The Crusaders
What price yer humble, Dicko Smith,
in gaudy putties girt,
With sand-blight in his optics, and much
leaner than he started,
Round the 'Oly Land cavorting in three-
quarters of a shirt,
And imposin' on the natives ez one Dick
the Lion 'Earted?
We are drivin' out the infidel, we're hittin'
up the Turk,
Same ez Richard slung his right across the
Saracen invader
In old days of which I'm readin'. Now
we're gettin' in our work,
'N' what price me nibs, I ask yeh, ez a
qualified Crusader!
'Ere I am, a thirsty Templar in the fields of
Palestine,
Where that hefty little fighter, Bobby
Sable, smit the heathen,
And where Richard Coor de Lion trimmed
the Moslem good 'n' fine,
'N' he took the belt from Saladin, the
slickest Dago breathin'.
There's no plume upon me helmet, 'n' no red
cross on me chest,
'N' so fur they haven't dressed me in a
swanking load of metal;
We've no 'Oly Grail I know of, but we do
our little best
With a jamtin, 'n' a billy, 'n' a battered
ole mess kettle.
Quite a lot of guyver missin' from our brand
of chivalry;
We don't make a pert procession when
we're movin' up the forces;
We've no pretty, pawin' stallion, 'n' no
pennants flowin' free,
'N' no giddy, gaudy bedquilts make a
circus of the 'orses.
We 'most always slip the cattle 'n' we cut out
all the dog
When it fairly comes to buttin' into battle's
hectic fever,
Goin' forward on our wishbones, with our
noses in the bog,
'N' we 'eave a pot iv blazes at the cursed
unbeliever.
Fancy-dress them old Crusaders wore,
and alwiz kep' a band.
What we wear's so near to nothin' that it's
often 'ardly proper,
And we swings a tank iv iron scrap across
the 'Oly Land
From a dinkie gun we nipped ashore the
other side of Jopper.
We ain't ever very natty, for the climate here
is hot;
When it isn't liquid mud the dust is thicker
than the vermin.
Ten to one our bold Noureddin is some wad-
dlin' Turkish pot,
'N' the Saladin we're on to is a snortin'
red-eyed German.
But be'old the eighth Crusade, 'n' Dicko
Smith is in the van,
Dicko Coor de Lion from Carlton what
could teach King Dick a trifle,
For he'd bomb his Royal Jills from out his
baked-pertater can,
Or he'd pink him full of leakage with a
quaint repeatin' rif1e.
We have sunk our claws in Mizpah, and
Siloam is in view.
By my 'alidom from Agra we will send the
Faithful reelin'!
Those old-timers botched the contract, but we
mean to put it through.
Knights Templars from Balmain, the Port,
Monaro, Nhill, andl Ealin'.
We 'are wipin' up Jerus'lem; we were ready
with a hose
Spoutin' lead, a dandy cleaner that you bet
you can rely on;
And Moss Isaacs, Cohn, and Cohen, Moses,
Offelbloom 'n' those
Can all pack their bettin' bags, and come
right home again to Zion.
poem by Edward George Dyson
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Related quotes
Richard Coeur de Lion
Richard the First, Coeur-de-Lion,
Is a name that we speak of with pride,
Though he only lived six months in England
From his birth to the day that he died.
He spent all his time fighting battles,
Dressed up in most rigid attire,
For he had his suits made by the Blacksmith,
And his underwear knitted of wire.
He married a lady from Flanders,
Berengaria's what they called her;
She turned out a good wife to Richard,
In spite of a name like that there.
For when he came home from his fighting
She'd bandage the wounds in his sconce,
And every time a snake bit him
She'd suck out the poison at once.
In their 'ouse they'd a minstrel called Blondel
To amuse them at t'end of the day'
And the King had but one thing against him...
He had nobbut one tune he could play.
The Queen saw nowt wrong with the number
And would have it again and again,
And when Richard said: "Put a sock in it!"
She'd give 'im a look full of pain.
The King got fed up at the finish,
And were so sick of 'earing it played,
That he packed his spare suit on a wagon
And went off and joined the Crusade.
He got fighting the moment he landed,
And though Saracen lads did their best,
He cut off their heads in such numbers,
That the hatmakers lodged a protest.
The Sultan, whose name were Saladin,
Thought he'd best try this business to stem,
So he rode up to Richard and told him
He mustn't do that there to them.
Said Richard: "Oh! Who's going to stop me?"
Said Saladin: "I will-and quick!"
