I have sung in hobo jungles, and I have sung for the Rockefellers, and I am proud that I have never refused to sing for anybody.
quote by Pete Seeger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
A Song Thats Sung..
A song that's sung
tells more than a story
a song that's sung
is sung from the heart
a song that's sung
is a story from the soul
a song that's sung
is the greatest love
a song that's sung
is a give from above
a song that's sung
is an emotion in a melody
a song that's sung
can be whatever you want it to be
a song that's sung
can have a million meanings
a song that's sung
is a diary of emotions...
poem by Emily Summers
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It's Just A Song (Lyric) :
You hear the sound of the song.
It's coming on real strong.
It gives you a sense of strength.
it filters through the air.
It lifts you off the ground.
We hear from town to town.
It's just a song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
it's just a song.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It takes you out in space.
Closer to second base.
It follows through so cool.
The smoothest thing for you.
A sound that sounds so clear.
A sound you'll want to hear.
It's just a song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It's just a song.
It's just a-song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It sends you through the air.
A sound that makes you high.
It makes you feel so good.
A sound that always should.
Just lifts you off the ground.
We hear from town to town.
It's just a-song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It's just a song.
It's just a-song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
it's just a song..
Song-Lyric-Poetry by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1989,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
See>>www.edwardspoetry.com
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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I Am ... I Said
Written by: neil diamond
Song sung blue
Everybody knows one
Song sung blue
Every garden grows one
Me and you are subject to the blues now and then
But when you take the blues and make a song
You sing them out again
Sing them out again
Song sung blue
Weeping like a willow
Song sung blue
Sleeping on my pillow
Funny thing, but you can sing it with a cry in your voice
And before you know it, start to feeling good
You simply got no choice
Song sung blue
Everybody knows one
Song sung blue
Every garden grows one
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song Sung Blue
Written by: neil diamond
Song sung blue
Everybody knows one
Song sung blue
Every garden grows one
Me and you are subject to the blues now and then
But when you take the blues and make a song
You sing them out again
Sing them out again
Song sung blue
Weeping like a willow
Song sung blue
Sleeping on my pillow
Funny thing, but you can sing it with a cry in your voice
And before you know it, start to feeling good
You simply got no choice
Song sung blue
Everybody knows one
Song sung blue
Every garden grows one
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Song
I have no song
But still I sing
I let my voice
Fly on wing
For even though
My heart is bare
I have a song
Yet to spare
The song I sing
It has not one word
But far and wide
It's ever heard
My song is
Universal see
Song of wild
Always free
Sung by many
Sung by one
Sung beneath
A dying sun
Song of joy
Yet song of pain
Song of long nights
In the rain
Song of battles
Song of strife
Song of death
But also life
I'll sing untill
I have no breath
And then I'll sing
My song in death
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Song Blue
Song sung blue
Everybody knows one
Song sung blue
Every garden grows one
Me and you are subject to the blues now and then
But when you take the blues and make a song
You sing them out again
Sing them out again
Song sung blue
Weeping like a willow
Song sung blue
Sleeping on my pillow
Funny thing, but you can sing it with a cry in your voice
And before you know, start to feeling good
You simply got no choice
[break]
Me and you are subject to the blues now and then
But when you take the blues and make a song
You sing them out again
Song sung blue
Everybody knows one
Song sung blue
Every garden grows one
Funny thing, but you can sing it with a cry in your voice
And before you know, start to feeling good
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've sung my whole life. I've taken lots of voice lessons and I love to sing. But I've never really sung professionally at all.
Only A Hobo
(bob dylan)
As I was out walking on the corner one day
I spied an old hobo, in the doorway he lay
His face was all covered in the cold sidewalk floor
I guess hed been there for a whole night or more
He was only a hobo, but one more is gone
Leaving nobody to carry it on
Leaving nobody to sing his sad song
Only a hobo, but one more is gone
A blanket of newspaper covered his head
The step was his pillow
The street was his bed
One look at his face
Showed the hard road hed come
And a fistful of money
Showed the coins that hed bummed
He was only a hobo, but one more is gone
Leavin nobody to sing his sad song
Leavin nobody to carry it on
Only a hobo, but one more is gone
Does it take much of a man
To see a whole life go down
To look on the world
From a hole in the ground
Too late for your future
Like a horse thats gone lame
To lie in the gutter
And die with no name
He was only a hobo, but one more is gone
Leavin nobody to sing his sad song
Leavin nobody to carry it on
Only a hobo, but one more is gone
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only A Hobo
As I was out walking on a corner one day,
I spied an old hobo, in a doorway he lay.
His face was all grounded in the cold sidewalk floor
And I guess hed been there for the whole night or more.
Only a hobo, but one more is gone
Leavin nobody to sing his sad song
Leavin nobody to carry him home
Only a hobo, but one more is gone
A blanket of newspaper covered his head,
As the curb was his pillow, the street was his bed.
One look at his face showed the hard road hed come
And a fistful of coins showed the money he bummed.
Only a hobo, but one more is gone
Leavin nobody to sing his sad song
Leavin nobody to carry him home
Only a hobo, but one more is gone
Does it take much of a man to see his whole life go down,
To look up on the world from a hole in the ground,
To wait for your future like a horse thats gone lame,
To lie in the gutter and die with no name?
