En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Bimetalism

Ben Bulger was a silver man,
Though not a mine had he:
He thought it were a noble plan
To make the coinage free.

'There hain't for years been sech a time,'
Said Ben to his bull pup,
'For biz-the country's broke and I'm
The hardest kind of up.

'The paper says that that's because
The silver coins is sea'ce,
And that the chaps which makes the laws
Puts gold ones in their place.

'They says them nations always be
Most prosperatin' where
The wolume of the currency
Ain't so disgustin' rare.'

His dog, which hadn't breakfasted,
Dissented from his view,
And wished that he could swell, instead,
The volume of cold stew.

'Nobody'd put me up,' said Ben,
'With patriot galoots
Which benefits their feller men
By playin' warious roots;

'But havin' all the tools about,
I'm goin' to commence
A-turnin' silver dollars out
Wuth eighty-seven cents.

'The feller takin' 'em can't whine:
(No more, likewise, can I):
They're better than the genooine,
Which mostly satisfy.

'It's only makin' coinage free,
And mebby might augment
The wolume of the currency
A noomerous per cent.'

I don't quite see his error nor
Malevolence prepense,
But fifteen years they gave him for
That technical offense.

poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Silver And Gold

Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold

song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver & Gold

Words and Music by Johnny Marks.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold

song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Current Currency

Dollars, euros, yen:
they’re all just pretty pieces of rags,
cotton, linen, and silk,
a bit of Crane paper, so we’re told.

Those currencies that no longer
predicate their value on precious metals,
gold or silver, for example,
have no more intrinsic worth than
fancy rags made of shirt fabrics.

Paper money is then much like
a wedding song “O, Promise Me”
performed over and over and over
until becoming superfluous.
Then the wedding guests long
for something more enduring
like Bach, Chopin, or Mendelssohn
(gold, silver, or real estate)
with no promises attached.

Then the mints are inked-up
the engraving plates polished to a sparkle,
and the fat lady is ready to sing her swan song,
“All of Me.”

At least if the current currency
breaks its promise and leaves me destitute,
with no purchasing power at all,
I can gather up all those little rectangles
and make a quilt or a pair of trousers,
if I can learn to sew.

poem by Sonny Rainshine
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Jim

He was jes a plain ever'-day, all-round kind of a jour.,
Consumpted-Iookin'-- but la!
The jokeiest, wittiest, story-tellin', song-singin', laughin'est, jolliest
Feller you ever saw!
Worked at jes coarse work, but you kin bet he was fine enough in his talk,
And his feelin's too!
Lordy! Ef he was on'y back on his bench ag'in to-day, a- carryin' on
Like he ust to do!

Any shopmate'll tell you there never was, on top o' dirt,
A better feller'n Jim!
You want a favor, and couldn't git it anywheres else--
You could git it o' him!
Most free-heartedest man thataway in the world, I guess!
Give up ever' nickel he's worth--
And ef you'd a-wanted it, and named it to him, and it was his,
He'd a-give you the earth!

Allus a reachin' out, Jim was, and a-he'ppin' some
Pore feller onto his feet--
He'd a-never a-keered how hungry he was hisse'f,
So's the feller got somepin' to eat!
Didn't make no differ'nce at all to him how he was dressed,
He ust to say to me--,
'You togg out a tramp purty comfortable in winter-time, a huntin' a job,
And he'll git along!' says he.

Jim didn't have, ner never could git ahead, so overly much
O' this world's goods at a time--.
'Fore now I've saw him, more'n onc't, lend a dollar, and haf to, more'n
likely,
Turn round and borry a dime!
Mebby laugh and joke about it hisse'f fer awhile-- then jerk his coat,
And kindo' square his chin,
Tie on his apern, and squat hisse'f on his old shoe-bench,
And go to peggin' ag'in!

Patientest feller too, I reckon, 'at ever jes natchurly
Coughed hisse'f to death!
Long enough after his voice was lost he'd laugh in a whisper and say
He could git ever'thing but his breath--
'You fellers,' he'd sorto' twinkle his eyes and say,
'Is a-pilin' onto me
A mighty big debt fer that-air little weak-chested ghost o' mine to pack
Through all Eternity!'

Now there was a man 'at jes 'peared-like, to me,
'At ortn't a-never a-died!
'But death hain't a-showin' no favors,' the old boss said--
'On'y to Jim!' and cried:
And Wigger, who puts up the best sewed-work in the shop--
Er the whole blame neighborhood--,
He says, 'When God made Jim, I bet you He didn't do anything else that day
But jes set around and feel good!'

