Klipdrift basic training camp
The sun inspects
rows and rows of trees
and at night
the moon is at ease while every thing freezes
and when as a citizen you pass the gate
you become part of the machine
that hurries up and waits
and even if you have a brazen soul
some idiot with two chevrons
and crossed swords on his sleeve
makes you run to and fro
as if there is nowhere else to go
and you will not leave
this hell of a place
before he has made you run, leopard crawl
carry the pole and pee in the hole ten thousand times
and with the morning chill
a rascal with a red moustache
who drilled his son to death
and has nobody to bequeath
plays the leader of the parade
makes you stand for hours
on attention in the hot sun
while he waits for who knows what
before detonating in curses
while walking stick-straight
up and down
with a big ugly frown
and then bored to death
a fat giant appears
wearing two castles
and last night’s beer on his breath
and later from the rear
the brigadier general draws near
with gyppo guts, dysentery
and commands every new recruit
and sometimes even officers
in neatly pressed military suits
at times group together
like sheep in chilly weather
and later you get your new best friend
and carry it along, even to the loo
and sometimes to the shower
and into bed
and its name is rifle
and certainly not gun
since you came with one
from birth
and in this place as things go
this was just the fun and games
before they teach you what you need to know
and running with your mate in your arms,
running with poles with swinging truck tires,
crashing up and down through rubbish holes,
running with ammunition chests while under fire
and learning to shoot to kill and not to expire,
to throw hand grenades, launch mortar bombs
and rockets and sometimes to heal the men
is only the beginning
of what others call boot camp.
[Reference: Heartbreak camp by Roy Campbell.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
The Corporal
In basics the Corporal was no
Christian parent’s son
since no person
could give birth
to a demon
that liked to press
others with his boots
into the dirt.
Not grown up yet
his two stripes
went straight to his head
and the PT-instructor’s crossed swords
glowed menacing on his arm.
Through ash-holes with broken glass,
gravel roads with piercing stones
he made us leopard crawl
while live bullets
whipped up dirt
and running with truck tyres
on a pole
to him was fun
until some men fell
exhausted to the ground.
Personal letters he ripped open
and read aloud
for everyone to hear
and called unmarried people
with children bastards
and visited prostitutes
during the night
that well-off troops paid for
while his fiancée waited at home.
l’Envoi
One night I saw that Corporal run
when he disturbed me
at three am
in the truck park
where I were on guard
and I cocked the FN-rifle
and it sounded
like feeding live ammunition
into the barrel.
He tripped over
something on the ground
and got to his feet
and started running away,
jumping right over
three barbered wire fences
and hysterically shouted
at me not to shoot
and suddenly life felt really good.
[FN-rifle= Old R1 rifle with wooden butt.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Ballade of the guard commander
II
At dusk the sun sets fiery red
behind the bushes
where in beauty it brings tranquillity to the bush-veldt.
There are guards that I inspect as commander
where they stand neatly in a platoon
and I look at them one after the other and then right through them
walk to the guardroom on top of the shooting tower
and in the camp in the operational aria
every thing is in order, the guards are capable.
Early in the evening another officer
comes and plays a game of chess
and we drink icy glasses of beer
but when it gets later their is silence and peace
as if it’s just another evening in a thousand
and for some time I am still attentive to my duties
until the shadows draw out long against the walls,
my non commissioned officer starts to yawn
and I lie down on my camping bed
telling him to take charge, while I get tired
and sleep closes my eyes,
when an explosion wakes me.
II
Somewhere in the camp another bomb explodes,
I grab my firearm instruct the shooting tower to start firing
and fear is in me – that the general is going to come.
Tracers cut tracks through the night
torches are fired into the sky
and outside it’s bright as day
and we fire into the bushes
while I cannot determine where the enemy is
and do not really know where the firefight had started.
In the camp another bomb explodes,
I see a trooper throwing a hand grenade
and I am totally astounded
and fear is in me – that the general is going to come,
what am I going to say about what is happening here,
what am I going to report about the men below him?
It’s clear that it’s no enemy attack
and on the watchtower I lift my rifle
and when it resounds it’s an own man, an acquaintance
that I shoot down before he throws some more hand grenades
and everybody thinks that an enemy bullet pierces him,
while they shoot into the bushes and fire at will.
