When I first came to London, shortly after the end of the war, I found myself after a few days in a boarding-house, called a private hotel, in Kensington High Street area. The boarding-house was owned by Mr. Shylock. He didn't live there, but the attic was reserved for him; and Lieni, the Maltese housekeeper, told me he occasionally spent a night there with a young girl. 'These English girls!' Lieni said.
V.S. Naipaul in The Mimic Men (1967)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
Class Divide
It was an odd situation the town was divided by a river.
The west side was the posh part. I lived there, that is
I worked as a cook at a tourist hotel and had a room in
the basement of the hotel. The east, across the river,
was where my girlfriend lived, a working class area
that only had gritted roads and houses were not painted.
The hotel director’s daughter loved me even though,
she had gone to a boarding school in Swiss, all I had
to do was to take elocution lessons and the world of
paved roads and villas would be mine. But my heart was
in uproar I loved the girl across the river she spoke my
language, salty and direct. So I crossed the Rubicon
an August night when the moon was full, but I had
dallied too long, she didn’t want a boyfriend who spoke posh.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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What you have is two men seeking the White House; they're both products of prominent New England families. They both went to private boarding schools. They both went to a prestigious university.
quote by Mark Shields
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of Course
of course, of course I will come
to your house, like the old days
good morning, afternoon or evening
until you yourself are no stranger
with my arrival
like the other family members
go to church together
when Easter and Christmas
whether from home
or from a boarding house
I must admit there is peace
inside this heart
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Bad Girl
Bad girls
Talking about the sad girls
Sad girls
Talking About bad girls, yeah
See them out on the street at night, walkin'
Picking up on all kinds of strangers
If the price is right
You can't score if you're pocket's tight
But you want a good time
You ask yourself who they are
Like everybody else, they come from near and far
Bad girls
Talking about the sad girls
Sad girls
Talking About bad girls, yeah
Friday night and the strip is hot
Sun's gone down and they're out to trot
Spirit's high and legs look hot
Do you wanna get down?
Now don't you ask yourself who they are?
Like everybody else, they wanna be a star
Now you and me we're both the same
But you call yourself by different names
Now your mama won't like it when she finds out
That her girl is out at night
Street talkin', street walkin'
Hey, mister, have you got a dime?
Mister, do you want to spent some time? Oh, yeah
I got what you want, you got what I need
I'll be your baby, come and spend it on me
Sad Girls, you such a dirty bad girl
Beep-Beep uh uh
You bad girl you sad girl
you such a dirty bad girl
Beep-Beep uh uh
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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HOE HOUSE...by talile ali
HOE HOUSE
IF YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENS
WHEN DOIN IT RUNS AMUCK
HOE HOUSE
THE MOMMA LIKES TO DO IT
SO DO HER LITTLE DUCKS
HOE HOUSE
SHE DOESN'T WANT THEM DOIN
SOME LAZY KNOTHEAD CHUMPS
HOE HOUSE
THEN SHE GETS ALL DRUNKED UP
AND DOES SOME LAZY BLIND KNOTHEAD CHUMP
HOE HOUSE
THE CHILDREN THEY CAN HEAR HER
WHEN SHE STARTS TO WAIL
HOE HOUSE
DOING ANY FELLA
BEFORE SHE GOES TO HELL
HOE HOUSE
SHE WILL DO'EM NASTY
IN THE RAW OR IN THE MOUTH
HOE HOUSE
WHILE HER BABIES LISTEN
THEY DRESS AND LEAVE THE HOUSE
HOE HOUSE
SHE TELL'S THEM 'IT'S NOT NOTHING'
'JUST A LIL FIX'
HOE HOUSE
THEY COULD NEVER BELIEVE HER
SHE'S JUST UP TO HER TRICKS
HOE HOUSE
WHAT THEY WANT TO KNOW IS
IF THEY GET FUCKED, I SWEAR
HOE HOUSE
THESE BABE'S THEY JUST CANT HELP YOU
CAUSE THEY ARE RUNNING SCARED
HOE HOUSE
