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The Iron Wedding Rings

In these days of peace and money, free to all the Commonweal,
There are ancient dames in Buckland wearing wedding rings of steel;
Wedding rings of steel and iron, worn on wrinkled hands and old,
And the wearers would not give them, not for youth nor wealth untold.

In the days of black oppression, when the best abandoned hope,
And all Buckland crouched in terror of the prison and the rope,
Many fair young wives in Buckland prayed beside their lonely beds
For the absent ones who knew not where to lay their outlawed heads.

But a whisper went through Buckland, to the rebels only known,
That the man across the border had a chance to hold his own.
There were men that came in darkness, quiet, grim and travel-worn,
And, by twos, and threes, the young men stole away to join Kinghorn.

Slipping powder-horns and muskets from beneath the floors and thatch,
There were boys who kissed their mothers ere they softly dropped the latch;
There were hunters' wives in backwoods who sat strangely still and white
Till the dawn, because their men-folk went a-hunting in the night.

But the rebels needed money, and so, through the Buckland hills,
Came again, by night, the gloomy men of monosyllables;
And the ladies gave their jewels to be smuggled out and sold,
And the homely wives of Buckland gave their wedding rings of gold.

And a Buckland smith in secret, and in danger, in his shed
Made them rings of baser metals (from the best he had, to lead),
To be gilt and worn to market, or to meetings where they.prayed,
Lest the spies should get an inkling, and the husbands be betrayed.

Then a silence fell on Buckland; there was peace throughout the land,
And a loyalty that puzzled all the captains in command;
There was too much Law and Order for the men who weren't blind,
And the greatest of the king's men wasn't easy in his mind.

They were hunting rebels, certes, and the troops were understood
To be searching for a stronghold like a needle in a wood;
But whene'er the king was prayed for in the meeting-houses, then
It was strange with how much unction ancient sinners cried "Ah-men!"

Till at last, when all was quiet, through the gloomy Buckland hills
Once again there came those furtive men of monosyllables;
And their message was – "Take warning what the morrow may reveal,
Death and Freedom may be married with a wedding ring of steel."

In the morning, from the marshes, rose the night-mist, cold and damp,
From the shipping in the harbour and the sleeping royal camp;
From the lanes and from the by-streets and the high streets of the town,
And above the hills of Buckland, where the rebel guns looked down.

And the first one sent a message to the camp to fight or yield,
And the wintry sun looked redly on a bloody battlefield;
Till the man from 'cross the border marched through Buckland once again,
With a charter for the people and ten thousand fighting men.

There are ancient dames in Buckland with old secrets to reveal,
Wearing wedding rings of iron, wearing wedding rings of steel;
And their tears drop on the metal when their thoughts are far away
In the past where their young husbands died on Buckland field that day.

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Man Who Raised Charlestown

They were hanging men in Buckland who would not cheer King George –
The parson from his pulpit and the blacksmith from his forge;
They were hanging men and brothers, and the stoutest heart was down,
When a quiet man from Buckland rode at dusk to raise Charlestown.

Not a young man in his glory filled with patriotic fire,
Not an orator or soldier, or a known man in his shire;
He was just the Unexpected – one of Danger's Volunteers,
At a time for which he'd waited, all unheard of, many years.

And Charlestown met in council, the quiet man to hear –
The town was large and wealthy, but the folks were filled with fear,
The fear of death and plunder; and none to lead had they,
And Self fought Patriotism as will always be the way.

The man turned to the people, and he spoke in anger then.
And crooked his finger here and there to those he marked as men.
And many gathered round him to see what they could do –
For men know men in danger, as they know the cowards too.

He chose his men and captains, and sent them here and there,
The arms and ammunition were gathered in the square;
While peaceful folk were praying or croaking, every one,
He was working with his blacksmiths at the carriage of a gun.

While the Council sat on Sunday, and the church bells rang their peal,
The quiet man was mending a broken waggon wheel;
While they passed their resolutions on his doings (and the likes),
From a pile his men brought to him he was choosing poles for pikes.

(They were hanging men in Buckland who would not cheer King George –
They were making pikes in Charlestown at every blacksmith's forge:
While the Council sat in session and the same old song they sang,
They heard the horsemen gallop out, and the blacksmiths' hammers clang.)

And a thrill went through the city ere the drums began to roll,
And the coward found his courage, and the drunkard found his soul.
So a thrill went through the city that would go through all the land,
For the quiet man from Buckland held men's hearts in his right hand.

And he caught a Charlestown poet (there are many tell the tale),
And he took him by the collar when he'd filled him up with ale;
"Now, then, write a song for Charlestown that shall lift her on her way,
For she's marching out to Buckland and to Death at break o' day."

