Certainly I was relatively a refined person. No way a tramp.
quote by Beatrice Wood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Tramp, Tramp, Tramp
Interesting animation by Max and Dave Fleischer in which the audience was to sing along with lyrics on the screen.
from Tramp, Tramp, Tramp (1924)
Submitted by Film Fan
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The Two Samaritans and the Tramp
A TRAMP was trampin’ on the road—
The afternoon was warm an’ muggy—
And by-and-by he chanced to meet
A parsin ridin’ in a buggy.
Said he: “As follerers ov the Loard,
To do good offices we oughter!”
An’ from a water-bag he poured,
An’ guv the tramp, a drink er water.
The parsin he went rattlin’ ’ome
To ware his fam-i-lee was thrivin’,
The tramp went on until he met
A bullick-driver, bullick drivin’—
“It’s bilin’ ’ot,” the driver sed
As soon’s the dirty tramp drawed nearer,
And from a little keg he poured,
And giv the tramp a pint of beer—“ah!”
(P.S.—The “ah” is meant to stand for the tramp a-drinking ov it.)
I ain’t agin the temperance cause,
Nor yet no advocate ov drinkin’—
I only tells the yarn because—
Well, at the time it somehow seemed
Ter kind ov set me thinkin’.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Army of the Rear
I listened through the music and the sounds of revelry,
And all the hollow noises of that year of Jubilee;
I heard beyond the music and beyond the local cheer,
The steady tramp of thousands that were marching in the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
They seem to shake the air,
Those never-ceasing footsteps of the outcasts in the rear.
I heard defiance ringing from the men of rags and dirt,
I heard wan woman singing that sad “Song of the Shirt”,
And o’er the sounds of menace and moaning low and drear,
I heard the steady tramping of their feet along the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
Vibrating in the air —
They’re swelling fast, those footsteps of the Army of the Rear!
I hate the wrongs I read about, I hate the wrongs I see!
The tramping of that army sounds as music unto me!
A music that is terrible, that frights the anxious ear,
Is beaten from the weary feet that tramp along the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
In dogged, grim despair —
They have a goal, those footsteps of the Army of the Rear!
I looked upon the nobles, with their lineage so old;
I looked upon their mansions, on their acres and their gold,
I saw their women radiant in jewelled robes appear,
And then I joined the army of the outcasts in the rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
We’ll show what Want can dare,
My brothers and my sisters of the Army of the Rear!
I looked upon the mass of poor, in filthy alleys pent;
And on rich men’s Edens, that are built on grinding rent;
I looked o’er London’s miles of slums — I saw the horrors there,
And swore to die a soldier of the Army of the Rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
I’ve sworn to do and dare,
I’ve sworn to die a soldier of the Army of the Rear!
“They’re brutes,” so say the wealthy, “and by steel must be dismayed” —
Be brutes among us, nobles, they are brutes that ye have made;
We want what God hath given us, we want our portion here,
And that is why we’re marching — and we’ll march beyond the rear!
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
Awake and have a care,
Ye proud and haughty spurners of the wretches in the rear.
We’ll nurse our wrongs to strengthen us, our hate that it may grow,
For, outcast from society, society’s our foe.
Beware! who grind out human flesh, for human life is dear!
There’s menace in the marching of the Army of the Rear.
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
There’s danger in despair,
There’s danger in the marching of the Army of the Rear!
The wealthy care not for our wants, nor for the pangs we feel;
Our hands have clutched in vain for bread, and now they clutch for steel!
Come, men of rags and hunger, come! There’s work for heroes here!
There’s room still in the vanguard of the Army of the Rear!
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
O men of want and care!
There’s glory in the vanguard of the Army of the Rear!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've refined my mechanics, refined my pitches. I've gotten more confidence, and I've gotten more determination. I've got a better idea what I'm doing out there.
quote by Randy Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are only Epicureans, either crude or refined; Christ was the most refined.
quote by Georg Buchner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tramp On The Street
Recorded by: hank williams, sr.
