Song Of A Brigadier
I wear a splendid uniform;
I ride a splendid nag;
I talk both loud and valiantly
Of Honor and the Flag;
But let the South be easy still,
Her soldiers need not fear.
Ne'er shot nor blow shall lay them low
While I'm a Brigadier.
I canter gaily through the streets,
Attended by my staff,
Unheeding vulgar little boys
Who hoot and stare and chaff;
And such a staff! all foreign names,
Quite wonderful to hear,
Plain Yankee boys aren't good enough
For such a Brigadier.
I've Baron This and Duke of That,
And Prince of 'Tother, too,
The people ask me, 'What on earth
I have for them to do?'
'Tis plain to all but vulgar minds,
I want a kindred sphere;
There's nought like title, blood and style,
To aid a Brigadier!
No bloody wounds or hurts for me
Perhaps I am a sham;
But Politics and Influence
Have placed me where I am;
I give my dinners, draw my pay,
Drink brandy, wine or beer,
And mean to have a jolly time
While I'm a Brigadier.
Investigations pass me by,
Committees raise no row,
No one expects that I will fight --
And faith, I don't know how!
I'm not for use, but ornament,
So each day I appear,
In buttons, braid, in gold arrayed --
A fancy Brigadier.
There are plenty in the field
Who really like to fight --
Give me money and good clothes,
And I'll be harmless quite,
Yet there is something on my mind,
That I can't quite make clear,
How can the Government afford
My style of Brigadier!
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Related quotes
Drugs Made Pauline Vague
Drugs made Pauline vague.
She sat one day at the breakfast table
Fingering in a baffled way
The fronds of the maidenhair plant.
Was it the salt you were looking for dear?
said Dulcie, exchanging a glance with the Brigadier.
Chuff chuff Pauline what's the matter?
Said the Brigadier to his wife
Who did not even notice
What a handsome couple they made.
poem by Stevie Smith
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The Old Tin Hat
In the good old days when the Army's ways were simple and unrefined,
With a stock to keep their chins in front, and a pigtail down behind,
When the only light in the barracks at night was a candle of grease or fat,
When they put the extinguisher on the light, they called it the Old Tin Hat.
Now, a very great man is the C. in C., for he is the whole of the show --
The reins and the whip and the driver's hand that maketh the team to go --
But the road he goes is a lonely road, with ever a choice to make,
When he comes to a place where the roads divide, which one is the road to take.
For there's one road right, and there's one road wrong, uphill, or over the flat,
And one road leads to the Temple of Fame, and one to the Old Tin Hat.
And a very great man is the man who holds an Army Corps command,
For he hurries his regiments here and there as the C. in C. has planned.
By day he travels about in state and stirreth them up to rights,
He toileth early and toileth late, and sitteth up half the nights;
But the evening comes when the candle throws twin shadows upon the mat,
And one of the shadows is like a wreath, and one like an Old Tin Hat.
And a very proud man is the Brigadier at the sound of the stately tread
Of his big battalions marching on, as he rides with his staff ahead.
There's never a band to play them out, and the bugle's note is still,
But he hears two tunes in the gentle breeze that blows from over the hill.
And one is a tune in a stirring key, and the other is faint and flat,
For one is the tune of "My new C.B." and the other, "My Old Tin Hat."
And the Colonel heading his regiment is life and soul of the show,
It's "Column of route", "Form troops", "Extend", and into the fight they go;
He does not duck when the air is full of the "wail of the whimpering lead",
He does not scout for the deep dugout when the 'planes are overhead;
He fears not hog, nor devil, nor dog, and he'd scrap with a mountain cat,
But he goeth in fear of the Brigadier, and in fear of the Old Tin Hat.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Another Yankee Doodle
Yankee Doodle had a mind
To whip the Southern traitors,
Because they didn't choose to live
On codfish and potatoes,
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
And to keep his courage up
He took a drink of brandy.
Yankee Doodle said he found
By all the census figures,
That he could starve the rebels out,
If he could steal their niggers.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
And then he took another drink
Of gunpowder and brandy.
Yankee Doodle made a speech;
'Twas very full of feeling;
'I fear,' he says, 'I cannot fight,
But I am good at stealing.'
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
Hurrah for Lincoln, he's the boy
To take a drop of brandy.
Yankee Doodle drew his sword,
And practiced all the passes;
Come, boys, we'll take another drink
When we get to Manassas.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
They never reached Manassas plain,
And never got the brandy.
