A.D. Blood
If you in the village think that my work was a good one,
Who closed the saloons and stopped all playing at cards,
And haled old Daisy Fraser before Justice Arnett,
In many a crusade to purge the people of sin;
Why do you let the milliner's daughter Dora,
And the worthless son of Benjamin Pantier,
Nightly make my grave their unholy pillow?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Jim Brown
While I was handling Dom Pedro
I got at the thing that divides the race between men who are
For singing "Turkey in the straw" or "There is a fountain filled with blood" --
(Like Rile Potter used to sing it over at Concord);
For cards, or for Rev. Peet's lecture on the holy land;
For skipping the light fantastic, or passing the plate;
For Pinafore, or a Sunday school cantata;
For men, or for money;
For the people or against them.
This was it:
Rev. Peet and the Social Purity Club,
Headed by Ben Pantier's wife,
Went to the Village trustees,
And asked them to make me take Dom Pedro
From the barn of Wash McNeely, there at the edge of town,
To a barn outside of the corporation,
On the ground that it corrupted public morals.
Well, Ben Pantier and Fiddler Jones saved the day --
They thought it a slam on colts.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Daisy Fraser
Did you ever hear of Editor Whedon
Giving to the public treasury any of the money he received
For supporting candidated for office?
Or for writing up the canning factory
To get people to invest?
Or for suppressing the facts about the bank,
When it was rotten and ready to break?
Did you ever hear of the Circuit Judge
Helping anyone except the "Q" railroad,
Or the bankers? Or did Rev. Peet or Rev. Sibley
Give any part of their salary, earned by keeping still,
Or speaking out as the leaders wished them to do,
To the building of the water works?
But I -- Daisy Fraser who always passed
Along the street through rows of nods and smiles,
And coughs and words such as "there she goes."
Never was taken before Justice Arnett
Without contributing ten dollars and costs
To the school fund of Spoon River!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Village Green
Out in the country,
Far from all the soot and noise of the city,
Theres a village green.
Its been a long time
Since I last set eyes on the church with the steeple
Down by the village green.
twas there I met a girl called daisy
And kissed her by the old oak tree.
Although I loved my daisy, I saw fame,
And so I left the village green.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And now all the houses
Are rare antiquities.
American tourists flock to see the village green.
They snap their photographs and say gawd darn it,
Isnt it a pretty scene?
And daisys married tom the grocer boy,
And now he owns a grocery.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And I will return there,
And Ill and daisy,
And well sip tea, laugh,
And talk about the village green.
We will laugh and talk about the village green.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Murrow Turning Over In His Grave
All the sainted sinners
They pay handsomely
And eventually?
They make the weapons
And they run the prisons
And they sell the justice
Cause being guilty is
Just good business
And well be standing on
The borderline
Aint no one there gonna
Stop it now
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna turn wild
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna run wild
Half-closed eyes
And the countrys deadly
Do you feel the ooze as your brain drains out
From your pneumatic drills and sharpening knives
Blood in the sky
Are you dead or alive?
All the restless people and the bitter green
Well it fakes this gold, makes the spirit mean
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna turn wild
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
Hes gonna run wild
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How She Went To Ireland
Dora’s gone to Ireland
Through the sleet and snow;
Promptly she has gone there
In a ship, although
Why she’s gone to Ireland
Dora does not know.
That was where, yea, Ireland,
Dora wished to be:
When she felt, in lone times,
Shoots of misery,
Often there, in Ireland,
Dora wished to be.
Hence she’s gone to Ireland,
Since she meant to go,
Through the drift and darkness
Onward labouring, though
That she’s gone to Ireland
Dora does not know.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Benjamin
Take me away
I know I could use a rest
I wanna clear up this mess
I need a few days with my good sense
I need a few good days
Benjamin, no, oh...
Benjamin, no, oh...
Benjamin, no...
Where did you go?
No, no...
When you were falling from my tree
I was not scared
I thought youd meet me back up there
It never dawned on me you were home free
It never dawned on me, no...
Benjamin, no, oh...
Benjamin, no, oh...
Benjamin, no...
Where did you go?
No, no, no...
Benjamin, no, oh...
Benjamin, no, oh...
Benjamin, no...
Where did you go?
No, no...
You said that I could tie you down, no...
You said that I could tie you down, no...
You said that I could tie you down, no...
You said that I could tie you down, no...
Take me away
I know I could use the rest
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Nut Job
Will Arnett, Katherine Heigl, Brendan Fraser, Liam Neeson, Stephen Lang, Sarah Gadon, Maya Rudolph, Jeff Dunham, Joe Pingue
by Lorne Cameron from The Nut Job (2014)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Rascal Weaves Selfish Thoughts
A worthless man demands justice,
Complains of his misery to God,
Of those who, cause him trouble…
He forgets that he is a fraud.
