En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Body and Soul

Half-numb, guzzling bourbon and Coke from coffee mugs,
our fathers fall in love with their own stories, nuzzling
the facts but mauling the truth, and my friend's father begins
to lay out with the slow ease of a blues ballad a story
about sandlot baseball in Commerce, Oklahoma decades ago.
These were men's teams, grown men, some in their thirties
and forties who worked together in zinc mines or on oil rigs,
sweat and khaki and long beers after work, steel guitar music
whanging in their ears, little white rent houses to return to
where their wives complained about money and broken Kenmores
and then said the hell with it and sang Body and Soul
in the bathtub and later that evening with the kids asleep
lay in bed stroking their husband's wrist tattoo and smoking
Chesterfields from a fresh pack until everything was O.K.
Well, you get the idea. Life goes on, the next day is Sunday,
another ball game, and the other team shows up one man short.

They say, we're one man short, but can we use this boy,
he's only fifteen years old, and at least he'll make a game.
They take a look at the kid, muscular and kind of knowing
the way he holds his glove, with the shoulders loose,
the thick neck, but then with that boy's face under
a clump of angelic blonde hair, and say, oh, hell, sure,
let's play ball. So it all begins, the men loosening up,
joking about the fat catcher's sex life, it's so bad
last night he had to hump his wife, that sort of thing,
pairing off into little games of catch that heat up into
throwing matches, the smack of the fungo bat, lazy jogging
into right field, big smiles and arcs of tobacco juice,
and the talk that gives a cool, easy feeling to the air,
talk among men normally silent, normally brittle and a little
angry with the empty promise of their lives. But they chatter
and say rock and fire, babe, easy out, and go right ahead
and pitch to the boy, but nothing fancy, just hard fastballs
right around the belt, and the kid takes the first two
but on the third pops the bat around so quick and sure
that they pause a moment before turning around to watch
the ball still rising and finally dropping far beyond
the abandoned tractor that marks left field. Holy shit.
They're pretty quiet watching him round the bases,
but then, what the hell, the kid knows how to hit a ball,
so what, let's play some goddamned baseball here.
And so it goes. The next time up, the boy gets a look
at a very nifty low curve, then a slider, and the next one
is the curve again, and he sends it over the Allis Chalmers,
high and big and sweet. The left field just stands there, frozen.
As if this isn't enough, the next time up he bats left-handed.
They can't believe it, and the pitcher, a tall, mean-faced
man from Okarche who just doesn't give a shit anyway
because his wife ran off two years ago leaving him with
three little ones and a rusted-out Dodge with a cracked block,
leans in hard, looking at the fat catcher like he was the sonofabitch
who ran off with his wife, leans in and throws something
out of the dark, green hell of forbidden fastballs, something
that comes in at the knees and then leaps viciously towards
the kid's elbow. He swings exactly the way he did right-handed
and they all turn like a chorus line toward deep right field
where the ball loses itself in sagebrush and the sad burnt
dust of dustbowl Oklahoma. It is something to see.

But why make a long story long: runs pile up on both sides,
the boy comes around five times, and five times the pitcher
is cursing both God and His mother as his chew of tobacco sours
into something resembling horse piss, and a ragged and bruised
Spalding baseball disappears into the far horizon. Goodnight,
Irene. They have lost the game and some painful side bets
and they have been suckered. And it means nothing to them
though it should to you when they are told the boy's name is
Mickey Mantle. And that's the story, and those are the facts.
But the facts are not the truth. I think, though, as I scan
the faces of these old men now lost in the innings of their youth,
it lying there in the weeds behind that Allis Chalmers
just waiting for the obvious question to be asked: why, oh
why in hell didn't they just throw around the kid, walk him,
after he hit the third homer? Anybody would have,
especially nine men with disappointed wives and dirty socks
and diminishing expectations for whom winning at anything
meant everything. Men who knew how to play the game,
who had talent when the other team had nothing except this ringer
who without a pitch to hit was meaningless, and they could go home
with their little two-dollar side bets and stride into the house
singing If You've Got the Money, Honey, I've Got the Time
with a bottle of Southern Comfort under their arms and grab
Dixie or May Ella up and dance across the gray linoleum
as if it were V-Day all over again. But they did not
And they did not because they were men, and this was a boy.
And they did not because sometimes after making love,
after smoking their Chesterfields in the cool silence and
listening to the big bands on the radio that sounded so glamorous,
so distant, they glanced over at their wives and noticed the lines
growing heavier around the eyes and mouth, felt what their wives
felt: that Les Brown and Glenn Miller and all those dancing couples
and in fact all possibility of human gaiety and light-heartedness
were as far away and unreachable as Times Square or the Avalon
ballroom. They did not because of the gray linoleum lying there
in the half-dark, the free calendar from the local mortuary
that said one day was pretty much like another, the work gloves
looped over the doorknob like dead squirrels. And they did not
because they had gone through a depression and a war that had left
them with the idea that being a man in the eyes of their fathers
and everyone else had cost them just too goddamn much to lay it
at the feet of a fifteen year-old-boy. And so they did not walk him,
and lost, but at least had some ragged remnant of themselves
to take back home. But there is one thing more, though it is not
a fact. When I see my friend's father staring hard into the bottomless
well of home plate as Mantle's fifth homer heads toward Arkansas,
I know that this man with the half-orphaned children and
worthless Dodge has also encountered for the first and possibly
only time the vast gap between talent and genius, has seen
as few have in the harsh light of an Oklahoma Sunday, the blonde
and blue-eyed bringer of truth, who will not easily be forgiven.