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Silver Needles

(ian hunter)
Youre just a stranger in the past
Just another mug that could never last
You came up slow but you burned out fast (didnt ya)
It aint silver needles on the run
No it aint silver needles on the run
It aint silver needles on the run
Shh you make me feel so bad
You thought you was the only one that got messed up
Me n all the others never had it so rough
Well how come youre dead and Im still stood up
Well it aint silver needles on the run
Silver needles on the run
No it aint silver needles on the run
Oh I remember....
All your plans were made on some pr floor
n all your bags were packed, they never reached the door.
Out ordering (? ) your thought exchange
All your brains were acting strange
You never lied in dreams before
There must be more to life than getting sore
(what do you think? )
I seen in some music paper that you was gone
And I went right out and wrote you a farewell song
Boy, they had you dead before you was born
And its a shame - you were such a great mover
But it aint silver needles on the run
No it aint silver needles on the run
Silver needles on the run
Silver needles on the run
Silver needles on the run
Silver needles on the run
(next)

song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Panhandler

The panhandler sits on the street corner.
He asks me, "Spare some change? "
Like an empty vessel, I walk past him.
I see him as another empty vessel.
Some throw him a dime,
But I treat him as a vapor.
My spirit tugs at me.
My mind says he is a ghost,
But my ghost says he is real.
The currency he needs is my time.
He might be looking for his next fix,
But what will it fix?
Another lost soul, looking to get even more lost.
The root of all evil is planting another seed of discontent.
If my God is money,
Your free time has no value to me.
Anything that is free is void of value,
But time is really my only currency.
I only see the value of my own and not another's.
My account has no statement,
For when it is gone,
I will be broke.
I hoard it as if I were broke.
Investing only in myself.
It is why I feel broken.
Some time left in my breast pocket?
It beats to help he who is beat.
Spare time is something I have.
For it really is my true value,
Given from the heart of God.
If I lend some of mine to another,
It makes Him proud.
It is the core of my love.
It is the gift of His love.
He is truly my bank.
I bank on Him,
I count on Him,
I trust in Him.
Currency says "In God We Trust",
But can God trust in me?
Investing my time,
In one who is broke.
The dividend is joy.
The change in the pan will be spent.
Could he be searching for my gold?
I fill another's heart,
I see my investment grow.
With God's currency,
I am truly rich.
Though, I am only on borrowed time.
For the panhandler was just an angel.
God's teller.
Telling God if I made a deposit or withdrawal.
God knows my balance,
As He holds my account.
He knows to which God,
I am accountible to.
And if my spirit is balanced.

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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What is the effect of unlimited coinage of silver in this country? and I invite your attention to this particularly, because it is a question of vital importance.

quote by Richard Parks Bland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When not only gold but all commodities are available for the redemption of the paper currency, its volume is limited only by the value of all the wealth of the country, and it can never become insecure up to this limit.

quote by John Buchanan Robinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where's The Silver?

Colors, colors everywhere
Colors all around

Reds and purples and blues are there
But silver can't be found

I look around, and now I've found some yellows and some greens
I look until my eyes are sore, but silver can't be seen

I look unto the vibrant clouds, but there's no silver lining
Where is all the silver that the miners should be mining?

There are no silver bells a'ringing
The silver songbirds are not singing
The orange sun hangs in the air, but I can't find silver anywhere

I look for hours, look for days, look for silver anyplace
But there always seems to be another color in it's place

I've given up this useless search
There is no silver left to find
I dropp my head and start to cry
When out of my pocket falls a silver dime

poem by Tyler Mason
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Grandma's Silver

You met me
and I had given up.

You met me
and I took out the good china
from Grandma's hutch;

her gold-plated knives, forks and spoons
and the silver,
toasting you
that summer night
had both of us playing house.

I was the gourmet cook,
you were eating hearty
and wolfed down lustily my heart;

made me forget giving up
for giving it up
happily;
mostly from memory
and you were kind enough
not to notice
how awkwardly
and how long
my breathing took
to run to smooth.

It was the conversation
I believe
late into the night
that over-came me
re-mending those broken heart pieces
which laid themselves out carefully
on my dining room
table;
festooned
with grandma's
silver and gold-plated spoons.

We have gone on now through
paper, wood
and silver anniversaries;
golden
on our horizon;
nearing fifty years.

Thanks Grandma
for the silver-ware
and for him.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Insolvent for my friend Aldo

The silver leaves of aspen trees
which shimmer in the playful breeze.
Each separate leaf reflecting light
like newly minted coinage bright.
Quite soon will be a memory
as autumn winds strip every tree
until no single leaf is left
Their branches naked and bereft.
Though they still shiver in the breeze.
The naked branches do not please
the eye the way they used to do.
I long again to see the view
of silver laden aspen trees.
which dip and curtsy in the breeze..

