Farewell, Dick!
He bowed and he doffed his tricorn hat
As the wagon both lurched and swayed,
It rattled on over the cobblestones,
And the mud in the alleyways,
The crowd had cheered when he passed them by
As he stood, so debonair,
In a new frock coat and a pair of pumps
With a ribbon tied up in his hair.
They rumbled along the Tyburn road
From York, as the people stared,
Then came to a halt at Knavesmire
Approaching the 'Three Legged Mare',
He mounted the ladder boldly,
Stamped his foot to allay his fear,
Then spoke to the executioner
In a voice both calm and clear.
The rope was knotted around his neck,
He spoke to the crowd at last,
He bid farewell to his countrymen
And the darker deeds of his past,
Undaunted then, he stepped off the rung
And fell, to swing in the air,
While the crowd was hushed, and the wagon pushed
To receive his body there!
But up on the hill was a phantom horse,
As black as a lump of coal,
Its eyes were gleaming, its coat a-shine,
Its breath, pale mist in the cold,
She started, reared, as her master hung
Then galloped right through the press,
As his soul dropped out of his body there,
She was waiting for him, Black Bess!
He leapt unthinking astride her back,
Cast one swift glance behind,
His body hung from the rope, he saw,
But he somehow didn't mind!
He doffed his hat to the sightless crowd
Then wheeled away on his horse,
And galloped away to where phantoms play
When their lives have run their course!
But a tiny child in the press had seen,
Was blessed with second sight,
She watched him wave to the mourning crowd
And disappear in the night;
She laughed and waved in the mother's arms
Who had cried 'til she was sick,
But the child then wiped her tears away
And called out - 'Farewell, Dick! '
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Crowd Roared
The crowd roared, the lion roared, another christian faced death,
And one was as hungry as the other for another's final breath.
No tears were shed as he lay dead, no thought, no regret, no sob.
And the slaves and the lion keeper went back to do their job.
The stake was set, the fire burned, the witch screamed for her god
And the crowd of flickering faces cursed the path she trod.
But when night covered their sight they huddled round their hob
And were glad it hadn't been them who'd had to do the job.
The blade fell, the head rolled and madame murder committed,
And the crowd roared while another madame sat and knitted.
But the noise went dead when its terror bred a terror for the mob,
And none cheered too loud after that when madame did her job.
No lion roared, no fire burned, no blade flashed in the sun
But when the crowd breathed in the gas their death was as one.
Their flesh was mean when buried unseen 'neath a dark and rocky knob.
And at last a tear was shed when executioners did their job.
In court they sat their faces stone, their eyes had never known a sob
And one by one they stood and said: 'I was only doing my job.'
But the crowd saw through their law and hissed and spat and sputtered
When one person used those words another person suffered.
It's dawn again, that time again, the sun has made the day
And see again that fatal sight of wood and rope and clay.
The crowd sighed but never cried as the trapdoor life did rob
And the executioner went away well pleased with his job.
poem by Paul Anthony
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The crowd is the catalyst.
Whenever you are in the crowd
There I get you by sensual aid
As eyes are swords, more than words.
You are at ease in the crowd,
So private and so shrewd
In your approach to my side
That no one can suspect.
Enough. That only I expect.
A clear internet exists,
That binds us with no exits.
You are so sophisticated;
I am so intoxicated.
Whenever you are in the crowd
I never miss the very crowd.
You are the reason that I survive.
You are the cause my youth relives.
Whenever we are in the crowd
In us is lost the whole crowd.
We are fed when our eyes meet.
More than that, I want not.
Less than that, I stand not.
We are at ease in the crowd.
The whole time I shall incur.
I salute the crowd to recur.
30.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His Dream
I swayed upon the gaudy stem
The butt-end of a steering-oar,
And saw wherever I could turn
A crowd upon a shore.
And though I would have hushed the crowd,
There was no mother's son but said,
"What is the figure in a shroud
Upon a gaudy bed?'
And after running at the brim
Cried out upon that thing beneath
- It had such dignity of limb -
By the sweet name of Death.
Though I'd my finger on my lip,
What could I but take up the song?
And running crowd and gaudy ship
Cried out the whole night long,
Crying amid the glittering sea,
Naming it with ecstatic breath,
Because it had such dignity,
By the sweet name of Death.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Form the Green Helmet And Other Poems
HIS DREAM
I SWAYED upon the gaudy stem
The butt-end of a steering-oar,
And saw wherever I could turn
A crowd upon a shore.
And though I would have hushed the crowd,
There was no mother's son but said,
'What is the figure in a shroud
Upon a gaudy bed?'
And after running at the brim
Cried out upon that thing beneath
-- It had such dignity of limb --
By the sweet name of Death.
Though I'd my finger on my lip,
What could I but take up the song?