A worthless man demands justice,
Reproaches others for being grim,
He says that he is robbed of money,
That a woman has deceived him.
A rascal weaves worthless thoughts,
Tries to deceive even the All-Wise,
He keeps on mourning over himself,
Pretends to be honest and nice.
When he finds himself out of danger,
His prey he devours and tortures.
He gnaws away thousands of hearts,
And then, mourns over his fortune.
14.O7.2OO2.
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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Widows
My mother's playing cards with my aunt,
Spite and Malice, the family pastime, the game
my grandmother taught all her daughters.
Midsummer: too hot to go out.
Today, my aunt's ahead; she's getting the good cards.
My mother's dragging, having trouble with her concentration.
She can't get used to her own bed this summer.
She had no trouble last summer,
getting used to the floor. She learned to sleep there
to be near my father.
He was dying; he got a special bed.
My aunt doesn't give an inch, doesn't make
allowance for my mother's weariness.
It's how they were raised: you show respect by fighting.
To let up insults the opponent.
Each player has one pile to the left, five cards in the hand.
It's good to stay inside on days like this,
to stay where it's cool.
And this is better than other games, better than solitaire.
My grandmother thought ahead; she prepared her daughters.
They have cards; they have each other.
They don't need any more companionship.
All afternoon the game goes on but the sun doesn't move.
It just keeps beating down, turning the grass yellow.
That's how it must seem to my mother.
And then, suddenly, something is over.
My aunt's been at it longer; maybe that's why she's playing better.
Her cards evaporate: that's what you want, that's the object: in the end,
the one who has nothing wins.
poem by Louise Gluck
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Trainor the Druggist
Only the chemist can tell, and not always the chemist,
What will result from compounding
Fluids or solids.
And who can tell
How men and women will interact
On each other, or what children will result?
There were Benjamin Pantier and his wife,
Good in themselves, but evil toward each other:
He oxygen, she hydrogen,
Their son, a devastating fire.
I Trainor, the druggist, a mixer of chemicals,
Killed while making an experiment,
Lived unwedded.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Jacob Godbey
How did you feel, you libertarians,
Who spent your talents rallying noble reasons
Around the saloon, as if Liberty
Was not to be found anywhere except at the bar
Or at a table, guzzling?
How did you feel, Ben Pantier, and the rest of you,
Who almost stoned me for a tyrant,
Garbed as a moralist,
And as a wry-faced ascetic frowning upon Yorkshire pudding,
Roast beef and ale and good will and rosy cheer --
Things you never saw in a grog-shop in your life?
How did you feel after I was dead and gone,
And your goddess, Liberty, unmasked as a strumpet,
Selling out the streets of Spoon River
To the insolent giants
Who manned the saloons from afar?
Did it occur to you that personal liberty
Is liberty of the mind,
Rather than of the belly?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Dora
Lead vocal : eric woolfson
Dora, in the middle of the night
Will you wait for me
Till the morning sun shine bright
For its all a dream
And its only make believe
Dora, oh it hurts to hear you say
Youre all alone
And the pain wont go away
But its all a dream
And its only make believe
Listening through the hours of the day
Waiting for the night to end
Thinking, though its not for me to say
When will I see you again
When will I see you again
Forget the lies they whisper in your ear
And every superstitious word you hear
Dora, though the truth is hard to face
And the fantasy
Is not easy to replace
Its all a dream
And its only make believe
Oh, I keep thinking
Of the words I shouldnt say
When will I see you again
When will I see you again
And every doubt they whisper in your ear
And all the half-forgotten past you fear
One day will fade away and disappear
Dora, in the middle of the night
Do you wait for me
Where the morning sun shine bright
Is it all a dream
Is it only make believe
Is it all a thread
Of the tangled web you weave
Is it all a dream
Is it only make believe
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not one man will the State of Missouri furnish to carry on any unholy crusade.
quote by Claiborne Fox Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Town Marshal
The Prohibitionists made me Town Marshal
When the saloons were voted out,
Because when I was a drinking man,
Before I joined the church, I killed a Swede
At the saw-mill near Maple Grove.
And they wanted a terrible man,
Grim, righteous, strong, courageous,
And a hater of saloons and drinkers,
To keep law and order in the village.
And they presented me with a loaded cane
With which I struck Jack McGuire
Before he drew the gun with which he killed me.
The Prohibitionists spent their money in vain
To hang him, for in a dream
I appeared to one of the twelve jurymen
And told him the whole secret story.
