Come And Play In The Garden
LITTLE sister, come away,
And let us in the garden play,
For it is a pleasant day.
On the grass-plat let us sit,
Or, if you please, we'll play a bit,
And run about all over it.
But the fruit we will not pick,
For that would be a naughty trick,
And very likely make us sick.
Nor will we pluck the pretty flowers
That grow about the beds and bowers,
Because you know they are not ours.
We'll take the daisies, white and red,
Because mamma has often said
That we may gather then instead.
And much I hope we always may
Our very dear mamma obey,
And mind whatever she may say.
poem by Ann Taylor
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Related quotes
Come and Play in the Garden
Little sister, come away,
And let us in the garden play,
For it is a pleasant day.
On the grass-plat let us sit,
Or, if you please, we'll play a bit,
And run about all over it.
But the fruit we will not pick,
For that would be a naughty trick,
And very likely make us sick.
Nor will we pluck the pretty flowers
That grow about the beds and bowers,
Because you know they are not ours.
We'll take the daisies, white and red,
Because mamma has often said
That we may gather then instead.
And much I hope we always may
Our very dear mamma obey,
And mind whatever she may say.
poem by Jane Taylor
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Little Girls Must Not Fret
WHAT is it that makes little Emily cry?
Come then, let mamma wipe the tear from her eye:
There–lay down your head on my bosom–that's right,
And now tell mamma what's the matter to-night.
What! Emmy is sleepy, and tired with play?
Come, Betty, make haste then, and fetch her away;
But do not be fretful, my darling; you know
Mamma cannot love little girls that are so.
She shall soon go to bed and forget it all there–
Ah! here's her sweet smile come again, I declare:
That's right, for I thought you quite naughty before.
Good night, my dear child, but don't fret any more.
poem by Ann Taylor
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Little Girls Must Not Fret
What is it that makes little Emily cry?
Come then, let mamma wipe the tear from her eye:
There -- lay down your head on my bosom -- that's right,
And now tell mamma what's the matter to-night.
What! Emmy is sleepy, and tired with play?
Come, Betty, make haste then, and fetch her away;
But do not be fretful, my darling; you know
Mamma cannot love little girls that are so.
She shall soon go to bed and forget it all there
Ah! here's her sweet smile come again, I declare:
That's right, for I thought you quite naughty before.
Good night, my dear child, but don't fret any more.
poem by Jane Taylor
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Fringed Gentians
Near where I live there is a lake
As blue as blue can be, winds make
It dance as they go blowing by.
I think it curtseys to the sky.
It's just a lake of lovely flowers
And my Mamma says they are ours;
But they are not like those we grow
To be our very own, you know.
We have a splendid garden, there
Are lots of flowers everywhere;
Roses, and pinks, and four o'clocks
And hollyhocks, and evening stocks.
Mamma lets us pick them, but never
Must we pick any gentians -- ever!
For if we carried them away
They'd die of homesickness that day.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Sweet Mama Blue
Written by orbison/melson.
I know a place in new orleans.
They call the castle of kings and queens.
Where an old sweet black woman sings.
And plays piano like a dream.
She puts out all her beautiful heart and soul for you.
Sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue will only sing about the truth.
And it will get to you.
Sweet mamma blue will sing of love as only she can do.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue
One night I stayed past closing time.
Sweet mamma blue my troubled mind.
She sang the night away for me.
She made me see what I couldnt see.
That only by loving life will all your dreams come true.
Sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue will only sing about the truth.
And it will get to you.
Sweet mamma blue will sing of love as only she can do.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue.
They say shes gone from misery.
But she still lives in my memory.
I still can see her smile and say
Ill bet you make it all the way.
If you will try the lord will surely see you through
.
Sweet mamma blue,
The world sure will miss you.
And when I feel blue I think of you.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue...
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Life
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
I'm going to be a farmer
Blowing the fields in the morning sun
I'll have a millon horses
Take me a ride when the work is done
I'm going to have a sweet life
Sweetest life you ever seen
And when the day is over
Going to go to sleep in the field of green
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Going to be a acter
Playing a part in a light of gold
Oh yes I will
I'm going to make a lot of money
Going to spend it all before I get to old
And I'm going to have a sweet life
Sweetest life you ever seen
And you know when the day is over now
I'm going to go to sleep in a field of green
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
Got,got, got to have a sweet life
Got to have a sweet life
Daddy do you know what I mean
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Mamma can you hear me
Daddy do you know what I mean
[fade out]
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Juanita
(Gram Parsons Chris Hillman)
No affection were the words that stuck on my mind
When she walked out on me for the very last time
Oh mamma sweet mamma can you tell me what to say
I don't know what I've done to be treated this way
In a cold dirty room that's where I found myself
With a bottle of wine and some pills off the shelf
Oh mamma sweet mamma can you tell me what to say
I don't know what I've done and I'm feeling so ashamed
Then an angel appeared she was just 17
In a dirty old town with a conscious so clean
Oh mamma sweet mamma can you tell me what to say
She's brought back the life that I once threw away
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Daisies
In the great green park with the wooden palings -
The wooden palings so hard to climb,
There are fern and foxglove, primrose and violet,
And green things growing all the time;
And out in the open the daisies grow,
Pretty and proud in their proper places,
Millions of white-frilled daisy faces,
Millions and millions--not one or two.