And running crowd and gaudy ship
Cried out the whole night long,
Crying amid the glittering sea,
Naming it with ecstatic breath,
Because it had such dignity,
By the sweet name of Death.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Crowd
Words and music by roy orbison and joe melson
I go out with the crowd, I play the game
Pretending out loud but it dont seem the same
For the heart of the crowd is gone from sight
My part of the crowd is not with me tonight
I remember the prom, every dance with you
All the crazy things that we used to do
Sometimes wed wait for a chance
And then wed steal away
From the crowd and the dance to our hideaway
Aww, but youre gone and its not the same old game
I fall apart each time I hear your name
Guess Ill go along with the crowd, Ill make believe
That youll come back to me, run back to me
Hurry back to the crow-ow-ow-owd a-and me-e-e-e-e.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crowd
The Crowd
Artist: Roy Orbison (peak Billboard position # 26 in 1962)
Words and Music by Roy Orbison and Joe Melson
I go out with the crowd, I play the game
Pretending out loud but it don't seem the same
For the heart of the crowd is gone from sight
My part of the crowd is not with me tonight
I remember the prom, every dance with you
All the crazy things that we used to do
Sometimes we'd wait for a chance
And then we'd steal away
From the crowd and the dance to our hideaway
Aww, but you're gone and it's not the same old game
I fall apart each time I hear your name
Guess I'll go along with the crowd, I'll make believe
That you'll come back to me, run back to me
Hurry back to the crow-ow-ow-owd a-and me-e-e-e-e.
Transcribed by Ronald E. Hontz
[email protected]
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Vandaled Bus Stop
A vandaled bus stop, a cold wet day,
Bus late, as usual, in the pouring rain.
A huddled crowd, silent in the shelter
Faces as gloomy as the weather.
A child follows the tricking water down,
Body snug in winter clothing, eyes intent
On his finger tracing an imaginary land,
Oblivious of the crowd and the passing time.
A man with a moustache shifts from foot to foot
Impatient, lips tight in a silent angry line.
An old woman stares straight ahead
Apathy stamped hard in her eyes.
Not wise, just old and tired eyes.
The bus comes, tyres swishing on the rain drenched road
Money clangs into the automatic slot
While the bored bus driver punches his button.
The child's mother struggles aboard
Shopping, pushchair, child clinging to her.
No one helps.
The old woman stumbles, not yet seated
Before the bus pulls away with a jerk,
The care less driver careless of his craft.
poem by Paul Anthony
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do not cry when I die!
Do not cry when I die.
Do not wear gloomy blacks
Do not cry for the one that never deserved the care of your hearts
Do not feel sorry when i'm already gone!
Do not force yourself, even do not cry!
Just leave my bare body there
Alone like it always was
No crowd
No people to act
Sad!
Don't cry for nothing
Don't crowd my tomb
No flowers
No tears
Just bury me there
And leave my body there alone
Like you always did
Unless the death will keep my tired soul in peace
And there all my pains will find an end!
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Tale of Christmas Eve
'Twas Christmastide in Germany,
And in the year of 1850,
And in the city of Berlin, which is most beautiful to the eye;
A poor boy was heard calling out to passers-by.
"Who'll buy my pretty figures," loudly he did cry,
Plaster of Paris figures, but no one inclined to buy;
His clothes were thin and he was nearly frozen with cold,
And wholly starving with hunger, a pitiful sight to behold.
And the twilight was giving place to the shadows of approaching night,
And those who possessed a home were seeking its warmth and light;
And the market square was dark and he began to moan,
When he thought of his hungry brother and sisters at home.
Alas! The poor boy was afraid to go home,
Oh, Heaven! hard was his lot, for money he'd none;
And the tears coursed down his cheeks while loudly he did cry,
"Buy my plaster of Paris figures, oh! please come buy."
It was now quite dark while he stood there,
And the passers-by did at the poor boy stare,
As he stood shivering with cold in the market square;
And with the falling snow he was almost frozen to the bone.
And what would it avail him standing there alone,
Therefore he must make up his mind to return home.
Then he tried to hoist the board and figures on to his head,
And for fear of letting the board fall he was in great dread;
Then he struggled manfully forward without delay,
But alas! He fell on the pavement, oh! horror and dismay.
And his beautiful figures were broken and scattered around him,
And at the sight thereof his eyes grew dim;
And when he regained his feet he stood speechless like one bowed down,
Then the poor boy did fret and frown.
Then the almost despairing boy cried aloud,
And related his distress to the increasing crowd;
Oh! What a pitiful sight on a Christmas eve,
But the dense crowd didn't the poor boy relieve,
Until a poor wood-cutter chanced to come along,
And he asked of the crowd what was wrong;
And twenty ready tongues tells him the sad tale,
And when he heard it the poor boy's fate he did bewail.
