Working in an underdeveloped land for two or three years, the volunteer will often find that his work is routine and full of frustration.
quote by Sargent Shriver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Whose Country Is This?
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of snakes;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of many waters;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of thieves! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of oil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of earthquakes!
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of lovers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of volcanoes!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful flowers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hansome men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of roses;
Whose country is this?
it is a land ruled only by men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land without rainfall;
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by a woman;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of corruption!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pirates! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by law;
Whose country is this?
It is a land controlled by rebels!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ice;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of singers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of troubles;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of war! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land with the biggest cemetery in the wolrd!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of desert;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of trees;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant teenagers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of timber;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hatred;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of love;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of care;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of peace;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of smokers!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of businesses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of harlots;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of wise people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of idiots!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of gold;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of cocoa;
Whose country is this?
It is a alnd full of crabs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of evil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of rainfalls;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ants;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of horses;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pigs;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of statues;
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of birds;
And so on, and so forth!
Because nature had made them so as we see them around us,
But the wise and fool live together on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under current law volunteers who are not working with an official nonprofit organization are not covered by the Volunteer Protection Act. Therefore, there are absolutely no legal protections for the average American who wishes to volunteer.
quote by Jon Porter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Conversations: Angels And Demons
was talking to a truckdriver
that just came in off the road
yesterday.
he said: 'pretty much the same,
everywhere i go, people either
aint working, cant find work,
or if they are working, cant
make enough money to get by on...
dont care what they say on the tv...'
i told him, ' it's the same thing here,
people keep coming in and telling me
they dont know what they're gonna do.
a friend of mine called me last night,
50 years old, worked all of his life,
and said he just cant make it... cant
find any work.'
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don't work a five-day week as a rule, and I've managed to fill that time up. It hasn't been that hard. I volunteer at school. I'm working because I love it. Yet, I don't not envy women who have a stay-at-home job, because you miss stuff.
quote by Deidre Hall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Volunteer To Be Happy
Sad things happen. Of this there's no doubt.
But that's not what this thought's all about.
When something goes wrong, most volunteer
To fall down and stop or stand up and cheer.
It's easy to fall when goblins are grand,
But there's something I don't understand.
And that's why some volunteer to be sad
For what could have been, since all is so bad.
Suns keep rising and there're always more springs,
So volunteer to be happy for these wondrous things.
Take off those shades and try a new style.
It's hard to feel bad when sporting a smile.
Why volunteer sadness when costs are so high?
It's like choosing death before having to die.
I guess only the lonely really know why.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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James Holladay (Demo)
James Holladay was a working man
He made his living on the land
But living alone was too much to stand
So Jim found a woman to understand
Two years passed living in joy
When out of the blue came a baby boy
Just to keep up the family name
Mister Holladay said we'll call him little James
So you better run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
You better better run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
You better better run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away (Jim you gotta get away)
Little James became a working man
He followed his pa right across the land
At the end of the day when his work was done
He'd sit and watch the setting southern sun
Nineteen years had come and gone
Little Jimmy had grown up big and strong
He didn't know that his time had come
When they handed him a shiny black gun
So his pa said, run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta getaway
So you better run, run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
So you better run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away (Jim you gotta get away)
Run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta getaway
You better better run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
You better better run, run, run, run, run, run (Jim you gotta get away)
Jim, you gotta get away
(fade)
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Matthew & Son
Up at eight, you can't be late
For matthew & son, he won't wait.
Watch them run down to platform one
And the eight-thirty train to matthew & son.
Matthew & son, the work's never done, there's always something new.
The files in your head, you take them to bed, you're never ever through.
And they've been working all day, all day, all day!
There's a five minute break and that's all you take,
For a cup of cold coffee and a piece of cake.
Matthew & son, the work's never done, there's always something new.
The files in your head, you take them to bed, you're never ever through.
And they've been working all day, all day, all day!
He's got people who've been working for fifty years
No one asks for more money cuz nobody cares
Even though they're pretty low and their rent's in arrears
Matthew & son, matthew & son, matthew & son, matthew & son,
And they've been working all day, all day, all day!
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4: 44 A.m.!
4: 44 A.M.!
Being in the land of your muse with the care of my mind;
There, i met your love.