Yankee Doodle soon found out
That Bull Run was no trifle;
For if the North knew how to steal,
The South knew how to rifle.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
'Tis very clear I took too much
Of that infernal brandy.
Yankee Doodle wheeled about,
And scampered off at full run,
And such a race was never seen
As that he made at Bull Run.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
I haven't time to stop right now
To take a drop of brandy.
Yankee Doodle, oh! for shame,
You're always intermeddling;
Let guns alone, they're dangerous things;
You'd better stick to peddling.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
When next I go to Bully Run
I'll throw away the brandy.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Memories
O spirit of the mountain that speaks to us to-night,
Your voice is sad, yet still recalls past visions of delight,
When 'mid the grand old Laurentides, old when the earth was new,
With flying feet we followed the moose and caribou.
And backward rush sweet memories, like fragments of a dream,
We hear the dip of paddle blades, the ripple of the stream,
The mad, mad rush of frightened wings from brake and covert start,
The breathing of the woodland, the throb of nature's heart.
Once more beneath our eager feet the forest carpet springs,
We march through gloomy valleys, where the vesper sparrow sings.
The little minstrel heeds us not, nor stays his plaintive song,
As with our brave coureurs de bois we swiftly pass along.
Again o'er dark Wayagamack, in bark canoe we glide,
And watch the shades of evening glance along the mountain side.
Anon we hear resounding the wizard loon's wild cry,
And mark the distant peak whereon the ling'ring echoes die.
But Spirit of the Northland! let the winter breezes blow,
And cover every giant crag with rifts of driving snow.
Freeze every leaping torrent, bind all the crystal lakes,
Tell us of fiercer pleasures when the Storm King awakes.
And now the vision changes, the winds are loud and shrill,
The falling flakes are shrouding the mountain and the hill,
But safe within our snug cabane with comrades gathered near,
We set the rafters ringing with 'Roulant' and 'Brigadier.'
Then after Pierre and Telesphore have danced 'Le Caribou,'
Some hardy trapper tells a tale of the dreaded Loup Garou,
Or phantom bark in moonlit heavens, with prow turned to the East,
Bringing the Western voyageurs to join the Christmas feast.
And while each backwoods troubadour is greeted with huzza
Slowly the homely incense of 'tabac Canayen'
Rises and sheds its perfume like flowers of Araby,
O'er all the true-born loyal Enfants de la Patrie.
And thus with song and story, with laugh and jest and shout,
We heed not dropping mercury nor storms that rage without,
But pile the huge logs higher till the chimney roars with glee,
And banish spectral visions with La Chanson Normandie.
'Brigadier! répondit Pandore
Brigadier! vous avez raison,
Brigadier! répondit Pandore,
Brigadier! vous avez raison!'
O spirit of the mountain! that speaks to us to-night,
Return again and bring us new dreams of past delight,
And while our heart-throbs linger, and till our pulses cease,
We'll worship thee among the hills where flows the Saint-Maurice.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Bible is an antique Volume
1545
The Bible is an antique Volume—
Written by faded men
At the suggestion of Holy Spectres—
Subjects—Bethlehem&mdash ;
Eden—the ancient Homestead—
Satan—the Brigadier—
Judas—the Great Defaulter—
David—the Troubador—
Sin—a distinguished Precipice
Others must resist—
Boys that "believe" are very lonesome—
Other Boys are "lost"—
Had but the Tale a warbling Teller—
All the Boys would come—
Orpheus' Sermon captivated—
It did not condemn—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Downfall of Delhi
'Twas in the year of 1857 and on the 14th of September
That the Sepoy rebels at Delhi were forced to surrender;
The attack was first to be made by Brigadier Nicholson,
And he was ordered to attack the Cashmere Bastion.
The British were entirely in command.
Of Major-General Reid, assisted by Brigadier-Generals Wilson and Burnand;
After a long march, fighting through a hostile country,
And the brave heroes took up a position before the city.
Delhi gates were encircled with a fringe of fire,
But the British resolved to die rather than retire;
And the brave fellows rushed, towards the gate
Carrying the powder bags that were to seal the Sepoys' fate.
Here their progress was checked, for the drawbridge was destroyed,
But the British felt very little annoyed,
Because a few planks were across the chasm thrown,
Then a match was applied to the powder bags, and into atoms the gate was blown.
Then the rebel artillerymen with terror fled,
For the streets were strewn by the Sepoy dead;
Then the British charged them without fear,
Shouting "On boys, on, for our Queen and Country dear."
