If I cut an album now and sell it for ten bucks, I can put seven dollars and fifty cents in my pocket.
quote by Mickey Gilley
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Related quotes
Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.
quote by Marilyn Monroe
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I bought my first camera in Seattle, Washington. Only paid about seven dollars and fifty cents for it.
quote by Gordon Parks
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Bartering Lines
Hold me up hold me down
Leave me in the withering pines
Steal my love steal my kisses
Take em to the bartering lines
Ten cents up two bucks down
Shit it out and turn it into fuel
Three bucks shy
Leave it on the table till somebody else with moneys got a use
Spinnin so hard
I cant stand
Shadow of a shadowy man
Hold me up hold my hand
The treasures that she misses make the man
Ten cents up two bucks down
Shit it out and turn it into fuel
Three bucks shy
Leave it on the table till somebody else with moneys got a use
So hold me up tie me down
Leave me in the withering pines
Steal my love steal my kisses
Reviewuate the differences in life
Ten cents up two bucks down
Shit it out and turn it into fuel
Three bucks shy
Leave it on the table till somebody else with moneys
Repeat
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With Dollars And Cents on the album, we had it as a band jam and I sometimes spend evenings playing with records over the top of things we were working on to see what works.
quote by Colin Greenwood
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Zig Zags Rolling Another One
She came home today from her vacation with an attitude
Told me she was leaving me for good
Said her love had died since she’d been gone
Now it was time for her to be moving on….
Then she asked me for the car keys and fifty bucks
Twenty five years of marriage and all she wanted
was fifty bucks and the keys to the car…
She won’t get far…
2008 © ts
poem by Ted Sheridan
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Zig Zags
She came home today from her vacation with an attitude
Told me she was leaving me for good
Said her love had died since she’d been gone
Now it was time for her to be moving on….
Then she asked me for the car keys and fifty bucks
Twenty five years of marriage and all she wanted
was fifty bucks and the keys to the car…
She won’t get far…
2008 © Rj
poem by Rocket James
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Fifty Cents A Day
I am an humble Soldier
far from my friends and home,
mid scenes of war and hardships
I constantly must roam,
with many officers over me,
and them I must obey,
and do just what they tell me,
for fifty cents a day.
I enlisted in the army
to help my country's cause,
because I loved it dearly,
and would sustain its laws,
I felt a free man's duty,
his country to obey,
I came not as a hireling,
for fifty cents a day
I enlisted as a soldier.
a free man and a man
To do a soldiers duty,
as best a soldier can.
hope to fight the rebels,
and hate this long delay.
I came to help my country,
for fifty cents a day.
I now must yield to hardships
in cold in storm and rain
perchance with scanty rations
not even then complain
the right of seeking comfort
long since I signed away
my life I am slowly losing
for fifty cents a day.
who send the soldiers to the field
to buy his willing hand,
with promises so plentiful,
of treatment like a man?
twas those who, in two days,
received a larger pay
than does the soldiers in a month
at fifty cents a day
who promised to the soldier,
his wrongs should be redressed
if tyanny or officers
should his right oppress?
alas! the sword may smight him,
or kicked around he may be,
he finds his only redress,
is fifty cents a day
who promised to the soldiers,
if sickness should appear,
good doctors and kind nurses
was ready and was near,
to aid him in his feebleness
as quick as though his pay
was ten times as much
as fifty cents a day.
twas those who wear the shoulder straps
with haughty air of grace,
who look upon the soldier
below the negro race,
who thinks a soldier's duty
is only to obey
his lordship, and be content
with fifty cents a day.
how oft I've seen the soldier,
near tottering to the ground,
seek vainly for some friendly aid,
when it could ne'er be found,
when told he was not ailing,
to go and take his way,
one week would end his suffering
and fifty cents a day.
now, how many of these officers
would be here where they are,
if forced to live like soldiers,
and take a soldier's fare?
how few would take the treatment
even with their liberal pay,
let alone the poor pittance
of fifty cents a day
cheer up my gallant soldiers,
be cheerful, gay, and smile,
we'll do the fighting now,
and the voting after awhile,
and then we'll show oppressors
that they may fell dismay,
who treated us as serviles,
at fifty cents a day.
This poem was written by my great, great, great, grandfather when he was a POW in the civil war. He wrote this during the month of December 1863. I wanted to share this with everyone in memory of him.
poem by Shauna Stoltz
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042811B looking for easy venue
you notice more and more of
us consuming microwaveables
yes, i have this bowl of ravioli
which is dollar and fifty cents
i pop metal lid, throw it away
put in microwave for 3 minutes
i do save lots of time for lunch
how healthy could be, question
this saves me good five bucks
that's a gallon of gas and candy
for a poor guy like me, stretching
to keep going on this lovely planet
poem by Manonton Dalan
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I'll promise to go easier on drinking and to get to bed earlier, but not for you, fifty thousand dollars, or two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars will I give up women. They're too much fun.