YOU'RE THEIR GOD, THEIR TEACHER
THEIR EVER SHINING LIGHT
HOE HOUSE
THE SUCCUBUS IN SEX
THE BLIND, AND DICK, AND SCARY
HOE HOUSE
IS SHE SO SURPRISED
WHEN HER GIRL'S ARE DEAD AND BURIED
HOE HOUSE
WHATS GOOD FOR THE GOOSE
AINT SO GOOD WHEN THEY'RE DUCKLINGS
HOE HOUSE
DON'T BE SO SURPRISED
WHEN THE FRUIT IS REALLY RANCID
HOE HOUSE
WITH THE FELLA'S IN THEIR RAGE
FINISHED HER STOUT BEFORE THEY LANCE IT
HOE HOUSE
SHE'S SO PISSED
HER BABE'S JUST CAN'T HELP HER
HOE HOUSE
WITH A BUNCHA SAD JACKS
HANGIN ALL AROUND TO ENHANCE HER
HOE HOUSE
THEY CAN SMELL THE BREWERY
WAITING TO GET POUND
HOE HOUSE
CHILDREN CAN ONLY SEE
WHAT THEY LEARN AND WHAT THEY FOUND
HOE HOUSE
IF MOM IS DEEP INTO DOING IT
THE GIRLS WILL TRY AT LEAST
HOE HOUSE
YOU DON'T NEED TO LOSE THEM
THE'RE STILL NEW TO THE FEAST
HOE HOUSE
I LIVED IN A HOE HOUSE
I DON'T HAVE A LOT
THERE'S NOT A SINGLE THING
I CAN SAY TO MAKE IT STOP
TO ALL THAT LOVE HOEING,
THE BLOWING, AND WHAT NOT
THE LUST FOR NOT GROWING
IS ALL THAT THEY'VE GOT
IT WAS MY BIGGEST FEAR
EVERY NIGHT, EVERY YEAR
CAUSE IN EVERY SINGLE ROOM
MY GIRLS ARE NOW DOING IT, IT'S CLEAR
WHAT CAN I SAY?
I DIDN'T WANT TO LOSE THEM THAT WAY!
SO IF YOU SEE THAT YOU
ARE LIVING LIKE ME
HOE HOUSE
GRAB UP ALL YOUR BABIES
AND LEAVE THIS INSANITY
HOE HOUSE
poem by Talile Ali
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Girls that we do not discuss
One day at the hotel 224,
a beautiful girl crossed
the street to talk to me
and her words “how’s it”
still stays with me.
You can find girls on street corners
and you can find girls
who stay away from the streets,
and live in palaces
and act without any concern
to morality
When I see a beautiful woman
driving past in a slk,
I wonder from where
her money comes.
a Young girl
that sits in a buss shed
in Wessels Street
and enjoys an ice-cream
and throws an inviting look
still watches me.
When you are newly divorced
and get better treatment
from a girl of passions
than from a head doctor
you are surely
not free from sin and remorse.
Still I know that these girls
are humans, like any other person
and at times go to church
and sometimes pray for themselves
and they also have feelings
of pain and are glad at times
and live secret lives.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Like Father Like Son
He was raised in the english way
His daddy taught him respect, he taught him how to pray
They sent him off to boarding school
Where he learned how to live by someone elses rule
And he went to confession
He went to confession
Holy father wash my sins away
He went to confession
He went to confession
Mother mary take the pain away
He read letters from home at night in his bed
And got this uneasy feeling when his father said
Fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
He bought his daddys car and he learned to drive
And when he left school he got a nine to five
He met the girl and he got his spouse
And they had the child and they got the house
And he went to confession
He went to confession
Holy father wash my sins away
He went to confession
He went to confession
Mother mary take the pain away
He loved his son and he helped him build walls and fronts
He knew hed heard it before
Someone had said it once
Fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
He raised his son in the english way
And he taught him respect, he taught him how to pray
He sent him off to boarding school
Where he learned how to live by someone elses rules
And he went to confession
He went to confession
Holy father wash my sins away
He went to confession
He went to confession
Mother mary take the pain away
It must be something much deeper than fear or pain
Another child learns a pattern he wont break the chain
Fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise the next boy
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The joys of a young boy are simply cruel
The joys of a young boy are simply cruel
They'll take living things in matchboxes school.
To give you a slightly squeamish example!
I once squeezed a tiny frog into one.
Oh the silent anemic guilt I felt - when
A front limb lay detached like a tale.