Then Lieutenant Home gave orders to advance,
And charge them with your bayonets, it is our only chance;
And with a ringing British cheer they charged, them fearlessly,
And. they drove the enemy before them through the streets of the city.
Then the young bugler blew a blast loud and clear,
Which was answered by a British ringing cheer;
But General Nicholson was killed, which was a great loss,
And afterwards the bugler was decorated with the Victoria Cross.
General Jones formed a junction with Colonel Campbell's Regiment,
And to enter by the Cashmere Gate they were bent;
And they advanced through the streets without delay,
And swept all before them through the gate without dismay.
The streets were filled with mutineers who fought savagely,
Determined to fight to the last and die heroically,
While the alarm drums did beat, and the cannons did roar,
And the dead and the dying lay weltering in their gore.
And the rebels fought for King Timour like tigers in a cage,
He was a very old man, more than ninety years of age;
And their shouts and yells were fearful to hear,
While the shrill sound of the bugle smote on the ear.
The British dash at Delhi will never be forgot,
For the chief instigators of the mutiny were shot;
And their bodies in the Mayor's Court were hung,
And as the people gazed thereon, their hearts with anguish were wrung.
And that evening General Wilson drank the health of the Queen,
Also his officers hailed her Empress of India, which enhanced the scene;
While the assembled thousands shouted "God save the Queen!"
Oh! it was a most beautiful scene.
Delhi was a glorious prize, for the city was full of jewels and gold,
Besides a hundred pieces of cannon, be it told;
But dearly was the victory gained,
But in the book of fame the British are famed;
Oh, it was a glorious and heroic victory,
And will be handed down to posterity.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Sun kept stooping—stooping
152
The Sun kept stooping—stooping—low!
The Hills to meet him rose!
On his side, what Transaction!
On their side, what Repose!
Deeper and deeper grew the stain
Upon the window pane—
Thicker and thicker stood the feet
Until the Tyrian
Was crowded dense with Armies—
So gay, so Brigadier—
That I felt martial stirrings
Who once the Cockade wore—
Charged from my chimney corner—
But Nobody was there!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Saved from my naivete story poem for M 'lady Ann Beard
I loved her but she loved me not
and so I joined the infantry.
In the vain hope I would be shot
and put an end to misery.
I loved her but she loved me not.
She thought she was too good for me
I fought in every trouble spot
but Lady Luck looked after me.
I suffered not a single scratch
although I was prepared to die.
In me the Hun had met his match
I did not care or wonder why.
I rose to be a brigadier
Promoted on the battlefield
I made my men ignore their fear.
My leadership I would not yield.
Always the foremost in the van
I led my men from out in front.
They recognised a fearless man
prepared for any reckless stunt.
They followed blindly where I led.
We terrified the enemy.
It seemed I could not be shot dead
but I forgot my misery.
When we achieved the victory
Returning home as heroes all.
I saw her gazing up at me
as if expecting me to call.
The boot was on the other foot.
She was the one pursuing me
I found I did not give a hoot.
Completely cured, quite fancy free.
My love turned to indifference.
She’d had her chance and turned me down.
My rank made all the difference.
It was as if I’d always known.
Now that I saw through her pretence.
It was not love as I had thought
but merely youthful innocence.
Which had sustained me as I fought.
I was prepared to die to prove
a fact that simply was not true
I fancied that I was in love
as green young men so often do.
Now I have reached a man’s estate
I know she was not meant for me
and thank the gods that kindly fate
stepped in, in time to rescue me.
Though in due course I hope to find
A woman that a man can trust.
A lady gentle true and kind
who will cure my wanderlust.
I am a man who needs a wife
to love and raise a family.
Together lead a normal life.
I know somewhere she waits for me.
I think perhaps she’s looking too
and hope we wont have long to wait.
Before kind fate directs us to
meet and recognise our mate.
1-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Wanted--A Little Girl
Where have they gone to-the little girls
With natural manners and natural curls;
Who love their dollies and like their toys,
And talk of something besides the boys?
Little old women in plenty I find,
Mature in manners and old of mind;
Little old flirts who talk of their 'beaux,'
And vie with each other in stylish clothes.
Little old belles who, at nine and ten,
Are sick of pleasure and tired of men;
Weary of travel, of balls, of fun,
And find no new thing under the sun.
