The Great Day
Hurrah for revolution and more cannon-shot!
A beggar upon horseback lashes a beggar on foot.
Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again!
The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
Beggar To Beggar Cried
'TIME to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And make my soul before my pate is bare.-
'And get a comfortable wife and house
To rid me of the devil in my shoes,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And the worse devil that is between my thighs.'
And though I'd marry with a comely lass,
She need not be too comely -- let it pass,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'But there's a devil in a looking-glass.'
'Nor should she be too rich, because the rich
Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And cannot have a humorous happy speech.'
'And there I'll grow respected at my ease,
And hear amid the garden's nightly peace.'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vanitas! Vanitatum Vanitas!
MY trust in nothing now is placed,
Hurrah!
So in the world true joy I taste,
Hurrah!
Then he who would be a comrade of mine
Must rattle his glass, and in chorus combine,
Over these dregs of wine.
I placed my trust in gold and wealth,
Hurrah!
But then I lost all joy and health,
Lack-a-day!
Both here and there the money roll'd,
And when I had it here, behold,
From there had fled the gold!
I placed my trust in women next,
Hurrah!
But there in truth was sorely vex'd,
Lack-a-day!
The False another portion sought,
The True with tediousness were fraught,
The Best could not be bought.
My trust in travels then I placed,
Hurrah!
And left my native land in haste.
Lack-a-day!
But not a single thing seem'd good,
The beds were bad, and strange the food,
And I not understood.
I placed my trust in rank and fame,
Hurrah!
Another put me straight to shame,
Lack-a-day!
And as I had been prominent,
All scowl'd upon me as I went,
I found not one content.
I placed my trust in war and fight,
Hurrah!
We gain'd full many a triumph bright,
Hurrah!
Into the foeman's land we cross'd,
We put our friends to equal cost,
And there a leg I lost.
My trust is placed in nothing now,
Hurrah!
At my command the world must bow,
Hurrah!
And as we've ended feast and strain,
The cup we'll to the bottom drain;
No dregs must there remain!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Marching Through Georgia
Bring the good old bugle, boys! we'll sing another song --
Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along --
Sing it as we used to sing it fifty thousand strong,
While we were marching through Georgia.
"Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the Jubile!
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!"
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were marching through Georgia.
How the darkeys shouted when they heard the joyful sound!
How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary found!
How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground,
While we were marching through Georgia.
"Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the Jubile!
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!"
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were marching through Georgia.
Yes, and there were Union men who wept with joyful tears,
When they saw the honor'd flag they had not seen for years;
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth in cheers,
While we were marching through Georgia.
"Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the Jubile!
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!"
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were marching through Georgia.
"Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will never reach the coast!"
So the saucy rebels said, and 'twas a hand some boast,
Had they not forgot, alas! to reckon with the host,
While we were marching through Georgia.
"Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the Jubile!
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!"
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were marching through Georgia.
So we made a thoroughfare for Freedom and her train,
Sixty miles in latitude -- three hundred to the main;
Treason fled before us for resistance was in vain,
While we were marching through Georgia.
"Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the Jubile!
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!"
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were marching through Georgia.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Emancipation Song
Let waiting throngs now lift their voices,
As Freedom's glorious day draws near,
While every gentle tongue rejoices,
And each bold heart is filled with cheer;
The slave has seen the Northern star,
He'll soon be free, hurrah, hurrah!
Though many still are writhing under
The cruel whips of 'chevaliers,'
Who mothers from their children sunder,
And scourge them for their helpless tears-
Their safe deliverance is not far!
The day draws nigh!-hurrah, hurrah!
Just ere the dawn the darkness deepest
Surrounds the earth as with a pall;
Dry up thy tears, O thou that weepest,
That on thy sight the rays may fall!
No doubt let now thy bosom mar;
Send up the shout-hurrah, hurrah!
Shall we distrust the God of Heaven?-
He every doubt and fear will quell;
By him the captive's chains are riven-
So let us loud the chorus swell!
Man shall be free from cruel law,-
Man shall be MAN!-hurrah, hurrah!
No more again shall it be granted
To southern overseers to rule-
No more will pilgrims' sons be taunted
With cringing low in slavery's school.
So clear the way for Freedom's car-
The free shall rule!-hurrah, hurrah!
Send up the shout Emancipation-
From heaven let the echoes bound-
Soon will it bless this franchised nation,
Come raise again the stirring sound!
Emancipation near and far-
Swell up the shout-hurrah! hurrah!
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Filling of the Swamps
Hurrah for the storm-clouds sweeping!
Hurrah for the driving rain!
The dull earth out of her sleeping
Is wakened to life again.