So the King poked his sword at the Sultan,
Who, in turn, swiped his skimpter at Dick.
They fought all that day without ceasing;
They fought till at last they both saw
That each was a match for the other,
So they chucked it and called it a draw.
As Richard rode home in the moonlight
He heard someone trying to croon,
And there by the roadside stood Blondel,
Still playing his signature tune.
He'd worked out his passage from England
In search of his Master and Lord,
And had swum the last part of the journey
'Cos his tune got 'im thrown overboard.
This meeting filled Richard with panic:
He rode off and never drew rein
Till he got past the Austrian border
And felt he could breathe once again.
He hid in a neighbouring Castle,
But he hadn't been there very long
When one night just outside his window
Stood Blondel, still singing his song.
This 'ere took the heart out of Richard;
He went home dejected and low,
And the very next fight he got into
He were killed without striking a blow.
poem by Marriott Edgar
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Iron, Lion, Zion
I am on the rock and then I check a stock
I have to run like a fugitive to save the life I live
Im gonna be iron like a lion in zion (repeat)
Iron lion zion
Im on the run but I aint got no gun
See they want to be the star
So they fighting tribal war
And they saying iron like a lion in zion
Iron like a lion in zion,
Iron lion zion
Im on the rock, (running and you running)
I take a stock, (running like a fugitive)
I had to run like a fugitive just to save the life I live
Im gonna be iron like a lion in zion (repeat)
Iron lion zion, iron lion zion, iron lion zion
Iron like a lion in zion, iron like a lion in zion
Iron like a lion in zion
song performed by by Bob Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(I'm A) Mean Ole Lion
(Charlie Smalls)
Say what you wanna
But I'm here to stay
'Cause I'm a mean ole lion
You can go where you're gonna
But don't get in my way
I'm a mean ole lion
You'll be standing in a draft
If you don't hear me laugh
And if you happen to come around
Well, you best not make me frown
For I just might knock you down
I'm a mean ole lion
You know I'm ready to fight
And turn your day into night
'Cause I'm a mean ole lion
If you're half bright
You'll detour to the right
From a mean ole lion
All you strangers better beware
This is the king of the jungle here
And if I happen to let you slide
Don't just stand here
Run and hide
You just caught my better side
I'm a mean ole lion
Look,
You better beware
This is the king of the jungle here
And if I happen to let you slide
Don't stand here
Run and hide
You just caught my better side
I'm a mean ole lion
I'm a mean ole lion
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mean Ole Lion
(charlie smalls)
Say what you wanna
But i'm here to stay
'cause i'm a mean ole lion
You can go where you're gonna
But don't get in my way
I'm a mean ole lion
You'll be standing in a draft
If you don't hear me laugh
And if you happen to come around
Well, you best not make me frown
For i just might knock you down
I'm a mean ole lion
You know i'm ready to fight
And turn your day into night
'cause i'm a mean ole lion
If you're half bright
You'll detour to the right
From a mean ole lion
All you strangers better beware
This is the king of the jungle here
And if i happen to let you slide
Don't just stand here
Run and hide
You just caught my better side
I'm a mean ole lion
Look,
You better beware
This is the king of the jungle here
And if i happen to let you slide
Don't stand here
Run and hide
You just caught my better side
I'm a mean ole lion
I'm a mean ole lion
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Illuminations
Smith is a loyalist good and true,
And a lad of the 'whole hog' class:
And yesterday, when he went to view
The Royal procession pass,
He'd flags in his buttonhole, flags in his hat,
Flags all gaudy and gay;
And he splintered the welkin from where he sat
With many a loud 'Hooray!'
Last night when the town was a blaze of light
Smith was still on his way;
And I saw him pass thro' the brilliant night,
Gaudy, vociferous, gay;
He was still in the fashion and going strong,
And I gather he'd been to sup
For he chortled a song as he went along,
Thoroughly well 'lit up.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Horns of Hattin
Identified with beatitudes
The plains will reveal ancient feuds
Corresponds with the text narrative
There lacks no other comparative
Karnei Hittin, Victory Dome
A holy battle for their procession for home
A sermon was mounting onto the site
And Christian Crusades were claiming their right
Send the shell down the cast-iron barrel
Saladin and tinder staging imperil
The Horns of Hattin, Victory Dome
A holy battle for their procession for home
poem by Mason Maestro
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Commanders Of The Faithful
The Pope he is a happy man,
His Palace is the Vatican,
And there he sits and drains his can:
The Pope he is a happy man.
I often say when I'm at home,
I'd like to be the Pope of Rome.