Once, in the beautiful long ago,
Some dear little children I used to know;
Girls who were merry as lambs at play,
And laughed and rollicked the livelong day.
They thought not at all of the 'style' of their clothes,
They never imagined that boys were 'beaux'-
'Other girls' brothers' and 'mates' were they,
Splendid fellows to help them play.
Where have they gone to? If you see
One of them anywhere send her to me.
I would give a medal of purest gold
To one of those dear little girls of old,
With an innocent heart and an open smile,
Who knows not the meaning of 'flirt' or 'style.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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I am happy to be alive
The African sun is white hot
in the bright blue sky
and the fresh wind
jerks on thorn branches
and blows the red dust up,
where dead enemy soldiers
lie on the battlefield
At places there are burned out tanks
and armoured cars
but so many people are reaped
that shock waves even hit Havana
where women and children
keep on crying.
Thorn bushes make fat round shades
and those of the higher trees
are stretched out longer,
while one of the officers
draws lines in a little black book
through names.
White powder are thrown over the dead
lying in ditches
and hang burning in the air
for anyone that inhales it
and there are flies everywhere,
but nothing can dissipate
the smell of death.
Further away three puma helicopters land
in big brown dust clouds
to pick up our few wounded
and the brigadier looks complaisant,
where he smokes a Camel
and are talking with a commandant and a major.
Everywhere around me lie Cubans and Fapla
shot to pieces, burned, maimed
and there are body parts and ponds of blood
that meets my eyes
and my three-day-old beard itches
and my eyes are tired and red
while sweat runs in small streams
down my cheeks
and I am happy to be alive.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Sentinel
As if he were a statuette,
The meerkat struck a pose,
Without a frown, without a fret,
Serene with upturned nose...
He was like some superhero,
Cape blowing in the breeze,
While he stood firm, looked high and low,
With no thought to appease...
The meerkat was the Sentinel -
The first to raise alarm,
Called on to be reliable,
So others could stay calm...
He was the Captain in control,
The General standing guard,
The Brigadier whose heart and soul
Kept vigil long and hard.
The Sentinel's experience
Helped others take their ease
And through maintained resilience,
He stood steadfast for peace.
One meerkat can make the difference!
A hero through and through...
If he can take a noble stance,
Then why on Earth can't you! ?
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Sentinel'.
More Stephen Gayford poems:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Don't Drink
Don't drink, boys, don't!
There is nothing of happiness, pleasure, or cheer,
In brandy, in whiskey, in rum, ale, or beer.
If they cheer you when drunk, you are certain to pay
In headaches and crossness the following day.
Don't drink, boys, don't!
Boys, let it alone!
Turn your back on your deadliest enemy-Drink!
An assassin disguised; nor for one moment think,
As some rashly say, that
true
women admire
The man who can boast that he's playing with fire.
Boys, let it alone!
No, boys, don't drink!
If the habit's begun, stop now! stop to-day!
Ere the spirit of thirst leads you on and away
Into vice, shame, and drunkenness. This is the goal,
Where the spirit of thirst leads the slave of the bowl.
No, boys,
don't
drink!
Boys, touch not, nor taste!
Don't think you can stop at the social 'First Glass.'
Too many have boasted that power, alas!
And found they were slaves to this seeming good friend,
And have grown into drunkards and knaves, in the end.
Boys, touch not, nor taste!
Don't drink, boys,
Don't
!
If the loafers and idlers scoff, never heed:
True men and true women will wish you 'God-speed.'
There is nothing of purity, pleasure, or cheer
To be gotten from whiskey, wine, brandy, or beer.
Don't drink, boys,
Don't
!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Anarchists
The leaders of this country,
Think were the ones that do wrong,
They take control of the power,
and steal this land of forgotten freedom
Its not the people afraid of the government,
Its the government afraid of the people
They call the ones dressed in black,
The evil ones but we fight back,
We've got hackers, we've got protesters,
we let no man left behind
Its not the people afraid of the government,
Its the government afraid of the people
The unions dressed in black,
With their flag raised up high,
Don't take no for an answer,
As the forces stain the streets with blood
Its not the people afraid of the government,
Its the government afraid of the people
We fight for the people,
Our obligation is good as gold,
And though we fight with arms of steel,
we don't let death go in vein
Its not the people afraid of the government,
Its the government afraid of the people
poem by Bing D'Amico
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The Pun
Hail, peerless Pun! thou last and best,
Most rare and excellent bequest
Of dying idiot to the wit
He died of, rat-like, in a pit!