If you don't like the president, it costs you 90 bucks to fly to Washington to picket. If you don't like the governor, it costs you 60 bucks to fly to Albany to picket. If you don't like me, 90 cents.
quote by Edward Irving Koch
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If you don't like the President, it costs you 90 bucks to fly to Washington to picket. If you don't like the Governor, it costs you 60 bucks to fly to Albany to picket. If you don't like me, 90 cents.
quote by Edward Koch
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Sitting On A Barbed-wire Fence
I paid fifteen million dollars, twelve hundred and seventy-two cents
I paid one thousand two hundred twenty-seven dollars and fifty-five cents
See my hound dog bite a rabbit
And my footballs sittin on a barbed-wire fence
Well, my temperature rises and my feet dont walk so fast
Yes, my temperature rises and my feet dont walk so fast
Well, this arabian doctor came in, gave me a shot
But wouldnt tell me if what I had would last
Well, this woman Ive got, shes filling me with her drive
Yes, this woman Ive got, shes thrillin me with her hive
Shes calling me stan
Or else she calls me mister clive
Of course, youre gonna think this song is a riff
I know youre gonna think this song is a cliff
Unless youve been inside a tunnel
And fell down 69, 70 feet over a barbed-wire fence
All night!
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Friday was Atlanta. That was fifteen bucks. Once a month, we made a six hundred mile trip from Indianapolis down to Atlanta, and at fifteen dollars, by the time you feed yourself and buy gasoline, you're minus about ten bucks.
Don't Shut Us Out
We do not print poetry
The newspaper said
So I burned that paper
Instead
They write about rape, murders and theft
From day to day politics
To the little good will, man does
Are we in a curse
How dare they not print
Our verse
We shall and forever be
A very, very poetic
Society
In our mind, body and soul
So run your papers
Run them in black
Sell them in your box
I'll keep my fifty cents
I'm not coming back
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Coffee and the poor economies of the world.
Respect the sweat of human,
Irrespective of color, creed and religion,
One third of tap water is used to brew the coffee,
Procured two to five dollars per kilo in whole sale,
Starbucks sell two pound a cup in the stalls in UK,
Have spacious restaurants in our regions
converting UK pounds to our pitiful denomination,
Americana, Cappuccino, Mocha and Espresso,
Fancy name attached with degree of roasting,
Fermentation, with milk, without milk and bubbles,
Come to our countries, freshly roasted filter coffee,
Available on the road sides for five rupees a cup,
Cup size of less than 50 ml, just to moisten the throat,
Even the Cups of developed nations, fivefold our size,
Still it is only 25 rupees, equivalent to fifty cents,
We are the poor people; give us the fair price,
Coffee is the third liquid, after petroleum, on the market,
Out of one kilo coffee powder,100 cups can be brewed,
R&D, Oil rigs, Oil platforms, expensive engineers and workmen,
Billions of dollar investment, still one liter petrol costs 140 pence,
What have you invested in our poor countries,
To drink the sweat of our plantation coolies so cheap?
How are we obligated to sell our produce,
So cheap for you to increase the value and sell?
WE are fools and our politicians are your tools,
To puncture our hearts to do the batter trade.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Dollars & Cents
Dollars and cents
There are things to talk about
Be constructive
There are weapons, we can use
Be constructive
With your blues
Even when they tore the wall down
Even when they tore the wall down
Why dont you quiet down?
Why wont you quiet down?
Why dont you quiet down?
Why wont you quiet down?
We are the dollars and cents and the pounds and pence. were gonna crush your
Little soul. crush you little soul.
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Trees
The city had withdrawn into itself
And left at last the country to the country;
When between whirls of snow not come to lie
And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove
A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,
Yet did in country fashion in that there
He sat and waited till he drew us out
A-buttoning coats to ask him who he was.
He proved to be the city come again
To look for something it had left behind
And could not do without and keep its Christmas.
He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;
My woods—the young fir balsams like a place
Where houses all are churches and have spires.
I hadn’t thought of them as Christmas Trees.
I doubt if I was tempted for a moment
To sell them off their feet to go in cars
And leave the slope behind the house all bare,
Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.
I’d hate to have them know it if I was.
Yet more I’d hate to hold my trees except
As others hold theirs or refuse for them,
Beyond the time of profitable growth,
The trial by market everything must come to.
I dallied so much with the thought of selling.
Then whether from mistaken courtesy
And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether
From hope of hearing good of what was mine,
I said, “There aren’t enough to be worth while.”
“I could soon tell how many they would cut,
You let me look them over.”
“You could look.
But don’t expect I’m going to let you have them.”
Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too close
That lop each other of boughs, but not a few
Quite solitary and having equal boughs
All round and round. The latter he nodded “Yes” to,
Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one,
With a buyer’s moderation, “That would do.”
I thought so too, but wasn’t there to say so.
We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over,
And came down on the north.
He said, “A thousand.”
“A thousand Christmas trees!—at what apiece?”
He felt some need of softening that to me:
“A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars.”
Then I was certain I had never meant
To let him have them. Never show surprise!
But thirty dollars seemed so small beside
The extent of pasture I should strip, three cents
(For that was all they figured out apiece),
Three cents so small beside the dollar friends
I should be writing to within the hour
Would pay in cities for good trees like those,
Regular vestry-trees whole Sunday Schools
Could hang enough on to pick off enough.
A thousand Christmas trees I didn’t know I had!
Worth three cents more to give away than sell,
As may be shown by a simple calculation.
Too bad I couldn’t lay one in a letter.
I can’t help wishing I could send you one,
In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas.
poem by Robert Frost
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I'm doing my work in an environment that's ultimately about dollars and cents.
quote by Marguerite Moreau
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I can't stand cheap people. It makes me real mad when someone says something like 'Hey, when are you going to pay me that hundred dollars you owe me' or 'Do you have that fifty dollars you borrowed' Man, quit being so cheap
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life should not be estimated exclusively by the standard of dollars and cents.
quote by Charles Goodyear
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