Alimony is like buying oats for a dead horse.
quote by Arthur Baer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Alimony is like buying hay for a dead horse.
quote by Groucho Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Alimony
(r. l. jones/w. young/r. higginbotham)
(c) - (f) - (g)
(c) look at this one, look at that one
Tell me do they look like me
All my (f) friends said, dont you worry
Said theyll testify for (c) me
Well, I (g) wonder which of (f) my friends had it in for (c) me
Alimony, alimony, alimony is killing me
I dont (f) want six extra children
When aint but two that look like (c) me
Please, have (g) mercy, judge your (f)honor
Alimony is killing (c) me
Please, have mercy, judge your honor
Im as poor as I can be
Aint had money in my pockets
Since way back in fifty three
Cant you cut down all my payment ?
Alimony is killing me
Alimony, alimony, alimony is killing me
Alimony, alimony, alimony is killing me
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Paying alimony is like feeding hay to a dead horse.
quote by Groucho Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
One Horse Is No Different From Another
You can lead a horse to the water.
But you can not force that horse to drink.
'I've heard that before.
But that particular horse being forced,
Is already accustomed to the water.
And lives on a reservoir.
When the feeding done on oats and grains,
As well as organically grown carrots...
When it wishes,
Is common.
Why did you select that horse,
When there are a multitude of them...
Dieing from thirst and have not eaten? '
Well...
I really didn't think anyone would notice.
To me,
One horse is no different from another.
'And maybe that is why,
You find yourself in such a predicament.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Alimony
Alimony alimony I work till my fingers are bloody and boney
Me oh my oh goodness sake I'm paying for my mistake
She calls it alimony alimony yeah you single men may think it's funny
Till one of these days you're gonna wake and find you're payin' for your mistake
Pom pom I walk around ragged like a low-down bum
I can't afford to weigh myself or buy a stick of gum
It's the same old story with a little more blues in it
I'm payin' for it while someone else is usin' it
Alimony alimony I thought I bought steak and it was all baloney
My heart and back are both about to break from payin' for my mistake yeah
[ harmonica ]
Yeah I walk around ragged like a low down bum
I can't afford to weigh myself or buy a stick of gum
Why it's the same old story with a little more blues in it
I'm payin' for it while someone else is usin' it
Alimony alimony thought I bought steak and it was just baloney
And every penny that I make goes to payin' for my mistake
Oh yeah payin' for my mistake every Wednesday
Yeah aw come on baby y'know it's your mistake too yeah
They took all the furniture and everything come on
Why maybe we could sorta pitch in and work it out y'know
I mean I could get a third job if that's what you want I mean
What about sellin' my blood y'know
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sowing my wild oats
Oats
Wild oats
My wild oats
Sowing my wild oats?
Since when did I have any wild oats to sow?
Middle age brings on the nostalgia for an enfance perdue
I would act differently now,
Gone wild with girls and boys
No doubt caught some venereal disease
But hopefully not AIDS
It is now that I have studied
And learnt that fornication
Viewed linguistically
Is from furnix,
the bridge where prostitutes hung out
So the prohibition if there was one
Was against prostitution, the abuse of women
Not against sex before marriage
With a loving partner
In a consensual relationship
And probably one leading to marriage.
How would that have changed me?
Would I have taken up some of the offers?
Male as well as female,
In Durham as well as in France?
Too late now but the will is still there
To love everyone, well almost, and sleep with many
Nothing worse though than a middle age man
Trying to live like a teenager
Wild oats are for the young,
With the old they are sour grapes.
©2009
James Hart
poem by James Hart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It is not the horse that draws the cart, but the oats.
A horse that will not carry a saddle must have no oats.
It's a very proud horse that will not carry his oats.
Drive the horse with oats, not with curses and oaths.
A cough will stick longer by a horse than a peck of oats.
What is a Horse?
What is a horse?
A horse has eyes as dainty as a mink.
The grace is interrupted merely by a blink.
A horse is beauty.
What is a horse?
A horse is a tree in a storm that never goes down.
A horse is a weathered rock that stays around.
A horse is ancient.
What is a horse?
A horse waltzes like breeze over rivers.
She curvets and leaps like rain shivers.
A horse is a marionette.
What is a horse?
A horse is determination, that never stops flowing.
A horse is fondness, that never stops growing.
A horse is poetic power.
poem by Lily Whittaker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The horse loves oats; the earth, manure; and the governor, tribute.
Wind Horse
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, gentle Wind horse, you were the last of your kind.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you were running wild and free.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, with this freedom you did nothing but give;
When one called for help you carried them to safety,
No enemy did you have.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave your life one day
To a boy with no leg.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave him your endless love.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you now run in the Great Hunting Grounds;
Giving joy to those there, as you did here.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, your life was not the last gift
You gave the People.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you prayed for us, you wished a wish for us.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we remember you through your brother Horse.
Wi: yo: h … It is good.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we see you still.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Horse Is A Horse
A horse is a horse and a man is a man
And neither can be the other
And each can survive but is much better
In the company of one another.
And while a horse is a horse and that is true
A horse is but a beast
As a cow is a cow, some ask how
On its flesh we should not feast?
For they do so in France as in other places
And I don't know how they can
For while a horse is a horse and is only a horse
It is less a cow than it is a man!
poem by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Puppy And I
I met a Man as I went walking:
We got talking,
Man and I.
'Where are you going to, Man?' I said
(I said to the Man as he went by).
'Down to the village, to get some bread.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met a horse as I went walking;
We got talking,
Horse and I.
'Where are you going to, Horse, today?'
(I said to the Horse as he went by).
'Down to the village to get some hay.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met a Woman as I went walking;
We got talking,
Woman and I.
'Where are you going to, Woman, so early?'
(I said to the Woman as she went by).
'Down to the village to get some barley.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met some Rabbits as I went walking;
We got talking,
Rabbits and I.
'Where are you going in your brown fur coats?'
(I said to the Rabbits as they went by).
'Down to the village to get some oats.
Will you come with us?' 'No, not I.'
I met a Puppy as I went walking;
We got talking,
Puppy and I.
'Where are you going this nice fine day?'
(I said to the Puppy as he went by).
'Up to the hills to roll and play.'
'I'll come with you, Puppy,' said I.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Power of Steam
We now do sing a new theme,
It is prodigious power of steam ;
And our little fast steam horse,
How he works with mighty force.
Instead of hay and oats, we thrust
In his mouth chips and saw dust ;
Which heats the blood in his veins,
Then how he saws and bores and plains.
He's never troubled with the botts,
But all the time he gaily trotts,
And every day he is full able
To make many a chair and table.
Work for him is only sport,
He feels so good he oft does snort,
As he trotts along his course,
Our little frolicksome steam horse.
poem by James McIntyre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Me & My Horse
riding together,
you and your horse.
as you run against the wind all you call hear is-
the wind wipping your ears,
the horse's hooves thundering beneath you,
the chains of your bit as the horse pulls against the reins,
and the faint sound of the horse behind you.
your horse stops,
the horse behind you catches up.
the race is over,
freedom will have to wait until next time.
poem by Horse Lover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!