Thyself disguised, in many a way
Thou let'st thy sudden splendor play,
Adorning all where'er it turns,
As the revealing bull's-eye burns,
Of the dim thief, and plays its trick
Upon the lock he means to pick.
Yet sometimes, too, thou dost appear
As boldly as a brigadier
Tricked out with marks and signs, all o'er,
Of rank, brigade, division, corps,
To show by every means he can
An officer is not a man;
Or naked, with a lordly swagger,
Proud as a cur without a wagger,
Who says: 'See simple worth prevail
All dog, sir-not a bit of tail!'
'T is then men give thee loudest welcome,
As if thou wert a soul from Hell come.
O obvious Pun! thou hast the grace
Of skeleton clock without a case
With all its boweling displayed,
And all its organs on parade.
Dear Pun, you're common ground of bliss,
Where _Punch_ and I can meet and kiss;
Than thee my wit can stoop no low'r
No higher his does ever soar.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Good Times Boys
indeed it may seem that we have strange ways
but we do it with compassion and don't believe in age
travel round the world gettin naked on the stage
bustin' people out of their everyday cage
we like to think we make a sad man happy
and we like to make proud our mammy and our pappy
funky young kings we sing of truth and soul
we're the modern day braves with one strong hold
through the world of song our boldness is exposed
i'm talkin' 'bout my buddy's funk it up fishbone
good good time boys make me feel good
give me good times yea yea yea yea
our devotion to emotion is more than evident
to the minds that are open it's you we represent
we hope you have enjoyed the time that you have spent
one day the good time boys that might jest be president
like a pack of mad hatters who come from outer space
our swinging's gonna shatter every stone cold face
now you may not know the exact reason why
a band commands attention from the mountains and the sky
makin' more that money more than money can buy
i stop! and take a listen to the monsters try
good good time boys make me feel good
give me good times yea yea yea yea
if you don't believe me you can ask john doe
'cause his heart is made of glory and his voice is made of gold
he'll tell you in a minute about the men he knows
he'll tell you 'bout the band called fire hose
to those of you who doubt the nature of our spirit
we play it out loud for everyone to hear it
building up our brains with the supernatural powers
we take it from the trees and the mighty watts towers
aim the flame of freedom at the lames and sours
we're the best of the west and the west is ours
good good time boys make me feel good
give me good times yea yea yea yea
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers from Mother's Milk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fight
Sometimes there's nothing to feel
Sometimes there's nothing to hold
Sometimes there's no time to run away
Sometimes you just feel so old
The times it hurts when you cry
The times it hurts just to breathe
And then it all seems like there's no-one left
And all you want is to sleep
Fight fight fight
Just push it away
Fight fight fight
Just push until it breaks
Fight fight fight
Don't cry at the pain
Fight fight fight
Or watch yourself burn again
Fight fight fight
Don't howl like a dog
Fight fight
Just fill up the sky
Fight fight fight
Fight til you drop
Fight fight fight
And never never
Never stop
Fight fight fight
Fight fight fight
So when the hurting starts
And when the nightmares begin
Remember you can fill up the sky
You don't have to give in
You don't have to give in
Never give in
Never give in
Never give in
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Know What Boys Like
Boys, boys
He you wanna know something?
Boys, boys
Boys like girls
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I seem them looking (looking)
I make them want me
I like to tease them
And they want to touch me
I never let them
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like me
I got my cat moves
That so upsets them
Zippers and buttons
Fun to frustrate them
They get so angry
Like pouty children
Denied their candy
I laugh right at them
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I got what boys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like, boys like me
I think you're special
I might let you
You're so much different
I might let you
There's no one like you
I might let you
Or would you like that?
I might let you
Sucker!
