A Child's Guide to Etiquette
Never put your personal spoon in the common jelly bowl.
Spread your napkin upon your lap. Do not grasp.
Eat what meat your fork can get to; the rest of the lobster must be given
up for lost.
A girl must lay her silver down while still a trifle hungry.
She must not eat unchaperoned.
A boy does not take a girl’s arm on the street. The street is no place for
devotion.
He must not allow his mother to lug the coal up or sift the ashes.
If he does, he is a cad. A boy is shiftless, a vulgar bounder. He is not
excused.
He wears a dark suit, but not in a theater box. In a box a tuxedo is worn.
In a box a boy keeps his thoughts to himself.
A girl keeps her hat on until she is seated. The theater itself wears no hat.
Snow is a hat worn by mountains, the tallest of which do not remove the
hat in summer.
Sunlight settles like a shawl upon the hills and dewy berry fields.
The sun is not a wag or hail-fellow-well-met. It does not loaf or shirk.
It keeps its face funeral-ready, as you should.
Away you go in the car. Father and Mother. Puff and Baby Sally.
Away you go into the country. Spot and Jane.
Jane is a proper girl. She avoids provincial phrases and slang, as yep and
boy friend.
She says not yes but yes, Mother, and arranges rosettes in the icing.
She wears a high-collared simple dress and tarries amid the lilac, on her
head a crown of stars.
She may stop dancing when she wishes. A boy must dance until the music
ends.
He must scold his bold friend.
A boy is clothed in a purple cloak, is brought up on charges, agrees to
them with the air of one much pleased. He raises his hat to his
father.
A girl, in the presence of her father, removes her breasts.
She removes the washbowl’s plug so the waste water drains completely.
A boy need not detach his hands, but he must not thrust them into his
pockets.
A clothes brush must be packed for the train, and a plain dressing gown.
Away you go. You are on a train. You are speaking with courtesy and
reserve in the dining car.
You are slipping off your shoes. You are leaving them for the porter.
The porter will pocket his tip discreetly.
The porter will polish your shoes in the night.
poem by Chris Forhan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Working Girl
Some men find her sexy, some men disagree
But if shes not, its not because she doesnt want to be
She wears a push-up bra from freddericks, five inch high heel shoes
Maybelline and rubinstein, and avons best perfume
Shes a working girl
Chorus:
Shes a working girl, she is single and free
Shes a mother and wife and shes proud to be
A working girl
Some find her to aggressive, she dont know how to stop
Cause shes the kind that dont look down until its from the top
Shes elegant and stylish, french perfume and a fur
Designer clothes by halston and diane von furstenburg
And shes a working girl
Repeat chorus
She has taken her place among the tallest of trees
But she weeps like a willow when shes brought to her knees
Cause shes a working girl
Youll find her dressed according to standard uniform
Cause she must dress in comfort for the job she must perform
She has so many faces, she wears so many names
She goes so many places and she does so many things
Cause shes a working girl
Repeat chorus
Fade:
Repeat chorus twice
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Girl Who Is Me
Me
A simple word
Yet at the same time
Complicated
Describes a girl who was born
On the 25th of June in 1994
A girl who was two days early
Me
The girl who would
Walk down the street carrying Barney
And holding mommy’s hand
And as she walked in the store
The clerks would ask her
If she was ready for her daily m&m’s
Me
The girl who thought
She was betrothed at five
The girl who got into kindergarten early
Because she was “smart”
The girl who couldn’t tell at first
Whether her first best friend
Was a boy or a girl
Because her hair was so short
Me
The girl who always got good grades
The girl whose reading level
Was above average
The girl who was in love
With beanie babies
Me
The girl who felt trapped
By the arms of her father
The girl who had to
Change the weekends
So that she could stop the sickness
Me
The girl who went to seventh grade
Ready to have fun
And make new friends
The girl who went all through
Junior high with nothing less
Than A’s and B’s
Me
The girl who started high school
With fear of failure
The girl who soon found out
That it wasn’t all that bad
Me
The girl who got hurt
By someone else’s mistake
The girl who, for the longest time
Thought maybe she should
Just give up
But refused to anyway
Even though it was easy
Me
Daddy Please Don't Hurt Mommy
A little girl stood crying as the father beat the mother,
next to the girl stood her older sister, and older brother.
Alcohol was the demon that drove the beating hand,
the mother bruised, and sobbing cowards from the man.
Why does daddy do that thought the little girl?
Oh how I hate my father, he's the worst person in the world.
The mother now alone in the bedroom with a razor above her wrist.
'Please mommy don't do it, ' the youngest child did persist.
The father starves the mother, three days in a row,
the little girl hates her father, yet the father is too drunk to know.
Is alcohol the problem or does there exist more?