III
The morning is grey
and rainy when the day breaks
while there’s fear in me
where I have got to give account
about wounded men in three tents
and the death of one I carry with me,
while soldiers are on patrol in the bushes
and with a knob in my throat,
I know that no enemy is there and feel tired.
When I notice a helicopter it is clear that the general is coming
and the Lord knows that I had to shoot an own man,
but what will I show him of the preparedness of the camp?
With narrowed eyes
we wait on the parade ground
and eight of my men are wounded.
The dust rises from the turning blades
while the helicopter lands
and the blades turn slower.
Out of the cloud of dust three figures walk
with the general looking inexorable,
while my ears sing from the noise of the aircraft.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Johnny Goes To War
At the age of eighteen
just after writing his final matriculation exam,
Johnny is called up to do military service
and when the pickup on the farm
have two flat tyres
and Johnny cannot get to the station in time,
he is fetched by three broad shouldered
military policemen who initially
want to arrest him
and shove him into a waiting military pickup van.
In the army he receives food
that gives him stomach flue
and for the first week
is almost stuck to the loo
and the mash potatoes
coming from a packet as powder,
runs into everything and has no salt in it
while the Colonel, the officers
and non-commissioned officers
have a feast in their mess,
having roasted beef and chicken
and eat as if they are truly blessed
and his hair is cut just above the scull,
he’s forced into an overall,
feels and looks like a criminal
while the instructors, the officers
and commanders wear normal uniforms
and he is chased up and down,
has to run to some trees
three kilometres far and back,
to bring a leave
and every time it’s not the right one
and the passing black citizens
at the railway tracks and on the road
shake their heads
and think that white men are nuts.
Day and night the instructor
slanders and curses at him,
he is put on duty
to guard armoured cars and trucks,
forced to run with poles and truck tyres
and to be just like his fellow military men,
even his girlfriend’s love letters,
are read by the instructor to the rest of them
and he is given a rifle and taught to love it,
while the instructor makes sure
that he knows the difference
between his rifle and his gun
he is forced to sleep with it like a fiancé
while movement and fire tactics
is being drilled in,
while life bullets whistle past him
and a bit later he knows about hand grenades,
mortars and rockets
and then he is shipped out
by train, truck and helicopter
to the war on the border
to meet the enemy
who is waiting for him
and while on patrol with some Unitas
he faces Cuban armour, a huge battle tank
and fires a rocket propelled grenade
at point blank range straight at it
and the trooper next to him,
looses his head, it’s blown off
and Johnny is scared out of his wits,
wishing to be dead
but forced into another firefight instead.
When after two years of being a soldier
he gets home
Johnny is totally nuts, bomb happy
and nobody knows him
when to his mother, his girlfriend
he is is somewhat strange
while life in the town goes on
like it did before
and Johnny becomes a farmer
and trusts in the Lord,
cares for his cattle and sheep
and not one night he can sleep right through,
without having a nightmare
and the president PW Botha, his whole cabinet,
the military officers have a great life,
ignores his mothers letters,
doesn’t care about her tears,
about Johnny’s state of mind
and before long
he is called up for a military camp
and when he doesn’t appear
he is fetched by the military police
and sent back once more
to war, to killing and death.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Basic training out of the eyes of a trooper
Encamped upon a plain
raw recruits twelve companies strong
run up and down to every fence,
crawl through ash holes
with live bullets buzzing overhead
while instructors with continuous curses
and sarcasm drives them on.
National servicemen called up
like ants in a crowd
loose individuality,
become just numbers,
are barbered with hair cut
prisoner style and length
and dressed in brown overalls
and plastic green helmets.
The food is gut wrenching
and slops into everything else
on a silver tray
and gives everybody stomach flue.
Every platoon has a PTI-corporal
who lets you run,
fall and crawl
the whole day long
and laughs when you bleed.
At times people wonder
from under what rock,
or out of what hole
did that that bugger crawl?
Some inspections
in the middle of the night
leaves cupboards and beds
strewn upon the floor,
although every thing
is just right
and clean and sharp
with punisment following immediately.
