, leave
Thy fragments to the bramble and the rose;
There let the vernal slow-worm sun himself,
And let the redbreast hop from stone to stone.
poem by William Wordsworth
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A Silent Wood
O silent wood, I enter thee
With a heart so full of misery
For all the voices from the trees
And the ferns that cling about my knees.
In thy darkest shadow let me sit
When the grey owls about thee flit;
There will I ask of thee a boon,
That I may not faint or die or swoon.
Gazing through the gloom like one
Whose life and hopes are also done,
Frozen like a thing of stone
I sit in thy shadow – but not alone.
Can God bring back the day when we two stood
Beneath the clinging trees in that dark wood?
poem by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
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Her song of freedom
Under each stone a trapped butterfly can be found
And if you free the butterfly
You shall here the sound of
Some thing so graceful never herd around
She sings of beauty and of the free air
Yet though trapped under there
She still sings of how once a day
She was able to fly her own way
So under this stone of life and tears
Only one butterfly forgotten this year
So whom shall be the lucky one to see
This once trapped butterfly
Once again freely sing
Her song of freedom
Her song of me
poem by Susan Covington
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Bring em All In
Bring em all in, bringem all in, bring em all in,
Bring em all in, bring em all into my heart
Bring em all in, bring em all in, bring em all in
Bring em all in, bring em all into my heart
Bring the little fishes
Bring the sharks
Bring em from the brightness
Bring em from the dark
Bring em from the caverns
Bring em from the heights
Bring em from the shadows
Stand em in the light
Bring em out of purdah
Bring em out of store
Bring em out of hiding
Lay them at my door
Bring the unforgiven
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stepping Stones
Baby youve been up, broken down
Every man knows your name in this whole damn town
In every bar they know your drink, what should I think
I turned around to look and you gave some dude a wink
I thought Id be happy with a woman like you,
But you walked on my pride and my manhood too
I dont know too much but one thing I know
A man stuck on you is like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
What you forgot to mention, what was your real intention
Did you want a man to love, or someone to prop and carry you up
To a higher status, but the matter of fact is, your detachment
Will bring you further down and now youre all used up
Dont bother coming round
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Well, I remember back to waht you put me thru
I keep thinking to myself
Whats wrong with you
Aint it enough to have a man for a lover and a friend
Tear him up and leave him when the moneys spent
Well, youre just like delilah sittin in her den
You take the strongest man and break em down again
But I have gained some knowledge
Go on pack your things and move back to college
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Broke It All In Two
How could I have been so cruel
After all you've done for me
I should go back to school
To learn
The ways
Of love
I see the tables turn
Please don't desert me now
I acted like a fool
I know
I just stumble
Through the night
I pushed you way too far
Though you're my guiding star
I broke it all in two (broke it all in two)
Like a row of paper chains (a row of paper chains)
My heart's not made of stone (heart's not made of stone)
Though it seems to be that way
Baby, what can I say?
You mean the world to me
Don't throw it all away
I promise
I'll change
One day
I pushed you way too far
Though you're my guiding star
I broke it all in two (broke it all in two)
Like a row of paper chains (a row of paper chains)
My heart's not made of stone (heart's not made of stone)
Though it seems to be that way (my heart's not made of stone)
I pushed you way too far
Though you're my guiding star
I broke it all in two (broke it all in two)
Like a row of paper chains (a row of paper chains)
My heart's not made of stone (heart's not made of stone)
Though it seems to be that way (my heart's not made of stone)
I broke it all in two (broke it all in two)
Like a row of paper chains (a row of paper chains)
My heart's not made of wood (heart's not made of wood)
Though it seems to be that way
(heart of woo-oooh-ood)
(heart of woo-oooh-ood)
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Einstein, Nicholas, My Fantastic Wife And Our Dog On The Beach At Home
a stone
a relative stone
a meteoric stone
a Newtonian stone
a photoelectric stone
a stone from Manhattan
a thermodynamic stone
one stone
a son
in my life
in my wife
a sun
alone
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. September
FEAST OF ST. PARTRIDGE
The only saint in all our calendar
Is good St. Partridge. 'Tis his feast to--day,
The happiest day of all a happy year,
And heralded as never yet was May.
