Related quotes: There is no land like...

National Song (E.C.)

There is no land like England
Where banks rise day by day,
There are no banks like English banks
To make the people pay.

There is no such land of castles
Where an Englishman is free
To read his smutty literature
With muffins at his tea.

Chorus:
For the French have comic papers
Not that nice Britons read 'em,
But the bawdy little Britons
Have bank sharks to bleed 'em

And to keep an eye on their readin' matter
Lest they should overhear the distressing chatter
Of the new economical theories
And ask inconvenient queetfes.

poem by Ezra Pound
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Related quotes

To The Land

To the land of bribes,
To the land of telephones,
To the land of corruptions,
To the land of trains,
To the land of shops,
To the land of thieves,
To the land of connections,
To the land of drugs,
To the land of trucks,
To the land of cats,
To the land of Banks,
To the land of dogs, To the land of footballers,
To the land of dragons,
To the land of hope,
To the land of ice-cream,
To the land of potatoes,
To the land of chocolates,
To the land of tomatoes,
To the land of apples,
To the land of coffee,
To the land of lights,
To the land of ships,
To the land of birds,
To the land of tigers,
To the land of carpets,
To the land of pillows,
To the land of lions,
TO the land of toys,
To the land of horses,
To the land of beds,
To the land of roses,
To the land of love,
To the land of passion,
To the land of romance;
I never new women do snore until i married one.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Brignall Banks

'O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green!
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English Queen.'

'If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me
To leave both tower and town,
Thou first must guess what life lead we,
That dwell by dale and down:
And if thou canst that riddle read,
As read full well you may,
Then to the green-wood shalt thou speed
As blithe as Queen of May.'

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are green!
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English Queen.

'I read you by your bugle horn
And by your palfrey good,
I read you for a Ranger sworn
To keep the King's green-wood.'
'A Ranger, Lady, winds his horn,
And 'tis at peep of light;
His blast is heard at merry morn,
And mine at dead of night.'

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are gay!
I would I were with Edmund there,
To reign his Queen of May!

'With burnish'd brand and musketoon
So gallantly you come,
I read you for a bold Dragoon,
That lists the tuck of drum.'
'I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;
But when the beetle sounds his hum,
My comrades take the spear.

'And O! though Brignall banks be fair,
And Greta woods be gay,
Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
Would reign my Queen of May!

'Maiden! a nameless life I lead,
A nameless death I'll die;
The fiend whose lantern lights the mead
Were better mate than I!
And when I'm with my comrades met
Beneath the green-wood bough,
What once we were we all forget,
Nor think what we are now.'

Chorus.
Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather flowers there
Would grace a summer queen.

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Outlaw

O, Brignall banks are wild and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there,
Would grace a summer queen:
And as I rode by Dalton Hall,
Beneath the turrets high,
A Maiden on the castle wall
Was singing merrily:—

'O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green!
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English Queen.'

'If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me
To leave both tower and town,
Thou first must guess what life lead we,
That dwell by dale and down:
And if thou canst that riddle read,
As read full well you may,
Then to the green-wood shalt thou speed
As blithe as Queen of May.'

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are green!
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English Queen.

'I read you by your bugle horn
And by your palfrey good,
I read you for a Ranger sworn
To keep the King's green-wood.'
'A Ranger, Lady, winds his horn,
And 'tis at peep of light;
His blast is heard at merry morn,
And mine at dead of night.'

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are gay!
I would I were with Edmund there,
To reign his Queen of May!

'With burnish'd brand and musketoon
So gallantly you come,
I read you for a bold Dragoon,
That lists the tuck of drum.'
'I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;
But when the beetle sounds his hum,
My comrades take the spear.

'And O! though Brignall banks be fair,
And Greta woods be gay,
Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
Would reign my Queen of May!

'Maiden! a nameless life I lead,
A nameless death I'll die;
The fiend whose lantern lights the mead
Were better mate than I!
And when I'm with my comrades met
Beneath the green-wood bough,
What once we were we all forget,
Nor think what we are now.'