And then there's Sultan Saladin,
That Turkish Soldan full of sin;
He has a hundred wives at least,
By which his pleasure is increased:
I've often wished, I hope no sin,
That I were Sultan Saladin.
But no, the Pope no wife may choose,
And so I would not wear his shoes;
No wine may drink the proud Paynim,
And so I'd rather not be him:
My wife, my wine, I love, I hope,
And would be neither Turk nor Pope.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Incognito
My name is Dick.
I've had that name since the day I was born.
OK - it's Richard, but those who call me that
have a clipboard in their hand.
Then in my 20's I changed my name to Rick.
Please keep in mind - that was in `72.
At least I didn't choose Song Of Dog,
or Ben 2 Awe Sun.
Now some just call me Rick,
and some still call me Dick.
Some say Richard, then there's some
who aren't too sure of what to say.
Dick:
as a noun - What a dick!
an adjective - Hey dick head!
a verb: - Don't dick around!
an expletive - Dick! My hair is on fire!
Unless, of course, your name is Dick.
poem by Rick Stokes
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The Frog and the Lion
A LITTLE FROG WENT OUT ONE DAY
TO HAVE A FROGGIE WALK,
HE SAW A LION ON HIS WAY
AND STOPPED TO HAVE A TALK.
AND THEN THE LION SAID TO HIM,
THERE’S FLIES UPON MY BACK,
AND I AM FEELING PRETTY GRIM
WHILE STANDING IN THIS TRACK.
SO IF YOU CLIMB ABOARD MY FRIEND,
YOU’LL HAVE A LOVELY FEED,
I’LL FLICK MY TAIL SO I CAN SEND
THE FLIES TO FILL YOUR NEED.
SO FROGGIE CLIMED ON LION’S BACK
AND ATE AND ATE AND ATE,
AND LION STOOD UPON THE TRACK
TO WAIT AND WAIT AND WAIT.
ONE DAY LION LOOKED AT FROG
AND SAW HIS EYES WERE DIM,
THEN LET HIM DOWN INTO THE BOG
SO HE COULD HAVE A SWIM.
AND THEN THE FROG CAME BACK AGAIN
THE LION TO ATTEND.
HE CLIMBED BACK IN THE LIONS MANE,
THE LION WAS HIS FRIEND.
AS TIME WENT BY THE FROG GOT FAT.
AND LION WAITED ON.
THEN FROG WAS EATEN BY THAT CAT,
AND SO THE FROG WAS GONE.
THE FROGGIE IN THE LION,
JUST SCHRIVLED RIGHT AWAY.
THE FROG WAS FULL OF POISON.
THE LION DIED THAT DAY.
THE MORAL OF THIS STORY.
IS TWOFOLD, LISTEN ON.
JUST BE VERY CAREFULL,
BEFORE YOUR DAYS ARE GONE.
CHOOSE YOU VERY WISELY
THE FRIENDS WITH WHOM YOU GREET.
AND DON’T BE LIKE THE LION.
BE CAREFULL WHAT YOU EAT
poem by George Savige
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Dick Cheney (won’t you please go home)
Won't you go home, Dick Cheney, won't you go home
Don’t talk the whole term long
You started with a surplus, but now its spent
Leave poor Barrack alone
Remember that water boarding
That you approved- saying torture isn’t wrong
Now our country’s in the tank and it’s you we have to thank
Dick Cheney, won't you please go home
Won't you go home, Dick Cheney, won't you go home
Don’t talk the whole term long
You started with a surplus, but now it’s spent
On your “forever” wars
Remember that last Election
We turned you out -and made you take the idiot back home
You were good for Halliburton but the rest of us are hurting
Dick Cheney won’t you please go home
When your own daughter don’t like Dick
That must make a man heartsick
Dick Cheney, won't you please go home
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Jerusalem
AT last, at last the Crescent
Falls back before the Cross.
Great spirits, incandescent
With longing and with loss,
Gleam from the clouds, crusaders
Who knew no requiem
While Saladin's invaders
Possessed Jerusalem.
King David harps for Zion
A glad, celestial psalm;
The face of the young lion
Is toward the sacred palm;
New Europe's noblest nation
Has won the diadem
Of him who brings salvation
To thee, Jerusalem.
Isaiah, Hosea, Amos,
Who cried against thy sin,
Whose vision saw thy famous
Bright bulwarks beaten in
And made a cup of trembling,
God's house a broken gem,
On all the winds assembling
Comfort Jerusalem.