28-Oct-07

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Better Than Silver & Gold

Workin' hard every day
Never notice how
the time slips away
People come, seasons go
We got something
that'll never grow old.
I don't care
if the sun don't shine
And the rain keeps pouring
down on me and mine
'Cause our kind of love
never seems to get old
It's better than silver and gold.
I used to have a treasure chest
Got so heavy that I had to rest
I let it slip away from me
Didn't need it anyway
so I let it slip away.
I don't care
if the sun don't shine
And the rain keeps pouring
down on me and mine
'Cause our kind of love
never seems to get old
It's better than silver and gold.
I don't care
if the sun don't shine
And the rain keeps pouring
down on me and mine
'Cause our kind of love
never seems to get old
It's better than silver and gold.

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Test My Appetite

Some prefer and choose perfection,
To convey ideals...
Promoted to instill.
With a showing of a knowledge...
In a hope that this appeals.

And then there are those,
Who have chosen to be real.
Grounded and solid of sound minds.
To find they are critiqued...
By those of the pretentious kind.

'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'

~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!

In these times,
I will nourish first...
Before rehearsing any refinement,
I've learned from the past.
But today does not work.~

'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'

~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!

Go ahead!
Test my appetite!
I dare you.
Leave that stew.
And I'll show you what can be done with it.~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Alf’s Twelfth Bit

BALLAD FOR THE TIMES' SPECIAL SILVER NUMBER

Sez the Times a silver lining
Is what has set us pining,
Montague, Montague!

In the season sad and weary
When our minds are very bleary,
Montague, Montague!

There is Sir Hen. Deterding
His phrases interlarding,
Montague, Montague!

With the this and that and what
For putting silver on the spot,
Montague, Montague!

Just drop it in the slot
And it will surely boil the pot,
Montague, Montague!

Gold, of course, is solid too,
But some silver set to stew
Might do, too. Montague!
With a lively wood-pulp ‘ad’.

To cheer the bad and sad,
Montague, Montague!

poem by Ezra Pound
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Silver Is Metal Used To Kill Demon Souls

gold gold is the fever metal
for the love of gold shining in their eyes
men resort to violent base morals

gold lust will turn men's
hearts to savage beasts
gold is not a beautiful metal

of salvation
curse of death men's
gold haunts

generations of men

silver silver is redemption metal
thirty pieces of silver payment
price for betrayal of prophet Christ

in blood of Christ
silver is granted power over evil
silver is metal

used to kill demon souls

silver not gold
is salvation metal
with power to slay evil

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Silver Is Just A Shiney Grey

That jewlery you gave me,
I thought was so beautiful.
Silver and gold and presious gemstones.
You said they were a symble of your love.

But silver is just a shiny grey,
And you took your love away.
Bit by painful bit,
You asked for a break.
I saw it coming,
But it still hurts the same.

They say that there's always a silver lining
To every cloud.
Silver lineing is still a grey cloud.

Someday, somehow, I'll find out
Gold is just a shiney yellow.
But yellow is happy and sunny.
Someday I'll find my yellow tounged hero.

poem by Melanie Weeks
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Treasured

Treasure is a lovely love, a built book,
One of the heavens contains the treasure.
Treasure forbade me to truly become you,
Understanding the gold and silver is becoming clear.

Let golden items sway, let gold become heavenly
By being money and wealth of a man in reign.
The money colder is the money touched;
Anywhere you go, is the silver being rich?

Let coins be coins as far as the eyes glance,
The body I suffer shall happen to be in the river of gold.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Silver

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

poem by Walter de la Mare
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Silver

Silver is a wonderful element,
A fierce wonder, much honoured;
And its help is great, forever,
And forever. I give in to silver.
For silver I take the number of days
To be many for the occupation of mine.
The silvered men and women
Are never the forgotten people;
So choose silver, and wise are you.
Silver is the best metal
Too hard to possess.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Silver & Gold

Workin hard every day
Never notice how the time slips away
People come, seasons go
We got something thatll never grow old
I dont care if the sun dont shine
And the rain comes pourin down on me and mine
cause our kind of love
Never seems to get old
Its better than silver and gold
I used to have a treasure chest
Got so heavy that I had to rest
I let it slip away from me
Didnt need it anyway.
So I let it slip away.
I dont care if the sun dont shine
And the rain comes pourin down on me and mine
cause our kind of love
Never seems to get old
Its better than silver and gold
I dont care if the sun dont shine
And the rain comes pourin down on me and mine
cause our kind of love
Never seems to get old
Its better than silver and gold

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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