I board with a poor Scotchman: his wife can talk scarce any English.
quote by David Brainerd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Saw Mill (set I)
Once I was a slave at the sawmill
Talk about a poor boy, talk about a poor boy
Let me have a dollar bill
My work was so hard at the sawmill
Talk about a poor boy, talk about a poor boy
Let me have a dollar bill
See my teardrops falling down my wife left this sawmill town
She said sawmill's life had been a sin
The gravy were much too thin
I can't work no more at the sawmill
Talk about a poor boy, talk about a poor boy
Let me have a dollar bill
If you take your wife to the sawmill
How you gonna please her, how you gonna please her
When she wants a dollar bill
She'll run away and leave you at the sawmill
Women like a dollar, women like a dollar. Yes and women always will.
See my teardrops falling down my wife left this sawmill town
She said sawmill's life had been a sin
The gravy were much too thin. I can't work no more at the sawmill
Yes and women like a dollar, yes and women like a dollar
Yes and women always will
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keeping His First Wife Now
IT’S OH! for a rivet in marriage bonds,
And a splice in the knot untied—
The sanctity of the marriage tie
Is growing more sanctified!
They’re getting mixed up in society,
There’s an awful family row,
For Reginald Jones of “The Fernery”
Is “keeping” his first wife now!
Oh! she belonged to the smart, smart set
(Where reasons are far to seek)—
And the wedding and “crush” are remembered yet
As the “smart” things of the week.
Never an atom of love had she,
But they had a child somehow—
And Reginald Jones of “The Fernery”
Has the love of his first wife now.
Mad for “notice” and “talk” was she—
A butterfly blind as a bat—
She would flaunt for a season a divorcee,
Or divorce him, failing that.
He played his part and she held his heart
As light as her marriage vow—
But Reginald Jones of “The Fernery”
Has a hold on his first wife now.
She swore in Court what the world knew false,
With never a thought of shame—
She was free to flaunt to her heart’s content,
But she found it mighty tame:
The talk of the “town” for a week or two—
The gush, the smirk and the bow—
But Reginald Jones of “The Fernery”
Is the God of his first wife now!
Her soul grew sick of the smart, smart set,
Or her conscience drove her wild—
Or she craved for “notice” and “talk” once more—
Or perhaps because of the child;
But they met at last and they met again—
No matter the where or how—
And Reginald Jones of “The Fernery”
Is in love with his first wife now.
’Tis a “terrible life” for the second young wife,
But she married him too for “place”;
And she mustn’t forget that a smarting set
Belongs to the human race.
They say it’s fixed up in camera,
And, if that is the case, I’ll vow,
That Reginald Jones of “The Fernery”
Will marry his first wife now.
And there is a song of the English world
And a song for the English race:
The second husband and second wife
Must ever take second place.
So cherish the best that you find in the first,
And a margin of width allow:
The future looks after itself too well!
Look after the first ones now.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Work.
For thyself work, not for another, so
'Tis possible; else all thy worth is his
Whose maybe paltry payment scarce serves to
The base sufficing of thy bed and board:
And all thy days to this sad use are given,
Till age or sickness shall subdue thy pith,
And put thee on the Jewish mercy of
The monstrous world, ere like a brute's, alas!
Thy poor remainder finds a burial.
poem by Robert Crawford
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for Mr. Ron Mengzi
there is no one in his house
in the tropics who really know how to speak English
so he tries making monologues for himself
talking about his latest affairs
but it gets boring you know
and those in the neighborhood who hear
that he is talking to himself
think that he must have gone crazy
i want to talk to him but i am busy
always busy he complains
for i am the only who knows how to talk in English
but i am busy and so one day
Mr. Ron Mengzi walks towards the pond
and talks to the fish that he brought
from California
and there he had a nice English conversation
with the fish
all in figurative and
codified bubbles.