The dawn has found us marshalled for the fray,
Striding the close--shorn stubbles ranked in line,
With lust of battle and with lust of play
Made glorious drunk as men are drunk with wine.
There go the coveys, forward birds and strong,
Bound for the mangold where they wheel and stop.
Now, steady, men, and bring the left along.
A fortune waits us in each turnip--top.
With a wild shriek, and then a whirr of wings,
The covey rises. Brace and brace they drop,
Joining the dead ranks of forgotten things
In glorious death, the fierce delight of kings.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Wishing Well
With my back turned
I hurl stone after stone
Into the wishing well
Disturbing the frog's sleep
In its libidinous dreams.
My moon had fallen into the well
My pail could not bring it up
I continue to dropp stones
Someday the water will rise enough
To bring up my beautiful moon.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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They Are Tearing Down My Grandfather's House
(An NLP Editor's Choice Award Winner in Verdant Lands of Spring) They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
The windows they've removed. To them it's real
estate, to me it's my heart being ripped in two.
The realtors, the bankers, the moneymen don't understand.
A house is more than made of wood, a house is made of man. My Grandfather's house is a memory that will
endure after it's torn down.
He's been gone for near thirty years, but his
house had lived on.
I know the world is made of change, and change
is all that's real. But one thing I cannot change,
that is the way I feel. I wipe a tear in the falling rain,
because they are tearing down my Grandfather's
house, and it gives me pain.
I love him as if it were yesteryear,
his wit and smile as warm as the sun.
The house once stood to remind me, but that too
is gone. They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
Yet a house if more than made of wood,
a house is made of love.
poem by David A. Webb
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A Spell For Creation
Within the flower there lies a seed,
Within the seed there springs a tree,
Within the tree there spreads a wood.
In the wood there burns a fire,
And in the fire there melts a stone,
Within the stone a ring of iron.
Within the ring there lies an O,
Within the O there looks an eye,
In the eye there swims a sea,
And in the sea reflected sky,
And in the sky there shines the sun,
Within the sun a bird of gold.
Within the bird there beats a heart,
And from the heart there flows a song,
And in the song there sings a word.
In the word there speaks a world,
A world of joy, a world of grief,
From joy and grief there springs my love.
Oh love, my love, there springs a world,
And on the world there shines a sun,
And in the sun there burns a fire,
Within the fire consumes my heart,
And in my heart there beats a bird,
And in the bird there wakes an eye,
Within the eye, earth, sea and sky,
Earth, sky and sea within an O
Lie like the seed within the flower.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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Rainy Day Women #12 & 35
Well, they'll stone ya when you're trying to be so good,
They'll stone ya just a-like they said they would.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home.
Then they'll stone ya when you're there all alone.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone ya when you're walkin' 'long the street.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to keep your seat.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' on the floor.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' to the door.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
They'll stone ya when you're at the breakfast table.
They'll stone ya when you are young and able.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to make a buck.
They'll stone ya and then they'll say, "good luck."
Tell ya what, i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you and say that it's the end.
Then they'll stone you and then they'll come back again.
They'll stone you when you're riding in your car.
They'll stone you when you're playing your guitar.
Yes, but i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you when you walk all alone.
They'll stone you when you are walking home.
They'll stone you and then say you are brave.
They'll stone you when you are set down in your grave.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dig It
Like a rolling stone
A like a rolling stone
Like the fbi and the cia
And the bbc--bb king
And doris day
Matt busby
Dig it, dig it, dig it
Dig it, dig it, dig it, dig it, dig it, dig it, dig it, dig it
[that was 'can you dig it' by georgie wood. and now we'd like to do 'hark the angels come'.]
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sea-Saw (more writing fun)
If I saw a wood boat afloat
Upon the sea,
Would what I see possibly be
The wood I cut from a tree?
For when I saw a tree
I would like to think I see,
What the wood I saw
Could be.
If all I saw in wood from a tree
Was all I saw that there was to see,
Would what I did saw
Be the wood that I now see?
And if the wood I once did saw
Was indeed made into that ship on the sea,
Would it even be possible to know that here what I see
Is the wood once sawed by me?
All I here would dare to share is:
I see what I saw, and I saw what I see,
And therefore the wood I do saw could one day be
The boat I may see, afloat upon the sea.
See?
poem by Smoky Hoss
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