Still yet worse; I once watched a young man
In a shared B&B boarding house
He managed somehow to catch, lighting fast
A Little grey half-starved house mouse
He put it into one. And then he stamped on
It…
Oh the joys of young boys are simply cruel
How glad am I, I never attended his school.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Up In The Attic
I took a room in a boarding house
In a seedy part of town,
I hadn't worked for a month or so
And was feeling rather down,
My girl had left with another guy
Who promised her thrills and rings,
While I could offer her take-away
Among other boring things.
I really felt I was down and out,
The insurance wasn't through,
I'd caught my arm in a roller, and
You know what that can do.
With plaster up to my elbow, I
Could get no sort of work,
So had to exist on the government,
And I felt like a prime jerk.
I'd always been independent
So my pride had taken a hit,
The landlord hurried me out
As soon as the rent was behind a bit,
The boarding house, it was ancient,
A Victorian red brick,
A mansion once, but converted
Into rooms, for the broke, and sick.
I sank in a deep depression,
I could barely go out the door,
Fish and chips was the staple meal
That I bought from the corner store,
I'd slink back in to my tiny room
And eat from the daily news,
The only things of the world outside
That I learned, were the column views.
I'd thought Denise was my passion,
My charm in a mundane life,
I'd thought she'd always be there for me
And asked her to be my wife,
But that was before the accident,
She'd hummed and hah'd, ‘We'll see! '
But set her star on the shiny car
Of the guy who came after me.
I lay and thought of her often,
I thought she was most unkind,
And tried to maintain my anger, but
Could not get her out of my mind.
What made it worse, as a sort of curse
Were the sounds from up above,
The guy, up there in the attic,
Laughing, joking and making love!
The girls tripped up in the evening,
Up the stairs, right past my room,
I heard them giggle and whispering
As I lay there, deep in gloom.
I wondered about the attraction,
Was he rich, this guy, or what?
So why was he there in a boarding house
In an attic - what had he got?
The music came through the ceiling,
I could hear them dancing there,
They kept me awake to the early hours
As I slumped in an old armchair,
They'd come in pairs, or one at a time
And they'd leave, but just on dawn,
After I'd heard the bedsprings creak
And a low, but sultry moan!
He and the landlord were thick as thieves
But I never caught sight of him,
I asked him once, ‘Who's the guy up there?
It sounds like he's running a gym! '
‘Now don't you bother your head, my lad,
He's a friend, and an honoured guest,
He don't take kindly to strangers, so
Just keep to yourself, it's best! '
I started leaving an open door
So I'd see the girls who came,
Dressed to kill in their mini-skirts
They all looked much the same,
One evening, one came very late
When I'd thought I'd have some peace,
She stopped by the door and looked at me,
And I blurted out, ‘Denise! '
She caught her breath and she looked at me
Then hurried on up the stair,
Determined she wouldn't talk to me
As I sat in a mute despair,
I thought at first to follow her
But I slammed the door, said ‘No!
I'm not going to play her silly games, '
But listened from down below.
The music played and I heard her voice,
Her laugh, but soft and sweet,
She certainly had no thought for me
As I slumped there, in defeat.
I heard the bedsprings creak at last
And I knew it was over then,
But she never came down the stairs that night
And I woke, just after ten.
I wanted to turn the light on, but
It seemed to have blown the globe,
I climbed on a chair to change it, and
It flashed, just like a strobe,
Something was dripping along my arm
Sticky, the colour of mud,
I jumped off the chair, and opened the door
To the hallway, it was blood!
I ran up the stairs, two at a time
And I kicked in the attic door,
Denise was naked, such as she was,
She lay, spread out on the floor,
I took out the guy with a single hit
And I looked at the mantelpiece,
For there was a head on a metal spit,
And I cried out, ‘No! - Denise! '
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Parole
Par excellence!
The worst criminal in the world was pardoned
and he comes again into this uppish new world?
Half of his life he has spent
in the Government's boarding house.
Still in his forties but almost forgotten
how to approach a girl properly.
The hypocritical handsome politicians all over the world
search his whereabouts and offer him lot of new profitable contracts.
This illegitimate & ill-mannered person idles again at toll gates
with his new identity.
