Galt and Dunlop
Galt was manager of the Canada Companies Lands, and a
Scottish Novelist, Dunlop was once a leading British
journalist, but finally settled near Goderich.
Galt and Doctor Dunlop, witty,
Located and did plan city
Of Guelph, and cut the first tree down,
The stump was centre of the town,
From thence streets radiate like fan,
And Stratford and Goderich on same plan,
This last town stands on bluff so grand,
'Neath which doth flow the clear Maitland.
You may of glorious view partake,
Gazing on Huron's mighty Lake.
poem by James McIntyre
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Lineson Thorold
McCready the great Irish Tragedian said, the view from Thorold
was the finest in America.
Thorold is famous for its mills,
And the grand view from off its hills-
A view so charming and extended,
Natures beauties sweetly blended.
Poetic thoughts it doth awake
To view Ontario's broad Lake,
And husbandmen have their reward in
Fruits of this provincial garden.
For from the hill you see below
Gardens, where choice fruits do grow,
The landscape all within your reach
Doth both produce the grape and peach.
McCready said, in the New World
The finest view was from Thorold.
You see St. Catharine's charming town
And steamers sailing up and down.
And you can see, on a clear day,
All along Toronto Bay;
And you clearly see the haze
Where Niagara doth amaze.
And glance where Grimsby's gardens yield,
Or view Beamsvill's fruitful field ;
Then this thought yon can advance,
This is Canada's sunny France.
You see Niagara's ancient town *
Though,it has lost its old renown ;
And you have a splendid view
Of boats on old canal and new.
* Niagara, once the capital and business centre of Upper Canada, and also
an important fortress. It is located at the mouth of the Niagara river.
poem by James McIntyre
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Everything Is Going To Be Like My Plan
Duty must be fulfilled
But everything is going to be like my plan
People could lie to me
But everything is going to be like my plan
Pray may be often
But everything is going to be like my plan
Time flies uncontrolled
But everything is going to be like my plan
Destiny may not be cooperated
But everything is going to be like my plan
Other plan may ruin mine
But everything is going to be like my plan
Body is reaching the limit
But everything is going to be like my plan
The will should be strengthened
But everything is going to be like my plan
The anxiety may be doubled
But everything is going to be like my plan
Critics never disappear
But everything is going to be like my plan
Life is unfair
But everything is going to be like my plan
The way seems lost
But everything is going to be like my plan
Regret is gnawing my sense
But everything is going to be like my plan
The goal still far away
But everything is going to be like my plan
The future end may unseen
But everything is going to be like my plan
Source may not be enough
But everything is going to be like my plan
Things always change
But everything is going to be like my plan
Problem keeps occurring
But everything is going to be like my plan
World would laugh
But everything is going to be like my plan
Failure keeps happening
But everything is going to be like my plan
Memories may not help
But everything is going to be like my plan
Luck may test me
But everything is going to be like my plan
Love may not support me
But everything is going to be like my plan
Weather wants to rebel
But everything is going to be like my plan
The form may be different
But everything is going to be like my plan
Hope could fool me
But everything is going to be like my plan
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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My plan is to have a theatre in some small town or something and I'll be manager. Ill be the crazy old movie guy.
quote by Quentin Tarantino
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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English Names on Canadian Thames
England hath given us the names
To adorn Canadian Thames,
And charms to them she hath lent,
In Oxford, Middlesex and Kent.
She Essex kisseth in her mouth,
And Scottish names, one north, one south ;
And London now she justly claims
She's capital of vale of Thames,
And her strong castellated tower .
Doth on the river frowning lower ;
And Chatham is the river's port,
There slaves for freedom did resort,
And they did industrious toil
And now many own the soil.
Stratford, now, shall be our theme,
On Avon, tributary stream,
And its clear waters it doth launch
Into the Thames, northern branch.
Near that substantial stone town,
St. Mary's, with mills of renown.