Chorus

Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather flowers there
Would grace a summer queen.

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Modern Day Okies!

hard dust bowl depression days,
the banks came with tractors and guns
and papers to take away...

the old home places, the farms,
their way of life, their family way....
kicked them off like they were trash...

called them Okies...
white trash, despised by
all the 'good' people who still had....

drove them west, migrant camps or die...
faceless, homeless, expendable...
and now the tide has turned,

and more American people
kicked off, kicked out...
the bank comes 'round again....

taking no prisoners!
the weak and poorest will die....
the strong ones will fight!

call us what you want...
white, black, Hispanic, dont matter
what color or where from!

we're not your trash!
keep looking down from your towers,
one day they'll fall on you...

your banks will crash...
and they'll be no one there to help,
no one left to do your work!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Interest Rate

Interest rate should be fixed
In such a manner and style
So that both the commercial banks
And their clients are benefited
But unfortunately many people
Incur loss as a result of
High interest rate

The central bank should encourage
The commercial banks
To go for investment
In the lucrative sectors
In order to create more fund
And to enable them to give more loans
And lower interest rate
For the entrepreneurs

If the commercial banks
Lower interest rate
For the depositors
The latter will not be discouraged much
Since people deposit money mainly
To keep it in a safe place

If the commercial banks
Lower interest rate
For the entrepreneurs
Many more people will take loan
As a result
Both the parties will be benefited

According to Islam
If there is more good elements
Than bad effects
Exist in a thing
It becomes halal

Therefore if most of the people are benefited
By taking loans it becomes okay

poem by Asif Andalib
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On The Banks of The Shore

have i wandered too far this time
to feel the presence of Your hand
i cant say that i've been blind
building castles in the sand

seems kinda funny for me to say
words i've said before
feeling's too heavy for me to pray
on the banks of the shore

on the banks of the shore
at the foot of the cross
my heart's aching and sore
and my soul's feeling lost...

could You spare an angel or two
put a rainbow in the sky
just to let me know that You
care if i live or die

maybe i'll get it right this time
find the key to the door
just need some peace of mind
on the banks of the shore

on the banks of the shore
at the foot of the cross
my heart's aching and sore
and my soul's feeling lost

on the banks of the shore
at the foot of the cross
my heart's aching and sore
and my soul's feeling lost....

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Rule Britannia

When Britain first, at Heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain:
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

The nations, not so blest as thee,
Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall:
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke:
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine:
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair:
Blest isle! with matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

poem by James Thomson
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Perhaps they talk for meanness,
And perhaps it is in jest,
If they leave out their freeness
It would suit me now the best,
To keep the good old maxim
I find it hard to do,
That is to do to others
As you wish them do to you.

Perhaps you've read the papers
Containing my interview;
I hope you kind good people
Will not believe it true.
Some Editors of the papers
They thought it would be wise
To write a column about me,
So they filled it up with lies.

The papers have ridiculed me
A year and a half or more.
Such slander as the interview
I never read before.
Some reporters and editors
Are versed in telling lies.
Others it seems are willing
To let industry rise.

The people of good judgment
Will read the papers through,
And not rely on its truth
Without a candid view.
My first attempt at literature
Is the "Sweet Singer" by name,
I wrote that book without a thought
Of the future, or of fame.

Dear Friends, I write for money,
With a kind heart and hand,
I wish to make no Enemies
Throughout my native land.
Kind friends, now I close my rhyme,
And lay my pen aside,
Between me and my critics
I leave you to decide.

poem by Julia A Moore
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The Braes O' Yarrow

Late at e'en, drinking the wine,
And ere they paid the lawing,
They set a combat them between,
To fight it in the dawing.
'What though ye be my sister's lord
We'll cross our swords to-morrow.'
'What though my wife your sister be,
I'll meet ye then on Yarrow.'
'O stay at hame, my ain gude lord!
O stay, my ain dear marrow!
My cruel brither will you betray
On the dowie banks of Yarrow.'

'O fare ye weel, my lady dear!
And put aside your sorrow;
For if I gae, I'll sune return
Frae the bonny banks o' Yarrow.'

