En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Black Harry's Team

No soft-skinned Durham steers are they,
No Devons plump and red,
But brindled, black and iron-grey
That mark the mountain-bred;
For mountain-bred and mountain-broke,
With sullen eyes agleam,
No stranger's hand could put a yoke
On old Black Harry's team.

Pull out, pull out, at break of morn
The creeks are running white,
And Tiger, Spot and Snailey-horn
Must bend their bows by night;
And axles, wheels, and flooring boards
Are swept with flying spray
As shoulder-deep, through mountain fords
The leaders feel their way.

He needs no sign of cross or kirn
To guide him as he goes,
For every twist and every turn
That old black leader knows.
Up mountains steep they heave and strain
Where never wheel has rolled,
And what the toiling leaders gain
The body-bullocks hold.

Where eagle-hawks their eyries make,
On sidlings steep and blind,
He rigs the good old-fashioned brake---
A tree tied on behind.
Up mountains, straining to the full,
Each poler plays his part---
The sullen, stubborn, bullock-pull
That breaks a horse's heart.

Beyond the farthest bridle track
His wheels have blazed the way;
The forest giants, burnt and black,
Are ear-marked by his dray.
Through belts of scrub, where messmates grow
His juggernaut has rolled,
For stumps and saplings have to go
When Harry's team takes hold.

On easy grade and rubber tyre
The tourist car goes through,
They halt a moment to admire
The far-flung mountain view.
The tourist folk would be amazed
If they could get to know
They take the track Black Harry blazed
A Hundred Years Ago.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Black Mountain Blues

Old black mountain
Tried to spit in your face
Old black mountain
Tried to spit in your face
Babys grubbing whiskey
Oh shes practising ? ? ?
Old black mountain
Mean as they can be
Old black mountain
Mean as they can be
They use ground butter
Just to sweeten the tea
Had a girl in black mountain
Sweetest girl in town
Had a girl in black mountain
Sweetest girl in town
But she met a sweet black man
Then she threw me down
Well, old black mountain
Cant keep man in jail
Well, old black mountain
Cant keep man in jail
Sure to call him guilty
Judge will cry and bail
Im bound for black mountain
Me and my razor and my gun
Im bound for black mountain
Me and my razor and my gun
Gonna cut her if she stands there
And shoot her if she runs

song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Black Mountain Blues

Out in black mountain a child will smack your face.
Im saying out on black mountain a child will smack your face.
The babies cryin for liquor, and all the birds sing bass.
Well, those people in black mountain are mean as they can be.
And those people in black mountain are mean as they can be.
Now they uses gun powder just to sweeten up their tea.
Well, out in black mountain you cant keep a good man in jail.
Yeah, out in black mountain you cant keep a good man in jail
cause if the jury convicts him, the judge will pay his bail.
I had a man in black mountain, the sweetest man in town.
I had a man in black mountain, the sweetest man in the town.
But then he met a city gal, thats when he throwed me down.
Lord, Im bound for black mountain, me and my razor and my gun,
Im going back to black mountain, me and my razor and my gun.
Im gonna fire him if he stands still, Ill just cut him if he runs.
Lord, now youve heard my story, now youve heard my news.
Lord, now youve heard my story, now youve heard my news.
Now my man can clear off, Ive got the blackest mountain blues.

song performed by by Janis Joplin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Cream Of Love

I am a black mountain standing up high,
And you need me on this love;
Because, i will make you climb uo so high to see the world!

I am a black mountain and i have the right cream of love for you,
And you will see me better in the night than ever!
So come to this black mountain and see things for yourself.

Oh my sweet Princess, come for this cream of love;
For you are the most beautiful lady that i have ever met.
Come to this black mountain and let me visit your palace too,
For your dreams will always be in my sleep.

Come on top of this black mountain,
For it is very cold at night;
But i will warm you up with the sweet blanket of love.

Come my sweet Princess,
For you are the only one who really means much to me;
And i will keep the sweet cream of love for you only.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Legend

The blacksmith's boy went out with a rifle
and a black dog running behind.
Cobwebs snatched at his feet,
rivers hindered him,
thorn branches caught at his eyes to make him blind
and the sky turned into an unlucky opal,
but he didn't mind.
I can break branches, I can swim rivers, I can stare out
any spider I meet,
said he to his dog and his rifle.

The blacksmith's boy went over the paddocks
with his old black hat on his head.
Mountains jumped in his way,
rocks rolled down on him,
and the old crow cried, You'll soon be dead.
And the rain came down like mattocks.
But he only said,
I can climb mountains, I can dodge rocks, I can shoot an old crow any day,
and he went on over the paddocks.

When he came to the end of the day, the sun began falling,
Up came the night ready to swallow him,
like the barrel of a gun,
like an old black hat,
like a black dog hungry to follow him.
Then the pigeon, the magpie and the dove began wailing
and the grass lay down to pillow him.
His rifle broke, his hat blew away and his dog was gone and the sun was falling.

