Affable Alf
Have you heard the inscrutable mutable Alf,
The mannerly man with the silvery tongue?
Ever loquacious,
Smiling and gracious.
Loud in the land have his praises been sung.
He has magnetised all with his eloquent speakin'
The Great oratorical oracle, Deakin.
His somewhat sporadical radical speeches
Have over-persuaded us all, and his style
His easy urbanity
Tickles our vanity;
And we are won by his affable smile.
He captivates all with his eloquence sinister,
Does the persuasive, evasive Prime Minister.
His fine pyrotechnical technical phrases,
His grand perorations, exordiums, too,
'Spite their obscurity,
Are of a purity
And of a quality equalled by few,
And he knows all the tricks of portfol-i-o seekin',
That clever illusionist, fusionist Deakin.
But, beware of mysterious serious Alf.
His weird cabalistical, mystical call
His impetuosity,
Plus his verbosity,
Acts like a strange anaesthetic on all.
But, when you get over the charm of his speakin',
You'll come to a frangible, tangible Deakin.
You'll find an accessible cessible man,
With political frailties many as most o' them.
'Spite his euphonical
Gifts histrionical,
Critics political point, to a host o' them.
He is but a man after all and a weak 'un
A most, inexcusable fusible Deakin.
His most omnifarious various views
He'll alter to suit the occasion that pays him,
Though lacking in clarity.
Any disparity
In his fused following's powerless to daze him.
Regarded apart from his eloquent speakin',
O, what a lamentable, rentable Deakin!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Related quotes
The Apologist
Dear friends, I'm Deakin....
No; no mistake,
You're wide awake.
It's ALF that's speakin'...
I wish to make
A few remarks about - Eh? What,
O, no; I'm not
The least bit changed.
It's been arranged -
You understand?
Between these gentlemen and me.
We fused, you see,
For the - er - welfare of the land....
Come, gentlemen! I do insist
I am the same!
I'm DEAKIN, the Protectionist.
And I declare I'm not to blame.
There never has been any change in me.
It's all arranged.... We fused, you see.
No harm to fuse.
And I am certain you'll excuse
Us all, when once you fairly grasp the fact
That this arrangement is a patriot's act.
'Twas neither somersault nor slip;
'Twas statesmanship....
Yes, yes. Joe Cook
And others took
A pledge.
As I allege,
Henceforth to vote Protection to a man....
Well, yes; they ran
Freetrade - some years ago;
But they won't advocate it now. Oh, no!...
I say again I've not changed in the least.
I leave that all to them.
Their love for the - er - tariff has increased.
Ahem!....
What? Wobblers? Nay!
Ah, do not blame them, pray!
These gentlemen are neither false nor weak;
But my good friends.
And they will make amends.
A light has broken on them, so to speak.
They're all - er - fiscal converts as it were....
Now, my dear sir!
If you will interject
Time and again,
How can the audience expect
Me to explain?...
I tell you I've NOT changed!
It's ALL ARRANGED!
Why, ever since I've been in politics
I've always advocated the - um - er ...
What nonsense! Sir!!
Tricks!
ME!!!
I challenge you to prove my policy
Has ever been... Well, yes,
Yes, I confess
I used to call them names. But, don't you see,
That is a thing of ancient history....
I tell you it has now all been arranged!
And I've not changed!...
O, well, well, I admit
I did abuse them - just a little bit.
'The wreckage of all parties' - That was it.
'Black Labor party' - yes, and 'Tories,' too.
I said that; true.
But can't you see? I ask you, please, to try.
They've changed, not I.
They've had a wash;
They've all been made
Whiter than snow ( I'm sure you understand):
And henceforth Anti-Sosh,
And not Freetrade,
Will be their party brand.
But, to return to my....Eh? Who's that speakin'?
I tell you I am Deakin!
Who dares to say I'm not?
I am the same brave, whole-souled patriot!
Iam! I AM!
if you will interject... O, d--!....
Er - gentlemen...I'd have you understand
We are a band
Of staunch Protectionists. If it appears
A trifle strange
That, after all these years,
These gentlemen should change,
I ask you, gentlemen, to please excuse
The Fuse.
You comprehend? I wave my magic wand,
And they respond
By bowing meekly to my fiscal creed.
Nay, nay! No Greed
For Office caused this unaccustomed sight.
'Twas...Country-love and - er - a Sudden Light.