Some people who read this
do not think about Mr. Ron Mengzi at ll
They now talk about me
asking about my own sanity.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Through and through the world is infested with quantity. To talk sense is to talk quantities. It is no use saying the nation is large - how large? It is no use saying that radium is scarce - how scarce? You can not evade quantity. You may fly to poetry and music and quantity and number will face you in your rhythms and your octaves.
quote by Alfred North Whitehead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Small Plot Of Land
Poor soul
Spit upon that
Poor soul
He never knew what hit him
And it hit him so
Poor dunce
He pushed back the pigmen
The barbs laughed
The fool is dead
Poor dunce
Hes less than within us
The brains talk
But the will to live is dead
And prayer cant
Travel so far these days
The talk of your life
Standing so near
To innocent eyes
Poor dunce
Swings thru the tunnels
And claws his way
Is small life so manic
Are these really the days
Poor dunce
Poor dunce
Poor soul
Poor soul
Poor soul
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are You a Good Husband?
All married men want to be called a good husband
A good husband is a decent husband
Mr. Husband what you done to deserve this decency?
Has your wife ever referred to you as her good husband?
It is known that the eyes cannot see itself
Unless by reflection. Have you ever asked
Your wife for a performance appraisal
Honey, how did I perform last year?
On a scale of one to ten, one for very poor
Ten for excellent, how did I perform?
Your wife may think you are now on new drugs
If you receive less than six, you need to
Start fence mending before it is too late
A good husband sees his wife as his friend
A nice husband treats his wife as his lover
A decent husband regards his wife as a soul-mate
You should anticipate what your wife
Will need before she makes any request
By the way, have you ever bought a gift
For your wife without an occasion?
Do you have to wait for her birthday?
To inform her that she is very special to you?
Do you have to wait for your wedding anniversary?
To tell her that she is the best thing in your life
When last did you talk to your wife in-laws?
When last did you visit your wife in-laws?
What have you done to be called a good husband?
Ask for performance appraisal on a regular basis
Remember, if you make your wife happy
You will get happiness in return
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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Oh, I'm not English, I cannot talk on behalf of an English person. I'm French. I can say about French. They are quite emotional, though, and they talk about their emotions.
quote by Sophie Marceau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No soliciting and loitering here
Oh! How can I explain my plight?
Violators will be prosecuted the rusty board says.
I pasted my poor scribbling on that oblique board and left alone.
Is there any other place in the world someone who could accepts me cordially?
* May the happy Christmas would release all the barriers against humanity!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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How Do You Talk To Girls
Well Im sick of hanging out on the street
Every saturday night with the boys
Listening to the radios big beat
We crank it just to hear the noise
Yeah we talk about the girls, girls, girls
And we talk, talk, talk all night
Sure were all romeos and casanovas
But we cant seem to get it right
Seems Im making it harder and harder
While everybody else is doing well
I get confused by their bodies
I get tangled in their curls
How do you talk to girls
How do you talk to girls
Whats a poor boy to do
Tell me how do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
I see this girl over there right away
Im trying to think of something to say
Well I think Ill have one more drink
Ill be ready to make my play
But this guy moves in and he talks to her
And she nods her head
Well Im used to missing out on the girl
But I want to know what he said
Seems Im making it harder and harder
While everybody else is doing well
I get confused by their bodies
I get tangled in their curls
How do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
Whats a poor boy to do
Im tangled up in their curls
How do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
Out of wisdom and out of pearls
Tell me how do you talk to girls
Am I stupid or misunderstood
Id say something clever if I only could
Were only ten feet apart
But it feels like the world
How do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
Out of wisdom and out of pearls
Tell me how do you talk to girls
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mermaid I
AS we lay musing in our beds,
So well and so warm at ease,
I thought upon those lodging-beds
Poor seamen have at seas.
Last Easter day, in the morning fair,
We was not far from land,
Where we spied a mermaid on the rock,
With comb and glass in hand.
The first came up the mate of our ship,
With lead and line in hand,
To sound and see how deep we was
From any rock or sand.
The next came up the boatswain of our ship,
With courage stout and bold:
‘Stand fast, stand fast, my brave lively lads,
Stand fast, my brave hearts of gold!’
Our gallant ship is gone to wreck,
Which was so lately trimmd;
The raging seas has sprung a leak,
And the salt water does run in.
Our gold and silver, and all our cloths,
And all that ever we had,
We forced was to heave them overboard,
Thinking our lives to save.