But in front of the night, the rainbow stood on the mountain,
just as his heart foretold.
He ran like a hare,
he climbed like a fox;
he caught it in his hands, the colours and the cold -
like a bar of ice, like the column of a fountain,
like a ring of gold.
The pigeon, the magpie and the dove flew up to stare,
and the grass stood up again on the mountain.

The blacksmith's boy hung the rainbow on his shoulder
instead of his broken gun.
Lizards ran out to see, snakes made way for him,
and the rainbow shone as brightly as the sun.
All the world said, Nobody is braver, nobody is bolder,
nobody else has done
anything equal to it. He went home as easy as could be
with the swinging rainbow on his shoulder.

poem by Judith Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Tiger Man

(words & music by lewis - burns)
I am the king of the jungle
They call me the tiger man
I am the king of the jungle
They call me tiger man
If you cross my path
You take your own life in your hands
Yeah, I get up on a mountain
And I call my black cat back
Yeah, I get up on a mountain
And I call my black cat back
My black cat comes a runnin
And the hound dogs get way back
Yeah, I get up on a mountain
And I call my black cat back
Yeah, I get up on a mountain
And I call my black cat back
My black cat comes a runnin
And the hound dogs get way back
Yeah, I get up on a mountain
And I call my black cat back
Yeah, I get up on a mountain
And I call my black cat back
My black cat comes a runnin
And the hound dogs get way back

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Man On The Silver Mountain

Im a wheel, Im a wheel
I can roll, I can feel
And you cant stop me turning
cause Im the sun, Im the sun
I can move, I can run
But youll never stop me burning
* come down with fire
Lift my spirit higher
Someones screaming my name
Come and make me holy again
Im the man on the silver mountain
Im the man on the silver mountain
Im the day, Im the day
I can show you the way
And look Im right beside you
Im the night, Im the night
Im the dark and the light
With eyes that see inside you
* x 2
Just look at me and listen
Im the man, the man, give you my hand
Come down with fire
Lift my spirit higher
Im the man on the silver mountain
Im the man on the silver mountain
Im the night the light
The black and the white
The man on the silver mountain

song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Man On The Silver Mountain

I'm a wheel, I'm a wheel
I can roll, I can feel
And you can't stop me turning
Cause I'm the sun, I'm the sun
I can move, I can run
But you'll never stop me burning
Come down with fire
Lift my spirit higher
Someone's screaming my name
Come and make me holy again
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the day, I'm the day
I can show you the way
And look, I'm right beside you
I'm the night, I'm the night
I'm the dark and the light
With eyes that see inside you
Come down with fire
Lift my spirit higher
Someone's screaming my name
Come and make me holy again
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the man on the silver mountain
Come down with fire
And lift my spirit higher
Someone's screaming my name
Come and make me holy again
Well, I can help you, you know I can
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the man on the silver mountain
Just look at me and listen
I'm the man, the man, give you my hand
I'm the man on the silver mountain
Come down with fire
And lift your spirit higher
I'm the man on the mountain
The man on the silver mountain
I'm the night, the light
The black and the white
The man on the silver mountain

song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Road to Hogan's Gap

Now look, you see, it’s this way like,
You cross the broken bridge
And run the crick down till you strike
The second right-hand ridge.
The track is hard to see in parts,
But still it’s pretty clear;
There’s been two Injin hawkers’ carts
Along that road this year.

Well, run that right-hand ridge along—
It ain’t, to say, too steep—
There’s two fresh tracks might put you wrong
Where blokes went out with sheep.

But keep the crick upon your right,
And follow pretty straight
Along the spur, until you sight
A wire and sapling gate.

Well, that’s where Hogan’s old grey mare
Fell off and broke her back;
You’ll see her carcase layin’ there,
Jist down below the track.

And then you drop two mile, or three,
It’s pretty steep and blind;
You want to go and fall a tree
And tie it on behind.

And then you pass a broken cart
Below a granite bluff;
And that is where you strike the part
They reckon pretty rough.

But by the time you’ve got that far
It’s either cure or kill,
So turn your horses round the spur
And face ’em up the hill.

For look, if you should miss the slope
And get below the track,
You haven’t got the whitest hope
Of ever gettin’ back.

An’ half way up you’ll see the hide
Of Hogan’s brindled bull;
Well, mind and keep the right-hand side,
The left’s too steep a pull.

And both the banks is full of cracks;
An’ just about at dark
You’ll see the last year’s bullock tracks
Where Hogan drew the bark.

The marks is old and pretty faint—
And grown with scrub and such;
Of course the track to Hogan’s ain’t
A road that’s travelled much.

But turn and run the tracks along
For half a mile or more,
And then, of course, you can’t go wrong—
You’re right at Hogan’s door.

