Maggie and Max
Our son married a flibbertygibbet,
my wife says, and I agree,
but he loves Maggie very much
so I say let's keep quiet.
It's not our place to criticize.
Max is 33, and not long
back from Iraq.
I remind my wife
that Maggie can cook
better than most
so let's give her a chance.
Max works two jobs
and he's never home.
Maggie's young.
Maybe the baby will help
but I doubt it.
Too bad Maggie
didn't take to quilting,
my wife points out.
The ladies at church
did their best to teach her.
But quilters, I remind her,
don't go out at midnight
to places nobody knows.
My wife keeps asking
why Max married Maggie.
I don't know what to say.
Finally I tell her I never saw
any woman walk like Maggie.
My wife says I never will.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Related quotes
Maggie Mgill
Miss maggie mgill, she lived on a hill.
Her daddy got drunk and left her no will
So she went down, down to tangie town.
People down there really like to get it on.
Now if youre sad and youre feeling blue
Go out and buy a new pair of shoes
And you go down, down to tangie town
The people down there really like to get it on.
Illegitimate son of a rock and roll star
Illegitimate son of a rock and roll star
Mom met dad in the back of a rock and roll car.
Well Im an old blues man
And I think that you understand
Ive been singing the blues ever since the world began.
Maggie, maggie, maggie mgill
Roll on, roll on, maggie mgill
Maggie, maggie, maggie mgill
Roll on, roll on, maggie mgill
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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03. Maggie And Milly And Molly And May
maggie was the girl
interested in tom
but it was milly
who eventually got married to
maggie's sweetheart
molly is the girl interested in john
but it was may who eventualy
tie the knots with john
six years down the road
milly and may found themselves
at the crossroads of their marriage
wallowing in pity of their husbands
in a cafe with maggie and molly
the latter's children
calling milly and may aunties
uncles in somebody's arms
maggie and molly couldnt
believe their ears
all the tears in milly's and may's eyes
could have been theirs
that their once sweethearts
could turn so lousy and dull
both said they would talk them out
friend pinkly cleverly asked
whether they are glad
they were not married to
tom and john
to which maggie and molly
laughed and said 'no'
in their hearts were these words:
'serve the two bitches right'.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ain't Gonna Work On Your Farm No More
I ain’t gonna work on your farm no more
I ain’t gonna scrub all your floors,
I ain’t gonna take all your friends who ignore
what I do when they hide behind doors
where they pay no attention to stuff that I think,
and say, when they pay me a dime,
that I ain’t entitled to spend it on drink,
or ladies who show me good time.
I ain’t gonna work for your children or friends
who preach of the law and the Lord,
and hear all those messages God never sends
to people with who He is bored,
like I am. I ain’t gonna work on your farm,
instead I will write me a song,
and pray that its words will all sound the alarm,
for I expect to be back before long.
Mark Z. Barabak (“He’s Digging ‘Farm, ’” LA Times, June 26,2008) writes that Barack Obama’s favorite Bob Dylan song is “Maggie’s Farm, ” performed in 1995 at the Newport Festival, when he turned electric and never looked back:
I AIN’T GONNA WORK ON MAGGIE’S FARM NO MORE
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I wake up every morning
hold my hands and pray for rain
I've got a head full of ideas
driving me insane
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
He hands you a nickel
he hands you a dime
He asks you and your friends
if you're having a good time
He blames you every time you slam the door
Well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's Pa no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's Pa no more
He stubs his cigarette out in your face just for kicks
his bedroom window is made out of bricks
And the National Guard are standing at his door
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's mother no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's mother no more
She talks to all the servants about man and God and law
and everybody swears she's the brains behind Pa
She's sixty-eight, but claim's she's twenty-four
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I try so hard to be just who I am
but everybody wants you to be just like them
They say 'see, while you're playing I get bored'? ?
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
6/26/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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The Post War Dream
Tell me true tell me why was jesus crucified
Is it for this that daddy died?
Was it for you? was it me?
Did I watch too much t.v.?
Is that a hint of accusation in your eyes?
If it wasnt for the nips
Being so good at building ships
The yards would still be open on the clyde
And it cant be much fun for them
Beneath the rising sun
With all their kids committing suicide
What have we done maggie what have we done
What have we done to england
Should we shout should we scream
what happened to the post war dream?
Oh maggie maggie what have we done?