And he set the silenced women tearing sheet and shift and shirt
To make bandages and roll them for the men that would get hurt.
And he called out his musicians and he told them what to play:
"For I want my men excited when they march at break o' day."

And he set the women cooking – with a wood-and-water crew –
"For I want no empty stomachs for the work we have to do."
Then he said to his new soldiers: "Eat your fill while yet you may;
'Tis a heavy road to Buckland that we'll march at break o' day."

And a shout went through the city when the drums began to roll
(And the coward was a brave man and the beggar had a soul),
And the drunken Charlestown poet cared no more if he should hang,
For his song of "Charlestown's Coming" was the song the soldiers sang.

And they cursed the King of England, and they shouted in their glee,
And they swore to drive the British and their friends into the sea;
But when they'd quite finished swearing, said their leader "Let us pray,
For we march to Death and Freedom, and it's nearly dawn of day."

There were marching feet at daybreak, and close upon their heels
Came the scuffling tread of horses and the heavy crunch of wheels;
So they took the road to Buckland, with their scout out to take heed,
And a quiet man of fifty on a grey horse in the lead.

There was silence in the city, there was silence as of night –
Women in the ghostly daylight, kneeling, praying, deathly white,
As their mothers knelt before them, as their daughters knelt since then,
And as ours shall, in the future, kneel and pray for fighting men.

For their men had gone to battle, as our sons and grandsons too
Must go out, for Life and Freedom, as all nations have to do.
And the Charlestown women waited for the sounds that came too soon –
Though they listened, almost breathless, till the early afternoon.

Then they heard the tones of danger for their husbands, sweethearts, sons,
And they stopped their ears in terror, crying, "Oh, my God! The guns!"
Then they strained their ears to listen through the church-bells' startled chime –
Far along the road to Buckland, Charlestown's guns were marking time.

"They advance!" "They halt!" "Retreating!" "They come back!" The guns are done!"
But the calmer spirits, listening, said: "Our guns are going on."
And the friend and foe in Buckland felt two different kinds of thrills
When they heard the Charlestown cannon talking on the Buckland hills.

And the quiet man of Buckland sent a message in that day,
And he gave the British soldiers just two hours to march away.
And they hang men there no longer, there is peace on land and wave;
On the sunny hills of Buckland there is many a quiet grave.

There is peace upon the land, and there is friendship on the waves –
On the sunny hills of Buckland there are rows of quiet graves.
And an ancient man in Buckland may be seen in sunny hours,
Pottering round about his garden, and his kitchen stuff and flowers.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Shadows are my sun

Ive fallen in a hole
so deep, dark and cold
No one is there
no one to hold

My eyes are bloodstained
tears and they fall to my
lips

My plams are scratched with
blood, it trickles to my
fingertips

My blood is cold and my veins
are ice and my hair is dark
dark like night

I sit in a dark corner
shadows are my sun
I fare myself,
what have i done

I pick up a mirror
but fail to look
I will only see an unknown
place so i put down,
myself i cannot face.

poem by Nicole Buckland
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Holy book of lies

He writes in his dark life
shadowed and on the run
crimes so unforgivable
worthless to anyone

He sobs in his sorrow
and stained mind

He then denise to himself that hes okay
then he covers his eyes
closes the holy book of lies
and ends his life with
sorrow

poem by Nicole Buckland
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Angel of death, please take me now

I just want to forget what
happend to me, so recently
I just want my body to be
free, angel of death, take
my soul from me.

I dont want this pain,
so Im gonna end it in vain

let the angel of death make
my body cold
write my soul on paper,
and let it be sold.

I dont want to die old,
I want to go now,
please angel of death take me
now, somehow, let my body
be free.

Please, angel of death, take me.

poem by Nicole Buckland
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Romace in the moonlight

In the city where the colours run dry
Or in the country where the colour green is applied
In the city where there are polluting cars
Or in the country where you can see the stars
In the city there are gangs, all full of violence
Or in the country where there is only silence
In the city where the air, its so thick
Or in the country where you dont feel sick
In the city where you seal the deal
Or in the country where it is a place to heal
In the city every corner is a fight
But in the city the romance is in the moonlight

poem by Nicole Buckland
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Us girls

Girls are so beautiful
inside and out
love is big
hair untouched
lips so soft with our gloss

We just want fun
continuous sun
lots of love and friends
good ones, that are
there till the end