poem by B.H. Fairchild
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Greatest

Little boy, in a baseball hat stands in the field with his ball and bat.
Says, "I am the greatest player of them all" puts his bat on his shoulder and he tosses up his ball.
And the ball goes up and the ball comes down swings his bat all the way around
The world so still you can hear the sound, the baseball falls to the ground.
Now the little boy doesn't say a word, picks up his ball, he is undeterred.
Says, "I am the greatest there has ever been" and he grits his teeth and he tries it again.
And the ball goes up and the ball comes down swings his bat all the way around
The world so still you can hear the sound, the baseball falls to the ground.
He makes no excuses, he shows no fear, he just closes his eyes and listens to the cheers.
Little boy, he adjusts his hat, picks up his ball, stares at his bat
Says,"I am the greatest, the game is on the line" and he gives his all one last time.
And the ball goes up and the moon so bright, swings his bat with all his might
The world's as still, as still can be, the baseball falls and that's strike three.
Now it's suppertime and his momma calls, little boy starts home with his bat and ball.
Says, "I am the greatest, that is a fact, but even I didn't know I could pitch like that!"
Says, "I am the greatest,that is understood, but even I didn't know I could pitch that good!

song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

God's miracle

Say not
That this is just a game.
As I watch the little boys play
After a heavy school day
He goes straight to the field,
And there he is in his element
Raising up the dust
As he scores that goal.

Say not
That this is just a game.
As the boys make their football
Collecting plastic from the dumps
And cutting ropes that were washing lines.
As the boys create a pitch
Or just play on the road,
They take sticks or stones
And they build a goal.

Say not
That this is just a game.
As these boys return home at night
Return to be whipped after their delight
The ball will be smashed,
The plastic seperated from the rope
And the field will be taken.
To the farmers and goat herders it will be given
But the boys collect themselves, with undying determination
And they go back to playing football.

Say not
That this is just a game.
As the scout sees that young player
And he is sent to England
Maybe he will play with Man U or maybe Inter.
He sees a world far from home
From sunny rays to raindropp beats.

Say not
That this is just a game.
As that girl plays on the boy's team
She raises rumours,
As people see her and say she will not marry
She drops her bucket of water and goes to be goalie.
The boys boo and make fun of her
But they know she is a very good player.
And she is an example to other little girls
Who long for that ball and not for pearls.

Say not
That this is just a game.
As old men sleep in bars
Just so they can see that match
Of their favourite English team,
And when they reach home their angry wives will ask
'What will that team give you if they win? '
The men will go to bed silent
But their minds know the answer
'They will give me pride, and honour.'

Say not
That this is just a game.
As the world cup starts
Linking whole nations.
And in that stadium
There is no such thing as rich, poor, colour or religion.
Because everybody will mix
As they go to cheer their country,
And their players from Eto'o to Messi.

Say not
That this is just a game.
When that player has the ball
At the box for a penalty
And it is the finale
When all hearts will stop.
And all breaths are held.
And when that goal is scored,
Each cheer is louder than the next
Every person with smiles so big
Both in the stands and on the field
There stand a connection of confusion,
But also true happiness.