Fourteen years were enough for killing me.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Hard Work Never Killed Anyone Lies
good honest hard work
never killed anyone is a lie
no one in the historical
graveyard skeleton history
etched on exhausted bones of sixteen
hours work a day slavery
worked six days a week
in bound crucible lifestyles ghost gone
in eras civilization passed
will rise up in memory grave testimony
will roll over in the grave to moan at lid coffin
closed denying lie hard work never killed anyone
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Get Up
Chorus 1:
Feel like throwing in the towel dont be a fool
Theyre out to knock you out, put you down
For the count
Watch the left, watch the right, below
The belt
Theyll run you round and round its plain to see
Its never gonna stop theyll run ya till you drop
There aint no power around can keep a good man down
Chorus 2:
Theres still some fight in me
Thats how itll always be
Hold your head up high, look em in the eye, never say die
Get up and make it work
You say that love has got you down well thats bull
If love has got you down then love can pick you right back up
There aint no power around can keep a good man down
Walking down a dead end street
No mercy at your feet
Theyre holding all the cards, making things so hard, before it goes too far
Get up and make it work
Get up and make it work
Chorus 1
Chorus 2
Get up and make it work
Get up and make it work
Get up and make it work
Get up and make it work
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wandering Justice
Wandering Justice
O! Dear, have I hit a miss?
With wandering justice
When society systems fail
And someone goes to jail
Without any chance of bail
Or ever setting out again on sea to sail
For something they did not do; it is a sad tale
When there is war instead of peace
And dignified people are looking for ass to kiss
Where is justice?
Countries are suffering in health and poverty
Whilst others are enjoying wealth and property
Where is justice?
O! Dear, have I hit a miss?
With wandering justice
When someone you love
Is taken away to the skies above
Where is the justice?
When you read endlessly to take exams
Another passes it with some fraudulent scam
Where is the justice?
When all your life you work so hard
Doesn’t it get you viciously mad?
When the jackpot hits another who is bad
Where is the justice?
When life takes away your child
Because you ignored health symptoms as mild
Where is the justice?
At work when your original innovations
Reward your boss with a standing ovation
Followed by a double or triple promotion
And all you get from the boss is a caution
Where is the justice?
When living a healthy life is nothing but a trick
As destiny picks on you for the sake of a kick
With illnesses for the unhealthy and the weak
All the same you are the one who ends up sick
Where is the justice?
O! Dear, have I hit a miss?
With wandering justice
Fair for all is what I call justice
Moments of rewarding bliss
When a man plants his seeds
Creating numerous mouths to feed
And he provides them with all their needs
I call it Justice!
When you work hard
Indulging in good not bad
And life rewards make you so glad
I call it Justice!
Yet justice often wanders away
Before you have your chance of say
When it wanders, the price is often high to pay
O! Dear, have I hit a miss?
With wandering justice
As it leaves behind a trail of flaws
That is not within the confinement of fair law!
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Bread And Wine!
i saw the buddha
in the eyes of the prisoner,
waiting to be executed.
our system of justice,
demands retribution,
as long as it's someone else!
preferably,
someone poor,
addicted, uneducated,
black, Hispanic,
or just plain old
white trailer trash.
the homeless man,
the man who's lost it all,
the man with no job,
no future, no dream...
no one will miss them anyway!
while the 'gods of success',
wheel and deal on the market,
playing with lives,
as if playing cards.
starting wars that make them rich,
raping the planet, even richer!
and taking from the poor,
always the poor.
immune?
above the law?
a different set of rules,
and a phony morality.
they kill the buddha
for bread and wine...
bread made of flesh,
wine made of blood!
the cost of justice...
afforded by the few!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Washing Enzymes
Washing enzymes have a job to do
They work for me they work for you
They make our clothes look nice and new
Just chuck them in the wash and press a button or two
They eat the grass, blood and gravy
And make the blues look really navy
They never stop they’re never lazy
They make my clothes as fresh as a daisy
Washing enzymes work night or day
They work when we sleep they work when we play
They work in every possible way
And love their job anyway!
poem by Bianca N/A
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Grandma
Grandma wish you were here
the walks and the talks and playing with chalk
make me miss you most
sitting around the table playing cards
watching you dance the cards around
listening to the stories of old
boy, do i remember them well
it's been years since you gone to a better place
I miss you so
trips to the store, we enjoyed
Miller's Store small, but busy
tell me about the candies we will buy
butterscotch was our favorite
Grandma, I miss you so
thanks for sharing your stories
being my friend, giving me time
I will always have you in my dreams
walking to the store, dancing cards
love you so, missing you most
Grandma's gone, but her soul is here
poem by Michael Peterson
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