It’s a hell of a thing
with buddy pt, running
with poles and truck tires
till one day,
that you are super fit
and laugh at the idiot
with the stripes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Running Free
Just sixteen a pick up truck
Out of money out of luck
Ive got no place to call my own
Hit the gas and here I go
Im running free yeah, Im running free
Im running free yeah, Im running free
Spend the night in an l.a. jail
Listen to the sirens wail
But they aint got a thing on me
Im running wild Im running free
Im running free yeah, Im running free
Im running free yeah, Im running free
Pulled her at the bottle top
Whiskey dancing disco hop
And all the boys are after me
And thats the way its gonna be
Im running free yeah, Im running free
Im running free yeah, Im running free
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let me tell about Wouter
Let me tell about Wouter
standing against all wars
and who didn’t want to go
to a military camp.
He then got
three years jail sentence
and with a criminal record
he went
to the detention barracks
where the colonel said:
“Wouter you are a naughty boy
and I will get you right quickly,
if you want to stay alive in this camp.”
First he had to scrub lavatories
in pace
with the marching stick
hitting holes out of his hands
and suddenly stand straight to attention
when his task was completed.
He was grabbed and forced naked
into a cold shower
where they wanted to scrub him clean
of his faith
with scrubbing wire and a mop
and he didn’t
wrestle or kick
and didn’t stop believing
in his faith.
On command he was taken
to a instructor
that had to teach him
things about a gun.
“I know that you have no faith, ”
he said to him
because he believed differently
and when he didn’t want
to touch the gun
the corporal opened
his own pants
and pulled his own dingeling out
and pressed both in his face.
At a time he came under the boot
and still it didn’t strip him
of what he believed
and after three years of hell
he was free
in his country
where people really believed in God.
Still I wonder in my soul
and when I faced the enemy
with guns and tanks
who was the most brave
between him and me
and still I cannot get
Wouter out of my thoughts
and I wonder what God
thinks in his heaven
about a army
that gives pain
to people that are different
and when I get on my knees
I pray for both Wouter and me
[Reference: i sing of Olaf glad and big by e.e. Cummings.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Carry On
(track 11 - time 3:22)
(even stevens/hillary kanter/mark collie)
Mama went to sleep one night and never woke up
Daddy cried a tear into her old coffee cup
Now all he wants to do is drink the hurt all away
But if mama was here I know what mama would say
Carry on
Carry on
What dont kill us makes us strong
Carry on
Little sisters husband ran off with her best friend
Left her and the babies all alone again
It hurts to know the hurt that shes going through
But I know that shell do what shes gotta do
Carry on
Carry on
What dont kill us makes us strong
Carry on
Nobody ever said that life was gonna be fair
Youre never gonna get nowhere by running scared
If you look down deep inside youll find the faith to make you strong
Oh carry on
I try to walk the sunny side of the street
Dont let no shadows tangle up my feet
There aint no troubles that we cant rise above
With a handful of faith and a heartful of love
Carry on
Carry on
What dont kill us makes us strong
Carry on
Carry on
What dont kill us makes us strong
Carry on
Carry on
Carry on
Carry on
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Johnny Everyman
Johnny surfed on the waves,
till on the day,
that he got his call up papers.
Johnny new the sea and the waves
very well
and girls filled the beaches
and live was good and free.
Things were really great
until five gigantic Mp’s,
waited at his front door.
Their hair was trimmed very short
and they got hold of him,
and pulled him to and fro.
Johnny left home
in a military capture wagon
and had to choose,
between going to the army and jail.
In the army his hair was stripped
and like a prisoner
he was chased up and down
and drilled all over the place
and told that he was worth nothing.
Time after time
they tried to brake him
and took him on private busses
and at times his buddies
also went for the ride.
To run with ammunition chests
and buddy pt
and pencil and rubber
and other similar exercises
was learnt to him.
He was shouted and cursed at
and he learned to kill
in several ways
and to handle different weapons
and to live from the field.
Johnny went to Angola
and came back shell-shocked
and there were blood on his hands
and nobody wanted to know
and cared and could understand him.
[References: =>Mp’s=> Military policemen. private busses => Personal punishment and punitive exercises. Buddy pt => Exercises while running with a soldier in your arms. Pencil and rubber =>Exercises with poles and lorry tires]
poem by Gert Strydom
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~~~! Death! ~~~
Death waits for prey,
Death stalks, pounces then slays.
Death waits for no-one,
Death is an army of one.