The Christ, Messiah proven,
Whose Gentile armies free
Thy walls, not battle-cloven,
But won with jubilee;
As when thy people, pressing,
Would touch His garment's hem,
Enters with love and blessing
Thy gates, Jerusalem.
Arise and shine, O City,
The joy of all the earth!
Show poverty God's pity;
Teach misery God's mirth.
Be thou to all the nations
A light, ay, even to them
Who wrought thy tribulations,
Holy Jerusalem!
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Bias
even when the lion
smiles at us
we still withhold
confidence
even if the lion is
sincere
and does not think of
evil
like eating all of us
as prey
we always think of
the worst
even if it is just a picture
of the lion
smiling at us
we still suspect
that this can be a trap
another deception
a lion is a lion is a lion
and will always be lion
no matter what
as simple as that
ask the wind
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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His Highness
To some, he stands a fiercesome beast,
Ferocious like a storm...
To some, he stands a royal priest,
With holy heart so warm...
This lion leads the way ahead
That others dare not go...
Yes, he has stood where few would tread,
How else to overthrow?
This lion lingers for a while
So everyone can see
Behind that smirk, behind that smile,
There's awesome majesty!
This lion is no easy mark,
No victim for the prey...
His passions need no match to spark
To stir him on his way!
This lion leaps ten feet and more,
With great agility...
To make you tremble to the core
At your fragility!
This lion rules his vast domain,
Without your sage advice!
Outlasting sorrow, pleasure, pain,
In truth, he's paid the price!
What have you done that could compare
With conquests that he's known?
This lion's earnt the lion's share...
It's his and his alone...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'His Highness'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Sir Guy the Crusader
Sir GUY was a doughty crusader,
A muscular knight,
Ever ready to fight,
A very determined invader,
And DICKEY DE LION'S delight.
LENORE was a Saracen maiden,
Brunette, statuesque,
The reverse of grotesque,
Her pa was a bagman from Aden,
Her mother she played in burlesque.
A CORYPHEE, pretty and loyal,
In amber and red
The ballet she led;
Her mother performed at the Royal,
LENORE at the Saracen's Head.
Of face and of figure majestic,
She dazzled the cits -
Ecstaticised pits; -
Her troubles were only domestic,
But drove her half out of her wits.
Her father incessantly lashed her,
On water and bread
She was grudgingly fed;
Whenever her father he thrashed her
Her mother sat down on her head.
GUY saw her, and loved her, with reason,
For beauty so bright
Sent him mad with delight;
He purchased a stall for the season,
And sat in it every night.
His views were exceedingly proper,
He wanted to wed,
So he called at her shed
And saw her progenitor whop her -
Her mother sit down on her head.
"So pretty," said he, "and so trusting!
You brute of a dad,
You unprincipled cad,
Your conduct is really disgusting,
Come, come, now admit it's too bad!
"You're a turbaned old Turk, and malignant -
Your daughter LENORE
I intensely adore,
And I cannot help feeling indignant,
A fact that I hinted before;
"To see a fond father employing
A deuce of a knout
For to bang her about,
To a sensitive lover's annoying."
Said the bagman, "Crusader, get out."
Says GUY, "Shall a warrior laden
With a big spiky knob,
Sit in peace on his cob
While a beautiful Saracen maiden
Is whipped by a Saracen snob?
"To London I'll go from my charmer."
Which he did, with his loot
(Seven hats and a flute),
And was nabbed for his Sydenham armour
At MR. BEN-SAMUEL'S suit.
SIR GUY he was lodged in the Compter,
Her pa, in a rage,
Died (don't know his age),
His daughter, she married the prompter,
Grew bulky and quitted the stage.
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Marshal Neigh, V.C.
He came from tumbled country past the
humps of Buffalo
Where the snow sits on the mountain 'n' the
Summer aches below.
He'd a silly name like Archie. Squattin'
sullen on the ship,
He knew nex' to holy nothin' through the gor-
forsaken trip.
No thoughts he had of women, no refreshin'
talk of beer;
If he'd battled, loved, or suffered vital facts
did not appear;
But the parsons and the poets couldn't teach
him to discourse
When it come to pokin' guyver at a pore,
deluded horse.
If nags got sour 'n' kicked agin the rules of
things at sea,
Artie argued matters with 'em, 'n' he'd kid
'em up a tree.
“Here's a pony got hystericks. Pipe the word
for Privit Rowe,”
The Sargint yapped, 'n' all the ship came
cluckin' to the show.