Say not
That this is just a game.
When the team will hold that cup
And the whole country becomes a champion
Every man, every woman, and all the children.
It's name goes down in history
And it will be known as a cup holding nation.

Say not
That this is just a game.
No, this is football.
This is God's miracle,
To that little boy and girl
To that man who knows the answer
To not one but all,
And to you and me as well

Say not
That this is just a game.
For this, this is football!

poem by Mariam de Haan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Coach Joe

Thirty years gone by
My senior year
Past many sunsets
Playing baseball
Coached
By an icon named Joe

His two hundreth win
Was hard to get
When it finally came
This game, Ill never forget

We started the year at eight and 0
His win total, at one ninety-nine
Lost eight straight
Then, we lost our minds

The celebration cake, got stale
Doing nothing right
Though we tried, with all our might
Depression, set in
Would he get that
Two hundreth win?

Hooray, It did finally arrive
Extra innings
A game for the ages
A tear in his eye
Again, this team was alive

'It's the little things'
He would say
That count in this game
On this field
In life, in every way

He called us knuckle heads
At times, he did yell
Was he joking or not?
Hell, we could'nt tell

My seven brothers
Were coached by this man
Giving all he had
To this small town clan

As long as I live
I 'll never forget
He called us by our last name
Knew everyone of us
Just the same

We will never, forget
Nor will we, ever regret
The discipline this man showed
Making men of boys'
Playing baseball
Learning heartaches and joys

poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Definitions As An Intention To Describe

Definitions as an intention to describe,
Can be so confining to the mind.
Case in point...
Having to 'some' a meaning.
But...
To those probing their observations,
Making little sense to make sensible...
A reason to find a rhyme.

I remember when I heard the term,
'Baseball' used.
And when I went to my first game,
I was not overwhelmed with excitement.
I couldn't get the 'bat' out of my head.

'Why isn't this game called 'Batball'...
Instead of baseball? '
I kept thinking of that.
Without the bat,
There wouldn't be any baseball played.

Unlike basket...ball.
I can understand that.
Foot...ball,
Okay...
I'm sold.
Base...ball?
And all that the bases do,
Is just lay there?

Home...plate?
That's not a home...base?
And the hitting of a 'homerun'...
That's out of the field of play?

Whoever created this game,
Is a genius.
The terms used as they are applied,
Makes absolutely no sense.

I can understand,
Why it's one of the most favorite sports.
Like golf!
When a player hits that ball,
That might endanger onlookers...
A shouting of 'fore' is heard.
Fore...what?
If one is hit...
Be-fore the word is heard,
That's it.
And even after 'fore'...
What difference does it make?

The other day...
I watched a player of 'baseball' lose his bat.
It went flying into the stadium...
To hit someone in the head.
No one warned the 'victim' at all.
No one shouted...
'Watch 'that'.
It's a flying bat.'

Hmmm...
Flying bats?
At a baseball game?
Where the selling of hot...dogs,
And pea...nuts with beer...
Is a tradition.

And someone wishes to keep the writing of poetry,
To restrictions?
By whose definition?
And when does prose not become poetry?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hes A Go Getter

Hes a go getter, go getter
When his wife gets off from work, hell go get her
Now Ive got a neighbor that lives down the road a ways
His wife holds down a steady job, he dont turn his hand all day
I know that most of you will know the kind Im talkin about
The kind that rather than have to work, hed rather do without
But hes a go getter, a go getter
When his wife gets off from work, hell go get her
Theres a group of men in the court house yard any time that you go by
Playin checkers and tradin odds and makin jokes about their wives
They wait all week for pay day and they hold the moneys plenty
And the wife thats worked those long hard hours never gets a penny
But hes a go getter, a go getter
When his wife gets off from work, hell go get her
Yes hes a go getter, a go getter
When his wife gets off from work, hell go get her
Hes a go getter, a go getter
When his wife gets off from work, hell go get her

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

To Greet, Meet And To Brag

My eyes never left the ball.
Afterall...
I became disciplined to keep my focus on it.
And when I joined on the field with others,
Who made claims they came with aims to play...
In a way to prove with me they could complete.
My eyes never left the ball to reach.

My eyes never left the ball not at all.
And when it was thrown in the air others stared.
But my eyes were right there to catch it...
To run with it and score a goal.
I came on the field prepared to win.
Not to say I just came to play.
Like others who came just to huddle.