Some imagine the Thames is too insignificant a stream
to be sung in verse.' Distance lends enchantment to
the view. and they fancy the old Scottish rivers are
more worthy of song ; but many of them are polluted of
late years with vile odors from factories ; and, as the
county of Oxford is agreeably diversified with hills
and dales, the clear, sparkling stream, flowing over a
pebbly bottom, is indeed 'a thing of beauty and a joy forever.'
poem by James McIntyre
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A Foggy Day
I was a stranger in the city
Out of town were the people I knew
I had that feeling of self-pity
What to do, what to do, what to do
The outlook was decidedly blue
But as I walked through the foggy streets alone
It turned out to be the luckiest day I've known
A foggy day, in London Town
Had me low, had me down
I viewed the morning, with much alarm
British museum, had lost its charm
How long I wondered,
Could this thing last
But the age of miracles, hadn't past
For suddenly, I saw you there
And through foggy London Town,
The sun was shining everywhere
For suddenly, I saw you there
And through foggy London Town,
The sun was shining everywhere
Everywhere
Everywhere
Everywhere
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald, music by George Gershwin, lyrics by Ira Gershwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Officer Down
Good-bye to you Officer Rodney Holder...
Good-bye to one of our finest-most brave-
Good-bye to all of the protection you afforded us...
Your service shall not pass away with the grave;
Fifty years young you only were-
All of this town and other Texas cities came for your view...
City citizens lined the streets of your funeral procession...
Good-bye Rodney-our town-will surely miss you;
No more to see your smiling face...
No more to feel quite as secure...
No more will you Grace our city streets...
You were the very best-that is for sure;
May 3,2010
On the Loss and Funeral Of Rodney Holder-age 50
Aman of honor for 28 years.
Leaves behind a wife, a daughter and young son.
And this whole town.
poem by Theodora Onken
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It was nothing, just the normal thing to do at the time.
quote by Joey Dunlop
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I didn't have a clue where I was going on my first lap of practice.
quote by Joey Dunlop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've always worked on the machines, especially the 125 and 250 which are really difficult to set up.
quote by Joey Dunlop
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When You're A Man On Your Own
(Carl Perkins)
They don't have words
To say how blue I'm feelin'
This ol' world can lift you up then lay ya' down
It's a mighty lonesome feelin'
When your lover's gone
This ol' town go's colder
When you're a man on your own
I keep walkin' the streets of this ol' city
Window shoppin' but I can't see a thing
Just a walkin' and a humin'
This lonesome song
This ol' town grow's colder
When you're a man on your own
O' look at them their smilein'
They don't know I'm here
They couldn't care less
If i just up and disappeared
O' there must be a reason
Why my nights are so long
It's a mighty lonesome feelin'
When you're a man on your own
Yeah it's a mighty lonesome feelin'
When you're a man on your own
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lines on Stratford
Our Canadian County Perth
Commemorates great bard of earth ;
Stratford and Avon both are here,
And they enshrine the name Shakespeare.
For here in Stratford every ward
Is named from drama of great bard.
Here you may roam o'er Romeo
Or glance on Juliet bestow.
The valley of the Thames we presume includes Stratford
on the north and Woodstock and Ingersoll on the south.
The Avon, on whose banks Stratford is located, joins the
Thames near St.Mary's. The middle branch flows through
Embro and Thamesford, the south and middle branches
unite and flow through Dorchester and Westminster and
blend with the northern branch at London, where it deviates
to Elgin in the south.
poem by James McIntyre
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Paperback Town
Writers: leo sayer & alan tarney
Imagine the space as it used to be
There were fields of corn
There were big oak trees
But a woman in a suit bulldozed it clear
Built a concrete world full of crocodile tears
And we dont understand
That we all have a part in a government plan
Its a hard shot
To be the people in the place that the world forgot
In a paperback town
But I know I know I know we can be free
Though no guardian angel up above
Has kept an eye on me
And at night I listen to the sirens moan
For a broken heart from a broken home
So many people are so alone
In a paperback town
And one day soon Im gonna write it all down
I live my life in a paperback town
Oooh--in a paperback town
Oooh--in a paperback town
Im gonna take my troubles
Gonna pack my bags
Gonna fly my kite for a different flag
Ill sing my song
From the top of the hill
When the night is cold
And the wind is chill
cos I dont understand
Why I should be part of another mans plan
Its a hard shot
For the people in the place
That the world forgot
In a paperback town
Live and die here
In a paperback town
Wonder why here
In a paperback town
But I know I know I know we can be free |
Though no guardian angel up above
Has kept an eye on me
And at night I listen to the rain fall down
And I shake with the fear that we all will drown
But my words dont even make a sound
In a paperback town
And one day soon Im gonna write it all down
I live my life in a paperback town
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Essence of Edinburgh
Evening time, in my town, is often deadly quiet,
But, up here in Edinburgh, there's a sensual riot!