Boys, b-b-boys
Boys, b-b-b-boys
G-g-g-g-got what boys want
G-g-g-got
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I got what boys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like, boys like me
I know what boys like
I got what boys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like, boys like me
Yeah, I know what boys like
Come on girls, you know what they like
It ain't no secret
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
song performed by by Vitamin C
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Triple Trouble
If You
If You
Wanna Know
Wanna Know
The real deal about the three
Well let me tell you
We're triple trouble ya'll
We're gonna bring you up to speed
Cause I'm a specializer, rhyme reviser
Ain't selling out to advertisers
What you get is what you see
And you won't see me out there advertising
See I like to party not drink Bacardi
'Cause I'm not looking to throw up on nobody
Known for my spiel like wheelie one wheel
'Cause this is like having a delicious meal
Moving the crowd, well that's a must
I got some words that apply to us and that's
Mesmerizing, tantalizing
Captivating, we're devastating
If You
If You
Wanna Know
Wanna Know
The real deal about the three
Well let me tell you
We're triple trouble ya'll
We're gonna bring you up to speed
Here's one for the bleachers and the upper tier
Versatile like All-Temp-A-Cheer
If you wanna drink call Mr. Belvedere
Run this rap game like a brigadier
I got kicks on the one, seven and eleven
Snares on the five and thirteen
Rhymes on time and that's the given
We're hot on the disco scene check it a check it
Slow down with I-me, got to stop stingin'
The source of the problem is at the origin
You've got lyrics that have got me cringin'
You're like a fish-wife, quit your damn whingin'
If You
If You
Wanna Know
Wanna Know
The real deal about the three
Well let me tell you
We're triple trouble ya'll
We're gonna bring you up to speed
Hey yo, BAM super nature god damn
Cerrone on the microphone I am
Adrock a.k.a sharp cheddar
My rhymes are better
What the Helen in Troy is that?
Did I hear you say my rhymes is wack?
I'm beautiful you can't touch me
If you pick a rose, well you might just bleed
We're originators you can't feign
Ignorance or pass the blame
'Nuff rhymes coming out the brain
'Nuff beats to drive you insane
'Nuff moves to make your neck crane
'Nuff skill to make the rhymes ingrain
'Nuff heat to leave you in flames
'Nuff style that you can't defame
You see I walk like Jabba The Hutt
With the style so new y'all be like what?
Turn the party out like a bon vivant
With the skill at will that I know you want
On a hot day sip on iced latte
Devious like Wyllie Coyote
Hot to trote or maybe not-e
'Cause little did they know there was a baby in her body
Mesmerizing, tantalizing, captivating, devastating
If You
If You
Wanna Know
Wanna Know
The real deal about the three
Well let me tell you
We're triple trouble ya'll
We're gonna bring you up to speed
Roses are beautiful to look at, but they're thorny
Stems may cause them to be difficult to handle
thus making their beauty a bit awkward
song performed by by Beastie Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Time Boys
Indeed it may seem that we have strange ways
But we do it with compassion and dont believe in age
Travel round the world gettin naked on the stage
Bustin people out of their everyday cage
We like to think we make a sad man happy
And we like to make proud our mammy and our pappy
Funky young kings we sing of truth and soul
Were the modern day braves with one strong hold
Through the world of song our boldness is exposed
Im talkin bout my buddys funk it up fishbone
Good good time boys make me feel good
Give me good times yea yea yea yea
Our devotion to emotion is more than evident
To the minds that are open its you we represent
We hope you have enjoyed the time that you have spent
One day the good time boys that might jest be president
Like a pack of mad hatters who come from outer space
Our swingings gonna shatter every stone cold face
Now you may not know the exact reason why
A band commands attention from the mountains and the sky
Makin more that money more than money can buy
I stop! and take a listen to the monsters try
Good good time boys make me feel good
Give me good times yea yea yea yea
If you dont believe me you can ask john doe
cause his heart is made of glory and his voice is made of gold
Hell tell you in a minute about the men he knows
Hell tell you bout the band called fire hose
To those of you who doubt the nature of our spirit
We play it out loud for everyone to hear it
Building up our brains with the supernatural powers
We take it from the trees and the mighty watts towers
Aim the flame of freedom at the lames and sours
Were the best of the west and the west is ours
Good good time boys make me feel good
Give me good times yea yea yea yea
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Salute Wounded Soldier
To serve is a blessing
to battle is a endless honor
to all that served we salute
for the dead we praise their heroism
to drape they coffin with our flag
a 21 gun salute, flags at half staff
we give very little to the wounded
they suffer the most, life ever changing
suffering pain, fighting the nightmares
left to heal, lots to deal with
from the bed they fight for life
pray for healing, what their families are dealing
life changes, minds destroyed, bodies mangled
they fight to survive, strong then life
stronger than us, they will over come
wounds will heal, the nightmares remain
coping with new limbs and faces
proud they stand, Honor they are
Heroes to all, loved by all
thanking for serving, your real deserving
the wounded soldier, the beholder
our deserving heroes, our icons
a salute to all of you
all will not be forgotten
your in our hearts, its an honor
Salute Wounded Soldiers
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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