She kiss'd his cheek, she kaimed his hair,
As oft she'd done before, O;
She belted him with his gude brand,
And he's awa' to Yarrow.

When he gaed up the Tennies bank,
As he gaed mony a morrow,
Nine armed men lay in a den
On the dowie braes o' Yarrow.

'O come ye here to hunt or hawk
The bonny Forest thorough?
Or come ye here to wield your brand
Upon the banks o' Yarrow?'

'I come not here to hunt or hawk
As oft I've dune before, O,
But I come here to wield my brand
Upon the banks o' Yarrow.

'If ye attack me nine to ane,
That God may send ye sorrow!-
Yet will I fight while stand I may,
On the bonny banks o' Yarrow.'

Two has he hurt, and three has slain,
On the bloody braes o' Yarrow;
But the stubborn knight crept in behind,
And pierced his body thorough.

'Gae hame, gae hame, you brither John,
And tell your sister sorrow,-
To come and lift her leafu' lord
On the dowie banks o' Yarrow.'

Her brither John gaed ower the hill,
As oft he'd dune before, O;
There he met his sister dear,
Cam' rinnin' fast to Yarrow.

'I dreamt a dream last night,' she says,
'I wish it binna sorrow;
I dreamt I pu'd the heather green
Wi' my true love on Yarrow.'

'I'll read your dream, sister,' he says,
'I'll read it into sorrow;
Ye're bidden go take up your love,
He's sleeping sound on Yarrow.'

She's torn the ribbons frae her head
That were baith braid and narrow;
She's kilted up her lang claithing,
And she's awa' to Yarrow.

She's ta'en him in her arms twa,
And gi'en him kisses thorough;
She sought to bind his many wounds,
But he lay dead on Yarrow.

'O haud your tongue,' her father says,
'And let be a' your sorrow;
I'll wed you to a better lord
Than him you lost on Yarrow.'

'O haud your tongue, father,' she says,
'Far warse ye make my sorrow;
A better lord could never be
Than him that lies on Yarrow.'

She kiss'd his lips, she kaimed his hair,
As aft she'd dune before, O;
And there with grief her heart did break
Upon the banks o' Yarrow.

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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River Thames

Roaring and flowing from
Gloucestershire via Teddington
Leaving exquisiteness here
while passing through London.

North bank and south bank,
a compass of the England
Very strategic position
for many cultural events.

Blessed with kisses of darling
Oxford, Kingston, Windsor,
Feel of heaven around
for nature lovers and writers.

Great source for food and water
for the people of England,
Giving habitation to millions
for the years of thousands.

With sailing and rowing
a major leisure and pleaser,
For outing and romance
tranquil banks of the river.

Watched conquerers, emperors,
passing time of England,
falling of London bridge,
making up of whole land,

Helping people's prosperity,
a boon for the Nation,
Fulfils numerous human needs,
thrives lives flowing or frozen.

poem by S.D. Tiwari
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On The Banks Of The Old Ponchartrain

Recorded by: hank williams, sr.
Written by: hank williams sr. & ramona vincent
I [a] travelled from [a7] texas to [d] old louis-[a] anne
Thru valleys, oer mountains and [e7] plains
Both [a] footsore and [a7] weary I [d] rested a-[a] while
On the [e7] banks of the old ponchar-[a] train.
The fairest young maiden that I ever saw
Passed by as it started to rain
We both found a shelter beneath the same tree
On the banks of the old ponchartrain.
We hid from the shower an hour or so
She asked me how long Id remain
I told her that Id spend the rest of my days
On the banks of the old ponchartrain.
I just couldnt tell her that I ran away
From jail on a west texas plain
I prayed in my heart I would never be found
On the banks of the old ponchartrain.
Then one day a man put his hand on my arm
And said I must go west again
I left her alone without saying goodbye
On the banks of the old ponchartrain.
Tonight as I sit here alone in my cell
I know that shes waiting in vain
Im hoping and praying someday to return
To the banks of the old ponchartrain.