These friends of mine have all come into line,
And, after this, their fiscal faith is mine -
That is...I mean to say
That mine is theirs until the Judgement Day.
I trust, good people, I have made it plain....
No, no; my friends will never change again....
I tell you, with my hand upon my heart,
They would no more trick me than, for my part, I'd ever do
So false an act, or think of tricking...you.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Jim
Have you heard the magniloquent, eloquent Jim?
The yogi of Yarra, whose silvery tongue,
In days of his promise won many votes from us,
When loud in the land was the praise of him sung,
And he magnetised all with his vigor and vim -
That great oratorical oracle, Jim.
But the days of his rigorous, vigorous speech
And plausible promise have gone to the pack.
When days comes for action, the feud and the faction
Are making him seem a political hack
For the gamour is gone andhis glory goes dim,
And inflation oration may jettison Jim.
The silence so golden, in olden days gone,
Is not yet debased, tho' he talked without end.
His usus loquendi has come to an end, he
Must seek for new methods if ways he would mend,
The land looks for much from her eminent son;
But talking and baulking won't get the thing done.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Speakin Of The Devil
Hes got a way of walkin
Hes got a way of talkin
A way to fascinate me all the time
And hes got a way with women
A way to keep my head a swimmin
Hes got away too many times
Chorus:
Ooh, speakin of the devil
Well, here he comes now
Lookin like an angel
Got my defenses down
Hes got me dreamin
Got me schemin
Ooh, speakin of the devil
He is drivin me wild
With that wicked little grin
And that fire in his eyes
Hes got me dreamin
Got me steamin
Ooh, speakin of the devil
It feels mighty close to heaven
And Id go through hell to make him mine
Hes got his spell upon me
Got to be his one and only
Burning with passion and desire
Ooh, Im caught up in all his magic
It surely would be tragic
To never share the heat
From all this fire
Repeat chorus twice
Speakin of the devil
Speakin of the devil
Id go through hell to make him mine
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad of the Carpet Bag
Ho! Darkies, don't you hear dose voters cryin'
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must get to de Poll, you must get there flyin';
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must travel by de road, you must travel by de train,
And the things what you've done you will have to explain,
And the things what you've promised, you must promise 'em again.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must pack up a volume of Coghlan's Figures,
Pack dat carpet bag!
And a lot o' little jokes to amuse those niggers.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must wheedle all de gals with a twinkle of your eye,
You must bob down your head when de eggs begin to fly.
Oh! those eggs what they're saving, and they'll throw 'em by and by.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin'!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must get upon a stump, you must practise speakin',
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must follow Georgie Reid or Alfred Deakin.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must come to de scratch, or you're bound to fail,
For it ain't any time to be sittin' on de rail,
Or de votes that you'll get -- they won't keep you out o' jail.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin'!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
And supposin' that you're beat, and you feel like cryin',
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must hustle back to work -- just to keep from dyin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must travel second-class when you travel by de train,
For you haven't got a pass on de end of your chain,
While the other fellow's packing for de great campaign.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin'!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Let It Be
When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speakin' words of wisdo-om
Let it be
And in my hour of dar-arkness
She's standing right in front of me
Speakin' words of wisdo-om - Let it be
Let it be, oh let it be-ee
Whisper wor-ords of wisdom
Oh let it be
When the night is cloudy
There's still a light that shines on me
Shine until tomorrow-ow
Let it be
I wake up to the sound of music
Mother Mary comes to me
Speakin' words of wisdo-om
Just let it be
Let it be-ee, oh let it be-ee
And there will be an answer
Just let it be
And when the broken hearted people
Livin' in the world agree
There'll now be an answer
Oh God let it be
Though they may be parted
There's a chance that they will see
There will be an answer-er
Let it be
Let it be, let it be-ee, oh let it be-ee
Whisper words of wisdo-om
Ahh let it be
Let it be..., (let it be, let it be)
There will be an answer
Just let it be
(Let it be-ee, let it be-ee-ee-ee)
There will be an answer-er
Just le-et it be
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rich
Album: Fever To Tell
I'm Rich
like a hot noise
I'll take you out boy
so stuck up
wish you'd stick in to me
flesh ripped off
raaaawr
turnin it beatin no beat
the walls are always speakin
no want no want no want no speakin at all
she slipped down a rot drink unzipped she does'nt exsist
so unloved
i took'em standin up
so stuck up
rawr
I'm Rich...
song performed by by Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Incantation
Scene: Federal Political Arena
A darkened cave. In the middle, a cauldron, boiling.