In all, the number that was on board
Was five hundred and sixty-four,
And all that ever came alive on shore
There was but poor ninety-five.
The first bespoke the captain of our ship,
And a well-spoke man was he;
‘I have a wife in fair Plymouth town,
And a widow I fear she must be.’
The next bespoke the mate of our ship,
And a well-bespoke man was he;
‘I have a wife in fair Portsmouth,
And a widow I fear she must be.’
The next bespoke the boatswain of our ship,
And a well-bespoke man was he;
‘I have a wife in fair Exeter,
And a widow I fear she must be.’
The next bespoke the little cabbin-boy,
And a well-bespoke boy was he;
‘I am as sorry for my mother dear
As you are for your wives all three.
‘Last night, when the moon shin’d bright,
My mother had sons five,
But now she may look in the salt seas
And find but one alive.’
‘Call a boat, call a boat, you little
Plymouth boys,
Don’t you hear how the trumpet[s] sound?
[For] the want of our boat our gallant ship
is lost,
And the most of our merry men is drownd.’
Whilst the raging seas do roar,
And the lofty winds do blow,
And we poor seamen do lie on the top,
Whilst the landmen lies below.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Drivin With Your Eyes Closed
I met a frenchman in a field last night
He was out there with an easel,
Painting carnival light
He said, I used to paint the princess;
I used to paint the frogs
Now I paint mustaches on dangerous dogs
He said, sometimes its a country;
Sometimes its a girl
You, everybody got to have a purpose
In this world
You yankees are so silly about matters of
The heart
Dont you know that women are the only
Works of art
Youre drivin with your eyes closed
Youre drivin with your eyes closed
Youre drivin with your eyes closed
Youre gonna hit somethin
But thats the way it goes
Some guys were born to rimbaud
Some guys breathe baudelaire
Some guys just got to go and put
Their rockets everywhere
You can breed em by the thousands;
You can trick and you can train
Just look at all those poor dogs that are
Dragged down bu the seine
How many arrows must I shoot into the
Blue?
Ah, you little maniac, Im crazy over you
Before the dearth of lovers and
The punishment of pride
Lets go scrape out on the terrazzo
Its just to hot outside
Youre drivin with your eyes closed
Youre drivin with your eyes closed
Youre drivin with your eyes closed
Youre gonna hit somethin
But thats the way it goes
Talk talk, talk and talk
Talk talk, sweet talk
Talk talk, tough talk
Talk talk, dirty talk
Talk talk, walk and talk
Talk talk, big talk
Kiss kiss, kiss
Talk talk, talk and talk
Talk talk, smooth talk
Talk talk, body talk
Talk talk, back talk
Talk talk, small talk
Talk talk, baby talk
Talk talk, peace talk
Talk talk, bullshit
song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poor Boy
Never sing for my supper
I never help my neighbour
Never do what is proper
For my share of labour.
Im a poor boy
And Im a rover
Count your coins and
Throw them over my shoulder
I may grow older
Nobody knows
How cold it grows
And nobody sees
How shaky my knees
Nobody cares
How steep my stairs
And nobody smiles
If I cross their stiles.
Oh poor boy
So sorry for himself
Oh poor boy
So worried for his health.
You may say every day
Where will he stay tonight.
Never know what I came for
Seems that Ive forgotten
Never ask what I came for
Or how I was begotten.
Im a poor boy
And Im a ranger
Things I say
May seem stranger than sunday
Changing to monday.
Nobody knows
How cold it flows
And nobody feels
The worn down heels
Nobodys eyes
Make the skies
Nobody spreads
Their aching heads.
Oh poor boy
So worried for his life
Oh poor boy
So keen to take a wife.
Hes a mess but hell say yes
If you just dress in white.
Nobody knows
How cold it blows
And nobody sees
How shaky my knees
Nobody cares
How steep my stairs
And nobody smiles
If you cross their stiles.
Oh poor boy
So sorry for himself
Oh poor boy
So worried for his health.
You may say every day
Where will he stay tonight.
Oh poor boy
So worried for his life
Oh poor boy
So keen to take a wife.