From a night club doorway, purple-pink light spills out;
Along the streets, crowds of tourists still amble about.
There is an endless stream of cars and buses;
In my town, the pace is slow, but here, it rushes.
In the city, there are exciting sights and sounds;
It is so much livelier than my own little town.
In my town, after five, most people have gone home,
But, around the streets of Edinburgh, folk still roam.
Emergency vehicles rush past with klaxons blazing;
The atmosphere here, in the city, is just so amazing.
In my town, it is often almost dead after five,
But the city of Edinburgh is still very much alive.
Of action, in my own town, there's a really big lack;
I don't want to leave here: I don't want to go back.
Edinburgh, at Festival time, is always such a blast;
Against my own town, it paints a very sharp contrast.
Street entertainers attract crowds along the Royal Mile;
Attracting many tourists, they're sure to raise a smile.
At the Military Tattoo, I saw many massed bands;
I saw performers who hailed from foreign lands.
For me, that really was such a memorable night;
It filled all my senses with such excited delight.
I really wish that I could stay here forever and ever;
Inside, my soul feels light, and it floats like a feather.
I don't want to go back home: I don't want to leave.
For this amazing city, my heart will soon grieve.
Here, in Edinburgh, I have had such a great time;
For this wonderful city, I know my heart will pine.
Come tomorrow morning, when I board my train,
The essence of Edinburgh, in my heart, will remain.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The God Song
Catch the beat out-o-on the street (oh no-no!)
Another visionary slick solution
Strap on a gun, start a revolution
Another brilliant master plan
In from the street, mouth sat in a seat (no-no!)
He point the finger at the whole world out there
Beat the drum - for mr accusation
The hypocritical superman
Sing hallelujah o-e-o
Sing hallelujah yea-yea-yea-yea
The man got a plan, got a plan, got a plan yea
He call love
The man got a plan, got a plan, got a plan yea
He call l-o-v-e
Catch the beat out-o-on the street (oh no-no!)
I hear political resolutions
Cast the vote - launch another scape goat
Into the bosom of the promised land
Stand and fight, kill for what is right (oh no-no!)
Justify another execution
Try me on build another big one
And we can celebrate the final plan
Sing hallelujah o-e-o
Sing hallelujah yea-yea-yea-yea
The man got a plan, got a plan, got a plan yea
He call love
The man got a plan, got a plan, got a plan yea
He call l-o-v-e
Sing hallelujah o-e-o
Sing hallelujah yea-yea-yea-yea
The man got a plan, got a plan, got a plan yea
He call love
The man got a plan, got a plan yea
He call l-o-v-e
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thrash
Catch the beat out-o-on the street (Oh no-no!)
Another visionary slick solution
Strap on a gun, start a revolution
Another brilliant master plan
In from the street, mouth sat in a seat (No-no!)
He point the finger at the whole world out there
Beat the drum - for Mr Accusation
The hypocritical superman
Sing hallelujah o-e-o
Sing hallelujah yea-yea-yea-yea
The man got a plan, got a plan, got a plan yea
He call love
The man got a plan, got a plan, got a plan yea
He call L-O-V-E
Catch the beat out-o-on the street (Oh no-no!)
I hear political resolutions
Cast the vote - launch another scape goat
Into the bosom of the promised land
Stand and fight, kill for what is right (Oh no-no!)
Justify another execution
Try me on build another big one
And we can celebrate the final plan
Sing hallelujah o-e-o
Sing hallelujah yea-yea-yea-yea
The man got a plan, got a plan, got a plan yea
He call love
The man got a plan, got a plan, got a plan yea
He call L-O-V-E
Sing hallelujah o-e-o
Sing hallelujah yea-yea-yea-yea
The man got a plan, got a plan, got a plan yea
He call love
The man got a plan, got a plan yea
He call L-O-V-E
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prophecy of a Ten Ton Cheese
In presenting this delicate, dainty morsel to the imagination of the people, I believed that it could be realized. I viewed the machine that turned and raised the mamoth cheese, and saw the powerful machine invented by James Ireland at the West Oxford companies factory to turn the great and fine cheese he was making there. This company with but little assistance could produce a ten ton cheese.