The little girl's answer comes from her sobbing mother lying hurt on the cold, hard floor.
poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Orphan Girl
(gillian welch)
I am a orphan
On gods highway
But Ill share my troubles
If you go my way
I have no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
I have had friendships
Pure and golden
But the ties of kinship
I have not known them
I know no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
But when he calls me
I will be able
To meet my family
At gods table
Ill meet my mother
My father my sister
My brother
No more an orphan girl
Blessed savior
Make me willing
And walk beside me
Until Im with them
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
I am an orphan girl
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maria Elena
(Bobby Ray Appleberry, William Cuomo)
Johnny Porter was the oldest in his family
And I remember he was almost twenty one
Y'know I can't quite explain the situation
But he broke into his father's truck and stole a gun
Mother running down the highway screaming
Johnny it's too bad, oh it's too and it's bad
And it's too bad
Well, his father wonders where he got the money
And he wonders if he got it right or wrong
Then Johnny killed a man in Pensacola, Florida
And he caught a freight train and and took off on the run
Well, run, Johnny, run
They're rolling right behind you
Run, Johnny, run
You know they're gonna find you
You come out late at night, 'cause you're running for your life
Hum, Johnny Porter
Johnny Porter
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Well, it's a shame the way you make your mother worry
And it's hurts inside to sit and watch her cry
And it will be a long time before she knows the answer
But it won't be long before she will see ya die
Well, I was standing in my front door early this morning
So sad, when I heard my name was said
Johnny Porter was no good than anybody
But I hate to see him throw his life away
Now, run, Johnny, run
They're rolling right behind you
Run, Johnny, run
You know they're gonna find you
You come out late at night, 'cause you're running for your life
Well, Johnny Porter, Johnny Porter
Found him holed up in some dark and dirty building
Heard his mother begging,
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hurt Little Girl
As she lays there she wonders who she is then she realizes it's a hurt
little girl who cries at night inside she's screaming at the little girl maybe
it's because the little girl is only four years old listening to her father
scream she can't take it the little girl won't stop crying she wont stop
yelling she hears her father inside her thought of him makes her want to
die she just can't take it anymore she still can't stop crying it aches she
shakes the hurt little girl is her the hurt little girl is someone she's
scared of if the hurt little girl leaves she'll be nothing she'll be an it that
don't exist she stop one day and except everything and everyone she'll
be happy with the hurt little girl the hurt little girl is speaking so now I'll
stop
poem by Charity Howard
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Who Will cry For The Girl?
Who will cry for the girl
Who was neeglected and abused?
Who will cry for the girl
Whose mother and father used?
Who will cry for the girl
Who is locked up in rage?
Who will cry for the girl
Who was savagly torn away?
Who will cry for the girl
Whose innocence was torn apart?
Who will cry for the girl
Who can have the heart?
I ask again
Who will cry for this girl
Whose storm is brewing inside?
Who will cry for this girl
For her tears have run dry?
poem by Humming Bird
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A girl in leather shoes
I am a girl in leather shoes
without socks, a girl who has
no need of socks, a girl
who has few friends-
but doesn't need any.
A strong girl, with real opinions
in her head; sockless in her leather shoes,
a girl whose stride is purposeful,
feet secure inside the leather,
a girl who wears nothing artificial,
who takes in nothing not genuine-
And if she should ever sweat,
this brave, sockless girl,
who knows exactly where she is going
safe in her leather
and her strong opinions-
she would never, never let it show.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Im The Girl
Ive got a memory
A thousand years old
And I know secrets
Ive never been told
And Ive got jewels
I havent found
And theyll return me
To the ground
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
And Im a siren
Ill wreck you on my shores
And Im godiva
Ill call you back for more
And Im medusa
And Im your favourite doll
And Im a georgia okeefe
Hanging on your wall
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im joan of arc
Im the girl next door
Im the mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter before
And I remember being born just sound and light
And sound and light and light
And I remember the first time, skin on skin in the arms
In the arms of the night
Well how many times have we looked up into the starry skies
And how many times have we felt the passion rise
Every ruby-lipped girl baby, old lady, squaw junkie, girl after girl after girl
Every muse, whore, good witch, princess, back arching, year after year after year
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im joan of arc
Im the girl next door
Im the mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
The mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
The mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
Before.
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Frinton-on-Sea by Train - The Annual Pilgrimage,1910
When in the large compartment,
Everyone was seated.
And all the luggage loaded,
The family group completed.
Excitement as the train now
Leaves the local station.
Everyone perceiving
A feeling of elation.
The Servants in the Third Class
All with faces radiant,
The train now fairly straining
Up it's first steep gradient.
Smoke rising from the engine,
Through the countryside it races,
Such a rattling and a clattering,
Rhythmic chugging as it paces.