Work and act,
Work and love,
Work and peace,
Work and unity,
Work and care,
But, rising up early in the morning to face my work!
For, i met your love in the land of your muse.
4: 44 A.M.!
Working it out together with you;
And like the muse of the joy around us.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Complaint
Work never seems to end
day in-n-out working goes.
Please may I get a break some time
in the break, work seems to grow.
It is like the weeds I see
in the soil, they seem to grow.
How ever I may pluck them out;
they find there way again and sow.
Work-a-haloes is what my friend call me.
to them work is easy cake
But work in-n-out like me
and you’ll be a hockey stick.
Work-n-work-n-work I see
even work in everyday chores.
Oh! This work never seems to end
with me it also grows.
'17th June,2007'
poem by Gaurav Bhaduri
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Ask Me About It
You ask me about it I have wondered why
So many never know of material success though hard they do try
They work hard and grow old and fade out and die
Is the theory of hard work based on success something based on a lie.
The prime years of life quickly do tick away
They work hard to raise their children then grow old and gray
The woman on average by a few years does outlive her man
Three score and ten years the average human life span.
So many work hard just for survival pay
And the gap between the haves and have nots gets wider every day
And so many hungry for each millionaire
It is a rat race in the big World out there.
You ask me why some people struggle through life
The poor working man and his poor working wife
On their meagre incomes their family must survive
On the sweat of the workers the bosses do thrive.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chain Gang Medley
Chain Gang - Written by - Sam Cooke
He Don't Love You - Written by - J. Butler, C. Mayfield & C. Carter
Searchin' - Written by - Jerry Leiber & Mike Stoller
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
All day long they work so hard till the sun is goin' down
Working on the highways and byways and wearin', wearin' a frown
Hear them moanin' their lives away
Then you hear somebody say
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
He don't love you, like I love you
If he did he wouldn't break your heart
He don't love you, like I love you
He's trying to tear us apart
Gonna find her, I'm gonna find her, I'm gonna find her
Oh, if I have to climb a mountain, you know I will
And if I have to swim a river, you know I will
And I might find her hidin' up on Blueberry Hill
How am I gonna find her, child, you know I will
Cause I'm goin' searchin'
I'm goin' searchin'
Searchin' everywhere
Just like some Northwest Mountie
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
All day long they work so hard till the sun is goin' down
Working on the highways and byways and wearin', wearin' a frown
Hear them moanin' their lives away
Then you hear somebody say
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang (5 x's)
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pain behind
I could see the pain behind
I can understand easily find
Those were days when I was so amazed
When your eyes brightened and blazed
I had no hope of coming near
You were so reserved and I had fear
Still you considered me very dear
Gave everything in return to bear
I look back those years
Very nice and melodious sound in ears
Your talk seemed full of inspiration
You did so much to strengthen the relation
I am not closing eyes or turn blind
I find you most lovely and very kind
I had promised full love and care
I find permanent refuge and prefer not to go anywhere
I from my heart love you deep
Promises I remember all and keep
You are always in mind and occupy
I enjoy it quietly and it really multiply
I keep my self busy and render service
I am working day and night like device
It is all for your well being and steady
Life must be on and must be ever ready
I am doyen for work and observe
I have earned the position and deserve
It is not mere gesture or symbolic
I prove it and stay as workaholic
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everything Is Kiling Me....
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
poem by Adnan Zahedi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Men of routine or men who can do what they are told are not hard to find; but men who can think and plan and tell the routine men what to do are very rare.
quote by William Graham Sumner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Follow The Money
Ive got to follow the money
Gotta go to work
Gotta make a living
Till my body hurts
Gotta bite my lip
Gotta wreck my health
Gotta break my back
For my share of wealth
(repeat)
Ive gotta the follow money
Gotta earn my pay
I spent everything
I earned yesterday
Gotta find the cash
cos it wont find me
So I can feed myself
And my family
When I left school I was bummin around
Id smoke and drink and let my mind wander
Id roll out of bed about twelve oclock
I cant do that any longer
Ive gotta folow the money
Gotta go to work
Gotta make a living
Till my body hurts
Gotta bite my lip
Gotta wreck my health
Gotta break my back
For my share of wealth
Now I need to toil cos its good for my soul
I feel clean when Im working
You drop all the mystical celtic bull
cos that stuffs just jerking
Im not saying that I work like my dad
I know I dont work like my mum
But Im made of the same stuff and Im six feet tall
Gimme the tools Ill get the job done
Gotta follow the money
Gotta go to work
Gotta make a living
Till my body hurts
Gotta bit my lip
Gotta break my back
For my share of wealth
Ive gotta follow the money
Gotta earn my pay
I spent everything
I earned yesterday
Gotta find the cash
cos it wont find me
So I can feed myself
And my family
Feed myself and my family
Thats why
Im working
Im working
Im working
Im working
Im working
Im working now
song performed by by Proclaimers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Working Class Hero
As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.