Enter the three witches.
1ST WITCH: Thrice hath the Federal Jackass brayed.
2ND WITCH: Once the Bruce-Smith War-horse neighed.
3RD WITCH: So Georgie comes, 'tis time, 'tis time,
Around the cauldron to chant our rhyme.
1ST WITCH: In the cauldron boil and bake
Fillet of a tariff snake,
Home-made flannels -- mostly cotton,
Apples full of moths, and rotten,
Lamb that perished in the drought,
Starving stock from "furthest out",
Drops of sweat from cultivators,
Sweating to feed legislators.
Grime from a white stoker's nob,
Toiling at a nigger's job.
Thus the great Australian Nation,
Seeks political salvation.
ALL: Double, double, toil and trouble,
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
2ND WITCH: Heel-taps from the threepenny bars,
Ash from Socialist cigars.
Leathern tongue of boozer curst
With the great Australian thirst,
Two-up gambler keeping dark,
Loafer sleeping in the park --
Drop them in to prove the sequel,
All men are born free and equal.
ALL: Double, double, toil and trouble,
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
3RD WITCH:Lung of Labour agitator,
Gall of Isaacs turning traitor;
Spleen that Kingston has revealed,
Sawdust stuffing out of Neild;
Mix them up, and then combine
With duplicity of Lyne,
Alfred Deakin's gift of gab,
Mix the gruel thick and slab.
ALL: Double, double, toil and trouble,
Heav'n help Australia in her trouble.
HECATE: Oh, well done, I commend your pains,
And everyone shall share i' the gains,
And now about the cauldron sing,
Enchanting all that you put in.
Round about the cauldron go,
In the People's rights we'll throw,
Cool it with an Employer's blood,
Then the charm stands firm and good,
And thus with chaos in possession,
Ring in the coming Fed'ral Session.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Hello God
Hello, God, are you out there?
Can you hear me?
Are you listenin' any more?
Hello, God, if we're still on speakin' terms,
Can you help me like before?.
I have questioned your existence,
My resistance leaves me cold.
Can you help me go the distance?
Hello, God. Hello, hello.
This old world has gone to pieces,
Can we fix it? Is there time?
Hate and violence just increases,
We're so selfish, cruel and blind.
We fight and kill each other,
In your name, defending you.
Do you love some more than others?
We're so lost and confused.
Hello, God, are you out there?
Can you hear us?
Are you listenin' any more?
Hello, God, if we're still on speakin' terms,
Can you help us like before?.
Oh, the free will you have given,
We have made a mockery of.
This is no way to be livin'.
We're in great need of your love.
Hello, God.
(Hello, hello.)
Hello, God, can you grant us,
Love enough to make amends?
(Hello, God.)
Is there still a chance,
That we could start again?
Hello, God, we've learned our lesson.
Dear God, don't let us go.
(Hello, Hello.)
More than ever,
Hello, God. Hello, hello.
Hello, God, we really need you,
We can't make it without you.
(Hello, God.)
We beseech you,
In the name of all that's true.
Hello God, please forgive us,
For we know not what we do.
Hello, God, give us one more chance,
To prove ourselves to you.
Hello, God, (Hello, God.)
Hello, God.
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hymn
Lord, Who, from Thy high position,
See'th the humble politician,
Knoweth all his secret schemes,
Readeth all his inmost dreams,
Hearken, Lord, unto our pleading;
Mark Thou how our hearts are bleeding,
Bleeding for our country's woes,
Caused by our unrighteous foes.
Lord, behold Thy chosen pleading!
Lend Thine aid to frame our laws.
Turn Thou not away unheeding,
Lord, assist the
[Labor]
[Lib'ral]
[Tory]
[Freetra de]
[Dead-fish]
cause.
See our enemies around us,
Seeking ever to confound us,
Seeking in their wickedness
E'er to compass our distress.
With the powers of darkness scheming,
And our Sacred Cause blaspheming.
Lord, let not their works abide.
For we know Thou'rt on our side.
We, the saviours of our nation,
Supplicate on bended knee.
Lord, our trust and consolation
Are in
[Deakin]
[Fisher,]
[Jokook,]
[Forr est,]
[Bill Lyne]
and in Thee.
Lo, as righteous men, we've striven;
But our works are rent and riven
Through our foes' iniquities.