Nurse is quietly rocking baby,
Mother dozing, Father reading.
Children gazing through the window,
Trees and streams seem to be speeding.
Realisation, train is stopping,
Doors are opening, whistles blare,
All alighting from the carriage,
Platforms busy. Great sea air!
Call the porter for the luggage,
What! No luggage, this can't be,
'Did you tip the porter Father? '
Mother calls out nervously.
Father fuming calls the Driver,
Calls ths Station Master too,
Sorry Sir, it's not our doing
We will send it on to you.
Father marching to the taxi,
Mother fretting following along,
Nurse with baby shrieking loudly
Children calling, 'What is wrong? '.
Father should have tipped the porter,
Much more than a farthing's worth,
So he didn't load the luggage,
In the 'First Class' luggage berth.
It arrived early next morning,
By the first train down the track,
So as to the moral of this story,
If you're too mean, watch out Jack!
© Ernestine Northover
This poem was written from a story handed down through the family, and the 'Father' was my husband's Great Grandfather, and it is absolutely true, he was a very mean man. A Farthing being the lowest coinage of that time. We have photos of them all sitting on the sand, in full dress with the ladies in huge feathered hats. A wonderful sight! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Factory Girl
Waiting for a girl who's got curlers in her hair
Waiting for a girl she has no money anywhere
We get buses everywhere
Waiting for a factory girl
Waiting for a girl and her knees are much too fat
Waiting for a girl who wears scarves instead of hats
Her zipper's broken down the back
Waiting for a factory girl
Waiting for a girl and she gets me into fights
Waiting for a girl we get drunk on Friday night
She's a sight for sore eyes
Waiting for a factory girl
Waiting for a girl and she's got stains all down her dress
Waiting for a girl and my feet are getting wet
She ain't come out yet
Waiting for a factory girl
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Beggars Banquet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Say) You're My Girl
Hello, may I have this dance with you?
How have you been, girl?
Hold me, and then girl
just let me look at you.
Tell me, now, is it true?
Oh, did you break up?
No chance to make up.
I hate to take up all your time,
but tell me.
Oh, no it won't be repeated.
You mean to tell me he cheated?
Oh, what a fool he's been
Though he is, my best friend
I hate it this way,
But I've waited for this day.
I've always wanted
You to be my girl.
Be my girl, you're my girl.
I still don't believe it
he played around on you.
When all the time he knew
I loved you too
With your big eyes,full lips,
High cheek bones,
And ev'rything about you, girl.
Personality girl,
Gimme a chance, come on,
Let's dance,some
Dance the night awa--y;
You're my girl.you're my girl, you're my girl.
Baby doll, baby, baby, hold me tight.
Be mine tonight, say it's alright.
And I will never, ever let you go, oh...
Be my girl, be my girl,
you're my girl.you're mine,
you're my girl.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Script
Boy: I have to leave you
Girl: what do you mean?
Boy: I am leaving
Girl: what about us?
Boy: there is no us anymore
Girl: just that?
Boy: yes, I have to go
Girl: I am pregnant
Boy: get an abortion
Girl: I can’t I am a catholic
Boy: You know that I can’t marry you
Girl: why can’t you?
Boy: I am just a boy
Girl: but I am not asking you to marry me
Boy: what do you mean?
Girl: just be the father of my child
Boy: I can’t I am just a boy
Girl: why can’t you?
Boy: I only 13 and I cannot support that child
Girl: I am not asking for support
Boy: what do you mean?
Girl: just be my man
Boy: but I am just a boy
Girl: just love me
Boy: I can’t I don’t really love you
Girl: I hate you
Boy: I hate you too
Girl: I will tell papa
Boy: I tell mama
Girl: I tell the police
Boy: I am leaving
Girl: I tell the world
Boy: go, I am leaving.
Girl: where are you going?
Boy: I am going back to school.
(End of the scene 1)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On October 28th, 1887, I became the mother of a girl baby, the very image of its father, at least that is what he said, but who has the temper of its mother.
quote by Calamity Jane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Do You Speak To An Angel
A son who is cursed with a harridan mother
Or a weak simpering father at best
Is raised to play out the timeless classical motives
Of filial love and incest
How does he speak to a
How does he speak to the prettiest girl
How does he talk to her
What does he say for an opening line
What does he say if hes shy
What do you do with your pragmatic passions
With your classically neurotic style
How do you deal with your vague self-comprehensions
What do you do when you lie
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to her
How do you dance on the head of a pin
When youre on the outside looking in
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
How do you speak to a
How do you speak to the prettiest girl
You just say, hello, (hello) baby (hello)
...
Baby, angel, how do you talk to the prettiest girl, you say
Hello baby, hello baby, angel, angel, pretty little girl
Angel, angel ....
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plain Jane
Ah, tell 'em about it Darlin'.