When first you come to Hogan’s gate
He mightn’t show, perhaps;
He’s pretty sure to plant and wait
To see it ain’t the traps.

I wouldn’t call it good enough
To let your horses out;
There’s some that’s pretty extra rough
Is livin’ round about.

It’s likely if your horses did
Get feedin’ near the track,
It’s goin’ to cost at least a quid
Or more to get them back.

So, if you find they’re off the place,
It’s up to you to go
And flash a quid in Hogan’s face—
He’ll know the blokes that know.

But listen—if you’re feelin’ dry,
Just see there’s no one near,
And go and wink the other eye
And ask for ginger beer.

The blokes come in from near and far
To sample Hogan’s pop;
They reckon once they breast the bar
They stay there till they drop.

On Sundays you can see them spread
Like flies around the tap.
It’s like that song “The Livin’ Dead”
Up there at Hogan’s Gap.

They like to make it pretty strong
Whenever there’s a charnce;
So when a stranger comes along
They always holds a dance.

There’s recitations, songs, and fights—
A willin’ lot you’ll meet.
There’s one long bloke up there recites,
I tell you—he’s a treat.

They’re lively blokes all right up there,
It’s never dull a day.
I’d go meself if I could spare
The time to get away.

. . . . .
The stranger turned his horses quick.
He didn’t cross the bridge;
He didn’t go along the crick
To strike the second ridge;

He didn’t make the trip, because
He wasn’t feeling fit.
His business up at Hogan’s was
To serve him with a writ.

He reckoned if he faced the pull
And climbed the rocky stair,
The next to come might find his hide
A land-mark on the mountain side,
Along with Hogan’s brindled bull
And Hogan’s old grey mare!

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Man On The Silver Mountain (Live)

I'm a wheel,I'm a wheel
I can roll,I can feel
And you can't stop me turning
Cause I'm the sun,I'm the sun
I can move,I can run
But you'll never stop me burning
Come down with fire
Life my spirit higher
Someone's screaming my name
Come and make me holy again
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the day,I'm the day
I can show you the way
And look I'm right beside you
I'm the night,I'm the night
I'm the dark and the light
With eyes that see inside you
Come down with fire
Life my spirit higher
Someone's screaming my name
Come and make me holy again
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the man on the silver mountain
Come down with fire
Life my spirit higher
Someone's screaming my name
Come and make me holy again
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the man on the silver mountain
Just look at me and listen
I'm the man,the man,give you my hand
Come down with fire
Life my spirit higher
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the night and the light
I'm the black and the white
The man on the silver mountain

song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Racoon

Racoon wakes up every night,
with its black soft mask and painted paws,
its quiet and still and white,
The sparkling snow mountain is where all the bundles of food is kept,
It walked up the frosted moutains,
just like the giants that came once a year,
up on the mountain there is a big wooden den, where the giants snore,
but Racoon has not come for watching the giants,
he has come for the big shining silvery can,
like the lonely stars that shone above,
Inside there is enough food to last for moons,
the sun rises and Racoon runs home,
For when the sun sets Racoon will climb snow mountain again.

poem by Sora Yoshimatsu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Black And White Mountain Of Africa

The Black and White Mountain of Africa!
Give me hope and let me move my mind to the world;
And just to fit in like a human being,
Because making choices is part of man.
Facts and techniques,
And to the muse of the Black and White Mountain of Africa! !
But do pay close attention to the love i have around you.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Mountain Woman

They lived together in a dirty old shack
At the edge of the black rocky mountain
And they drank mountain dew and they lived on the food
That they grew at the side of the mountain
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
They [? ] down the valley
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
Uneducated but theyre happy
Mountain woman couldnt read nor write
But she knew good from evil, she know wrong from right
When the government tried to buy her water rights
Her intuition was her only guide
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
They [? ] by the valley
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
Uneducated but theyre happy
Spend my life with my mountain woman
Were uneducated by were happy
The civil servant used compulsory purchase
To acquire the [? ] for the nation
Theyll dig up the land, theyre gonna make a dam
And build a hydroelectric power station
And now she lives on the 33rd floor
Of a man-made concrete mountain
She got an elevator and refrigerator
And an automobile to run around in
Fast talkin lawyers from the government
Went and beat proud mountain woman down
Hey mountain woman, take your mountain man
They took your land and flood your valley
Spend my life with my mountain woman
Theyre uneducated by theyre happy

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Climbing And Climbing

for every step
a hundred deep breaths
you know how hard it
is to climb a mountain

but he chooses the mountains
though hard
as its sides are steep and sharp
because it is only through
mountains that he can
rise from the plains

the wise man once says
he chooses the mountain
because it is there.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Man from Snowy River

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.