Dedication to the Norwegian peace brokers in Sri Lanka
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The landlady of a boarding-house is a parallelogram - that is, an oblong angular figure, which cannot be described, but which is equal to anything.
quote by Stephen Leacock
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stranger In The House
This never was one of the great romances
But I thought youd always have those young girls eyes
But now they look in tired and bitter glances
At the ghost of a man who walks round in my disguise
I get the feeling that I dont belong here
But theres no welcome in the window anyway
And I look down for a number on my keychain
cause it feels more like a hotel everyday
Theres a stranger in the house; nobodys seen his face
But everybody says hes taken my place
Theres a stranger in the house no one will ever see
But everybody says he looks like me
And now you say youve got no expectations
But I know you also miss those carefree days
And for all the angry words that passed between us
You still dont understand me when I say
Theres a stranger in the house; nobodys seen his face
But everybody says hes taken my place
Theres a stranger in the house no one will ever see
But everybody says he looks like me
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A House called Lonely (A Trilogy in three parts)
There is a street in every town that owns a house
called lonely. Then when your just passing by you might
just say, 'if only.
If only could mean a life time of thoughts but it does'nt cure
a lonely house and all its faults.
Boarded up windows and tiles gone from the roof, graffiti
painted by a rebelious youth.
Such a lonely house and an oh such a tired one,
one that has lost all it's fun.
Stairs and rafters all gone to pot all that is left
is wood worm and dry rot.
No children playing in the garden, it's just a house condemend
by the council without no pardon. Poor lonely house someones
forgotton dream, now describing lifes social scene.
This lonely house stands in the way because their building
a By Pass or a new motorway.
The house called lonely could be any where, in the town, the
country or city square.
Even in your street there's a house called lonely just waiting
for you to say 'if only'
poem by Sylvia Spencer
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A Schoolmaster
My English teacher was a silly old man
Who referred to me once as an 'insubordinate young pup'!
I suppose we all do the best that we can
And he tried his share of bringing me up.
But the man was a tyrant, there's no doubt about that,
A type that you found in those old boarding schools,
Living all alone in some crummy old flat,
A boring old fart and a stickler for rules.
He'd get in a fury if we made too much noise,
But us youngsters soon had the measure of him,
He was just a sick pervert who fancied young boys
And fondled his balls when we played in the gym! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Hiking to Durban
We wanted to be free
from the discipline
of boarding school
and catch a lift all the way,
to Durban at the sea.
What a life it would be
with bikini girls on the beach
and totally out of reach
of the head master’s cane
and we would visit every shop
and meet girls on the street
and spend every sent
without having to pay for rent.
The beach would be the place
to sleep and tan and surf
and to spent,
the rest of the summer
as a place of fun.
We packed our bags
and left our school uniforms behind,
but what a calamity
when the first car that stopped
opened its doors wide
and the principal was inside.
poem by Gert Strydom
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House Of Jazz
(young - young)
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin and a fightin on a tv show
Lightin blindin in the middle of the road
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz, yes
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap n tickler
To make you growl
A spitin and bitin on a tv show
Tightenin frightenin givin out a load
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Come on in
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beverly Hills
Where I come from it isn't all that great
My automobile is a piece of crap
My fashion sense is a little whack
And my friends are just as screwy as me
I didn't go to boarding schools
Preppie girls didn't look at me
Why should they?
I ain't nobody
got nothin' in my pocket
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be!
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity!
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Look at all those movie stars
They're all so beautiful and clean
When their house maids scrub the floors
They get the spaces in between
I wanna live a life like that
I wanna live just like a king
Take my picture by the pool
'Cause I'm the next big thing!
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be!
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity!
Livin' in Beverly Hills
The truth is I don't stand a chance
It's somethin' that you're born into
And I just don't belong
Well I know I'm a beat-down fool
And I will always be that way
I might as well enjoy my life
And watch the stars fall
Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be!
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rollin' like a celebrity!
Livin' in Beverly Hills!
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little London Girl
IN my little Green House, quite content am I,
When the hot sun pours down from the sky;
For oh, I love the country–the beautiful country.
Who'd live in a London street when there's the country?
I live in a London street, then I long and long
To be the whole day the sweet Flowers among
Instead of tall chimney-pots up in the sky,
The joy of seeing Birds and Dragon Flies go by.