song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by John Lennon from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)
Submitted by anonym
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Zephyr Hart
If you want your car repaired or want to fit an engine part
It well might pay you to ring Zephyr Hart
He's not hard to pay and is good at what he do
And he will be quite happy to help you.
Come rain or shine you will find him working hard
In his work shop a tin shed in his back yard
Working on engines and repairing brakes and punctured tyres
The work he does great character requires.
My datsun it is showing it's years in wear
And has rust spots on the body here and there
But despite all this the old car still survive
And it's thanks to Zephyr that it's still fit to drive.
In a mechanic's life there's lots of heavy toil
His hands and work clothes stained with grease and oil
It's not the type of work that many would enjoy
And there's easier ways to earn one's living by.
And though in the Yarra Ranges motor mechanics are not rare
And there's cars aplenty for them to repair
But for a car tune up or to fit an engine part
At a most competitive price your best bet Zephyr Hart.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Use My Frustration As a Means For Your Motivation
We seem to always seek that need,
To find a comfort feeding to please.
Wishing we were given space...
When it is wanted,
And when it should take place.
Use my frustration,
As a means for your motivation.
You always bring me there,
Without concern or care.
Use my frustration,
In re-inactments as libations.
Use my sweated brow to rehearse...
How to implement your curse!
We seem to find time to criticize,
Those close to us and on our side.
Nit-picking everything they do...
With a disregard of loyalty,
And a devotion shown that's proved!
Believing we 'must' be satisfied,
Or a temper tantrum undenied...
Begins to break through,
With pouts and shouts and cussing spewed!
Use my frustration,
As a means for your motivation.
You always bring me there,
Without concern or care.
Use my frustration,
In re-inactments as libations.
Use my sweated brow to rehearse...
How to implement your curse!
Use my frustration,
As a means for your motivation.
And when you've completely exhausted me...
Tell others how I am selfish.
How difficult it is...
To live with 'me'.
Use my frustration,
As a means for your motivation.
Create those scenes how I've treated you mean...
And when you pack and decide to leave,
Don't be surprised if no one believes your grief!
Everytime you bitch and whine...
Noticed very few listen to you each time?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Work To Do!
i came from a generation
that worked.... was born to
work, daylight to dawn,
for everything we had.
we grew our own food, we
cut firewood, we worked
with our hands.
we were taught to work...
we built houses, bridges,
paved roads... worked on
farms, worked in sawmills,
worked in factories...
whatever it took for food
and shelter...
and if a neighbor got hurt,
or sick, and couldnt work...
we helped him and his family
till he could.
those of us left who can work
are still working, a lot of us are
out of work, and cant find work!
and so the world has changed...
it seems like a lot of people
spend more time avoiding work
than working... a lot of people
look for the easy way out...are
dependent on society...
still a lot of good and willing people
just need help.
they call this progress...based
on technology, and looking out for
number one. seperated, almost islands...
greed has taken the place of the bent back!
so when it all falls apart, and that will
be soon, what happens? who knows how
to survive? who has the backbone?
things to think about, and yes...
work to do!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Joe The Black Cattle Dog
Old Joe the black cattle dog has known a better day
Around his jaws he is looking rather gray
He still works cattle but at a much slower pace
A young dog is being trained to take his place,
Old Joe a great cattle dog from a great working line
Is getting old for working cattle at nine
Though still keen to work nowadays he easily tire
The old legs tiring though he still has the desire
To work at cattle but his owner Jimmy say
That Joe is nearing his final working day
He will retire him he has done enough
At his age working cattle for him is too tough
He was a renowned working dog in his prime
But dog and master must bow to father time.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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