And he cried, "Here! Something must be done and quickly too,
Do you hear! Every blessed soul of you;
Come, each one give a few pence to the poor boy,
And it will help to fill his heart with joy."
Then the wood-cutter gave a golden coin away,
So the crowd subscribed largely without delay;
Which made the poor boy's heart feel gay,
Then the wood-cutter thanked the crowd and went away.
So the poor boy did a large subscription receive,
And his brother, mother, and sisters had a happy Christmas eve;
And he thanked the crowd and God that to him the money sent,
And bade the crowd good-night, then went home content.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Landau
The winter fogs roll in from the Thames
While frost forms up on the eaves,
The damp will settle in aching bones,
While the trees are bereft of leaves;
The streets were stark in the old East End
A footfall echoed and died,
And nights when the homes were shuttered in
They listened to wheels outside.
A Landau, black as the devil's sin
And drawn by a single horse,
Rolled slowly up to The Black Dog Inn
By the side of the watercourse,
When out there came from the bawdy house
In black from her head to tail,
A dollymop with a nosegay,
Wearing a bonnet, black, with a veil.
She'd climb up into the Landau while
The coachman, clad in a cloak,
Would give one flick with the reins,
And pull on the bit ‘til the horse had choked,
He'd take them off with a clatter
Wheels a-rattle on cobblestones,
His eyes agleam like a demon
While he whipped the horse to the bone.
The horse's hooves on the cobbles
Warned ahead through the fog and mist,
As people cowered in doorways
Shouted a curse as the Landau passed,
They followed the glow of the gaslamps
Shedding their weak and feeble light,
And raced by the mighty river
Into the dark of the endless night.
They came to a halt at Wapping
Down where the river cast its spawn,
The bodies of dead and drowned who'd
Cursed their mothers for being born,
And hung on poles at the river's edge
Was another terrible sight,
The bodies of sailor mutineers
That swung in their chains at night.
Hung on the Tyburn gallows
Then cut down and shackled again,
The bodies were coated with tallow
For a post mortem hanging in chain,
They'd bind them up with a winding cloth
Then coat them again in tar,
Hang them in chains at the riverside
‘Til their dust blew near and far.
The woman climbed out of the Landau
Took one look, and fell to her knees,
Her lover hung gently swaying,
Swaying in time to the river breeze,
His eyes stared out from the candle wax
And his mouth was shaped in an ‘Oh! '
He seemed to be saying, ‘Goodbye, my love;
What a terrible way to go! '
She wept like a woman demented,
Seized his legs, and pulled to her breast,
Clung to his swinging figure
Moaned like a creature, quite obsessed,
She tried transferring her warmth to him
But his cold was the cold of death,
And his eyes stared straight ahead of him
No thoughts, no love, no breath!
She climbed back into the Landau
As the coachman whipped it away,
And often at night they hear it go,
Those folks down Wapping way,
They say it spattered a stream of blood
On the road as it raced on by,
From the dollymop who'd slashed her throat
And lay in the coach to die.
And when there's a mighty river fog
In the winter, down by the Thames,
They sit in the Inn they call Black Dog
And they drink to the health of friends,
They drink to the ones who've gone before
As they hear the wheels outside,
And hold their breath at the emptiness
As the door is opened wide!
22 October 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mouse That Was King
Drum rolls jesters dance, frolic and sing
The crowd waits with excitement for the crowning of the new king
Order order cries the speaker order in the house
From behind the curtain the king sprung out
The crowd gasps in disbelief for king was a tiny little mouse
The king leaped upon the thrown and silenced the crowd
For i am your king said the tiny little mouse
Do not fear me the king cried out
The crowd screamed out with fits of laughter in the house
How can you rule a kingdom your a tiny little mouse
Then from no where at all the king let out a mighty roar
Where did that come from a voice call out
Well we all know it came from this tiny little mouse
Horse Play
Four gallant horses
galloped forth.
One was white, one was black,
one was red, one was brown.
One had four legs,
one had three,
one had two,
and the fourth had one leg.
The one-legged horse
said to the others :
the time for dance has come,
sweet friends,
let's dance on a single hoof !
All of them liked the idea,
and the dance began.