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maggie Mae
Wake up Maggie, I think I've got something to say to you
It's late September and I really should be back at school
I know I keep you amused
But I fell I'm being used
Oh Maggie, I couldn't have tried any more
You led me away from home
Just to save you from being alone
You stole my heart and that's what really hurts
The morning sun when it's in your eyes really shows your age
But that don't worry me none, in my eyes you're everything
I laughed at all of your jokes
My love you didn't need to coax
Oh Maggie, I couldn't have tried any more
You led me away from home
Just to save you from being alone
You stole my soul and that's a pain I can do without
All I needed was a friend to lend a helping hand
But you turned into a lover and mother, what a lover, you wore me out
All you did was wreck my bed
And in the morning kick me in the head
Oh Maggie, I couldn't have tried any more
You led me away from home
'Cause you didn't want to be alone
You stole my heart, I couldn't leave you if I tried
I suppose I could collecd my books and go on back to school
Or steal my daddy's cue and make a living at playing pool
Or find myself a rock and roll band
That needs a helping hand
Oh Maggie, I wished I'd never seen your face
You made a first class fool out of me
But I'm as blind as a fool can be
You stole my heart but I love you anyway
I'd never seen your face
I'll get on back home, one of these days
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maggie May
Wake up, maggie, I think I got some-thing to say to you:
Its late september and I really should be back at school.
I know I keep you amused, but I feel Im being used.
Oh, maggie, I couldnt have tried any more.
You lured me away from home, just to save you from being alone.
You stole my heart and thats what really hurts.
The morning sun, when its in your face really shows your age.
But that dont worry me none; in my eyes youre everything.
I laughed at all of your jokes, my love you didnt need to coax,
Oh, maggie I couldnt have tried any more.
You lured me away from home, just to save you from being alone.
You stole my soul thats a pain I can do without.
All I need was a friend to lend a guiding hand.
But you turned into a lover and mother what a lover your wore me out.
All you did was wreck my bed, and in the morning kick me in the head,
Oh, maggie I couldnt have tried any more.
You lured me away from home, cause you didnt want to be alone.
You stole my heart I couldnt leave you if I tried.
I suppose I could collect my books and get back to school.
Or steal my daddys cue and make a living out of playing pool.
Or find myself a rock and roll band that needs a helping hand,
Oh, maggie, I wish Id never seen your face.
You made a first class fool out of me,
But Im as blind as a fool can be.
You stole my heart, but I love you anyway.
Maggie, I wish I never seen your face.
Ill get on back home one of these days.
song performed by by Counting Crows
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maggie May
(rod stewart / martin quittenton)
Wake up maggie I think I got something to say to you
Its late september and I really should be back at school
I know I keep you amused but I feel Im being used
Oh maggie I couldnt have tried any more
You lured me away from home just to save you from being alone
You stole my heart and thats what really hurt
The morning sun when its in your face really shows your age
But that dont worry me none in my eyes youre everything
I laughed at all of your jokes my love you didnt need to coax
Oh, maggie I couldnt have tried any more
You lured me away from home, just to save you from being alone
You stole my soul and thats a pain I can do without
All I needed was a friend to lend a guiding hand
But you turned into a lover and
Mother what a lover, you wore me out
All you did was wreck my bed
And in the morning kick me in the head
Oh maggie I couldnt have tried anymore
You lured me away from home cause you didnt want to be alone
You stole my heart I couldnt leave you if I tried
I suppose I could collect my books and get on back to school
Or steal my daddys cue and make a living out of playing pool
Or find myself a rock and roll band that needs a helpin hand
Oh maggie I wish Id never seen your face
You made a first-class fool out of me
But Im as blind as a fool can be
You stole my heart but I love you anyway
Maggie I wish Id never seen your face
Ill get on back home one of these days
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maggie May
Oh dirty maggie mai they have taken her away
And she never walk down lime street anymore
Oh the judge he guilty found her
Of robbing home a pounder
That dirty no good robbin maggie mae
Just a part of liverpool
She earned a term with two
Two pounds ten a week, that was my pay...