A helping hand they will lend
love always they will send
that is a true friend

us girls are so bubbly
so fine and divine
but still boys are the ones
who try the pick up lines

cuz were so gorgeous
no one can recist
come on girls agree
with this

no boy can never handle this
(us) , us beautiful girls

cuz were all so beautiful
inside and out
love is big
hair untouched
lips so soft with our gloss

poem by Nicole Buckland
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Saturn’s Rings

I took Eileen
For a walk
On Saturn's rings.
We walked
On the ice,
Warm stones,
And solid cosmic
Dust.
We watched the sun
Burning
Faraway;
It is beautiful
To watch
The sun
From Saturn's
Rings
And Eileen
Is my only credible witness
And companion.
As we walked,
Eileen
Talked about
Her perfect
Kiss,
Wedding ring,
Wedding dress,
Wedding kiss,
She said:
' Yeah!
I like to be here,
To dance here,
To be kissed here,
At the witness of the far burning
Sun,
The beauty of Saturn,
Its rings,
And the one who
Took me
To walk
On Saturn's rings.

poem by Atef Ayadi
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The Book Of Love

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
But I
I love it when you read to me
And you
You can read me anything
The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
But I
I love it when you sing to me
And you
You can sing me anything
The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know
But I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
You ought to give me wedding rings

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That's The Beauty Of It All

Why is it,
Neither of you wear wedding rings...
To express your undying love for one another?
Do you not want this known?
I know you are together.
But so many people do not.

'Not at all. We do not want that known.
We have decided years ago,
To keep our happiness to ourselves.
If people knew what we shared,
By the wearing of wedding rings...
They would be the first ones,
To try to break us up.'

But...
How would people know,
You are in a commited relationship?
And you are as devoted and happy as you say?
That is not fait to those seeking mates.
Or available companions.

'That's the beauty of it all that has been noticed.
If people think we are not commited...
To a relationship,
They spend no time trying to break it up.
People only go after what they suspect they can't have.
And they leave us alone believing we are not wanted,
By anyone.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hind Horn

In Scotland there was a babie born,
Lill lal, etc.
And his name it was called young Hind Horn.
With a fal lal, etc.

He sent a letter to our king
That he was in love with his daughter Jean.

He's gien to her a silver wand,
With seven living lavrocks sitting thereon.

She's gien to him a diamond ring,
With seven bright diamonds set therein.

"When this ring grows pale and wan,
You may know by it my love is gane."

One day as he looked his ring upon,
He saw the diamonds pale and wan.

He left the sea and came to land,
And the first that he met was an old beggar man.

"What news, what news?" said young Hind Horn;
"No news, no news," said the old beggar man.

"No news," said the beggar, "no news at a',
But there is a wedding in the king's ha.

"But there is a wedding in the king's ha,
That has halden these forty days and twa."

"Will ye lend me your begging coat?
And I'll lend you my scarlet cloak.

"Will you lend me your beggar's rung?
And I'll gie you my steed to ride upon.

"Will you lend me your wig o hair,
To cover mine, because it is fair?"

The auld beggar man was bound for the mill,
But young Hind Horn for the king's hall.

The auld beggar man was bound for to ride,
But young Hind Horn was bound for the bride.

When he came to the king's gate,
He sought a drink for Hind Horn's sake.

The bride came down with a glass of wine,
When he drank out the glass, and dropt in the ring.

"O got ye this by sea or land?
Or got ye it off a dead man's hand?"

"I got not it by sea, I got it by land,
And I got it, madam, out of your own hand."

"O I'll cast off my gowns of brown,
And beg wi you frae town to town.

"O I'll cast off my gowns of red,
And I'll beg wi you to win my bread."

"Ye needna cast off your gowns of brown,
For I'll make you lady o many a town.

"Ye needna cast off your gowns of red,
It's only a sham, the begging o my bread."

The bridegroom he had wedded the bride,
But young Hind Horn he took her to bed.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Results Ridiculous

("Humourists have amused themselves by translating famous sonnets into free verse. A result no less ridiculous would have been obtained if somebody had re-written a passage from 'Paradise Lost' as a rondeau." --George Soule in the New Republic)

"PARADISE LOST"

Sing, Heavenly Muse, in lines that flow
More smoothly than the wandering Po,
Of man's descending from the height
Of Heaven itself, the blue, the bright,
To Hell's unutterable throe.

Of sin original and the woe
That fell upon us here below
From man's pomonic primal bite--
Sing, Heavenly Muse!

Of summer sun, of winter snow, Of future days, of long ago,
Of morning and "the shades of night,"
Of woman, "my ever new delight,"
Go to it, Muse, and put us Joe--
Sing, Heavenly Muse!