Oh poor boy
So sorry for himself
Oh poor boy
So worried for his health
Oh poor boy.
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lecturer
He wrote on the board
“The husband said the wife
Is having an extra-marital affair”.
He asks the class, “Who is having the EMA? ”
Shout comes up loud, “the wife”.
He takes a piece of chalk, and puts two commas
One after husband, and one after wife.
It now reads, “The husband, said the wife, is
Having an extra-marital affair”.
He asks the class, “Who is having the EMA? ”
Confused murmur of husband, wife flutters.
“Not a word has changed, but the meaning has reversed
With just two commas.” Eats shoots and leaves, eh?
May I start the lecture on grammar, he said.
The class was all ears.
D T Joseph
19.02.08
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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America
Once in English they said America. Was it English to them.
Once they said Belgian.
We like a fog.
Do you for weather.
Are we brave.
Are we true.
Have we the national colour.
Can we stand ditches.
Can we mean well.
Do we talk together.
Have we red cross.
A great many people speak of feet.
And socks.
poem by Gertrude Stein
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The Ex Government Minister.
He lives on his fat retirement pension and he's doing quite okay
And with his wealthy buddies on the golf course every day
He practices his putting and his driving and the good life he enjoy
And of thirst and malnutrition this man will never die.
On the board of a big corporation he makes more in one day
Than many in a month do who work hard for their pay
A man who has become wealthy out of the social divide
As the gap between the haves and the have nots has grown wide.
A former Government Minister none of his mates are poor
And his wife and his family are financially secure
Still good luck to him as I not to be his judge
And of his easy life and affluence him I should not begrudge.
With their wealthy connections he and his wife dine
And in the upper class restaurants drink the most expensive wine
And his voters who gave to him fame and helped his wealth to grow
Are not part of his circle and them he does not wish to know.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Walk with Angels
Walk with Angels
I talk to Jesus
I walk with angels
They live through him
I believe
Believe in everlasting life
I believe a man should take a wife
I believe, what I was taught
When I did wrong
I did my best to never get caught
Still I talk to Jesus
He shows me all I need to see
When I can’t go on
I know he’ll carry me
I talk to Jesus
I believe
Believe in everlasting life
I walk with angels
They are part of the my everyday life
And I still believe a man should take a wife
I believe in the Bible stories people tell
The Farmer in the Dell
Fairies
And the wishing well
I talk to Jesus
About life’s angles
Tangles
I Thank the Lord
For all our angels
poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
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If I were dead
'IF I were dead, you'd sometimes say, Poor Child!'
The dear lips quiver'd as they spake,
And the tears brake
From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled.
Poor Child, poor Child!
I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song.
It is not true that Love will do no wrong.
Poor Child!
And did you think, when you so cried and smiled,
How I, in lonely nights, should lie awake,
And of those words your full avengers make?
Poor Child, poor Child!
And now, unless it be
That sweet amends thrice told are come to thee,
O God, have Thou no mercy upon me!
Poor Child!
poem by Coventry Patmore
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Talk To Me
When I see you, girl you turn my head, you make me dizzy
I get a good vibration
When I look into your big blue eyes, I start to quiver and shake
I get a strange sensation
When you walk by me you strut around, you make me crazy, I get no relaxation
Talk to me, talk to me, all I want is a little conversation
Talk to me, talk to me, all I want is a little conversation, talk to me
People tell me that you run around and that youre no good
You got a bad reputation
I dont care what all the people say, you know they talk too much
Its a fascination
All I wanna do is talk to you and maybe go out, and form some kind of relation
So talk to me, talk to me, all I want is a little conversation
Talk to me, talk to me, all I want is a little conversation
Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me, talk to me - why dont you
Talk to me - cmon and talk to me
I just wanna talk to you
Girl I wish you knew the way I felt, you think Im silly, that its infatuation
So we better get together soon, because I need you girl
I cant stand the frustration, so
Talk to me, talk to me, all I want is a little conversation
Talk to me, talk to me, all I want is a little conversation
Talk to me, talk to me, all I want is a little conversation
Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me, talk to me - why dont you
Talk to me - cmon and talk to me
Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me - I just wanna talk to you
(repeats out)
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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