Writers: grady and hazel colecapo: 1st fret/key: eb/play: d
[d] only a tramp was lazarus sad [g] fate
He who lay do-[a7] wn at the rich mans [d] gate
He begged for the crumbs from the rich man to [g] eat
He was only a [d] tramp found [a7] dead on the [d] street.[d] he was some mothers darlin, he was some mothers [g] son
Once he was [a7] fair and once he was [d] young
And some mother rocked him, her darlin to [g] sleep
But they left him to [d] die like a [a7] tramp on the [d] street.jesus, he died on calvarys tree
He shed his lifes blood for you and for me
They pierced his side and then his feet
And they left him to die like a tramp on the street.he was marys own darlin, he was gods chosen son
Once he was fair and once he was young
Mary, she rocked him, her darlin to sleep
But they left him to die like a tramp on the street. if jesus should come and knock on your door
For a place to come in, or bread from your store
Would you welcome him in, or turn him away
Then the gods would deny you on the great judgement day.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady Is A Tramp
I've wined and dined on Mulligan Stew, and never wished for Turkey
As I hitched and hiked and grifted too, from Maine to Albuquerque
Alas, I missed the Beaux Arts Ball, and what is twice as sad
I was never at a party where they honored Noel Ca-ad (Coward)
But social circles spin too fast for me
My "hobohemia" is the place to be
I get too hungry, for dinner at eight
I like the theater, but never come late
I never bother, with people I hate
That's why the lady is a tramp
I don't like crap games, with barons and earls
Won't go to Harlem, in ermine and pearls
Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of the girls
That's why the lady is a tramp
I like the free, fresh wind in her hair
Life without care
I'm broke, it's o'k
Hate California, it's cold and it's damp
That's why the lady is a tramp
I go to Coney, the beach is divine
I go to ballgames, the bleachers are fine
I follow Winchell, and read every line
That's why the lady is a tramp
I like a prizefight, that isn't a fake
I love the rowing, on Central Park lake
I go to Opera and stay wide awake
That's why the lady is a tramp
I like the green grass under my shoes
What can I lose, I'm flat, that's that
I'm alone when I lower my lamp
That's why the lady is a tramp
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tramp On The Street
Recorded by: hank williams, sr.
Writers: grady and hazel cole capo: 1st fret/key: eb/play: d
[d] only a tramp was lazarus sad [g] fate
He who lay do-[a7] wn at the rich mans [d] gate
He begged for the crumbs from the rich man to [g] eat
He was only a [d] tramp found [a7] dead on the [d] street. [d] he was some mothers darlin, he was some mothers [g] son
Once he was [a7] fair and once he was [d] young
And some mother rocked him, her darlin to [g] sleep
But they left him to [d] die like a [a7] tramp on the [d] street. jesus, he died on calvarys tree
He shed his lifes blood for you and for me
They pierced his side and then his feet
And they left him to die like a tramp on the street. he was marys own darlin, he was gods chosen son
Once he was fair and once he was young
Mary, she rocked him, her darlin to sleep
But they left him to die like a tramp on the street. if jesus should come and knock on your door
For a place to come in, or bread from your store
Would you welcome him in, or turn him away
Then the gods would deny you on the great judgement day.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A sort of Poem about Fear
Are we all initially driven by FEAR?
Is this negative energy in the form of FEAR necessary in Her grand evolutionary scheme?
Perhaps FEAR is the great catalyst in which LOVE is refined:
FEAR of loss of means is refined to a motivational LOVE to find new, more positive means
FEAR of loss of community is refined to motivational LOVE to build and strengthen community
Fear of God is refined to motivational LOVE to protect and bask in all that IS.
Fear of loss of LOVE is oxymoronic as FEAR is the ABSENCE of LOVE
I am not afraid
poem by Goocolbe Questioni
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shadow March
All around the house is the jet-black night;
It stares through the window-pane;
It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,
And it moves with the moving flame.