My eyes never left the ball. afterall...
I did not come to greet, meet nor to brag,
With embellished exaggerations...
Of what I could do or had done in my past.
My eyes never left the ball...they couldn't.
And I was there on the field to win not pretend,
I came just to play to socialize and go away.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Down By The Side Of The Road

Her father was a failure
Her mother was a comfort
To a doctor and lawyer and indian chief.
The shirt ran out of buttons
He lost all his marbles at a baseball game
And they went on relief.
The bank took away their diplomas
They locked them up inside of the chest
And she moved away to oklahoma
And got a tattoo on the side of her breast
God-damn, my socks are still hard
From lying on the sofa on the night she was over in my backyard
Yeah, we was shooting the breeze out amongst the trees
When a shot rang low
And left her standing down by the side of the road
Down by the side of the road
Father have mercy, whoo whoo
Get her a nurse please
Shes almost alone
I saw her hand reaching out for the telephone
We rather see her locked up inside a home
Than see her standing down by the side of the road
Down by the side of the road
Headlights flashing on her skirt in the wind.
Yonder comes a truck it drove by two men.
Shotgun man leaned out and said do you want to take a ride?
Out in the pale moonlight light. light light lie lie lie lie
Too long in the hot sun
She couldve be miss wisconsin a long time ago
Spent to much time inside of the early show
Wed bought her a ticket but she didnt want to go
She was standing down by the side of the road
Down by the side of the road
Headlights flashing, caught a skirt in the wind.
Yonder comes a truck it drove by two men.
Shotgun man leaned out and said do you want to take a ride?
Out in through the pale moonlight
Her father was a failure
Her mother was a comfort
To a doctor and lawyer and indian chief.
The shirt made out of buttons
He lost all his marbles at a baseball game
And they went on relief.
The bank took away their diplomas
They locked them up inside of the chest
And she moved away to oklahoma
And got a tattoo on the side of her breast
God-damn, my thoughts are still hard.
From lying on the sofa on the night she was overi n my backyard
Yeah, we was shooting the breeze out amongst the trees
When a shot rang low
And left her standing down by the side of the road
Down by the side of the road
Down by the side of the road
Down by the side of the road

song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

My Old Man

I dont know much about, too much of my old man
I know he walked right out the door we never saw him again
Last I heard he was at the bar doing himself in
I know I got that same disease, I guess I got that from him
This is the story of my old man
Just like his father before him
Im telling you do anything you can
So you dont end up just like them, like them
Monday he woke up and hated life
Drank until wednesday and left his wife
Thursday thru saturday lost everything
Woke up on sunday miserable again
I remember baseball games and working on the car
He told me that he loved me and that I would go far
Showed me how to work hard and stick up for myself
I wish he wasnt too hard to listen to himself
This is the story of my old man
Just like his father before him
Im telling you do anything you can
So you dont end up just like them, like them
Monday he woke up and hated life
Drank until wednesday and left his wife
Thursday thru saturday lost everything
Woke up on sunday miserable again
Again...again...
Someday hell wish that he made things right (made things right)
Long for his family and miss his wife (miss his wife)
Remember the days he had everything (everything)
Now hes alone and miserable again

song performed by by Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Love Of A Parent

They had married at a very young age
At the time they thought it was a game.
They had been together for a long time
and he thought that everything would be fine.

They had lived together for two years or more
And they thought they knew the score.
At seventeen years of age they felt they knew it all
And life was to have a ball.

With part time jobs they paid their bills
Living together was such a thrill.
Not having to worry about a curfew hour
Now ' they had all the power'.

Going out partying every weekend
Not thinking of the money that they spent.
Coming home late at night, being drunk
They would start to fight.

She started feeling some menstruation pain
And from this point on their lives would change.
She went to her doctor to check it out
Pregnant she was - there was no doubt.

Now their eyes opened to the fact
From this point on there was no turning back.
They now had a child on the way
And they could no longer go out to play.

He got a full time job and straightened up his act
And a better position he would have to attack.
He went back to school To get a better education
And to give his wife and child all that he could give
And with both their incomes they would have to live.

She worked for seven months till she
Could work no longer, and to get their house in order.
When she went to the hospital because her time was due
She found out she was having not one but two.

She gave birth to a beautiful boy and girl
He was a diamond and she a pearl.
The most precious babies you'd ever want to see
And he was the proud father - as proud as can be.

They struggled like most couples do
But he was determined to see it through.
She took her children and held them tight
For in their faces she saw their fathers might.