Lord, rebuke our enemies.
Let them be ashamed who doubt us
That they speak vain things about us.
Harken, Lord: bind fast their jaws!
That they may not plead their cause.
Lord, give ear unto our wailing!
Hearken to our prayer devout,
That, our policy prevailing,
We may throw
[the Land-tax]
[Defence bills]
[The Dreadnought]
[Dalgety]
[Protection out.
Lord, who knoweth politicians,
All their longings and ambitions,
All the secrets of their souls,
O, assist us at the polls.
When we strive in the elections
Hide our many imperfections;
But let searching light expose
All the errors of our foes.
Lord, we work by Thy direction,
And we know Thou will assist
The Holy Cause, at next election,
Of the
[Anti-Socialist,]
[Anti-Protectioni st],
[Lib'ral-Fusionist],
[Labor-socialist] ,
[Land Monopolist.]
As it was in the beginning
It is now
And ever shall be (until we have Elective Ministries)
Dissension, bickering, and waste of time without end.
A-hmen.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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I gather, young man, that you wish to be a Member of Parliament. The first lesson that you must learn is, when I call for statistics about the rate of infant mortality, what I want is proof that fewer babies died when I was Prime Minister than when anyone else was Prime Minister. That is a political statistic.
quote by Winston Churchill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Connected To Politics
Am I political?
That's a strange question to ask,
By someone who also pays.
Religiously,
A tax of some kind to the government.
And those who express,
They want the government.
Out of their lives,
Only do so to hear their own voices.
Now.
If you had asked 'if' I was upset,
Because my taxes paid.
Has not increased my quality of life,
We both would be in agreement.
And on the same page!
Wouldn't we?
Am I political?
Every human being walking this Earth,
Is connected to politics.
Whether they vote, emote or become provoked,
Somebody with political ties.
Will not hide they are trying to get into their pockets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thats Just That
Thats just that
Hes not talkin and shes not speakin
And theyre not budgin and thats just that
Hes just fumin and shes just steamin
And theyre not listening to the fact
That hearts are cryin and love is dyin
And neither wants to understand
Cause hes not talkin and shes not speakin
And theyre not budgin
(1st chorus)
But they used to stroll in the rain
Then build a fire and pull the shades
They kissed their way all through the dark
Shes whisper all her deepest dreams
Hed tell her shes his everything
Shed lay her head down on his heart
They were so in love
Yeah they were so in love
Hes not talkin and shes not speakin
And theyre not budgin and thats just that
Hope is crumblin and walls are tumblin
Its all just jumpin right off the tracks
And doors are slammin and heels are stompin
And theyre both walkin their separate ways
And hes not talkin and shes not speakin
And theyre not budgin
(2nd chorus)
But they used to jump in his car
Theyre side by side without a care
Drive till the scenery was right
Lay on a blanket on the ground
And watch the clouds blow around
Just holdin each other tight
They were so in love
Yeah they were so in love
They were so in love
Yeah they were so in love
If hed start talkin and shed start speakin
And theyd start tryin theyd start to see
Thats its worth keepin and theyre worth savin
And theyre not far from what they need
To start forgivin and start relivin
All the love they used to have
So he starts budgin and she starts biddin
And he stops steepin and she starts givin
And they start cryin, and they start hopin, and they start talkin.
Then, they take a stroll in the rain.
And build a fire, pull the shades.
Kiss their way all through the dark.
She whispers all her deepest dreams.
He tells her shes his everything.
She lays her head down on his heart.
Theyre so in love.
Yeah, they are so in love.
And thats just that...
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Orator’s Complaint
How many the troubles that wait
On mortals!—especially those
Who endeavour in eloquent prose
To expound their views, and orate.
Did you ever attempt to speak
When you hadn't a word to say?
Did you find that it wouldn't pay,
And subside, feeling dreadfully weak?
Did you ever, when going ahead
In a fervid defence of the Stage,
Get checked in your noble rage
By somehow losing your thread?
Did you ever rise to reply
To a toast (say 'The Volunteers'),
And evoke loud laughter and cheers,
When you didn't exactly know why?
Did you ever wax witty, and when
You had smashed an opponent quite small,
Did he seem not to mind it at all,
But get up and smash you again?
If any or all of these things
Have happened to you (as to me),
I think you'll be found to agree
With yours truly, when sadly he sings:
'How many the troubles that wait
On mortals!—especially those
Who endeavour in eloquent prose
To expound their views, and orate.'