And they call to the bluebells down in the wood:
'Are you out--are you in? We have been so good
All the school-time winter through,
But now it's playtime,
The gay time, the May time;
We are out and at play. Where are you?'
In the gritty garden inside the railings,
The spiky railings all painted green,
There are neat little beds of geraniums and fuchsia
With never a happy weed between.
There's a neat little grass plot, bald in places,
And very dusty to touch;
A respectable man comes once a week
To keep the garden weeded and swept,
To keep it as we don't want it kept.
He cuts the grass with his mowing-machine,
And we think he cuts it too much.
But even on the lawn, all dry and gritty,
The daisies play about.
They are so brave as well as so pretty,
You cannot keep them out.
I love them, I want to let them grow,
But that respectable man says no.
He cuts off their heads with his mowing-machine
Like the French Revolution guillotine.
He sweeps up the poor little pretty faces,
The dear little white-frilled daisy faces;
Says things must be kept in their proper places
He has no frill round his ugly face -
I wish I could find his proper place!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Sophia’s Fool’s-Cap
SOPHIA was a little child,
Obliging, good, and very mild,
Yet lest of dress she should be vain,
Mamma still dress'd her well, but plain.
Her parents, sensible and kind,
Wish'd only to adorn her mind;
No other dress, when good, had she,
But useful, neat simplicity.
Though seldom, yet when she was rude,
Or ever in a naughty mood,
Her punishment was this disgrace,
A large fine cap, adorn'd with lace,
With feathers and with ribbons too;
The work was neat, the fashion new,
Yet, as a fool's-cap was its name,
She dreaded much to wear the same.
A lady, fashionably gay,
Did to mamma a visit pay:
Sophia stared, then whisp'ring said,
'Why, dear mamma, look at her head!
To be so tall and wicked too,
The strangest thing I ever knew:
What naughty tricks, pray, has she done,
That they have put that fool's-cap on? '
poem by Ann Taylor
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Vamos
Estaba pensando sobre viviendo con mi sister en new jersey,
Ella me dijo que es una vida buena alla,
Bien rica bien chevere, y voy! pueta! (*)
Translation
I was thinking surviving with my sister in new jersey,
She told me it's a good life there,
Very good very nice, here i go! jerk off!
We'll keep well bred,
We'll stay well fed,
We'll have our sons,
They will be all well hung.
They'll come and play,
Their friends will say,
Your daddy's rich,
Your mamma's a pretty thing.
That maid maria she's really o.k.
Vamos a jugar por la playa (x5)
I keep getting friends,
Looking like lesbians,
If we get bored,
We'll move to california.
They'll come and play,
Their friends will say,
Your daddy's rich,
Your mamma's a pretty thing.
That maid maria she's really o.k.
Vamos a jugar por la playa (x5)
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mamma Dont
Mamma Don't Lie,
I feel your hard years,
I hear your heart sighs.
Mamma Don't Cry,
I see those raw tears,
I know those aw eyes.
Mamma Don't Die,
I share the same fears,
I drink the same cries.
Mamma Don't Try,
I will cover our ears,
I will shower our lies.
poem by Karoliena Somura
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Our Marriage Is Our Garden
Our marriage is our garden.
I want our garden to be beautiful.
With lush green grass,
With fragrant and colourful flowers.
A place of solace.
A place of peace.
A place of love.
Our garden must be watered.
Not watered too much.
As that would saturate the ground.
Not watered too little.
As that would leave the plants wilted.
And our grass barren.
But regularly.
So the flowers can stand tall
It must be weeded.
It must be maintained.
It must be loved.
We will plant seeds in our garden.
For new life makes any garden more beautiful and diverse.
We can harvest the fruit trees, but our harvest is limited
If we eat all the fruit too quick,
Then we must wait until the next harvest to eat again.
If we don't pick the fruit when it is right, it will spoil.
Our harvest is for our family.
If I eat all the fruit myself, then they will starve.
If we eat too much we will get sick.
If we eat what we are supposed to, then we will be healthy.
If we do not monitor the fruit,
Then someone might eat more than their share.
If we do not stand guard in our garden,
A thief might come into the garden to steal our fruit.
The fruit for our family.
For their garden must be barren and their crops have spoiled.
Our garden will stand the test of all seasons.
As all gardens do.