Stalking, pouncing, stalking, pouncing,
That's what they say he does.
Running, stabbing, running, stabbing,
Killing is what Death loves.
Death can be black, death can be white,
Death can take to flight.
I hope you have enough breath,
I hope you've enjoyed my tale about death.
poem by Joshua Cheung
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Closer to Happiness
What do you get when you run away from
a predator? You get exactly what I'm
writing about: something chasing after
you. Not letting you go.
Walk around the house,
It's sunny outside.
It's nice,
Warm,
Pretty.
Then I hear the first of the
Trucks and I know
It's not going to end well.
No matter how far I get,
It always catches up to me.
I keep running.
Running away from all the hurt,
All the pain,
All the pessimism and all the suffering.
I keep running.
Running away from all the death,
All the heartbreak,
All the cancer and all the disease.
Trying to get farther from all that,
Closer to happiness.
He was a truck driver,
We saw him every once in a while.
It was nice,
Something we could rely on,
Then his cancer acted up again,
The chemo and radiation started,
And being a pessimist really sucked.
Being a realist sucks even more.
No matter how far I get,
It always catches up with me.
I keep running.
Running away from all the hurt,
All the pain,
All the pessimism and all the suffering.
I keep running.
Running away from all the death,
All the heartbreak,
All the cancer and all the disease.
Trying to get farther from all that,
Closer to happiness.
Nowadays, I have my friends.
I have my good days where I'm just a normal
realist.
I have my bad days, where I fight back the
pessimism that threatens to take over.
Here comes realism.
And.
No matter how far I get,
It always catches up to me.
I keep running.
Running away from all the hurt,
All the pain,
All the pessimism and all the suffering.
I keep running.
Running away from all the death,
All the heartbreak,
All the cancer and all the disease.
Trying to get farther from all that,
Closer to happiness.
I keep running.
Running away from all the hurt,
All the pain,
All the pessimism and all the suffering.
I keep running.
Running away from all the death,
All the heartbreak,
All the cancer and all the disease.
Trying to get farther from all that,
Closer to happiness.
Passing on my knowledge
as a realist is amazing.
Many don't know what really goes
on out there,
In this world we live in.
But once,
just once,
Can I please stay
Closer to happiness?
I keep running.
Running away from all the hurt,
All the pain,
All the pessimism and all the suffering.
I keep running.
Running away from all the death,
All the heartbreak,
All the cancer and all the disease.
Trying to get farther from all that,
Closer to happiness.
poem by Raven Lightner
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You Call It Jogging
By: john loudermilk
You call it jogging i call it running around
You say you're losing weight but you ain't lost a pound
While you're out jogging with your other friends
I'm home feeding the kids again
You call it joggin' i call it running around
You call it joggin' i call it running around
It's the best release you say you've ever found
Your friends all smile and agree yeah you were running around on me
You call it joggin' i call it running around
Somebody said they saw you down at the corner getting out of some stranger's car
You come home after running for hours ain't even breathing hard
Hmmm
You call it joggin' i call it running around
The soles of your running shoes they ain't wearing down
While you're out running up and down the streets
I'm at home trying to get the kids to sleep
Shhh
You call it joggin' i call it running around
(let's take a lap or two)
You been out since 5pm
It's now 30 minutes past 10
You blow in all out of breath
Honey you been drinking gin again?