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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The Over-Fed Fuse
He has made many meals
On the Lib'rals of late,
And the way that he feels
May be judged by his state;
For the fact that he has indigestion
Is needless, almost, to relate.
In the Kingdom of wade
He has eaten with zest;
That is plainly displayed
By the girth of his vest
Now he's hungrily eyeing McGowen
And Dacey and some of the rest.
With repletion he's sighed
In the south cabbage plot,
For he's quite satisfied
With the feed he has got;
For the Libs, they were many and juicy,
And lo, he has gobbled the lot.
They have fed him on sops
In the far nortern State:
He is licking his chops,
He is feeling first-rate.
They have named him Phidkilp in that district,
Where he's dined rather largely of late.
There was quite a to-do
When he lunched in South Oss.
For he ate quite a few
Ere they noticed the loss.
But he finished his feed without winking
And is, by one mouthful, the boss.
He has chewed all the Libs.
On the old Apple Isle;
He has patted his ribs
With a satisfied smile;
And now he's quite fat and contented,
And likely rest for a while.
In the Federal crib
He has dines on 'em roast;
He's had hot devilled Lib.
And a Deakin on toast;
But he's feeling 'too full after eating,'
And languidly cheerful at most.
For this Liberal diet
Has filled him right out;
He has grown very quiet,
Exceedingly stout,
And he's taken a nap after dinner,
And has slept the session quite out.
Let us hope that, some day,
When he wakes in a huff,
The electors will say
He has had quite enough,
And prescribe him a Labor emetic,
And restrict him to plain Tory duff.
In the sweet soon-to-be,
When we open our NEWS,
Or our AGE or D.T.
Or whate'r we peruse,
We shall read: 'SUDDEN DEATH OF A GLUTTON,
THE FATE OF AN OVER-FED FUSE.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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A Mixed Crew
Tho' it sounds a trifle mystic,
Somewhat vague and cabbalistic,
When you come to analyse the inner side
Of political alliance
You will find it is a science
That embraces matters delicate and wide.
It involves the close cohesion of the faction or cabal,
And the very fleeting friendship of the temporary pal.
But pull for the shore, lads, pull for the shore.
Never mind wot boat yer in, struggle at yer oar.
Cook is on the gunwale, cursin' us fer cows;
Deakin's in stern-sheets. Mauger's at the bows;
The stormy winds are blowin' an' the enemy's at hand;
We must settle it among us when we're safely on the land.
There's the Temporary Fusion;
Which is mainly an illusion
When you view it in the light of ev'ry day.
But politically? - truly
'Tis a state in which, unduly,
You are never pledged or promised either way.
An ideal party union, where a man may trim his sail;
Though vulgar folk allude to it as 'sitting on a rail.'
But pull for the shore, lads, pull for the shore.
We'll settle in the harbour when the hurricane is o'er.
Quick is partly inside; Irnine's partly out;
Wille Kelly's overside, floundering' about;
Forrest's at mast'ead, letting out a roar.
Never mind who owns the boat. Pull for the shore.
Then there's the Coalition,
Which is entered on condition
You can swallow certain principles with ease.
'Tis corruption sugar-coated;
And no matter how you've voted
In the past, you may change it if you please.
Though the common crowd may scoff at the reversal of your vote,
If you murmur 'Coalition' you may safely turn your coat.
But pull for the shore, lads, pull for the land.
Never mind who owns the craft, lend a willin' hand.
Smith is on the bowsprit, yellin' 'Anti-Sosh'!
Reid is on the towline, draggin' in the wash;
Jawbone Neild is founderin', shoutin' for a rope;
But pull, lads, pull, for the shore's our only hope.
Note you now the Understanding,
Quite devoid of party branding,
Where the parties undertake to understand
That, in certain set conditions,
They'll consider their positions,
And reach out for what they want with either hand.
And for the country's welfare and the nation's lasting good,
They agree to understand that they are all misunderstood.
But pull for the shore, lads, pull for the shore.
Groom is on the fore'atch with 'arf a dozen more;
Knox is in the chart-room makin' up his mind;
Wilks is on a hen-coop, draggin' on behind.
Never mind the company; only keep afloat.
You can't be too particular who's mannin' of the boat.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Dictator
Avaunt! What news is this I hear
Of portent grim and sinister?