His love so strong for his family
And this is what they all did see.
And the rest is history.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Saga Of Dandy, The Devil & Day

[kool keith]
Why don't y'all play that pitch
The right manage gonna be in the game
[moe love]
It's the top of the ninth
Josh gibson is at the plate
The bases are loaded, it's a three and two count
And here's the pitch
[kool keith]
Steppin up to the plate, first batter
[moe love]
Kool keith
[kool keith]
Black baseball, it was a known fact jack
With the weather so hot, who could play like danny day
The greatest and the best, like the satchel brother paige
Long tom and little bomb, in the hall of fame
Like josh and bunt, be alert, duck
Everybody was down for beer and peanuts
Foxes in their sunday's best, their brightest dress
[moe love]
And on deck, ced g
[ced g]
Now baseball today troop, is mostly not racial
But back in the days it was all segregated
The whites had the majors and then the blacks had the negro leagues
They both had great talent but then us blacks have no history
Of all our great players, the teams in the ballpark
But we're here to shed light, restore the glory they haven't got
Black baseball, they paved the way
With players like dandy, the devil, and day
(repeat 3x)
Black baseball
[moe love]
Bring er home
[ced g]
Now the ballparks they played in was very far from a stadium
They only sat hundreds troops as opposed to the thousands
But the stands they was packed, for the league that was fat
With teams like the baccarats and the homestead grays
The eagles and many more, came ready to play
In cities like birmingham, newark and chi-town
The bus trips were very long, paychecks would bring a frown
But not to these players, cause they really loved baseball
You could ban them from majors, but not from the game
With players like leon day, who pitched almost every day
His arm would hold up, blowin hitters with smoke away
And then there was bullet joe, also was smokey joe
King richard and savateen, and brothers like ed pole
Next, batter up!
[moe love]
Bring it home keith!
[kool keith]
They took the long great line that was so fine
Super and strong to play, three games a day
Hey hey, thunder twins are up and gonna win again
Make the other players say "oh him again!"
But whattya know?
[ced g]
Black baseball (baseball) they paved the way
With players like dandy, the devil, and day
(repeat 3x)
Black baseball (baseball)
[kool keith]
Poppa bell was cool, broke any catcher's rule
On the base, at night, total speed rip the light
Comin past flick flash he was so fast
Scouts watchin in awe at what they saw
The best in the game, it's a shame, you don't know
Alex and double duty, and don't forget juty
Talent was there, and it was black
[ced g]
Give them their credit folks, and build em a hall of fame
Where legends can rest, with uniforms and the whole shebang
And honor the players, coaches fans and the ballparks
From the giants or phillies, to the new york like yankees
The pittsburgh crawfords, yeah they don't have to thank me
Just thank the red bull's, just thank the abe manley's
Just thank rufus lewis, a few names that grab me
Black baseball (baseball) they paved the way
With players like dandy, the devil, and day
(repeat 4x)
Black baseball (baseball)
[moe love]
And we're out
[kool keith]
And we're gone

song performed by by Ultramagnetic Mc's
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Farewell To My Fans

A farewell to my fans

When I am just a faded memory,
and my dimensions shift in your mind’s eye-
think back upon the nights you spent at me
around a field of green beneath the sky.

For you were here the night back in 04’
The night that Jeter dove into my stands
When Yanks and Red Sox played a thirteenth Frame
he caught the ball but had to leave the game.

And you were here when A-Rod hit three bombs
Against the cy young candidate Colon-
you stood expectant in my left field stands
To catch the fourth if ever it should land..

Who can forget old Freddy and his pan-
The “Ancient Mariner” of Yankee fans
He wanders through my aisles just like a vendor-
He bangs the drum more slowly this September.

I’ve been the field where Ruth and Mantle played-
where DiMaggio stood out at center stage.
I’ve been the home plate where the luckiest man
bowed out before his disbelieving fans.

I’ve played host often to a Series game
My champions have added to my fame.
The shadows long upon my infield face
As days grew short and cool at Autumn’s pace.

I was the place George Herman lay in state
When he lost his fight for life in 48’
Thousands of you wandered past his bier
(the only one he didn’t want, I hear) .

But now my time has come, they say I’m through
And I think hard what Gehrig had to do-
He passed on the baton from failing hands
So I too say my farewell to the fans.

poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Best Of The Best

Belfast born with magic feet,
Playing ball on cobbled street.
Something with him dwelt,
Something special he felt.