* * * * *

"THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER"

THE wedding guest sat on a stone,
He could not chose but hear
The mariner. They were there alone.
The wedding guest sat on a stone.
"I'll read you something of my own,"
Declared that mariner.
The wedding guest sat on a stone--
He could not chose but hear.

poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Wearing White

Phones were ringing, tongues were wagging
Hot gossip was flying
All around town
She heard the talk, the lowdown was
The shameless color of
Her wedding gown
It's white
I mean really who's she trying to kid
Everybody knows the things she did
It just isn't right
Won't that be a sight
To see her wearing white
She was wild, a wayward child
To put it mildly
She made her life a mess
But she was young, the past is done
Now she's in love
And putting on a new dress
It's white
And it's nobody's business what she wears
Anyway the truth is she don't care
Baby it's her life
She'll do what she likes
And she likes wearing white
He's all nerves when he sees her
As far as he's concerned
She's an angel
In white
He just can't believe that she is his
What a crazy miracle this is
Who she was he don't mind
'Cause on their wedding night
She'll be wearing white
She'll be wearing white
She'll be wearing white

song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wedding Bands

Wedding Bands

I placed a ring on her left hand
A plain white gold wedding band
With all my love this ring is from me
I also wore a ring for people to see

Today the rings have become something more
They also tie us together for evermore
Mine is still on my left hand
From my neck hangs her wedding band

I feel her in my heart and in my life
I still think of her as my wife

poem by Michael Gelb
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Skull Ring

(feat. The Stooges)
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
The touch of a hand in the wasteland
you're walking asleep and dreaming cheap
A bird's wing don't beat for free
You're freezing cold and your family
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
Fingers on fire to do what's bad
Ring on the finger is a skull man
Strong as a bar of steel
Weakness is that you can't feel
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
My life is dirtied, my mind is loaded
I'm feeling and breathing and fighting
To see
People get ready now
Baby come on give your heart to me
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things

song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Symbol of love

When you and your wife had your baby, he became the ultimate symbol of love that you two share.
He represents a love that will stand the test of time and that shines brighter than a flare.
Some people think that wedding rings are the symbol of love between a man and his wife.
But wedding rings are just pieces of metal and they can't touch the symbol of love that comes from this tiny life.

poem by Randy Johnson
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O Jenny Dear, I’ve Courted Lang

O Jenny dear, I've courted lang,
I've telt my tale and sung my sang,
And yet I fear I'm i' the wrang,
For ye'll na mak a wedding o't.
In winter when the frost and snaw
Wi' bitter blast around wad blaw,
I'd o'er the moor, nor mind it a',
In hopes ye'd mak a wedding o't.
And gin ye smil'd or kindly spak,
It smooth'd the road, and help'd me back;
I thought nae answer I wad tak,
For we wad mak a wedding o't.

Now, when I gae to kirk or fair,
The laddies scoff, the lassies jeer;--
``Is this poor Jock?--the good be here!
For sure he's made a wedding o't.
What is become of a' his fun?
Alak! his joyfu' days are done;
Or else he's pawn'd his dancing shoon,
Sin he has made a wedding o't.
Sure marriage is a dreadfu' thing!
Ye mind 'tis only i' the spring
That little birdies chirp and sing,
Or, till they've made a wedding o't.''

Then up spak honest Johnny Bell:
``My bairns, I ance was young mysel;
I've mony a blithsome tale to tell
Sin first I made a wedding o't;
My Tibby was a winsome bride,--
Nay, yet she is her auld man's pride!
Nae faut i' her I ever spyed,
Sin first we made a wedding o't:
Ilk day we live we fonder grow,
Though buckl'd fifty years ago;
Here's comfort for ye, young ones a',
Then haste ye, mak a wedding o't.

poem by Susanna Blamire
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Wedding Day

Today you'll pick up all the pieces
And get on with your life
All I can hope is that you're happy
'Cause today you're someone elses wife
Right now I wish that I could turn back
And beg the hands of time
For the days that I remember (oh baby)
The days when you were mine
And if I never said I love you
It's cause the words got in the way

Now all I do is say I'm sorry
Sorry I missed your wedding day

I'll bet you looked good at the altar
I'll bet he knew the words to say
And the angels smiled when you walked down the aisle
You both knelt down to pray
As he put his ring on your finger
I know there's just one thing left to say

All I can do is say I'm sorry
Sorry I missed your wedding day

So Sorry

(solo)

You won't be walking through the door anymore
You won't be sleeping in this bed anymore
Tho' I swear I see your shadow waltz accross my floor
And I don't know if I can take it
Should we ever meet again
Cause I know that we'll be strangers
When he introduces friends