Who hath prophetic vision sees
In future times a ten ton cheese,
Several companies could join
To furnish curd for great combine
More honor far than making gun
Of mighty size and many a ton.
Machine it could be made with ease
That could turn this monster cheese,
The greatest honour to our land
Would be this orb of finest brand,
Three hundred curd they would need squeeze
For to make this mammoth cheese.
So British lands could confederate
Three hundred provinces in one state,
When all in harmony agrees
To be pressed in one like this cheese,
Then one skillful hand could acquire
Power to move British empire.
But various curds must be combined
And each factory their curd must grind,
To blend harmonious in one
This great cheese of mighty span,
And uniform in quality
A glorious reality.
But it will need a powerful press
This cheese queen to caress,
And a large extent of charms
Hoop will encircle in its arms,
And we do not now despair,
But we shall see it at world's fair.
And view the people all agog, so
Excited o'er it in Chicago,
To seek fresh conquests queen of cheese
She may sail across the seas,
Where she would meet reception grand
From the warm hearts in old England.
poem by James McIntyre
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Lines on Embro and Zorra
O'er various counties of the north,
When cruel order did go forth
For to destroy many a home
So that the wild deer free might roam,
The men of Sutherland and Ross
The broad Atlantic they did cross.
Each seeking for a fertile farm,
These rolling lands for them had charm.
They ne'er desired again to roam,
Each happy in his woodland home ;
Where middle branch of Thames doth flow
They built the village of Embro,
And it the hill tops now doth crown
Like its grand namesake, Edina town.
And good flour mills you here do find,
And oats, also, they here do grind.
poem by James McIntyre
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Peace Frog
Theres blood in the streets, its up to my ankles
She came
Theres blood on the streets, its up to my knee
She came
Blood on the streets in the town of chicago
She came
Blood on the rise, its following me
Think about the break of day
She came and then she drove away
Sunlight in her hair
She came
Blood in the streets runs a river of sadness
She came
Blood in the streets its up to my thigh
She came
Yeah the river runs down the legs of the city
She came
The women are crying red rivers of weepin
She came into town and then she drove away
Sunlight in her hair
Indians scattered on dawns highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young childs fragile eggshell mind
Blood in the streets in the town of new haven
Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of venice
Blood in my love in the terrible summer
Bloody red sun of phantastic l.a.
Blood streams her brain as they chop off her fingers
Blood will be born in the birth of a nation
Blood is the rose of mysterious union
Theres blood in the streets, its up to my ankles
Blood in the streets, its up to my knee
Blood in the streets in the town of chicago
Blood on the rise, its following me
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Shines a Good Deed in a Naughty World
There was a man in our town, and he
was wondrous rich;
He gave away his millions to the colleges
and sich;
And people cried: "The hypocrite! He ought
to understand
The ones who really need him are the children
of this land."
When Andrew Croesus built a home for children
who were sick,
The people said they rather thought he did it
as a trick,
And writers said: "He thinks about the drooping
girls and boys,
But what about conditions with the men whom
he employs?"
There was a man in our town who said that he
would share
His profits with his laborers, for that was
only fair,
And people said: "Oh, isn't he the shrewd and
foxy gent?
It cost him next to nothing for that free
advertisement."
There was a man in our town who had the perfect
plan
To do away with poverty and other ills of man,
But he feared the public jeering, and the folks
who would defame him,
So he never told the plan he had, and I can hardly
blame him.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
There was a man in our town who had King Midas' touch;
He gave away his millions to the colleges and such;
And people cried: "The hypocrite! He ought to understand
The ones who really need him are the children of this land!"
When Andrew Croesus built a home for children who were sick,
The people said they rather thought he did it as a trick,
And writers said: "He thinks about the drooping girls and boys,
But what about conditions with the men whom he employs?"
There was a man in our town who said that he would share
His profits with his laborers, for that was only fair,
And people said: "Oh, isn't he the shrewd and foxy gent?
It cost him next to nothing for that free advértisement!"
There was a man in our town who had the perfect plan
To do away with poverty and other ills of man,
But he feared the public jeering, and the folks who would defame him,
So he never told the plan he had, and I can hardly blame him.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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