Now my little heart goes a beating like a drum,
With the breath of the Bogies in my hair;
And all around the candle and the crooked shadows come,
And go marching along up the stair.
The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp,
The shadow of the child that goes to bed--
All the wicked shadows coming tramp, tramp, tramp,
With the black night overhead.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lady Is A Tramp
Ive wined and dined on mulligan stew, and never wished for turkey
As I hitched and hiked and grifted too, from maine to albuquerque
Alas, I missed the beaux arts ball, and what is twice as sad
I was never at a party where they honored noel ca-ad (coward)
But social circles spin too fast for me
My hobohemia is the place to be
I get too hungry, for dinner at eight
I like the theater, but never come late
I never bother, with people I hate
Thats why the lady is a tramp
I dont like crap games, with barons and earls
Wont go to harlem, in ermine and pearls
Wont dish the dirt, with the rest of the girls
Thats why the lady is a tramp
I like the free, fresh wind in her hair
Life without care
Im broke, its ok
Hate california, its cold and its damp
Thats why the lady is a tramp
I go to coney, the beach is devine
I go to ballgames, the bleachers are fine
I find a winchell, and read every line
Thats why the lady is a tramp
I like a prizefight, that isnt a fake
I love the rowing, on central park lake
I go to opera and stay wide awake
Thats why the lady is a tramp
I like the green grass under my shoes
What can I lose, Im flat, thats that
Im alone when I lower my lamp
Thats why the lady is a tramp
Transcribed by todd peach
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A few additional verses from the ella in berlin cd:
Girls get massages, they cry and they moan
Tell slender ella to leave me alone
Im not so hot, but my shape is my own
Thats why the lady is a tramp
The food at the kopensky is perfect, no doubt
I couldnt tell you wha the ritz is about
Drop a nickle in, and coffee comes out
Thats why the lady is a tramp
Like the sweet, fresh, rain in my face
Diamonds and lace, no got, so what? !
For frank sinatra, I whistle and stamp
Thats why the lady is a tramp
Shes a hobo
Shes a scamp
Shes a no-good kinda tramp
Thats why the lady is a tramp
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tramp On The Street
(grady cole & hazel cole, kinky friedman)
Only a tramp was lazarus sad fate
He who lay down by the rich man s gate.
He begged for some crumbs from the rich man to eat,
He was only a tramp found dead on the street.
If jesus he comes on and knocks on your door
Will he find love and kindness or hatred and war ?
Will you turn him away with nothing to eat ?
Will you leave him to die like a tramp on the street ?
Poor jewboy you ve rambled this cold world alone
Just a-prayin that heaven is no place like home.
May the good lord he bless you and keep you in health
And remember that jesus was a jewboy hisself.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tramp On The Street
(grady cole & hazel cole, kinky friedman)
Only a tramp was lazarus sad fate
He who lay down by the rich man s gate.
He begged for some crumbs from the rich man to eat,
He was only a tramp found dead on the street.
If jesus he comes on and knocks on your door
Will he find love and kindness or hatred and war ?
Will you turn him away with nothing to eat ?
Will you leave him to die like a tramp on the street ?
Poor jewboy you ve rambled this cold world alone
Just a-prayin that heaven is no place like home.
May the good lord he bless you and keep you in health
And remember that jesus was a jewboy hisself.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Tramp
A Old Tramp slep' in our stable wunst,
An' The Raggedy Man he caught
An' roust him up, an' chased him off
Clean out through our back lot!