Here we go.
She's a waitress at her corner,
Always dancin' nine-to-five.
Well, she ain't no supermodel,
But I'm here to tell you, she's fine, (Ha, ha.)
She's so fine, Johnny.
She's like the classic girl next door,
There's somethin' 'bout her walk:
There's somethin' that goes off inside,
Each time she starts to talk.
Plain Jane,
Oh, I love her name.
She drives me insane.
She's my plain Jane.
She always gets my business,
I can't wait to ring her bell.
(Ah, I bet you can't Donnie.)
She puts a quarter in the jukebox:
Says she don't kiss an' tell.
Is that right, brother.
The way she wears that dress, (Yeah.)
It's time that I confess:
The music starts an' my heart stops,
An' I become a mess.
Plain Jane,
Oh, I love her name.
She drives me insane.
She's my plain Jane.
Nothin' fancy: she's just got everything.
She's so addicting; she's so amazing:
Can't think of anything.
Do, do, do do.
(Whoa, talk to me, plain Jane.)
Do, do, do do, do, do.
Whoa, yeah,
C'mon.
Plain Jane,
Oh, I love her name.
She drives me insane.
She's my plain Jane. (Jane, Jane.)
Plain Jane,
Oh, I love her name.
She drives me insane.
She said just call me plain Jane.
(That's right, buddy."
Plain Jane,
She's my plain Jane.
She's my plain Jane.
She's my plain, (Jane)
Whoo, she's my plain Jane.
(No, she's mine.)
song performed by by Van Zant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You're My Girl
(orbison/dees)
How have you been, girl?
Hold me, and then girl
Just let me look at you.
Tell me, now, is it true?
Oh, did you break up?
No chance to make up.
I hate to take up all your time,
But tell me.
Oh, no it won't be repeated.
You mean to tell me he cheated?
Oh, what a fool he's been
Oh, he is my best friend
I hate it this way,
But i've waited for this day.
I've always wanted
You to be my girl.
You're my girl, yeah my girl.
I still don't believe it
He played around on you.
All the time he knew
I loved you too
With your big eyes,full lips,
High cheek bones,
And everything about you, girl.
Your personality girl,
Gimme a chance, come on,
Let's dance,some
Dance the night awa--y;
You're my girl.you're my girl
Baby doll, baby, baby, hold me tight.
Be mine tonight, say it's alright.
And i will never, ever let you go, oh...
You're my girl, be my girl,
You're my girl.you're mine,
You're my girl.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Ariana Campbell
just a girl
blue glass windows
for a dizzy world
catching sun
in her hair
running
without fear
without care
little girl
with sapphire dreams
sunlight ribbons
in her hair
kisses for mother
kisses for father
hands for holding
to soothe all fears
precious girl
your day will come
to dance like lilies
under the sun
dreaming like kittens
and sugarcane tongues
my darling girl
your day will come
poem by Alexandre Arnau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Factory Girl
(original by the rolling stones; remixed by maxim)
Waiting for a girl whos got curlers in her hair
Waiting for a girl she has no money anywhere
We get buses everywhere
Waiting for a factory girl
Waiting for a girl and her knees are much too fat
Waiting for a girl who wears scarves instead of hats
Her zippers broken down the back
Waiting for a factory girl
Waiting for a girl and she gets me into fights
Waiting for a girl we get drunk on friday night
Shes a sight for sore eyes
Waiting for a factory girl
Waiting for a girl and shes got stains all down her dress
Waiting for a girl and my feet are getting wet
She aint come out yet
Waiting for a factory girl
song performed by by Prodigy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Girlzilla
Baby Girl, Glamour Girl, Strawberry Girl struts
Candy Girl, Sexy Girl, Bossy Girl fuss
Gansta Girl, Dream Girl, Independent Girl shops
Virtuous Girl, Glitter Girl, Hot Girl pops
Cover Girl, Naughty Girl, Jazzy Girl sings
Phat Girl, Ghetto Girl, Bling Girl blings
Sassy Girl, Cool Girl, Girly Girl rocks
Mama's Girl, Daddy's Girl, Wild Girl stocks
Strong Girl, Sister Girl, Church Girl preach
Flower Girl, Black Girl, American Girl reach
Thick Girl, School Girl, Smart Girl moves
Bad Girl, Spoiled Girl, Bitchy Girl grooves
God's Girl, Quiet Girl, Sweet Girl blessed
Beautiful Girl, Young Girl, Talented Girl impressed
Prom Girl, City Girl, Business Girl works
Play Girl, Outgoing Girl, Dance Girl tworks
Lavish Girl, Promiscuous Girl, Anonymous Girl rolls
Country Girl, Island Girl, Bobby V's Girl controls
poem by Top Notch Glamorous Thick Chick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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