He'd chat him confidential, 'n' he'd pet 'n'
paw the moke;
He'd tickle him, 'n' flatter him, 'n' try him
with a joke;
'N' presently that neddy sobers up, 'n' sez
“Ive course,
Since you puts it that way, cobber, I will be
a better horse.”
There was one pertickler whaler, known
aboard ez Marshal Neigh,
Whose monkey tricks with Privit Rowe was
better than a play.
He'd done stunts in someone's circus, 'n' he
loved a merry bout,
Whirlin' in to bust his boiler, or to kick
the bottom out.
Rowe he sez: “Well, there's an idjit! Oh,
yes, let her whiz, you beauty!
Where's yer 'orse sense, little feller? Where's
yer bloomin' sense iv duty?
Well, you orter serve yer country!” Then
there'd come a painful hush,
'N' that nag would drop his head-piece, 'n', so
'elp me cat, he'd blush.
We was heaped ashore be Suez, rifle, horse,
'n' man, 'n' tent,
Where the land is sand, the water, 'n' the
gory firmament.
We had intervals iv longin', we had sweaty
spells of work
In the ash-pit iv Gehenner, dumbly waitin'
fer the Turk.
We goes driftin' on the desert, nothin' doin',
nothin' said,
Till we get to think we're nowhere, 'n' arf
fancy we are dead,
'N' the only 'uman interest on the red hori-
zon's brim
Is Marshal Neigh's queer faney fer the lad
that straddles him.
Plain-livin's nearly, bored us stiff. The Major
calls on Rowe
To devise an entertainment. What his
charger doesn't know
Isn't in the regulations. Him 'n' Rowe is
brothers met,
'N' that horse's sense iv humor is the oddest
fancy yet.
But the Turk arrives one mornin' on the outer
edge iv space.
From back iv things his guns is floppin' kegs
about the place,
'N' Privit Artie Rowe along with others iv
the force
Goes pig-rootin' inter battle, holdin' converse
with his horse.
Little Abdul's quite a fighter, 'n' he mixes it
with skill;
But the Anzacs have him snouted,, 'n', oh,
ma, he's feelin' ill.
They wake the all-fired desert, 'n' the land for
ever dead
Is alive 'n' fairly creepin', and the skies are
droppin' lead.
When they've got the Ot'man goin', little
gaudy hunts begin.
It fer us to chiv His Trousers. 'n' to round
the stragglers in.
Cuttin' closest to the raw, 'n' swearin' lovin'
all the way,
Is Artie from Molinga on his neddy, Marshal
Neigh.
We're pursuin' sundry camels turkey-trottin'
anyhow
With the carriage iv an emu 'n' the action iv
a cow,
When a sand dune busts, 'n' belches arf a
million iv the foe.
They uncork a blanky batt'ry, 'n' it's, Allah,
let her go!
We're not stayin' dinner, thank you. Lie
along yer horse 'n' yell,
While the bullets pip yer britches 'n' you
sniff the flue of Hell.
Here it is that Artie takes it good 'n' solid in
the crust,
He dives from out the saddle, 'n' is swallered
in the dust.
I got through 'n' saw them pointin' where the
Marshal faced the band.
He was goin' where we came from, sniffin'
bodies in the sand.
Till he found Rowe snugglin' under, took him
where his pants was slack,
'N' be all the Asiatic gods, he brought his
soldier back!
With a bullet in his buttock, 'n' a drill hole
in his ear,
He dumped Artie down among us. Square
'n' all, how did we cheer!
There's no medals struck fer neddies, but we
rule there orter be,
'N' the pride iv all the Light Horse is old
Marshal Neigh, V.C.
poem by Edward George Dyson
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Out Of Khaki
I slung me khaki suit to-day.
Civilian now front heel to chin
I 'op round on a single shin;
At home in peace I'm bound to stay.
'N' so they've took me duds away.
It 'urt like strippin' off me skin!
I put it on three years ago,
The ole brown rig. There wasn't then
A prouder chicken in the pen.
Jist twenty turned, me nibs you'd know
For how I give me chest a throw,
A man among the best of men.
Me little no the touch I give,
Me chin's ez solid ez a rock,
'N' level with the Town 'All clock,
A five-inch grin across me chiv.
“Lor' love us, this is how to live,”
Sez I, 'n' felt I owned the Block.
Glad eyes was ever on the lurk,
'N' little 'earts was thumpin' warm
For nippers trainin' with the swarm
To swat ole Kaiser Bill, or work
A toe-hold on the heathen Turk.