The four-legged horse fainted outright,
the three-legged horse slipped and fell,
the two-legged horse limped to a fall :
only the one-legged one
danced on and on.
poem by Ayyappa Paniker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Day In The Life
I read the news today oh boy
About a lucky man who made the grade
And though the news was rather sad
I just had to laugh
I saw the photograph
He blew is mind out in car
He didn't notice that the lights had changed
A crowd of people stood and stared
They'd seen his face before
Nobody was really sure
If he was from the House of Lords
I saw a film today oh boy,
The English Army had just won the war
A crowd of people turned away
But I just had to look
Having read the book
I'd love to turn you on
Woke up, fell out of bed
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup
And looking up I noticed I was late
Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke
Somebody spoke and I went into a dream
I read the news today oh boy
Four-thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire
And though the holes were rather small they had to count them all
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall
I'd love to turn you on
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4. That Blooming Cat
Round the corner up a tree
A small black cat looked down at me
A large Alsatian starred at cat
Near the tree where now he sat
Cat was hissing the dog went woof
Each had nearly had enough
All night long they’d sat and starred
Not at home but no one cared
Cat looked sad and gave a wow
Dog barked so much louder now
Crowd starts forming dog gets madder
Someone shouts I’ll get a ladder
Placed the ladder up to the tree
Then the crowd all looked at me
I reached the cat the crowd all starred
But I can’t get down cos now I’m scarred
poem by by unknown author (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Of The Crowd
(lowe/tennant)
--------------------
When I go fishing with my rod
I often get that urge
To fall asleep a sleep so deep that
No-one notices me
Dont want anyone to know my name
Dont want to get a fax
Dont want to meet the royal family
Just cause Ive paid my tax
Dont wanna be seen or heard
Dont want to shout out loud
I want to be part of the herd
One of the crowd
Dressing individually doesnt impress me
I think that its pathetic
Following fashion, I just like it
Dont i?
Dont wanna be seen or heard
Dont want to shout out loud
I want to be part of the herd
One of the crowd
(one of the crowd)
(one of the crowd)
Fishing
Fishing
I never fight, but every night
I think its gonna be alright
I think I might think in spite of
Every - thing
Dont wanna be seen or heard
Dont want to shout out loud
I want to be part of the herd
One of the crowd
One of the crowd
One of the crowd
One of the crowd
One of the crowd
One of the crowd
(one of the crowd)
Fishing
(one of the crowd)
Fishing
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crowd
I cannot flee the crowd
My feet lose themselves in the rythmn
My body swims into the sea
I cannot see my hand or recognise my face
Nor feel a breath or sigh or hint of love
Each face faceless
Each heart unseen
And yet we live and breathe as one
with one breath unfelt
wiped clean
Unseen
In time we move
In one long stretch of feet and endless days
I cannot flee the crowd
So I must swim into the sea
I cannot scream, inside I scream aloud
For I must swim into the sea
And lose myself to be set free
For if I flee the crowd
I fear i'll drown.
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Day In The Life
I read the news today oh, boy
About a lucky man who made the grade
And though the news was rather sad
Well, i just had to laugh
I saw the photograph
He blew his mind out in a car
He didn't notice that the lights had changed
A crowd of people stood and stared
They'd seen his face before
Nobody was really sure if he was from the house of lords
I saw a film today oh, boy
The english army had just won the war
A crowd of people turned away
But i just had to look
Having read the book
I love to turn you on.
Woke up, got out of bed
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup
And looking up, i noticed i was late
Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke
Somebody spoke and i went into a dream
Ah
I read the news today oh, boy
Four thousand holes in blackburn, lancashire
And though the holes were rather small
They had to count them all
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the albert hall
I'd love to turn you on
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Day In The Life
I read the news today, oh, boy
About a lucky man whos made the grade
And though the news was rather sad
Well, I just had to laugh
I saw the photograph
He blew his mind out in a car
He didnt notice that the lights have changed
A crowd of people stood and stared
Theyd seen his face before
Nobody was really sure if he was from the house of lords
I saw a film today, oh, boy
The english army had just won the war
A crowd of people turned away
But I just had to look
Having read the book
Id love to turn you on
Woke up, fell out of bad
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup
And looking up, I noticed I was late
Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke
And somebody spoke and I went into a dream
I saw the news today, oh, boy
Four-thousand holes in blackburn, lancashire
And though the holes were rather small
They had to count them all
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the albert hall
Id love to turn you on
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No rush
I waited on the subway platform
and listened to a young woman
play acoustic guitar and sing
her face was round and her eyes
were wide with hope, she delicately played
as her voice draped over the
passing trains, her song kept pouring
soon there was a small crowd around her
watching her thick black braided hair swing
with the melody of her sounds
she made me forget about my train
I smiled at her soft pale face
and gave her a buck
several other people followed
and she played harder
her voice grew louder
and more trains passed
nobody got on
nobody cared
and nobody looked at their watches
we had cornered an angel
and we didn't want to let go
she stopped and took a small bow
and put away her guitar
the crowd thinned out
and my train pulled up
I looked at her one last time
she smiled and counted her dollars
I boarded the train and hummed
her songs all the way home
poem by Charles Lara
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm an outdoorsman kind of person, so I don't like the buzz of the crowd, crowd, crowd and all that so much. I mean I don't mind it, but I don't seek it out.
quote by Josh Holloway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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