An' th' Old Tramp hollered back an' said,--
'You're a _purty_ man!--_You_ air!--
With a pair o' eyes like two fried eggs,
An' a nose like a Bartlutt pear!'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Can One Person Do
(n. rodgers/g. smith)
What can one person do
More than a little bit
More than a little bit
Can I fight the battle
All by myself
Can I make a miracle happen
As long as I can think
And got my health
Ill never stop
Im too strong for that
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
Everyones gotta move
What they can move
The faithful can sometimes move mountains
When your faith is right
You will never lose your heart, your hope
Or your good friends
Dont be overcome by frustrations
Live up to your highest expectations
Im tellin you just for your information
Just for, just for your information
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
Looked into my soul and suspected
That Im gonna take, gonna take on the unexpected
Walked into the fire unprotected
Walk into the fire
What can one person do
What can one person be
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tramp
He sleeps alone in the damp
And rests his head upon a door
The only bed he knows is the floor,
The tramp
Turned up collar and worn out shoes
He doesnt care cause he hasnt got nothing to lose
He sleeps alone in the damp
And rests his head upon a door
The only bed he knows is the floor,
The tramp
No companion to take him home
His only friends are the kind that just leave him alone
No one knows just how lonely his life has been
In a world that lives in a dream
He sleeps alone in the damp
And rests his head upon a door
The only bed he knows is the floor,
The tramp
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Bibler's Army
It was ten years ago when the belle of the village
Gave here her hand to the young millionaire,
Every toungue (even those of the bells in the steeple)
Saying "Joy to the Heav'n-blest pair!"
She was sweet as the rosebud that blooms in the valley;
He was manly, and noble, and brave.
Tell me, where are they now?
In the sad-eyed procession,
Marching, down, down, down to the grave.
Hark! hark! a pageant passes
(tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp):
I hear the tread of moving masses
(tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp)
O Heaven save our young men --
'tis King Bibler's Army,
Marching down, down, down to the grave.
At the head of the boat are the dashing lieutenants
Who entice young recruits into line;
Arm in arm, three abreast, they keep step with the music,
Bearing goblets of blood red wine.
In the rear, by and by, we shall see them together,
As they stagger along on the pave,
With their wives and their children, a rag-robed procession,
Marching, down, down, down to the grave.
From the front to the rear is the rule of promotion
In the army King Bibler commands;
And the pension is pov'rty, disease and dishonor,
With a forfeit of home and lands.
So the friend that was treated to cordials and juleps,
Will be treated at last like a slave,
As he fags at the end of the chaingang procession,
Marching, down, down, down to the grave.
Would you fill up the ranks? let your town send its quota:
Seventy thousand recruits must be found,
For the gravediggers reckon they bury that number
Every year in the cold, cold ground.
Yet the rest hobble on, and the colors they carry,
Though in tatters, triumphantly wave,
For they vanquish themselves in this madman's procession,
Marching, down, down, down to the grave.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wallaby Brigade
You often have been told of regiments brave and bold,
But we are the bravest in the land;
We're called the Tag-rag Band, and we rally in Queensland,
We are members of the Wallaby Brigade.
Tramp, tramp, tramp across the borders,
The swagmen are rolling up, I see.
When the shearing's at an end we'll go fishing in a bend.
Then hurrah! for the Wallaby Brigade.
When you are leaving camp, you must ask some brother tramp
If there are any jobs to be had,
Or what sort of a shop that station is to stop
For a member of the Wallaby Brigade.
You ask me if they want men, you ask for rations then,
If they don't stump up a warning should be made;
To teach them better sense—why, "Set fire to their fence"
Is the war cry of the Wallaby Brigade.
The squatters thought us done when they fenced in all their run,
But a prettier mistake they never made;
You've only to sport your dover and knock a monkey over
There's cheap mutton for the Wallaby Brigade.
Now when the shearing's in our harvest will begin,
Our swags for a spell down will be laid;
But when our cheques are drank we will join the Tag-rag rank,
Limeburners in the Wallaby Brigade.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The young widow
Not an apple, stolen and bitten,
Not the wine, sore and spit,
But a Villa, just lived in
And emptied is a widow
She is a refined Villa,
Hence a refined virgin.
A widow is much renowned.
26.05.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Change The World
How can one person
change the world?
How can one person
improve the world?
Change yourself you
change the world.
Improve yourself you
improve the world.
Buy gold from God
refined by pure fire
that you may be rich
in faithful good deeds.
Buy white garments washed
in the blood of sacrificed lamb
for the Lamb of God sacrificed
takes away the sin of the world.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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