Fair dink, I loved the uniform!
I soused mine in the brine that day
When Tophet spilt, 'n' in the roar
Of shells that split the sea 'n' tore
Our boats to chips, we broke any
Up through the pelt of leaden spray,
'N' got our first real taste of war.
They shot me tunic all to rags;
Then in the perpendic'lar spree
Me trousers wore off to the knee.
The right-abouts of many bags
Was ground off in the dust 'n' crags
A-sittin' in Gallipoli.
I wore the khaki on the Somme-
Most time 'twas jist a coat of mud;
I once come through the battle scud
Stripped mother-naked by a bomb;
'N' once it' took its color from
Me own 'n' one good cobber's blood.
They cheered the khaki through the street
When we come home with pipers gay,
But now I'm jist a bloke in grey.
Harf-lost, lob-sided, incomplete,
It's nothin' but me spook you'll meet,
Ghost-walkin' in the light o' day.
poem by Edward George Dyson
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Dead Lion
Lion died
And dead lion
Came to me crying
Dead lion wanted to know
so many thing about life.
I am not here
To told about
Lion's history
Or geography of the area
Where lion was.
Dead lion
I found within
My house my country
Lion was enchanted
on the scene here
Even after death
That much I knew.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Movin Out
We all live on the edge of town
Where we all live aint a soul around
People start a-comin
All we do is just a-grin
Said we gotta move out
cause the citys movin in
I said we gotta move out
cause the citys movin in
Tell me who you know
And Ill tell you who, too
Go see my friend and hell set you free
Tell me what you see and
Mabye I can go too
No one knows the way but mabye me
Nobody goes there
Nobody shows where
Nobody knows where you can find me, yeah
Good mornin glory, hallelujah to you
What is the story, whats been goin through ya
Livin like a king of the fat of the land
Workin like a dog in a rock n roll band
Movin, were gettin out
Movin, without a doubt
Movin, were goin far
Were movin, oh yes we are
Nobody goes there
Nobody shows where
Nobody goes where you can find me
Nobody knows there
Nobody shows where
Nobody goes where you can find me, ah
Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy...
Level with god
And youre in tune with the universe
Talk with yourself
And youll hear what you wanna know
Gotta rise above
cause below its only gettin worse
Life in time
Will take you where you wanna go
Where you wanna go, where you wanna go
Where you goin....
Good mornin glory, hallelujah to you
What is the story, whats been goin through ya
Livin like a king of the fat of the land
Workin like a dog in a rock n roll band
Movin, were gettin out
Movin, yeah, without a doubt
Movin, were goin far
Were movin, oh yes we are
Nobody knows there
Nobody shows where
Nobody goes where you can find me
Nobody knows there
Nobody shows where
Nobody goes where you cant find me
Round n round...
We all live on the edge of town
Where we all live aint a soul around
People start a-comin
All we do is just a-grin
We gotta move out
cause the citys movin in
I said we gotta move out
cause the citys movin in
Yes we do....
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lion Of Love
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
So much to say
So much to time and space
I said it load and clear
Plot and make my case
I put it into rhythm
Sculpt it into rhyme
Wrap my secrets in a melody
Fire it at the fortress of your mind
And if after all I sing
You dont believe a thing
Thats alright
We got all night
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
Use my heart
Use my hands
Use me any way you can
Calling down the lion of love
So much trouble in the world
So much pain
Ive heard it all before
Ill hear it again
But Im trying to imagine
A world transformed by love
Open up my minds eye
And let the pictures flood
Imagine that its real
What does it look like, how does it feel
Hold the vision
Bring it down, spread it around
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
Use my vision
Use my voice
Ive had a vision
And Ive made my choice
Calling down the lion of love
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Lion Of Love
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
So much to say
So much to time and space
I said it load and clear
Plot and make my case
I put it into rhythm
Sculpt it into rhyme
Wrap my secrets in a melody
Fire it at the fortress of your mind
And if after all I sing
You dont believe a thing
Thats alright
We got all night
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
Use my heart
Use my hands
Use me any way you can
Calling down the lion of love
So much trouble in the world
So much pain
Ive heard it all before
Ill hear it again
But Im trying to imagine
A world transformed by love
Open up my minds eye
And let the pictures flood
Imagine that its real
What does it look like, how does it feel
Hold the vision
Bring it down, spread it around
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
Calling down the lion of love
Use me
Use my vision
Use my voice
Ive had a vision
And Ive made my choice
Calling down the lion of love
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!