Spotted playing about,
By a Man'U scout.
Telegram was sent,
'I think I've found a genius', it went.

Fifteen years of age,
On the threshold of the national stage.
On his seventeenth birthday,
For the first team, he was to play.

Rave after rave review,
Of his debut.
Slight of frame,
Didn't hinder his game.
Flashes of his lightening speed,
Yes with the ball, at times greed.
The crowds he would enthral,
Extraordinary feats with the ball.

For years he excited terraces,
Putting smiles on faces.
He left a lasting legacy,
'Best player in the World', said no other than‘Pele'.

01/09/92 GUY LIPMORE.

poem by Guy Lipmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Kick Off Ball

Kick off ball,
Kick the ball to win the game!
But, with fair play.
Player,
Lyricist,
Arranger,
Keeper,
Composer,
Winner! !
But it was only yesterday that i found you;
And like the game ball in the land of your muse.
Face to face,
Again and again!
But pay and take it;
And, play the match to win the game! !
Play the ball,
Kick the ball,
And like the African Cup of Nations!
Race, ace, face, brace, mace, place, lace;
But words are things upon a thought,
And like something long lost! !
However, play the ball into the net to win the game.

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

Taking Dad to a Game

The Polo Grounds, when the Field’s first seen
are a most magical shade of green.
Hand in hand, me and my Dad
head for our seats in the right field stands.

It’s the Cincinnati Reds in town
to play the New York Mets.
There’s a double header scheduled,
How much better could it get?

Cincinnati took the first game
by a score of three to nil.
My hot dog was delicious
Dad had a beer to swill.

The nightcap was a wild affair
The Mets won thirteen- twelve.
You could look it up, as Casey said,
if you should care to delve.

We rode the subway home that night
side by side, me and my Dad.
We reminisced about the game
Like the most knowledgeable fans

The Q44 from Flushing took us
up Queensboro Hill, ,
past Carvel and Booth Memorial,
I remember it well still.

My father turned to look at me
as five decades creased my brow.
Making us the self same age
What he was then, so I am now.

Thirty years, about, its been
Since last I saw my Dad.
The dead don't get to baseball games,
Which I think is rather sad.

They can't enjoy a summer night
on the wrong side of the grass.
And an ice cold beer is greatly missed-
They can't pour themselves a glass

In memory, we still can walk
With those who came before.
So I took my Dad to a baseball game
What was I waiting for?

poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Walk

Attention everybody
I'm gonna show U a brand new dance
It's called "The Walk," "The Walk"
Just let your body talk
'Til U're deep in a trance
U don't need no partner
U can walk all alone
(Say, say) Whenever U feel the groove
Just let your body move
Walkin' 2 a beat of your own (Hey)
Everybody walk your body
Everybody walk (U)
Everybody walk your body
Everybody walk
Attention everybody
I said it ain't hard 2 do
U just walk, walk
Let your body talk
Walkin' so cool (Walkin' so cool)
Attention everybody
I said I just shined my shoes, yes I did
So U can let your body talk
But just watch where U walk
Or your life U're gonna lose
In other words, I'll walk U til U're dead
Everybody walk your body (Oh yeah, hey)
Everybody walk (U)
Everybody walk your body
Oh, everybody walk
The days of dancing in one place are gone
And honey, U know U can't dance with them tight jeans on
If U try 2 cop a dip, U trip, slip, and fall
Walking's 4 the cool baby, put on a camisole (Hey)
Everybody walk your body (Everybody walk your body)
Everybody walk (U)
Everybody walk your body (Everybody walk your body)
Everybody walk (Uh)
Who? Me? I wear baggies, zip, snap, and drop
(Mm) Easy access baby (Yes, before U get a chance 2 holler "Stop!")
Besides, Rollo likes his freedom
Ain't nothin' like a fresh pair of baggies
Now I know that's right
Everybody walk your body (Everybody walk your body)
Everybody walk (U)
Everybody walk your body
Everybody walk (Oh)
Hup 2, 3, 4, what the hell are we fightin' 4? Walk!
Hup 2, 3, 4, what the hell are we fightin' 4? Walk!
Company fall in line, talk
Hup 2, 3, 4, what the hell are we fightin' 4? Walk! (Jellybean)
Hup 2, 3, 4, what the hell are we fightin' 4? Walk!
Piano man, play
Damn, I'm 'bout 2 walk a hole in my Stacy Adams
What time is it?
Little cute guitar player, make your mama proud
I want all of Detroit City 2 stand up, clap your hands!
Alright U Polaroids, stay in time with the drummer
Jellybean, don't be so mean, uh (Hmm?)
Mr. Jellybean, turn it around, bass man walk downtown
Go on and walk, Terry
I don't think they heard ya, mmm
What time is it?
Rock City
Uh! Well OK, if U put it that way
Ain't nobody bad... Cheerio
We don't like policemen
We don't like new wave
We don't like television
Everybody walk your body
Everybody walk (Any walkers in the house?) (Hey) (Hey) (Oh)
Everybody walk your body
Everybody walk (That's OK, if U wanna sing, it's cool, hey)
Everybody walk your body (Everybody walk your body)
Everybody walk (Yes)
Everybody walk your body
Everybody walk (Everybody walk your body)
(The finest baggies that money can buy, alright)
Everybody walk your body (Uh)
Everybody walk (Fuzztone, uh yeah)
Everybody walk your body
Oh, everybody walk (Band)
Everybody walk your body (Everybody walk your body)
Uh, say it again
Everybody walk your body
Everybody walk (What time is it?)
Everybody walk your body
Say, hey baby, where U goin'?
I'm going home
I can't dance like that
Well baby, that's because U got those jeans on 2 tight
Now let's just take'em off
What do U mean "Let's just take'em off"?
Come on, take'em off
I got something 4 U 2 wear
Here, put this on
Uh, U always keep lingerie in your glove department?
None of my women wear gloves
Now put this on
But..
But my ass, hey, a play on words
But all the girls will stare at me
All the girls in this neighborhood already wear camisoles
I know, but..
But, but that's because it's cool
Now let's get them jeans off
Ok, but I'm warning U
Warning me about what?
Mm, God, this zipper's tight
Here, why don't U lay down?
Um, that's what I'm tryin' 2 tell U
Stop tryin' 2 tell me things and pull!
But..
Come on, pull!
I'm warning U
Mary sweet mother Jesus!
I told U
Damn baby, how'd U get all that in them jeans?
It wasn't easy
I know that's right, mmm!
Well, I think U'd be more comfortable in this
I'm sure I would, uh, I don't know
Hurry up Grace, song's almost over
My name's not Grace
I know that, but hurry up ... Grace
Man, these are weird
I guess the tag goes in the back, huh?
Hurry up
OK, OK, how do I look?
Almost as good as me, now let's go!
(Hey Morris, what time is it?)
(Who's the lovely lady, introduce us)
I'll introduce U 2 a headache if U don't get out of my face!
OK baby, now check this out
We gonna walk til the song's over
In other words, meet me at the bar in 32 measures, cool?
Cool
And if U're good, I'll let U work the stick in my ride, waa ha ha

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

Sweet Head

I tried to break away from you
From the spics and blacks and the gum you chew
Where the posters are torn by the muggin gangs
By the faggy parks and the burnt out vans
Ive got 99 years of laying in the dark and Im far too young to lie
Ive got 99 ways to play my guitar its going to pay me before I die
So bob your sweet head
Brother ziggy going to play
Im just about the best you can hear
Gonna rock it in your head
Shazam and come ball
With my guitar and mr. bang o
We can give you sweet head
Im tough as glass and clean as night
Well if looks can love we can love all right
Im your rubber peacock angelic whore
Im a wrought iron face upon the wall
I had 99 days of murder come life and Im running away from it all
I got a bedroom every mirror in town theyre going to claim me if I fall
So bob your sweet head
Brother ziggy going to play
Im just about the best you can hear
Gonna rock it in your head
Shazam and come ball
With my guitar and mr. bang o
We can give you sweet head
Sweet head
Give you sweet head
While you down there
See my eyes of blocked emotion, see my tremble, see my fall
Traumatics thick and fast, your faith in me can last
Besides Im known to lay you, one and all
Look south the way your mother dwells
If she knew whats going down, shed give you hell
Im the kind of man she warned me of
Till there was rock you only had god
You and I have a mutual vow we both like young, and we both like loud
I got pretty shoes and Im kid and proud Im street side out with my ear to the crowd
So bob your sweet head
Brother ziggy going to play
Im just about the best you can hear
Its gonna rock it in your head
Shazam and come ball
With my guitar and mr. bang o
We can give you a sweet head
Move along sir
Ho