There are mirrors of crystal shining
Whenever the cloud-wrack breaks,
And grass-clad banks are twining
A wreath for the fairy lakes - - -
Lakes that are links in an endless chain
For the water is out in the swamps again!
Hurrah for the red-gums standing
So high on the range above!
Hurrah for the she-oaks bending
So low to the wave they love!
Hurrah for the reed-stems slender!
Hurrah for the shade they fling,
For the curve of the cygnet's splendour,
The sheen of the black duck's wing!
Hurrah for the clouds and the glorious rain - - -
The water is out in the swamps again!
Hurrah for the laughing water,
The songs that the streamlets sing!
Whish! The teal duck's mate has sought her
With a stroke of his mottled wing!
Hurrah for the deepening shadows,
The ibis's eagle-eyed,
The dash of the purple swallows,
To bury their breasts in the tide!
Woe! It is woe to the Drought-King's reign!
The water is out in the swamps again!
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tear Off Your Own Head (It's A Doll Revolution)
Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what imitation is?
Only you do
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline?
Or do you?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
Pull out his hair with your moveable fingers
It looks so real
But one won't do, so collect the set
Dress him in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
How does this feel?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
You can pull and pinch him
'Til he cries and squeals
You can twist his body
'Til it faces backwards
Plastic features
Could make somebody a pretty little wife
But don't let anybody tell you
How to live your life
Broken pieces
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
It's a doll revolution
Revolution (revolution)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head (revolution)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lines in Praise of Tommy Atkins
Success to Tommy Atkins, he's a very brave man,
And to deny it there's few people can;
And to face his foreign foes he's never afraid,
Therefore he's not a beggar, as Rudyard Kipling has said.
No, he's paid by our Government, and is worthy of his hire;
And from our shores in time of war he makes our foes retire,
He doesn't need to beg; no, nothing so low;
No, he considers it more honourable to face a foreign foe.
No, he's not a beggar, he's a more useful man,
And, as Shakespeare has said, his life's but a span;
And at the cannon's mouth he seeks for reputation,
He doesn't go from door to door seeking a donation.
Oh, think of Tommy Atkins when from home far away,
Lying on the battlefield, earth's cold clay;
And a stone or his knapsack pillowing his head,
And his comrades lying near by him wounded and dead.
And while lying there, poor fellow, he thinks of his wife at home,
And his heart bleeds at the thought, and he does moan;
And down his cheek flows many a silent tear,
When he thinks of his friends and children dear.
Kind Christians, think of him when far, far away,
Fighting for his Queen and Country without dismay;
May God protect him wherever he goes,
And give him strength to conqner his foes.
To call a soldier a beggar is a very degrading name,
And in my opinion it's a very great shame;
And the man that calls him a beggar is not the soldier's friend,
And no sensible soldier should on him depend.
A soldier is a man that ought to be respected,
And by his country shouldn't be neglected;
For he fights our foreign foes, and in danger of his life,
Leaving behind him his relatives and his dear wife.
Then hurrah for Tommy Atkins, he's the people's friend,
Because when foreign foes assail us he does us defend;
He is not a beggar, as Rudyard Kipling has said,
No, he doesn't need to beg, he lives by his trade.
And in conclusion I will say,
Don't forget his wife and children when he's far away;
But try and help them all you can,
For remember Tommy Atkins is a very useful man.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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King Death
King Death was a rare old fellow!
He sate where no sun could shine;
And he lifted his hand so yellow,
And poured out his coal-black wine.
Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
There came to him many a Maiden,
Whose eyes had forgot to shine;
And Widows, with grief o'erladen,
For a draught of his sleepy wine.
Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
The Scholar left all his learning;
The Poet his fancied woes;
And the Beauty her bloom returning,
Like life to the fading rose.
Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
All came to the royal old fellow,
Who laugh'd till his eyes dropped brine,
As he gave them his hand so yellow,
And pledged them in Death's black wine.
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
poem by Barry Cornwall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Spaewife
OH, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.
An’ siller, that ’s sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Hoo a’things come to be whaur we find them when we try,
The lasses in their claes an’ the fishes in the sea.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why lads are a’ to sell an’lasses a’ to buy;
An’ naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Gin death’s as shure to men as killin’ is to kye,
Why God has filled the yearth sae fu’ o’ tasty things to pree.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
The reason o’ the cause an’ the wherefore o’ the why,
Wi’ mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Change of life style
The revolution teaches
Change of life style
In a revolution one must
Be a Victor not martyr
In a revolution one must
Take the people with him
In a revolution there must
Be a triumphof good
Over evil.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tearing Off Your Own Head
Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what an imitation is?