Only a hobo, but one more is gone
Leavin nobody to sing his sad song
Leavin nobody to carry him home
Only a hobo, but one more is gone
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I decline to discuss, under compulsion, where I have sung, and who has sung my songs, and who else has sung with me, and the people I have known.
quote by Pete Seeger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The little song and dance number at the end - that's me, my voice, howling out. It was a new experience for me. I've never sung before and I've certainly never sung on screen. I think I sung on stage when I was 13 and for some reason nobody's asked me to try it again since.
quote by Hugh Dancy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gone Are Those Sad Songs Sung
Gone are those sad songs,
Sung begun some sang.
With the singing of those sad songs,
Gone
Once sung 'then' now no one sings,
With a wish to begin them again.
Too many on the streets.
Now too accustomed to fresh beats,
Declare they will not be defeated.
By a repeating of old tunes.
Too many collectively.
Have decided to leave.
Gone are those sad songs,
Sung begun some sang.
With the singing of those sad songs,
Gone.
Once sung now no one chooses to sing,
With a wish to begin them again.
Solos and duets seem for many more accepted.
With a clouding once done to dim overcasting skies.
Clearing now as a harmony begins,
To find eyes brightening.
With a listening to voices heard.
And giving each one specific attention.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Till The Last Song Is Sung
TILL THE LAST SONG IS SUNG
You’re welcome to stay
Please don’t go away
We’re open till
The last song is sung
There’s dancing on the floor
We won’t close the door
You can leave tips at the bar
The walk isn’t far
After the last song
Is sung
We’re just up the street
A place where you can plant your feet
Where the drinks are so good
You can’t remember where you stood
You can leave if you like
Be careful on the pike
Remember you came here for fun
Till the last song is sung
4/20/08
poem by Paul Klobusicky
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My Vengence Song
All alone with nothing to lose
vengence is sweeter, only if i choose,
A lifetime of revenge to all that done me wrong
getting hit or pushed around, this is my vengece song.
I'll sing it loud, i'll sing it proud for all of them to hear,
My vengence song carries me on and says there's nothing to fear.
Vengence is sweeter than ever before, as i press on i am wanting much more,
My vengence song is still going on, after years of revenge im not feeling so strong.
The years are still passing, my time is near done,
it's time now for my song to be sung.
But was it all worth it all those years of hate,
im now living behind bars i guess now it's too late.
My vengence song has now been sung so goodbye to the hate and malisious ways of the person i had become.
poem by Chrissie Scriven
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Peccavi Mea Maxima Culpa For friend JT Ellison
The song I came to sing today.Will not
be sung today or any day
by me. The words I have forgot.
Temptations led my mind to stray
too far from my appointed task.
I cannot sing for you today
nor can answer what you ask
I am ashamed and look away
because I know I’m in the wrong.
I have failed, failed utterly
and you may never hear the song
I beg forgiveness abjectly.
Some other singer may one day
sing what I should have sung today.
1-Jul-08
This was written for a challenge on another site
“The song I came to sing today” is taken from a poem
by Rabindranath Tagore
and had to be included in the poem you wrote
Http: // blog.my space.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I have sung for Americans of every political persuasion, and I am proud that I never refuse to sing to an audience, no matter what religion or color of their skin, or situation in life.
quote by Pete Seeger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No One Heard
A song was sung that no one heard.
The song was sung all through the town.
It played for days - from dust until dawn.
It greeted on the morning and midnight yawn.
A song was sung that no one heard.
The melody was sweet and words were strong.
The instruments were the piano and the gong.
No one heard, no they did not,
For to hear, you needed the purest heart.
The song was played in the land on man;
A song was sung that no one heard.
Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis
poem by Leslie Alexis
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The Merryman and His Maid
[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE] Sing me your song, O!
[HE] It is sung to the moon
By a love-lorn loon,
Who fled from the mocking throng, O!
It's the song of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye.
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[SHE] I have a song to sing, O!
[HE] Sing me your song, O!
[SHE] It is sung with the ring
Of the song maids sing
Who love with a love life-long, O!
It's the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sore, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE] Sing me your song, O!
[HE] It is sung to the knell
Of a churchyard bell,
And a doleful dirge, ding dong, O!
It's a song of a popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved that lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[SHE] I have a song to sing, O!
[HE] Sing me your song, O!
[SHE] It is sung with a sigh
And a tear in the eye,
For it tells of a righted wrong, O!
It's a song of a merrymaid, once so gay,
Who turned on her heel and tripped away
From the peacock popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble heart that he did not prize;
And it tells how she begged, with downcast eyes,
For the love of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[BOTH] Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more.
For he lived in the love of a ladye!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Were the World Writ to a Song
Were the world writ to a song
Of what men and maidens would we sing
What legendary endeavours would we praise
The tales and tributes of days now past
What chords would they strike in the night
Ah the song and melody of the earth
Gentle stranger of the spirited mind
That which we have seen and that we know
Is not all of the truth but more besides
And life is there for the living
However the hardships come to weigh
No still the song is sung evermore
Still the world turns while night greets day
Men and maidens go about their business
Beginning and ending stories to be sung
Were the world writ to a song
How would we all be played out
And what verse would we leave in memory
But the song to our lives is our story
Were the world writ to a song
How would I be sung
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Sing me Gypsy [Cântă-mi lăutare]
- Sing the doina, Gypsy dear,
Of all those who went away
To new countries, far from here,
By vain wishes led astray!...
The old man, with lowered brow,
Holds his fiddle, looking pale:
- Well, this song, I tell you now,
Is not sung, for it's a wail!
- Wail it, then, to hear the tune
Of those gone for good, no doubt,
Who have left their homes too soon
And in foreign lands die out...
The old man, with dreary eyes,
Looks at me as if he's blind:
- Well, this song in life – and sighs,
Is not sung, is heard in mind.
poem by Ion Minulescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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