You call it joggin' i call it running around
Draggin that silly old towel all over town
You come home grinning with your hair all wet
Smelling like shampoo instead of sweat
Mmm mmm mmm
You call it joggin' i call it running around
Oh yeah
You all it joggin' i call it running around
Yeah
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Running On Empty
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields
In sixty-five I was seventeen and running up one-o-one
I dont know where Im running now, Im just running on
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But Im running behind
Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive
Trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive
In sixty-nine I was twenty-one and I called the road my own
I dont know when that road turned onto the road Im on
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But Im running behind
Everyone I know, everywhere I go
People need some reason to believe
I dont know about anyone but me
If it takes all night, thatll be all right
If I can get you to smile before I leave
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I dont know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But Im running behind
Honey you really tempt me
You know the way you look so kind
Id love to stick around but Im running behind
You know I dont even know what Im hoping to find
Running into the sun but Im running behind
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Free Man
I sold my house, I sold my car
I took a job at millys bar
I met a man who was running from the government
Ah he wants to be a free man yeah
Ah he wants to be a free man yeah
He took me out to his campsite
I met his friends
They seemed alright
Until I noticed everybody seemed real upright
They just wanna be a free man now
They just wanna be a free man now
They just wanna be a free man now
Pardon me man
Oh but whos your mother
Oh and didnt she say
You should love one another
He showed me how to load a piece
To shoot it straight between the teeth
And the next thing I know I think Ive fallen in love
And Im living with a free man now
Now Im cooking for the free man now
He took me out in his old truck
He told me anyone who aint white sucks
Thats when I realized Id made a big mistake
Oh Im running from the free man now
Oh Im running from the free man now
Oh Im running from the free man now
Oh but pardon me man
Oh whos your mother
And didnt she teach you
She should love one another
Late one night I snuck away
To use the phone so I could say
Id appreciate a little bit of government
Cause Im married to a free man now
Oh Im married to a free man now
Yeah Im married to a free man now
Well Im married to a free man now
Yeah Im married to a free man now
Oh Im married to a free man now
I think Im running from a free man,
Running from a free man,
Running from a free man now
Oh Im running from a free man now
Oh Im running from a free man now
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Initiate 2008
Reveille sounds a trumpet call
Rise from your beds reluctantly
This wake up call applies to all.
Strident with authority.
We do things militarily.
You will now wash and shave your face
You signed on voluntarily
and now you have to earn your place.
A raw recruit’s of little use
still tainted by civilian ways
A subject for stripeys abuse.
Of sympathy there’s little trace,
For drill instructors have no hearts.
Their job to turn boys into men
Reveille sounds and the day starts,
Your protests must remain unspoken.
You’ll be harassed from morn til night.
Your only duty to obey.
Until you learn to get it right
and do things in the army way.
If you survive and make the grade.
One of the few the very few
to reach the passing out parade.
Your parents will be proud of you
Though it was tough you had enough
pride in yourself to stick it out.
Showed you were made of sterner stuff
than those who failed without a doubt.
You proved yourself to be a man
So wear your uniform with pride,
you earned the right. You know you can
succeed although you were sorely tried.
You did what you set out to do
achieved the goal you had in mind
You toughed it out and saw it through.
Now you can leave boot camp behind
In coming years you will recall.
When you must face the enemy
and see your fellow soldiers fall.
Your boot camp days nostalgically.
25-Aug-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Find
Yon sound's neither sheep-bell nor bark,
They're running-they're running, Go hark!
The sport may be lost by a moment's delay;
So whip up the puppies and scurry away.
Dash down through the cover by dingle and dell,
There's a gate at the bottom-I know it full well;
And they're running-they're running,
Go hark!
They're running-they're running, Go hark!
One fence and we're out of the park;
Sit down in your saddles and race at the brook,
Then smash at the bullfinch; no time for a look;
Leave cravens and skirters to dangle behind;
He's away for the moors in the teeth of the wind,
And they're running-they're running,
Go hark!
They're running-they're running, Go hark!
Let them run on and run till it's dark!
Well with them we are, and well with them we'll be,
While there's wind in our horses and daylight to see:
Then shog along homeward, chat over the fight,
And hear in our dreams the sweet music all night
Of-They're running-they're running,
Go hark!
Eversley, 1856.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Let the scoundrels return
Like a lightning bolt
coming out of a blue sky
there are bombs falling
in a field where maze
stand green and ripe in neat rows
and craters are left and the field is on fire.
A few more bombs fall exploding
between cattle grazing in the field
and some are blasted to pieces
and the cows in terror forget about their milk.
The farmer is woken from his afternoon nap
and grabs his hunting rifle.