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Dog
Little Dog
This last Mothers day
My wife’s little dog passed away
Holly was my wife’s little love
Both now are in the heaven above
Holly did not like the cold
Poor Holly only ten years old
I miss my wife so much
I also miss that little dog’s touch
I just had to adopt a little dog for me
This little dog named Maggie
poem by Michael Gelb
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Maggie May
Wake up maggie I think Ive got something to say to you
Its late september and I really should be back at school
I know I keep you amused
But I feel Im being used
Oh maggie I couldnt have tried any more
You led me away from home
Just to save you from being alone
You stole my heart and thats what really hurts
The morning sun when its in your face really shows your age
But that dont worry me none, in my eyes youre everything
I laughed at all your jokes
My love you didnt need to coax
Oh maggie I couldnt have tried any more
You led me away from home
Just to save you from being alone
You stole my heart and thats a pain I could do without
All I needed was a friend to lend a guiding hand
You turned into a lover and mother what a lover
You wore me out
All you did was wreck my bed
And in the morning kick me in the head
Oh maggie I couldnt have tried any more
You led me away from home
Just to save you from being alone
You stole my heart I couldnt leave you if I tried
I suppose I could collect my books and get on back to school
Or steal my daddys cue and make a living out of playing pool
Find myself a rock and roll band
That needs a helping hand
Oh maggie I wish Id never seen your face
You made a first class fool out of me
Now Im as blind as a fool can be
You stole my heart but I love you anyway
song performed by by Wet Wet Wet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maggie Mae
Oh dirty maggie mae they have taken her away
And she never walk down lime street any more
Oh the judge he guilty found her
For robbing a homeward bounder
That dirty no good robbin' maggie mae
To the port of liverpool
They returned me to
Two pounds ten a week, that was my pay
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paddy Murphy's Wake
The priest had been here earlier and the rosary was said
and relatives and friends in single file were offering condolences.
'Sorry for your troubles, ' one by one they said,
bending over Maggie Murphy, silent in her rocker,
a foot or so from Paddy, resplendent in his casket,
the two of them much closer now than they had ever been.
A silent guest of honor, Paddy now had nothing more to say,
waked in aspic, if you will, in front of his gothic fireplace.
But the hour was getting late and still the widow hadn't wept.
Her eyes were swept Saharas and the mourners wanted tears.
They had fields to plow come morning and they needed sleep
but the custom in County Kerry was
no one leaves a wake until the widow weeps.
Fair Maggie could have married any man in Kerry,
according to her mother, who almost every day reminded her of that.
'Maggie, ' she would say, 'you should have married Mickey.
His limp was not that bad, ' but Maggie wouldn't listen.
Instead, she married Paddy, 'that pestilence out walking'
as her mother often called him
even on a Sunday but only after Mass.
Maggie married Paddy the day he scored the only goal
the year that Kerry took the trophy back from Galway.
That goal was no small thing, Paddy would remind us all forever
until one of us would gag and buy him another drink.
That goal, he'd shout, was something historians would one day note,
even if they hadn't yet, and every time he'd mention it,
which was almost daily, Maggie's mother would remind her daughter
that she should have married Mickey and had a better life.
The final time her mother praised poor Mickey,
a screaming match ensued, so loud it woke the rooster
the day before her mother, feverish in bed,
gurgled like a frog and died.
This evening, though, as the wake wore on,
the mourners grew more weary
waiting for the tears the widow hadn't shed.
Restless in his folding chair, Mickey put his bottle down
and rose to give the eulogy it had taken days to memorize.
'Folks, ' he said, 'if all of us would holler down to Paddy now,
he'd holler back, I'm sure, and tell us,
despite the flames and all that smoke, that Kerry
winning over Galway is all that ever mattered, even now.
We'll always have cold Paddy over there to thank for that.'
The Widow Murphy hadn't moved all evening,
but after hearing Mickey speak, she began to rock with fury
as she raised a purple fist, shook it to the heavens
and then began to hum her favorite dirge.
The mourners all joined in and hummed along until
midnight pealed on the mantel clock and then,
as if released by God Himself, the mourners one by one
rose from folding chairs and left in single file, freed
by a hurricane of the Widow Murphy's tears.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Willie's and Nellie's Wish
Willie and Nellie, one evening sat
By their own little cottage door;
They saw a man go staggering by --
Says Willie, "that's Mr. Lanore;
He is just going home from town, where
He has been in a saloon.
When Maggie and I came from school,
Said Maggie, 'please papa, come home.'
"She asked him again, again, to come home.
At last he got angry, and said:
'Maggie, go home -- don't bother me so;
Go home now, and shut up your head.'
Poor girl, she came weeping all the way,
As though her poor heart would break.
She could not play, not a word would say;
With playmates no pleasure could take."
"'Tis the same child," Willie replied;
"I'm sorry for Maggie Lanore.
I wish her papa would sign the pledge,
And try to be a man once more.
