The Old Home By The Mill
This is 'The old Home by the Mill'--far we still call it so,
Although the old mill, roof and sill, is all gone long ago.
The old home, though, and old folks, and the old spring, and a few
Old cat-tails, weeds and hartychokes, is left to welcome you!
Here, Marg'et, fetch the man a tin to drink out of' Our spring
Keeps kindo-sorto cavin' in, but don't 'taste' anything!
She's kindo agein', Marg'et is--'the old process,' like me,
All ham-stringed up with rheumatiz, and on in seventy-three.
Jes' me and Marg'et lives alone here--like in long ago;
The childern all put off and gone, and married, don't you know?
One's millin' way out West somewhere; two other miller-boys
In Minnyopolis they air; and one's in Illinoise.
The oldest gyrl--the first that went--married and died right here;
The next lives in Winn's Settlement--for purt' nigh thirty year!
And youngest one--was allus far the old home here--but no!--
Her man turns in and he packs her 'way off to Idyho!
I don't miss them like _Marg'et_ does--'cause I got _her_, you see;
And when she pines for them--that's 'cause _she's_ only jes' got
_me_!
I laugh, and joke her 'bout it all.--But talkin' sense, I'll say,
When she was tuk so bad last Fall, I laughed the t'other way!
I haint so favorble impressed 'bout dyin'; but ef I
Found I was only second-best when _us two_ come to die,
I'd 'dopt the 'new process' in full, ef _Marg'et_ died, you see,--
I'd jes' crawl in my grave and pull the green grass over me!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Right Here At Home
Right here at home, boys, in old Hoosierdom,
Where strangers allus joke us when they come,
And brag o' _their_ old States and interprize--
Yit _settle_ here; and 'fore they realize,
They're 'hoosier' as the rest of us, and live
Right here at home, boys, with their past fergive!
Right here at home, boys, is the place, I guess,
Fer me and you and plain old happiness:
We hear the World's lots grander--likely so,--
We'll take the World's word fer it and not go.--
We know _its_ ways aint _our_ ways--so we'll stay
Right here at home, boys, where we know the way.
Right here at home, boys, where a well-to-do
Man's plenty rich enough--and knows it, too,
And's got a' extry dollar, any time,
To boost a feller up 'at _wants_ to climb
And 's got the git-up in him to go in
And _git there_, like he purt'-nigh allus kin!
Right here at home, boys, is the place fer us!--
Where folks' heart's bigger 'n their money-pu's';
And where a _common_ feller's jes as good
As ary other in the neighborhood:
The World at large don't worry you and me
Right here at home, boys, where we ort to be!
Right here at home, boys--jes right where we air!--
Birds don't sing any sweeter anywhere:
Grass don't grow any greener'n she grows
Acrost the pastur' where the old path goes,--
All things in ear-shot's purty, er in sight,
Right here at home, boys, ef we _size_ 'em right.
Right here at home, boys, where the old home-place
Is sacerd to us as our mother's face,
Jes as we rickollect her, last she smiled
And kissed us--dyin' so and rickonciled,
Seein' us all at home here--none astray--
Right here at home, boys, where she sleeps to-day.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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A Dost O' Blues
I' got no patience with blues at all!
And I ust to kindo talk
Aginst 'em, and claim, 'tel along last Fall,
They was none in the fambly stock;
But a nephew of mine, from Eelinoy,
That visited us last year,
He kindo convinct me differunt
While he was a-stayin' here.
Frum ever'-which way that blues is from,
They'd tackle him ever' ways;
They'd come to him in the night, and come
On Sundays, and rainy days;
They'd tackle him in corn-plantin' time,
And in harvest, and airly Fall,
But a dose 't of blues in the wintertime,
He 'lowed, was the worst of all!
Said all diseases that ever he had--
The mumps, er the rheumatiz--
Er ever'-other-day-aigger's bad
Purt' nigh as anything is!--
Er a cyarbuncle, say, on the back of his neck,
Er a felon on his thumb,--
But you keep the blues away from him,
And all o' the rest could come!
And he'd moan, 'They's nary a leaf below!
Ner a spear o' grass in sight!
And the whole wood-pile's clean under snow!
And the days is dark as night!
You can't go out--ner you can't stay in--
Lay down--stand up--ner set!'
And a tetch o' regular tyfoid-blues
Would double him jest clean shet!