song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Civilization is a stream with banks. The stream is sometimes filled with blood from people killing, stealing, shouting and doing the things historians usually record, while on the banks, unnoticed, people build homes, make love, raise children, sing song.

quote by Will Durant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Banks Of Ohio

I asked my love to take a walk, to take a walk, just a little walk
Down the side where the waters flow, down by the banks of the Ohio
Chorus:
And only say that you'll be mine, in no other's arms entwined
Down the side where the waters flow, down by the banks of the Ohio
I held a knife against his breast, as into my arms he pressed
He cried, "My love, don't you murder me, I'm not prepared for eternity"
(chorus)
I wandered home 'tween twelve and one, I cried, "My God, what have I done?
I've killed the only man I love, he would not take me for his bride"
(chorus)
Down by the banks of the Ohio
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monday Papers

I dont want to go out any more
I read the news, I cant believe my eyes
I push the table against the door
You know Ive had it with the world outside
If you want to know about the murderers and junkies
If you want to know about the lower east side
Now they got a map shows you where to get your monkey
You can read it in the monday papers, monday papers
Some people like a little gore
Some people always at the scenes of crimes
Now they can watch the tv more
Now they can get it in the sunday times
If you find it hard to handle what you see on page one
You can pull the funnies out and have some laughs
Take a drink and maybe you can laugh at ronald reagan
You can read it in the monday papers, read it in the monday papers
Monday papers dont ask no questions
Monday papers dont get no lies
Monday papers dont raise objection
Monday papers dont got no eyes
Brothers heading that way now I guess
He just read something made his face turn blue
Well I got nothing against the press
They wouldnt print it if it wasnt true
If you want to know about the gay politician
If you want to know how to be a star
Ladies - if you want to know about the new sex position
You can read it in the monday papers, read it in the monday papers
Monday papers dont ask no questions
Monday papers dont get no lies
Monday papers dont raise objection
Monday papers dont got no eyes
Monday papers dont ask no questions
Monday papers dont get no lies
Monday papers dont raise objection
Monday papers dont got no eyes
Read all about it, monday papers

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They Let 'em Fail

Iceland refused to take a loan
From Banksters at the IMF
Instead let banks fail,
Kept the debt...
And sent the loan sharks home

ROTMS

Source: Bloomberg

Iceland’s President Olafur R. Grimsson said his country is better off than Ireland thanks to the government’s decision to allow the banks to fail two years ago and because the krona could be devalued.
“The difference is that in Iceland we allowed the banks to fail, ” Grimsson said in an interview with Bloomberg Television’s Mark Barton today. “These were private banks and we didn’t pump money into them in order to keep them going; the state did not shoulder the responsibility of the failed private banks.”
Ireland’s Prime Minister Brian Cowen said this week his government has discussed an 85 billion-euro ($112 billion) bailout with the European Union and International Monetary Fund after the country’s banks threatened to bring the euro member to the brink of bankruptcy. Iceland’s banks, which still owe creditors about $85 billion, were split to create domestic units needed to keep the financial system running, while foreign liabilities remained within the failed lenders.
As a consequence, “Iceland is faring much better than anybody expected, ” Grimsson said. The Icelandic state’s liability on foreign depositor claims stemming from Icesave accounts at failed Landsbanki Islands hf should be put to a national referendum, he said.
“How far can we ask ordinary people - farmers and fishermen and teachers and doctors and nurses - to shoulder the responsibility of failed private banks, ” said Grimsson. “That question, which has been at the core of the Icesave issue, will now be the burning issue in many European countries.”

poem by Ray Lucero
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The Braes o'Yarrow

Late at e'en, drinking the wine,
And ere they paid the lawing,
They set a combat them between,
To fight it in the dawing.

'What though ye be my sister's lord
We'll cross our swords to-morrow.'
'What though my wife your sister be,
I'll meet ye then on Yarrow.'

'O stay at hame, my ain gude lord!
O stay, my ain dear marrow!
My cruel brither will you betray
On the dowie banks of Yarrow.'