“We hit the wrong target”
the flight leader confirms
and the farmer waits with a gun in hand
on the planes to return and says:
“let the scoundress return.”
poem by Gert Strydom
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Heading South
Orbison/dees
I want to talk to folks back home again, to walk along a lonely country lane
To spend some time with that woman of mine, heading south, heading south
Things look bright and I feel alright yeah Im heading south
Heading south to see the sun go down on camp fire light,to join the singing at night
Heading south to cotton rows and honeysuckle bloom
Under the cumberland moon heading south, heading south
Give me room to travel on my way to a place where dreams all fade away
Where the river flows and tobacco grows heading south heading south
Cause the sun is hot and people love a lot yeah Im heading south
Heading south to see the sun go down on camp fire light, to join the singing at night
Heading south to cotton rows and honeysuckle bloom under the cumberland moon
Heading south, heading south
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ease On Down The Road #1
(charlie smalls)
Ease on down
Ease on down the road
Ease on down
Ease on down the road
Ease on down
Ease on down the road
Come on dorothy,
Dont you carry nothing that might be a load
Come on
There it is!
Come on and ease on down, ease on down the road
Come on and ease on down, ease on down the road
Dont you carry nothing that might be a load
Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road
Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road
Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road
Dont you carry nothing that might be a load
Come on, ease on down, ease on down, down the road
Pick your left foot up
When your right foots down
Come on legs keep movin
Dont you lose no ground
You just keep on keepin
On the road that you choose
Dont you give up walkin
cause you gave up shoes, no
Ease on down, ease on down the road
Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road
Dont you carry nothing that might be a load
Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road
cause there maybe times
When you think you lost your mind
And the steps youre takin
Leave you three, four steps behind
But the road youre walking
Might be long sometimes
You just keep on steppin
And youll be just fine, yeah
Ease on down, ease on down the road
Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road
Dont you carry nothing that might be a load
Come on, ease on down, ease on down the
Oh, there maybe times
When you wish you wasnt born
And you wake one morning
Just to find that your courages gone
But just know that feeling
Only last a little while
You just stick with us
And well show you how to smile, yeah
Get em up, goin down, ease on down
Get em up, goin down, ease on down
Get em up, goin down, ease on down
Get em up, get em up, ease on down the road
Get em up, goin down, ease on down
Get em up, goin down, ease on down
Get em up, goin down, ease on down
Get em up, get em up, ease on down the road
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Call It Joggin
By: john loudermilk
You call it jogging I call it running around
You say youre losing weight but you aint lost a pound
While youre out jogging with your other friends
Im home feeding the kids again
You call it joggin I call it running around
You call it joggin I call it running around
Its the best release you say youve ever found
Your friends all smile and agree yeah you were running around on me
You call it joggin I call it running around
Somebody said they saw you down at the corner getting out of some strangers car
You come home after running for hours aint even breathing hard
Hmmm
You call it joggin I call it running around
The soles of your running shoes they aint wearing down
While youre out running up and down the streets
Im at home trying to get the kids to sleep
Shhh
You call it joggin I call it running around
(lets take a lap or two)
You been out since 5pm
Its now 30 minutes past 10
You blow in all out of breath
Honey you been drinking gin again?
You call it joggin I call it running around
Draggin that silly old towel all over town
You come home grinning with your hair all wet
Smelling like shampoo instead of sweat
Mmm mmm mmm
You call it joggin I call it running around
Oh yeah
You all it joggin I call it running around
Yeah
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ease On Down The Road
Come on and
Ease on down, ease on down the road
Come on, ease on down
Ease on down the road
Dont you carry nothing
That might be a load
Come on, ease on down
Ease on down the road
Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road
Come on, ease on down, ease on down the road
Dont you carry nothing
That might be a load
Come on, ease on down, ease on down, down the road
Pick your left foot up
When your right foots down
Come on legs keep movin
Dont you lose no ground
You just keep on keepin
On the road that you choose
Dont you give up walkin
cause you gave up shoes, no
Ease on down, ease on down the road
Come on, ease on down
Ease on down the road
Dont you carry nothing
That might be a load
Come on, ease on down
Ease on down the road
cause there maybe times
When you think you lost your mind
And the steps youre takin
Leave you three, four steps behind
But the road youre walking
Might be long sometimes
You just keep on steppin
And youll just be fine, yeah
Ease on down, ease on down the road
Come on, ease on down
Ease on down the road
Dont you carry nothing
That might be a load
Come on, ease on down
Ease on down the road
Well there maybe times
When you wish you wasnt born
And you wake one morning
Just to find your courages gone
But just know that feeling
Only last a little while
You stick with us
And well show you how to smile, yeah
Get em up, goin down, ease on down
Get em up, goin down, ease on down
Get em up, goin down, ease on down
Get em up, get em up ease on down
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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