I writ his parents a postal-kyard,
He could stay 'tel Spring-time come;
And Aprile first, as I rickollect,
Was the day we shipped him home!
Most o' his relatives, sence then,
Has either give up, er quit,
Er jest died off; but I understand
He's the same old color yit!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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A New Year's Time At Willards's
1
The Hired Man Talks
There's old man Willards; an' his wife;
An' Marg'et-- S'repty's sister--; an'
There's me-- an' I'm the hired man;
An' Tomps McClure, you better yer life!
Well now, old Willards hain't so bad,
Considerin' the chance he's had.
Of course, he's rich, an' sleeps an' eats
Whenever he's a mind to: Takes
An' leans back in the Amen-seats
An' thanks the Lord fer all he makes--.
That's purty much all folks has got
Ag'inst the old man, like as not!
But there's his woman-- jes the turn
Of them-air two wild girls o' hern--
Marg'et an' S'repty-- allus in
Fer any cuttin'-up concern--
Church festibals, and foolishin'
Round Christmas-trees, an' New Year's sprees--
Set up to watch the Old Year go
An' New Year come-- sich things as these;
An' turkey-dinners, don't you know!
S'repty's younger, an' more gay,
An' purtier, an' finer dressed
Than Marg'et is-- but, lawzy-day!
She hain't the independentest!
'Take care!' old Willards used to say,
'Take care--! Let Marg'et have her way,
An' S'repty, you go off an' play
On your melodeum--!' But, best
Of all, comes Tomps! An' I'll be bound,
Ef he hain't jes the beatin'est
Young chap in all the country round!
Ef you knowed Tomps you'd like him, shore!
They hain't no man on top o' ground
Walks into my affections more--!
An' all the Settlement'll say
That Tomps was liked jes thataway
By ever'body, till he tuk
A shine to S'repty Willards--. Then
You'd ort'o see the old man buck
An' h'ist hisse'f, an' paw the dirt,
An' hint that 'common workin'-men
That didn't want their feelin's hurt
'Ud better hunt fer 'comp'ny' where
The folks was pore an' didn't care--!'
The pine-blank facts is--, the old man,
Last Christmas was a year ago,
Found out some presents Tomps had got
Fer S'repty, an' hit made him hot--
Set down an' tuk his pen in hand
An' writ to Tomps an' told him so
On legal cap, in white an' black,
An' give him jes to understand
'No Christmas-gifts o' 'lily-white'
An' bear's-ile could fix matters right,'
An' wropped 'em up an' sent 'em back!
Well, S'repty cried an' snuffled round
Consid'able. But Marg'et she
Toed out another sock, an' wound
Her knittin' up, an' drawed the tea,
An' then set on the supper-things,
An' went up in the loft an' dressed--
An' through it all you'd never guessed
What she was up to! An' she brings
Her best hat with her an her shawl,
An' gloves, an' redicule, an' all,
An' injirubbers, an' comes down
An' tells 'em she's a-goin' to town
To he'p the Christmas goin's-on
Her Church got up. An' go she does--
The best hosswoman ever was!
'An' what'll We do while you're gone?'
The old man says, a-tryin' to be
Agreeable. 'Oh! You?' says she--,
'You kin jaw S'repty, like you did,
An' slander Tomps!' An' off she rid!
Now, this is all I'm goin' to tell
Of this-here story-- that is, I
Have done my very level best
As fur as this, an' here I 'dwell,'
As auctioneers says, winkin' sly:
Hit's old man Willards tells the rest.
2
The Old Man Talks
Adzackly jes one year ago,
This New Year's day, Tomps comes to me--
In my own house, an' whilse the folks
Was gittin' dinner--, an' he pokes
His nose right in, an' says, says he:
'I got yer note-- an' read it slow!
You don't like me, ner I don't you,'
He says--, 'we're even there, you know!
But you've said, furder that no gal
Of yourn kin marry me, er shall,
An' I'd best shet off comin', too!'
An' then he says--, 'Well, them's Your views--;
But havin' talked with S'repty, we
Have both agreed to disagree
With your peculiar notions-- some;
An', that s the reason, I refuse
To quit a-comin' here, but come--
Not fer to threat, ner raise no skeer
An' spile yer turkey-dinner here--,
But jes fer S'repty's sake, to sheer
Yer New Year's. Shall I take a cheer?'
Well, blame-don! Ef I ever see
Sich impidence! I couldn't say
Not nary word! But Mother she
Sot out a cheer fer Tomps, an' they
Shuk hands an' turnt their back on me.