He drinks up all the money he earns,
In whiskey, rum, gin and beer;
His home is a home of poverty,
Made so by his own career."
Says Nellie, "I wish Mr. Lanore
Would go to the meeting to-night,
And hear the temperance lecture;
Then perhaps he would try to do right.
One more little home of happiness,
Would be in our midst, I am sure;
Then Maggie Lanore could say with joy.
'My papa don't drink any more.'"
Said Nellie, "I told her never mind,
We would be her friends evermore;
I hoped her papa would sign the pledge,
Then he would not drink any more.
Then smiling through her tears, she said,
'The temperance pledge, you mean;
If papa would sign it, then mamma
And I will take comfort, I ween.'"
"I wonder," says Nellie, "can it be,
The same child I saw go to school?
She wore ragged clothes. I saw her toes
Were peeping out of her old shoes.
She has curly hair, and mild blue eyes;
Can this child be Maggie Lanore?
If it is her, I sincerely wish
Her papa won't drink any more."
poem by Julia A Moore
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Maggie Mae
Oh, dirty maggie mae,
They have taken her away,
And shell never walk down lime street any more.
Oh, the judge he guilty found her
Of robbin the homeward bounder,
That dirty, no good, robbin maggie mae.
tis the part of liverpool
North of liverpool;
Two pounds ten a week, that was my pay.
Oh, something down,
Went down on number nine,
Twas down in kellys pornshop, number nine.
Oh, dirty maggie mae,
They have taken her away,
And shell never walk down lime street any more.
Oh, the judge he guilty found her
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Betrothed
"You must choose between me and your cigar."
-- BREACH OF PROMISE CASE, CIRCA 1885.
Open the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout,
For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out.
We quarrelled about Havanas -- we fought o'er a good cheroot,
And I knew she is exacting, and she says I am a brute.
Open the old cigar-box -- let me consider a space;
In the soft blue veil of the vapour musing on Maggie's face.
Maggie is pretty to look at -- Maggie's a loving lass,
But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest of loves must pass.
There's peace in a Larranaga, there's calm in a Henry Clay;
But the best cigar in an hour is finished and thrown away --
Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe and brown --
But I could not throw away Maggie for fear o' the talk o' the town!
Maggie, my wife at fifty -- grey and dour and old --
With never another Maggie to purchase for love or gold!
And the light of Days that have Been the dark of the Days that Are,
And Love's torch stinking and stale, like the butt of a dead cigar --
The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to keep in your pocket --
With never a new one to light tho' it's charred and black to the socket!
Open the old cigar-box -- let me consider a while.
Here is a mild Manila -- there is a wifely smile.
Which is the better portion -- bondage bought with a ring,
Or a harem of dusky beauties, fifty tied in a string?
Counsellors cunning and silent -- comforters true and tried,
And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival bride?
Thought in the early morning, solace in time of woes,
Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my eyelids close,
This will the fifty give me, asking nought in return,
With only a Suttee's passion -- to do their duty and burn.
This will the fifty give me. When they are spent and dead,
Five times other fifties shall be my servants instead.
The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of the Spanish Main,
When they hear my harem is empty will send me my brides again.
I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food for their mouths withal,
So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the showers fall.
I will scent 'em with best vanilla, with tea will I temper their hides,
And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who read of the tale of my brides.
For Maggie has written a letter to give me my choice between
The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick o' Teen.
And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelvemonth clear,
But I have been Priest of Cabanas a matter of seven year;
And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cheery light
Of stums that I burned to Friendship and Pleasure and Work and Fight.
And I turn my eyes to the future that Maggie and I must prove,
But the only light on the marshes is the Will-o'-the-Wisp of Love.
Will it see me safe through my journey or leave me bogged in the mire?
Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful fire?
Open the old cigar-box -- let me consider anew --
Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you?
A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke;
And a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke.
Light me another Cuba -- I hold to my first-sworn vows.
If Maggie will have no rival, I'll have no Maggie for Spouse!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Little Maggie
1. oh, where is little maggie
Over yonder she stands,
Rifle on her shoulder,
Six-shooter in her hand.
2. how can I ever stand it,
Just to see them two blue eyes,
Shinin like some diamonds,
Like some diamonds in the sky.
3. rather be in some lonely hollow
Where the sun dont ever shine,
Than to see you be another mans darling,
And to know that youll never be mine.
4. well, its march me away to the station
With my suitcase in my hand,
Yes, march me away to the station,
Im off to some far-distant land.