I tried to make it to the church now baby
A broken heart got in the way

All I can do is tell you I'm sorry
Sorry I missed your wedding day

I really hope you're happy baby
Tho' it's killing me to say
All I can do is say I'm sorry
Sorry I missed you're wedding day
Sorry I missed you're wedding
I'm sorry I missed you're wedding day
I'm sorry I missed you're wedding day
I'm sorry I missed you're wedding day

song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We'll Go Down Ourselves

"What shall we do, as years go by,
And Peace remains a stranger --
With Richmond yet in rebel hands,
And Washington in danger?
What shall we do for leaders, when
Old Age this race is cropping?"
I asked whom I met --
And didn't it set them hopping!

"What shall we do? What shall we do?
Why, lay them on the shelves,
And we'll go down ourselves,
And teach the rebels something new,
And teach the rebels something new."

"What shall we do when armies march
To storm the rebel quarters --
If as of yore, their marches end
Beside Potomac's waters?
May not we call our soldiers home?
May not we think of stopping?"
I strove to frame the question fair --
But didn't it set them hopping!

"What shall we do when all the men
For battle have enlisted --
And yet the rebels hold their ground,
And law is yet resisted?"
Instead of doing as I should --
The theme politely dropping,
I ventured yet one question more --
Oh didn't it get them hopping!

poem by Henry Clay Work
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The Patriots Dream

The songs of the wars are as old as the hills
They cling like the rust on the cold steel that kills
They tell of the boys who went down to the tracks
In a patriotic manner with the cold steel on their backs
The patriots dream is as old as the sky
It lives in the lust of a cold callous lie
Lets drink to the men who got caught by the chill
Of the patriotic fever and the cold steel that kills
The train pulled away on that glorious night
The drummer got drunk and the bugler got tight
While the boys in the back sang a song of good cheer
While riding off to glory in the spring of their years
The patriots dream still lives on today
It makes mothers weep and it makes lovers pray
Lets drink to the men who got caught by the chill
Of the patriotic fever and the cold steel that kills
Well there was a sad, sad lady
Weeping all night long
She received a sad, sad message
From a voice on the telephone
Her children were all sleeping
As she waited out the dawn
How could she tell those children
That their father was shot down
So she took them to her side that day
And she told them one by one
Your father was a good man ten thousand miles from home
He tried to do his duty and it took him straight to hell
He might be in some prison, I hope hes treated well
Well there was a young girl watching in the early afternoon
When she heard the name of someone who said hed be home soon
And she wondered how they got him, but the papers did not tell
There would be no sweet reunion, there would be no wedding bells
So she took herself into her room and she turned the bed sheets down
And she cried into the silken folds of her new wedding gown
He tried to do his duty and it took him straight to hell
He might be in some prison, I hope hes treated well
Well there was an old man sitting in his mansion on the hill
And he thought of his good fortune and the time hed yet o kill
Well he called to his wife one day, come sit with me awhile
Then turning toward the sunset, he smiled a wicked smile
Well Id like to say Im sorry for the sinful deeds Ive done
But let me first remind you, Im a patriotic son
They tried to do their duty and it took em straight to hell
They might be in some prison, I hope theyre treated well
The songs of the wars are as old as the hills
They cling like the rust on the cold steel that kills
They tell of the boys who went down to the tracks
In a patriotic manner with the cold steel on their backs
The train pulled away on that glorious night
The drummer got drunk and the bugler got tight
While the boys in the back sang a song of good cheer
While riding off to glory in the spring of their years
The patriots dream still lives on today
It makes mothers weep and it makes lovers pray
Lets drink to the men who got caught by the chill
Of the patriotic fever and the cold steel that kills

song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Hills Of Shiloh

Have you seen Amanda Blaine in the hills of Shiloh
Wandering through the morning rain through the hills of Shiloh
Have you seen her at her door, listening for the cannon's roar
And a man who went to war from the hills of Shiloh

Have you heard her mournful cries in the hills of Shiloh
Have you seen her haunted eyes in the hills of Shiloh
Have you seen her running down searching through the sleeping
town
In her yellowed wedding gown in the hills of Shiloh

Have you seen her standing there in the hills of Shiloh
Wind a blowing through her hair in the hills of Shiloh
Listening for the sound of guns listening for the rolling drums
And a man who never comes to the hills of Shiloh

Have you heard Amanda sing in the hills of Shiloh
Whispering to her wedding ring in the hills of Shiloh
Hear her humming soft and low, poor Amanda doesn't know
'Twas ended forty years ago in the hills of Shiloh

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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