Then I riz-- mad as mad could be--!
But Marg'et says--, 'Now, Pap! You set
Right where you're settin'--! Don't you fret!
An' Tomps-- you warm yer feet!' says she,
'An throw yer mitts an' comfert on
The bed there! Where is S'repty gone!
The cabbage is a-scortchin'! Ma,
Stop cryin' there an' stir the slaw!'
Well--! What was Mother cryin' fer--?
I half riz up-- but Marg'et's chin
Hit squared-- an' I set down ag'in--
I allus was afeard o' her,
I was, by jucks! So there I set,
Betwixt a sinkin'-chill an' sweat,
An' scuffled with my wrath, an' shet
My teeth to mighty tight, you bet!
An' yit, fer all that I could do,
I eeched to jes git up an' whet
The carvin'-knife a rasp er two
On Tomps's ribs-- an' so would you--!
Fer he had riz an' faced around,
An' stood there, smilin', as they brung
The turkey in, all stuffed an' browned--
Too sweet fer nose, er tooth, er tongue!
With sniffs o' sage, an' p'r'aps a dash
Of old burnt brandy, steamin'-hot
Mixed kindo' in with apple-mash
An' mince-meat, an' the Lord knows what!
Nobody was a-talkin' then,
To 'filiate any awk'ardness--
No noise o' any kind but jes
The rattle o' the dishes when
They'd fetch 'em in an' set 'em down,
An' fix an' change 'em round an' round,
Like women does-- till Mother says--,
'Vittels is ready; Abner, call
Down S'repty-- she's up-stairs, I guess--.'
And Marg'et she says, 'Ef you bawl
Like that, she'll not come down at all!
Besides, we needn't wait till she
Gits down! Here Temps, set down by me,
An' Pap: say grace...!' Well, there I was--!
What could I do! I drapped my head
Behind my fists an' groaned; an' said--:
'Indulgent Parent! In Thy cause
We bow the head an' bend the knee
An' break the bread, an' pour the wine,
Feelin'--' (The stair-door suddently
Went bang! An' S'repty flounced by me--)
'Feelin',' I says, 'this feast is Thine--
This New Year's feast--' an' rap-rap-rap!
Went Marg'ets case-knife on her plate--
An' next, I heerd a sasser drap--,
Then I looked up, an' strange to state,
There S'repty set in Tomps lap--
An' huggin' him, as shore as fate!
An' Mother kissin' him k-slap!
An' Marg'et-- she chips in to drap
The ruther peert remark to me--:
'That 'grace' o' yourn,' she says, 'won't 'gee'--
This hain't no 'New Year's feast,'' says she--,
'This is a' Infair-Dinner, Pap!'
An' so it was--! Be'n married fer
Purt' nigh a week--! 'Twas Marg'et planned
The whole thing fer 'em, through an' through.
I'm rickonciled; an' understand,
I take things jes as they occur--,
Ef Marg'et liked Tomps, Tomps 'ud do--!
But I-says-I, a-holt his hand--,
'I'm glad you didn't marry Her--
'Cause Marg'et's my guardeen-- yes-sir--!
An' S'repty's good enough fer you!'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Pet Coon
Noey Bixler ketched him, and fetched him in to me
When he's ist a little teenty-weenty baby-coon
'Bout as big as little pups, an' tied him to a tree;
An' Pa gived Noey fifty cents, when he come home at noon.
Nen he buyed a chain fer him, an' little collar, too,
An' sawed a hole in a' old tub an' turnt it upside-down;
An' little feller'd stay in there and won't come out fer you--
'Tendin' like he's kindo' skeered o' boys 'at lives in town.
_Now_ he aint afeard a bit! he's ist so fat an' tame,
We on'y chain him up at night, to save the little chicks.
Holler 'Greedy! Greedy!' to him, an' he knows his name,
An' here he'll come a-waddle-un, up fer any tricks!
He'll climb up my leg, he will, an' waller in my lap,
An' poke his little black paws 'way in my pockets where
They's beechnuts, er chinkypins, er any little scrap
Of anything, 'at's good to eat--an' _he_ don't care!
An' he's as spunky as you please, an' don't like dogs at all.--
Billy Miller's black-an'-tan tackled him one day,
An' 'Greedy' he ist kindo' doubled all up like a ball,
An' Billy's dog he gived a yelp er two an' runned away!