5. sometimes I have a nickel,
And sometimes I have a dime,
Sometimes I have ten dollars,
Just to pay for little maggies wine.
6. pretty flowers are made for blooming,
Pretty stars are made to shine,
Pretty girls are made for boys love,
Little maggie was made for mine.
7. well, yonder stands little maggie
With a dram glass in her hand,
Shes a drinkin down her troubles
Over courtin some other man.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First Impressions
They say that first impressions
should be lasting ones
by which we build
people’s characters from.
Do not believe it, that’s wrong.
I’ve known people
who were smiles at the start,
but once you got to know them
wouldn’t hesitate
to stab you in the back,
and others whom the first impressions
were so very wrong,
but as you got to know them,
you really found out how good they were.
The story I am about to relate
illustrates the second point so well.
It is the true story
of a very dear friend of mine.
It all started about three years ago
in the Western town I belong to.
Maggie turned up one day,
a single girl with a married man.
Some looked on her with suspicion,
especially after her man friend
left her alone again.
Slowly she was looked upon
as a bit of a tart
because of her friendliness
towards some of the men.
At our annual Christmas party that year,
she seemed to be throwing herself at every man.
Now that first impression
would put off a lot of people
and they would have been wrong.
She helped out around the town,
in the eating-house with afternoon teas.
When someone’s car broke down who lived near her,
she would bring them to the town
and take them back home again.
Slowly she integrated into
the family of the town.
Her unconventional entrance
and first impression was soon forgotten.
She attended our church
whenever she could.
Respect for her began to grow
as the months passed by.
Maggie began to become
a pillar of our little town.
She wears a smile for everyone she meets
and laughs sincerely at funny things said.
Her story is far from over.
Last month on my birthday,
tragedy struck our town
and two dear friends of mine
were struck down.
One passed away and the other
is in hospital for a considerable stay.
The later is Irish who was widowed
just over a year ago and left to bring up
three young sons on his own.
As town-folk, we’ve tried
to help him the best we could.
Now he is in hospital,
but who was going to look after his sons.
It was then Maggie stepped forward
and said the lads could stay with her
while Irish was recovering.
The three boys who were a wild bunch
have tamed a bit under the guiding hand
of this loving surrogate mum.
I saw them together last Saturday
laughing and joking just like a real family.
Maggie has the highest admiration
and respect from everyone in our town.
So the next time you meet someone
take a little time before you judge their character.
This story is still continuing
it’s a story without end,
at least for now.
It proves once again how friendship
can overcome any adversity.
8 July 2008
This poem is dedicated to Maggie
And all the others like her out there in the world today.
poem by David Harris
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Who is a wife?
Who is a wife?
Who can be a virtuous wife?
Who is a wife?
Who can stand the strife
To be a wife?
There is a woman
And there is a wife
Any one can be a woman
But not any one can be a wife
A wife will stand for her pride
A woman will always want a ride
A wife will say
“we ‘ll have a say”
A woman will say
“I ‘ld have a say”
A wife will say
“WE bought you those”
A woman will say
“Mom bought you those”
A wife would say
“We share the bills”
A woman would say
“I share the bills”
A wife cooks what “we” like
A woman cooks what “I” like.
A wife loves unconditionally
A woman loves conditionally
A wife always stands by…
A woman sometimes stands by…
A wife thinks about “us”
A woman thinks about “me”
A wife supports the plans
A woman plans the supports
A wife keeps the relationship
A woman snubs the relationship
A WIFE IS OPPOSITE OF A WOMAN
Who then is a wife?
Amidst all my strife
I‘ve found a darling wife
You too can, if you also tried.
poem by Jr. J.Lakie Kollie
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A Marmite Sandwich
Maggie always made me feel small,
she was always on the defense,
could never talk calmly, just screamed.
She was the thistle in my side,
the carbuncle on my bottom,
the maggot in my crisp, Cox's apple.
I'd watch her bully her way through a day,
though I marveled at her techniques
as I could never match them and it rankled.
Next time, next time, I'd know just how to answer,
give as good as I got, tell her off,
but the next time I was as silly as the first.
Maggie always made me feel bad,
made me feel dull, ridiculous and stupid.
She was the Marmite sandwich
that was supposed to be jam
that your nasty aunt made you swallow
as it's rude to spit out.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Of all the hard jobs around, one of the hardest is being a good teacher.
quote by Maggie Gallagher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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