(only you do)
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline
(only you do)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
Its a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
Pull out his hair with your moveable fingers
(it looks so real)
But one wont do it so collect the set
Dress him up in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
(how does this feel? )
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
Its a doll revolution
Itll turn you around
Its a doll revolution
Theyre taking over
And theyre tearing it down
Its a doll revolution
Its a doll revolution
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Science Club
Hurrah for the Science Club!
Join it, ye fourth year men;
Join it, thou smooth-cheeked scrub,
Whose years scarce number ten
Join it, divines most grave;
Science, as all men know,
As a friend the Church may save,
But may damage her as a foe.
(And in any case it is well,
If attacking insidious doubt,
Or devoting H—- to H—-,
To know what you're talking about.)
Hurrah for the lang-nebbit word!
Hurrah for the erudite phrase,
That in Dura Den shall be heard,
That shall echo on Kinkell Braes!
Hurrah for the spoils of the links
(The golf-ball as well as the daisy)!
Hurrah for explosions and stinks
To set half the landladies crazy!
Hurrah for the fragments of boulders,
Surpassing in size and in weight,
To be carried home on the shoulders
And laid on the table in state!
Hurrah for the flying-machine
Long buried from sight in a cupboard,
With bones that would never have been
Desired of old Mother Hubbard!
Hurrah for the hazardous boat,
For the crabs (of all kinds) to be caught,
For the eggs on the surface that float,
And the lump-sucker curiously wrought!
Hurrah for the filling of tanks
In the shanty down by the shore,
For the Royal Society's thanks,
With Fellowships flying galore!
Hurrah for discourses on worms,
Where one listens and comes away
With a stock of bewildering terms,
And nothing whatever to pay!
Hurrah for gadding about
Of a Saturday afternoon,
In the light of research setting out,
Coming home in the light of the moon!
Hurrah for Guardbridge, and the mill
Where one learns how paper is made!
Hurrah for the samples that fill
One's drawer with the finest cream-laid!
Hurrah for the Brewery visit
And beer in liberal doses!
In the cause of Science, what is it
But inspecting a technical process?
Hurrah for a trip to Dundee
To study the spinning of jute!
Hurrah for a restaurant tea,
And a sight of the Tay Bridge to boot!
Hurrah, after every excursion,
To feel one's improving one's mind,
With the smallest amount of exertion,
And that of the pleasantest kind!
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Revolution Within
A revolution within the mind
And a revolution within that`s beyond
Are the needs of the hour...
I search for the mind first
What is beyond that is a dream to come true.
But a revolution is the need of the hour...
A fire extinguishes somewhere,
Its smoke reaching far and wide.
But there is nothing new in both!
A flood begins atop the glacier of the river far away,
Its water licking up the lands of the hungry lot.
But there is again nothing new in these too!
A revolution within my mind
And a revolution within that`s beyond
Are a poet`s perceptions perhaps.
Nothing brethern.. nothing at all can
Bring in a revolution in this life
As the game of dice is played on and on...
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Africa For The Africans
Say! Africa for the Africans,
Like America for the Americans:
This the rallying cry for a nation,
Be it in peace or revolution.
Blacks are men, no longer cringing fools;
They demand a place, not like weak tools;
But among the world of nations great
They demand a free self-governing state.
Hurrah! Hurrah! Great Africa wakes;
She is calling her sons, and none forsakes,
But to colors of the nation runs,
Even though assailed by enemy guns.
Cry it loud, and shout it Ion' hurrah!
Time has changed, so hail! New Africa!
We are now awakened, rights to see:
We shall fight for dearest liberty.
Mighty kingdoms have been truly reared
On the bones of blackmen, facts declared;
History tells this awful, pungent truth,
Africa awakes to her rights forsooth.
Europe cries to Europeans, ho!
Asiatics claim Asia, so
Australia for Australians,
And Africa for the Africans.
Blackmen's hands have joined now together,
They will fight and brave all death's weather,
Motherland to save, and make her free,
Spreading joy for all to live and see.
None shall turn us back, in freedom's name,
We go marching like to men of fame
Who have given laws and codes to kings,
Sending evil flying on crippled wings.
Blackmen shall in groups reassemble,
Rich and poor and the great and humble:
Justice shall be their rallying cry,
When millions of soldiers pass us by.