At home I lie in bed, and cannot go to sleep,
For the sound of cart-wheels upon the hard street.
But here my eyes close up to no sound of anything
Except it is to hear the nightingales sing.
And then I see the Chickens and the Geese go walking,
I hear the Pigs and the Ducks all talking.
And the Red and the Spotted Cows they stare at me,
As if they wondered whoever I could be.
I see the little Lambs out with their mothers–
Such pretty little white young sisters and brothers.
Oh, I'll stay in the country, and make a daisy chain,
And never go back to London again.
poem by Kate Greenaway
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The Ballad of Fisher's Boarding-House
That night, when through the mooring-chains
The wide-eyed corpse rolled free,
To blunder down by Garden Reach
And rot at Kedgeree,
The tale the Hughli told the shoal
The lean shoal told to me.
'T was Fultah Fisher's boarding-house,
Where sailor-men reside,
And there were men of all the ports
From Mississip to Clyde,
And regally they spat and smoked,
And fearsomely they lied.
They lied about the purple Sea
That gave them scanty bread,
They lied about the Earth beneath,
The Heavens overhead,
For they had looked too often on
Black rum when that was red.
They told their tales of wreck and wrong,
Of shame and lust and fraud,
They backed their toughest statements with
The Brimstone of the Lord,
And crackling oaths went to and fro
Across the fist-banged board.
And there was Hans the blue-eyed Dane,
Bull-throated, bare of arm,
Who carried on his hairy chest
The maid Ultruda's charm --
The little silver crucifix
That keeps a man from harm.
And there was Jake Withouth-the-Ears,
And Pamba the Malay,
And Carboy Gin the Guinea cook,
And Luz from Vigo Bay,
And Honest Jack who sold them slops
And harvested their pay.
And there was Salem Hardieker,
A lean Bostonian he --
Russ, German, English, Halfbreed, Finn,
Yank, Dane, and Portuguee,
At Fultah Fisher's boarding-house
The rested from the sea.
Now Anne of Austria shared their drinks,
Collinga knew her fame,
From Tarnau in Galicia
To Juan Bazaar she came,
To eat the bread of infamy
And take the wage of shame.
She held a dozen men to heel --
Rich spoil of war was hers,
In hose and gown and ring and chain,
From twenty mariners,
And, by Port Law, that week, men called
her Salem Hardieker's.
But seamen learnt -- what landsmen know --
That neither gifts nor gain
Can hold a winking Light o' Love
Or Fancy's flight restrain,
When Anne of Austria rolled her eyes
On Hans the blue-eyed Dane.
Since Life is strife, and strife means knife,
From Howrah to the Bay,
And he may die before the dawn
Who liquored out the day,
In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house
We woo while yet we may.
But cold was Hans the blue-eyed Dane,
Bull-throated, bare of arm,
And laughter shook the chest beneath
The maid Ultruda's charm --
The little silver crucifix
That keeps a man from harm.
"You speak to Salem Hardieker;
"You was his girl, I know.
"I ship mineselfs to-morrow, see,
"Und round the Skaw we go,
"South, down the Cattegat, by Hjelm,
"To Besser in Saro."
When love rejected turns to hate,
All ill betide the man.
"You speak to Salem Hardieker" --
She spoke as woman can.
A scream -- a sob -- "He called me -- names!"
And then the fray began.
An oath from Salem Hardieker,
A shriek upon the stairs,
A dance of shadows on the wall,
A knife-thrust unawares --
And Hans came down, as cattle drop,
Across the broken chairs.
. . . . . .
In Anne of Austria's trembling hands
The weary head fell low: --
"I ship mineselfs to-morrow, straight
"For Besser in Saro;
"Und there Ultruda comes to me
"At Easter, und I go
"South, down the Cattegat -- What's here?
"There -- are -- no -- lights -- to guide!"
The mutter ceased, the spirit passed,
And Anne of Austria cried
In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house
When Hans the mighty died.
Thus slew they Hans the blue-eyed Dane,
Bull-throated, bare of arm,
But Anne of Austria looted first
The maid Ultruda's charm --
The little silver crucifix
That keeps a man from harm.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Marriage Scores
You can buy a house and live therein.
You can hire a house and live therein.
In both you can free yourself if you want.
Yet the owned house contains you longer.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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