Another garden will also experience the same seasons.
Just at different times.
All gardens face rain.
All gardens get sun.
It is the rain that nourishes the garden and helps it's life to grow.
But our garden must be maintained regularly.
Only artificial things require no maintenance.
The artificial has no life.
It is fake, it is plastic.
Our garden needs to be real.
So life may grow and continue to grow.
So one day our children can enjoy a garden of their own.
For them and their children.
May their garden be overflowing with life and love.
And be the most beautiful garden in the world.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Ghetto Girl
Stay at home now
That little girl was born on the ghetto side of town
She knows every trick in the book and she certainly gets around
Shes been with many men since she was only ten
She never stay at home she s always on the town
Your mamma is wondering where you are
What do you see at night when youre under the stars
Stay at home
Sister stay at home
Dont let your mamma down
Dont be a run around
Stay at home
Sister stay at home
Dont let your mother down
Dont be a run around
Stay at home now
That little girl was born on the ghetto side of town
She knows every trick in the book and she certainly gets around
Shes been with many men since she was only ten
She never stay at home shes always on the town
Your mamma is wondering where you are
What do you see at night when youre under the stars
Baby keep on running and you wont get far
You like to travel with all those movie stars
You like a hangin in the big long shiny cars
Sister stay at home
Dont let your mamma down no no no no
song performed by by Simply Red
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother Goddess
Short single plaited of her curly locks
Tall, simple, draped with six yards
Queenly significant, nightingale voiced
Pretty enough to be admired
Mamma is ever my first goddess.
Her veneration with high ideals
Her composure with amiable qualities
Have lasting records filling up my mind.
I'm her disciple, well tuned.
No doubt, mamma is ever my first goddess.
Home-like a choultry of many numbers
With increasing population of naughty kids
Of aunts, uncles and even grand-parents
Issued year by year without any pause! !
Challenge, caring for her own kids
Nursing others', serving the elders
Cooking for the battalion the food
In huge vessels with more heed -
Great, mamma is ever my first goddess! !
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The doll's wooing
The little French doll was a dear little doll
Tricked out in the sweetest of dresses;
Her eyes were of hue
A most delicate blue
And dark as the night were her tresses;
Her dear little mouth was fluted and red,
And this little French doll was so very well bred
That whenever accosted her little mouth said
"Mamma! mamma!"
The stockinet doll, with one arm and one leg,
Had once been a handsome young fellow;
But now he appeared
Rather frowzy and bleared
In his torn regimentals of yellow;
Yet his heart gave a curious thump as he lay
In the little toy cart near the window one day
And heard the sweet voice of that French dolly say:
"Mamma! mamma!"
He listened so long and he listened so hard
That anon he grew ever so tender,
For it's everywhere known
That the feminine tone
Gets away with all masculine gender!
He up and he wooed her with soldierly zest
But all she'd reply to the love he professed
Were these plaintive words (which perhaps you have guessed):
"Mamma! mamma!"
Her mother - a sweet little lady of five -
Vouchsafed her parental protection,
And although stockinet
Wasn't blue-blooded, yet
She really could make no objection!
So soldier and dolly were wedded one day,
And a moment ago, as I journeyed that way,
I'm sure that I heard a wee baby voice say:
"Mamma! mamma!"
poem by Eugene Field
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My childhood
When I peep into my past
I remember my childhood
The carefree, wonderful world of my life
Nothing to bother, nothing to think
Lot of fun, lot of play
When wrong I did, said sorry to mamma
Don’t do it again was mamma’s answer
My legs ached after lot of play
Mamma would massage them at the end of the day
Who washed my clothes?
What to wear I never thought
Lot of friends
Hindu or Muslim was never the question
Climbing on the trees
Catching butterflies was the favourite pastime
Wanted everyday to be a Sunday
Getting up early I never liked
Sleeping late in the morning was my desire
How papa earns was never my concern
Brothers and sisters all loved me
I was the youngest in the family
I pray to god take the money and all the worries
And give me back my child hood
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Repentance And Reconciliation
JANE.
Mamma is displeased and looks very grave,
And I own, brother, I was to blame
Just now when I told her I wanted to have,
Like Miss Lydia, a very fine name.
'Twas foolish, for, Robert, Jane sounds very well,
When mamma says, 'I love my good Jane.'
I've been lately so naughty, I hardly can tell
If she ever will say so again.
ROBERT.
We are each of us foolish, and each of us young,
And often in fault and to blame.
Jane, yesterday I was too free with my tongue,
I acknowledge it now to my shame.
For a speech in my good mother's hearing I made,
Which reflected upon her whole sex;
And now like you, Jenny, I am much afraid
That this might my dear mother vex.
JANE.
But yet, brother Robert, 'twas not quite so bad
As that naughty reflection of mine,
When I grumbled because Liddy Bellenger had
Dolls and dresses expensive and fine.