Look for that day, coming, surely soon,
When the sons of Ham will show no coon
Could the mighty deeds of valor do
Which shall bring giants for peace to sue
Hurrah! Hurrah! Better times are near;
Let us front the conflict and prepare;
Greet the world as soldiers, bravely true:
'Sunder not,' Africa shouts to you.
poem by Marcus Mosiah Garvey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Revolution
(casino steel/ian hunter/dangerfield)
You were just a twinkle in your teenage mothers eyes
I was squeezing brylcreem on my hair
No one taught us how to be politically correct
And no one told our winkles what to wear
Ive been there, Ive done it
Ive seen it all
That was my contribution oh-oh
So much for the revolution
When someone said, lets go to bed nobody was scared
We were up to no good all the time
Judging by those freckles and the shades upon your nose
Its possible you could be one of mine
Ive been there, Ive done it
Ive seen it all
That was my revolution
On the road again, back at number ten
Underneath the lights a thousand and one nights
A revolution for fun
You better lock up your mum
Ive been there, Ive done it
Well, Ive seen them come and go
Thats for you to guess and thats for me to know
Oh, baby
Thats for you to guess and thats for me to know
So much for revolution
So much for revolution
That was my revolution
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Revolution
More calm than a heartbeat that flat lines
Quiet like a dark street under the moonlight
A phrase of action that's been screamed from the guts of men
Ever since they're first experienced
Injustice, prejudice, discrimination
A word louder than a gunshot
And softer than a baby's laugh, it will pass
Just like it always has. Until it spits off the lips of
The next man who's had it up to here.
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
solution
not the first or the last to imagine it
Acknowledge the concepts, question and grasp it
Rebel against the I, and bring down the self.
Mutiny me! overthrow you
Rebellion starts within, the time is now
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
Your Revolution
Purple skies, Devil eyes, Hypnotize
Little lies, Compromise, Fireflies
Samurias, Parasite, Fly by night, After light, Materialize,
Look alive, Stereotype, Do with die, lullaby, black and white
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head? your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution, your revolution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or at least it's been said, your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution?
Your Revolution
No resolution -Your Revolution
what's your solution? -Your Revolution
And no substitution -Your Revolution
And no resolution -Your Revolution
not your solution
song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tear Off Your Own Head
Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what an imitation is?
Only you do
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline?
Or do you?
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
You can pull his hair with your moveable fingers
It looks so real
If one won't do it, so collect the set
Dress him in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
How does this feel?
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It will turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
You can pull and pinch him
'Til he cries and squeals
You can twist his body 'til it faces backwards
Those plastic features
You could make somebody a pretty little wife
But don't let anybody tell you how to live your life
Broken pieces
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
Tear off your own head
Revolution
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Red Flag
Where the quivering lightning flings
His arrows from out the clouds,
And the howling tempest sings
And whistles among the shrouds,
'Tis pleasant, 'tis pleasant to ride
Along the foaming brine—
Wilt be the Rover's bride?
Wilt follow him, lady mine?
Hurrah!
For the bonny, bonny brine.
Amidst the storm and rack,
You shall see our galley pass,
As a serpent, lithe and black,
Glides through the waving grass.
As the vulture swift and dark,
Down on the ring-dove flies,
You shall see the Rovers bark
Swoop down upon his prize.
Hurrah!
For the bonny, bonny prize.
Over her sides we dash,
We gallop across her deck—
Ha! there's a ghastly gash
On the merchant-captain's neck—
Well shot, well shot, old Ned!
Well struck, well struck, black James!
Our arms are red, and our foes are dead,
And we leave a ship in flames!
Hurrah!
For the bonny, bonny flames!
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Sex Is Not The Enemy
No evolution
Sometimes it depresses me
The same old same
We keep repeating history
The institution curses curiosity
It's our conviction
Sex is not the enemy
A revolution
Is the solution
A revolution
Is the solution
I won't feel guilty
No matter what they're telling me
I won't feel dirty and buy into their misery
I won't be shamed cause I believe that love is free
It fuels the heart and sex is not the enemy
A revolution
Is the solution
A revolution
Is the solution
True love is like gold
There's not enough to go around
But then there's god and doesn't god love everyone?
Give me a choice
Give me a chance to turn the key and find my voice
Sex is not the enemy
A revolution
Is the solution
A revolution
Is the solution
Sex is not the enemy
A revolution
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Revolution
If you think its over, better think again
Therell be no compromise
Time to hit the power, feel adrenaline
Move into overdrive
Here comes the revolution
Time for retribution
If you think Ill back down or accept defeat
Brace for the aftershock
Take it to the limits, take it to the streets
Give it everything youve got
Time to come together
Revolution
Living on forever
Revolution
Get ready for the revolution
Its a revolution
Its a retribution
Somethings in the air
Time to change, its time to change
You better watch out tonight
You better watch out for the revolution
Bring it down, bring it down
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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