Is he, whose words insult mine ear,
A mere, upstart Prime Minister?
Odds fish! These fellows hitherto
Wore no demeanor critical;
But, cap in hand, have sought my view
On all affairs political.
'Sdeath! Has the caitiff not the sense
To be polite and affable
Like others, whose meek diffidence,
At times, was even laughable?
Aha! I made them sore afraid!
They gave my schemes the preference,
And murmured: 'Thank you, Mister Wade,'
With low and seemly deference.
Then, I had but to raise my hand,
And ev'ry Fed'ral min-i-on
Sprang hastily to my command,
And bowed to my opin-i-on.
'Twas I that granted them the site
To build their pesky capital;
For, if approached with mien polite.
I'm not a fearsome chap at all.
'Twasq I dictated all their laws
And made State Frights substantially
Their shibboleth; I marked the flaws,
What time they schemed financially.
I bade them to the Conference;
They came with meek humility;
And there I filled them with immense
Respect for my ability.
But now, this upstart Fisher man,
Intent on irritating me,
Has dared to moot a Fed'ral plan
Without conciliating me.
Zounds! I have spoken! And I speak
With ominous obscurity.
Let him beware, I say! . . . Next week:
'Tis pregnant with - futurity.
Next week! Be warned! Here, in my sleeve
Are certain things mysterious.
It they be loosened, by my leave. . . .
Aha! It will be serious!
0, I have words of weight and stress
To tickle your auriculars.
Enough! . . . Watch handbills and the press
For further grim particulars.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Baby Better Start Turnin em Down
(rodney crowell)
In this modern world were livin
The rules aint like theyve ever been
Speakin of spreading it thin
Thats what you do, flashing your soul
That aint no way to treat your lover
Aint no way to act with feelings
Baby, better start turnin em down
Now its a brave new wave were roarin in
Hanging out, out on the rock n roll fringe
Speaking of running around
All over town, lettin it show
That aint no way to treat your lover
Aint no way to act in public
Baby, dont better start turnin em down, start to turnin down
Sure is clear aint nothin easy any more
Sure gets cloudy when I look in all directions
Sure is rainin like this feeling in my heart
Sure is crazy how youre acting
In this latest craze or current trend
Burnin money every way that you can
Speakin of goin for broke
Thats how it is and lettin it slow
That aint no way to treat your lover
Aint no way to act with strangers
Baby, youd better start turnin em down, start to turnin down
Baby, better start turnin
Baby, better start turnin em down
Baby, better start turnin
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dark Horse
Do you know this mysterious, serious Watt
Who sits at the game with the cards in his sleeve;
Watching and waiting
While we're calculating
The tricks and the honors? It's hard to believe
That any man use to a gamble political
COULD be so slow. And we're apt to get critical.
Why this annoying and cloying restraint?
Can't he declare when he counts up his hand?
Some say he's mutable; others inscrutable,
Counting a slam, either little or grand.
Still, he should recognise players are waiting there
While he is holding his cards, hesitating there.
Even disasterful, masterful Hughes
Pauses to think as he looks o'er his cards.
'Can he be 'cute?' he says.
'Or just a mute?' he says.
(Oh, don't this rhyming come hard on the bards?)
Still, if the 'aces' are all held by Billy, then
Watt won't declare. But the question is' Will 'e then?
E'en analytical, critical Bruce
Dares to declare he has more than his 'doots'
Though he's a Treasurer
And a shrewd measurer
Of all the chances of various 'soots' ...
So the game stands. And there's no declaration, sirs.
All's in the Game. But the STAKE is the nation, sirs!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have never known a novel that was good enough to be good in spite of its being adapted to the author's political views.
quote by Edith Wharton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My political hero
There's something about him
There's something about him
It’s not just his looks
Or the fact he’s a great cook
How do I fathom a man?
That is a tremendous success
I say this not to impress
When you hear him address congress
With words so tantalizing even to the press
You may agree and confess to his greatness
There's something about him
There's something about him
A man of the people
So gentle and simple
Gifted with imagination
Passionate with dedication
Master of the political game
A man with vision
And one on a mission
Somewhere in my head
I know it might sound weird
It is nothing to do with the bed
He is my political hero
Political hero of tomorrow
Political hero!
Political hero!
My political hero
Future leader of tomorrow
I praise thy name
Even if you can’t hear
I praise it all the same
2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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