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

We Belong Together

I didn't mean it
When I said I didn't love you so
I should have held on tight
I never should've let you go
I didnt know nothing
I was stupid
I was foolish
I was lying to myself
I could not fathom that I'd ever
Be without your love
Never imagined I'd be
Sitting here beside myself
Cause I didn't know you
Cause I didn't know me
But I thought I knew everything
I've never felt.
The feeling that I'm feeling now
That I don't hear your voice
Or have you touch and kiss your lips
Cause I don't have a choice
Or what I wouldn't give
To have you lying by my side
Right here
Cause baby
When you left
I lost a part of me
It's still so hard to believe
Come back baby please cause
We belong together
Who else am I gonna lean on
When times get rough
Who's gonna talk to me on the phone
Till the sun comes up
Who's gonna take your place
There aint nobody better
Ohh baby, baby
We belong together
I can't sleep at night
When you are on my mind
Bobby Womack's on the radio
Sing to me
'If you think you're lonely now'
Wait a minute
This is too deep (too deep)
I gotta change the station
So I turn the dial
Trying to catch a break
And then I hear Babyface
I only think of you
As breaking my heart
I'm trying to keep it together
But I'm falling apart
I'm feeling all out of my element
Throwing things
Crying
Trying to figure out
Where the hell I went wrong
The pain reflected in this song
Ain't even half of what
I'm feeling inside
I need you
Need you back in my life baby
When you left
I lost a part of me
It's still so hard to believe
Come back baby please cause
We belong together
Who else am I gonna lean on
When times get rough
Who's gonna talk to me on the phone
Till the sun comes up
Who's gonna take your place
There ain't nobody better
Ohh baby, baby
We belong together
[Bridge]
Ohh , Baby , Baby
We Belong together baby
When you left
I lost a part of me
It's still so hard to believe
Come back baby please
Cause we belong together
Who am i going to lean on
When times get rough
Who's going to talk to me
Til the sun comes up
Who's going to take your place
There ain't nobody better
Ohh baby, baby
We belong together

song performed by by Mariah Carey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

By The Time I Get To Phoenix

(jim webb)
By the time I get to phoenix hell be risin
Hell find the note I left hangin on his door
And hell laugh when he reads the part that says Im leavin
cause Ive left that man so many times before
By the time I make albuquerque hell be workin
Hell probably stop at lunch and give me a call
But hell just hear that phone keep on ringin
Off the wall, thats all
By the time I make oklahoma hell be sleepin
Hell turn softly and call my name out low
And hell cry just to think Id really leave him
Though time and time Ive tried to tell him so
Oh, he just didnt know
I would really go
I would really go

song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Oklahoma-Texas Line

Got an old dog, it don't like me much
That thing starts to bark his head off every time we touch
Sittin' on the porch listenin' to the radio
We sing every single song we know
Even the ones we don't
When she moves a little closer
She puts her hand in mine
Oh what I wouldn't give to stop the hands of time
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
She's got a part time job at the Tastee-freeze
She took the weekend off to spend a little bit of time with me
I got an old car we drove to the edge of town
We stopped by Old Man Millers' farm
Just to watch the world spin around
And she moves a little closer
She puts her lips to mine
Ain't funny how the good Lord out does himself sometimes
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house with a black top drive
Big oak tree with our names carved on the side
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house, little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
Oh here they come
Long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
Everything I love...

song performed by by Rascal Flatts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

At The Minor's Field

The Li'l Leaguer's now in uniforms,
And the ball game is ‘bout to begin.

My young hero in position one,
For the Orioles against the Indians;

Kevin stepped on the pitcher's plate,
"Go! Orioles, " the parents cheered.

"Batter's in, " the umpire yelled,
He pitched, the ball went wild.

"Ball, " the umpire called. Again,
He pitched to the batter's shin.

Hit by pitch, the batter walks on base,
Still at first when the catcher missed.

"Ball, " 2 and 0, the umpire signed,
And some parents began to whine.

Bases are loaded but all walks,
And their slugger is up to bat.

Pitch by pitch, she tried to hit,
A foul, a tip, the third, she missed.

With one out on the score board,
The outfielders are getting bored.

The next batter, my neighbor's son,
He tried the same as hard as he can,

Swing after swing, he lost his chance;
The ball was caught, two out at once.

poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!