For then 'twas of her, her own self, I complained;
Since mamma does provide all I have.
MOTHER.
Your repentance, my children, I see is unfeigned,
You are now my good Robert, and now my good Jane;
And if you will never be naughty again,
Your fond mother will never look grave.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Frances Keeps Her Promise
'MY Fanny, I have news to tell,
Your diligence quite pleases me;
You've work'd so neatly, read so well,
With cousin Jane you may take tea.
'But pray remember this, my love,
Although to stay you should incline,
And none but you should think to move,
I wish you to return at nine. '
With many thanks the attentive child
Assured mamma she would obey:
Whom tenderly she kiss'd, and smiled,
And with the maid then went away.
Arrived, the little girl was shown
To where she met the merry band;
And when her coming was made known,
All greet her with a welcome bland.
They dance, they play, and sweetly sing,
In every sport each one partakes;
And now the servants sweetmeats bring,
With wine and jellies, fruit and cakes.
Then comes papa, who says, 'My dears,
The magic lantern if you'd see,
And that which on the wall appears,
Leave off your play, and follow me.'
While Frances too enjoy'd the sight,
Where moving figures all combine
To raise her wonder and delight,
She hears, alas! the clock strike nine.
'Miss Fanny's maid for her is come.' –
'Oh dear, how soon!' the children cry;
They press, but Fanny will go home,
And bids her little friends good bye.
'See, dear mamma, I have not stay'd;'
'Good girl, indeed,' mamma replies,
'I knew you'd do as you had said,
And now you'll find you've won a prize.
'So come, my love, and see the man
Whom I desired at nine to call.'
Down stairs young Frances quickly ran,
And found him waiting in the hall.
'Here, Miss, are pretty birds to buy,
A parrot or macaw so gay;
A speckled dove with scarlet eye:
A linnet or a chattering jay.
'Would you a Java sparrow love?'
'No, no, I thank you,' said the child;
'I'll have a beauteous cooing dove,
So harmless, innocent, and mild. '
'Your choice, my Fanny, I commend,
Few birds can with the dove compare:
But lest it pine without a friend,
I give you leave to choose a pair.
poem by Ann Taylor
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Turn Blue
See a black Eldorado
Oh, rolling along down below my window
That black girl in the back looks pretty good
Christ! She's beautiful
You know how soft she is
Just what you feel like
Oh, I'm so far away from her
Jesus this is Iggy
You, you might as well come with me,
When you ride the ride
There's talk and I don't wanna talk
Oh mamma, I shot myself down [x4]
They're stepping on our hearts
Stepping on our hearts
I don't know why they're stepping on our hearts
Damn, I don't know why
Stepping on our hearts [x5]
Can't you see, oh no, Stepping on our hearts
How come the blacks, how come they copy you so good?
They get off on you, so ?
If you wanna make it
Young man you gotta make somebody come
Come out of your black [x2] and strong
Black! Strong! Black!
Jesus it's cold in this room, it's really cold
You know I never told you about this, but there's one guy
Somebody I really love, he's never around
Well he was taking things that could be alright, that could be nice
And make him ugly, so damn ugly
And we put out the lights on them
Yeah, we'd make it dark, we put out the lights....on them
It's idiots like you that screw me up
I know there's nothing to you
And I don't know why I treat you so kind
Come down and dance with me, dance with me
You got nobody left but me
Oh accept me, don't reject me, don't forget me
Mamma, what colour will the lights be? Will they turn blue on me? [x2]
Mamma, I shot myself up, woh mamma, I shot myself up, up, up, mamma
Up down, up down mamma
Oh oh oh oh oh mamma
I didn't know what I was doing, I didn't mean to, but I did it, I shot myse
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whats It Take
(robert palmer)
Youre lonely can I see you
I hire a private red-eye rocket
But when I walk in here
You wanna go through all my pockets
Whats it take?
Mamma whats it take?
Ive known you all these years
And still you overhaul my letters
They dont confirm your fears
But when Im dead youll know me better
Whats it take?
Mamma whats it take?
My mistake was thinking I had it covered
I havent made the first move
Whats it take to get it through to you mamma?
What does it take to love you?
I take you out to dinner
You ask me why Im acting guilty
I thought Id backed a winner
This love affair is gonna kill me
Whats it take?
Mamma whats it take?
You say youre only teasing
I wanna try a new position
You wanna know the reason
Ive got a spanish inquisition
Whats it take?
Mamma whats it take?
My mistake was thinking I had it covered
I havent made the first move
Whats it take to get it through to you mamma?
What does it take to love you?
I wanna hear the gossip
You say I like a real ambition
I ask you if youve got it
You document my inhibitions
Whats it take?
Mamma whats it take?
Mamma whats it take?
Whats it take?
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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