There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up-
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle girths would stand,
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony - three parts thoroughbred at least -
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry - just the sort that won't say die -
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

But so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, "That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop-lad, you'd better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you."
So he waited sad and wistful - only Clancy stood his friend -
"I think we ought to let him come," he said;
"I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred."

"He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen."

So he went - they found the horses by the big mimosa clump -
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,
And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills."

So Clancy rode to wheel them - he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stockhorse past them, and he made the ranges ring
With stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their sway,
Were mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, "We may bid the mob good day,
No man can hold them down the other side."

When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.

He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timbers in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat -
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringybarks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill
And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.

Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.
He followed like a bloodhound in their track,
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around The Overflow the reed beds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The man from Snowy River is a household word today,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Marx Ernst, The Ghost In The Abstractions Of Kandinsky

an old man leaning on a black pole,
a nude plump woman of the renaissance
inside a stomach,
a man with a big fan as face
his hands mere sketches of helplessness
pointing to the culprit on both sides
a black bird flies away
like a comma of a poem
they form a stress of a family portrait.
a hand is cut. the old man has no foot.

i shifted from the eyes of marx ernst
his eyes are shadows his hair clouds
his face a misty mountain

moving on to kandinsky he finished
life with the strokes of bright colors
and he titles it Fugue, a Black Mountain
to an Unknown Voice.

my first time to see them both.
i am stricken with the beautiful colors of happiness.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Turning White Into Black

Deep inside their strong stubborn skulls,

and ev’n in their glitt’ring eyeballs,

they really know that black is black,

no way white will be black –

ev’n when they attempt to burn it to black,

its ashes cannot be black but grey.

But for the thirty silv’rs they want to receive,

they, from their basket mouths that can nev’r

hold on a dropp of wat’r,

say that white is not white but dark black.

Lies are now their Messiah here,

and their odour are their John, the forerunner;

Justice but their Israelites in Egypt!

Their hands are cloth’d with mess,

making all their body smell shit, shit of lies:

in the scept’r, it is there;

in the cross, it is there,

not ev’n our homes are spar’d of this mess.

They know that white is white,

for their eyes are not blind;

neith’r are they, themselves, confus’d,

but their greedy mouths have made it so,

turning justice to injustice!

poem by Eche Ononukwe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Black and White (Stream XV)

I have black thoughts,
It is a black day,
A day when the black dog
Coal black, hovers at my shoulder.
I shoulder the burden.
Deep in the black hole.
Black as a black hearted night.
Negative.
Stark.
Black and white.
I do not call my good days white days.
Why?
Or have white thoughts
On a white day,
When the white dog
Pure white sits upon my shoulder.
Which is unburdened.
Out of the pit,
Luxuriating in the bright white light;
White as the purest snow.
Positive.
For we live in a too white world
Maybe we should have grey days,
And light days.
Why should Black be negative and White poitive?

For me then, today is a grey day.
Maybe tomorrow will be a light day.

Copyright P H Brookes 2012

poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

King Of The Mountain

Walking through the high dry grass, pushing my way through slow
Yellow belly black snake, sleeping on a red rock
Waiting for the stranger to go
Sugar train stops at the crossing, cane cockies cursing below
Bad storm coming, better run to the top of the mountain
Mountain in the shadow of light, rain in the valley below
Well you can say youre peter, say youre paul
Dont put me up on your bedroom wall, call me the king of the mountain
Blacksmith fires up the bellows, cane cutters burning the load
Workers of the world, run to the top of the mountain
Mountain in the...
I cant take my hands from my face, there are some things we cant replace
Mountain in the...
Over liquid tarmac wastelands of cactus and heat
Down cobblestone alleyways of washing day sheets
Up ghost prairie mountains of sunset and space
Down the road at a familiar place, across the wilderness
Out further than the bush I will follow you
(hirst/moginie)

song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Take The Water To The Mountain

Take the water to the mountain;
Take the river to the sea.
Let the forest be salvation
Long before it needs to be.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let your body flow upstream.
Let it cascade off your shoulders;
Be the body of your dreams.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let the sun shine on your ground.
You decide your every movement;
Let the water to the land.
Take the water to the mountain;
Cross the great divide of love.
Give to nature all you can give;
Let the mother know your heart.
Take the water to the mountain;
Lets become alive again.
Holy water, holy mountain,
Holy river, holy tree.
Pica!

song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Take The Water To The Mountain

Take the water to the mountain;
Take the river to the sea.
Let the forest be salvation
Long before it needs to be.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let your body flow upstream.
Let it cascade off your shoulders;
Be the body of your dreams.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let the sun shine on your ground.
You decide your every movement;
Let the water to the land.
Take the water to the mountain;
Cross the great divide of love.
Give to nature all you can give;
Let the mother know your heart.
Take the water to the mountain;
Lets become alive again.
Holy water, holy mountain,
Holy river, holy tree.
Pica!

song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!