An' nen when Billy fighted me, an' hit me with a bone,
An' Ma she purt'nigh ketched him as he dodged an' skooted thro'
The fence, she says, 'You better let my little boy alone,
Er 'Greedy,' next he whips yer dog, shall whip you, too!'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Kingry's Mill
On old Brandywine-- about
Where White's Lots is now laid out,
And the old crick narries down
To the ditch that splits the town--,
Kingry's Mill stood. Hardly see
Where the old dam ust to be;
Shallor, long, dry trought o' grass
Where the old race ust to pass!
That's be'n forty years ago--
Forty years o' frost and snow--
Forty years o' shade and shine
Sence them boyhood-days o' mine--!
All the old landmarks o' town.
Changed about, er rotted down!
Where's the Tanyard? Where's the Still?
Tell me where's old Kingry's Mill?
Don't seem furder back, to me,
I'll be dogg'd! Than yisterd'y,
Since us fellers, in bare feet
And straw hats, went through the wheat,
Cuttin' 'crost the shortest shoot
Fer that-air old ellum root
Jest above the mill-dam-- where
The blame' cars now crosses there!
Through the willers down the crick
We could see the old mill stick
Its red gable up, as if
It jest knowed we'd stol'd the skiff!
See the winders in the sun
Blink like they wuz wonderun'
What the miller ort to do
With sich boys as me and you!
But old Kingry--! Who could fear
That old chap, with all his cheer--?
Leanin' at the window-sill,
Er the half-door o' the mill,
Swoppin' lies, and pokin' fun,
'N jigglin' like his hoppers done--
Laughin' grists o' gold and red
Right out o' the wagon-bed!
What did he keer where we went--?
'Jest keep out o' devilment,
And don't fool around the belts,
Bolts, ner burrs, ner nothin' else
'Bout the blame machinery,
And that's all I ast!' says-ee.
Then we'd climb the stairs, and play
In the bran-bins half the day!
Rickollect the dusty wall,
And the spider-webs, and all!
Rickollect the trimblin' spout
Where the meal come josslln' out--
Stand and comb yer fingers through
The fool-truck an hour er two--
Felt so sorto' warm-like and
Soothin' to a feller's hand!
Climb, high up above the stream,
And 'coon' out the wobbly beam
And peek down from out the lof'
Where the weather-boards was off--
Gee-mun-nee! w'y, it takes grit
Even jest to think of it--!
Lookin' 'way down there below
On the worter roarin' so!
Rickollect the flume, and wheel,
And the worter slosh and reel
And jest ravel out in froth
Flossier'n satin cloth!
Rickollect them paddles jest
Knock the bubbles galley-west,
And plunge under, and come up
Drippin' like a worter-pup!
And to see them old things gone
That I onc't was bettin' on,
In rale p'int o' fact, I feel
kindo' like that worter-wheel--,
Sorto' drippy-like and wet
Round the eyes-- but paddlin' yet,
And in mem'ry, loafin' still
Down around old Kingry's Mill!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Douglas Tragedy
'Rise up, rise up now, Lord Douglas,' she says,
'And put on your armour so bright;
Let it never be said that a daughter of thine
Was married to a lord under night.
'Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And put on your armour so bright,
And take better care of your youngest sister,
For your eldest's awa the last night.'--
He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And lightly they rode away.
Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder,
To see what he could see,
And there be spy'd her seven brethren bold,
Come riding o'er the lee.
'Light down, light down, Lady Marg'ret,' he said,
'And hold my steed in your hand,
Until that against your seven brothers bold,
And your father I make a stand.'--
She held his steed in her milk white hand,
And never shed one tear,
Until that she saw her seven brethren fa',
And her father hard fighting, who loved her so dear.
'O hold your hand, Lord William!' she said,
'For your strokes they are wondrous sair;
True lovers I can get many a ane,
But a father I can never get mair.'--
O she's ta'en out her handkerchief,
It was o' the holland sae fine,
And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds,
That were redder than the wine.
'O chuse, O chuse, Lady Marg'ret,' he said,
'O whether will ye gang or bide?'
'I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William,' she said,
'For ye have left me no other guide.'--
He's lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey.
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And slowly they baith rade away.
O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
Until they came to yon wan water,
And there they lighted down.
They lighted down to tak a drink
Of the spring that ran sae clear:
And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood,
And sair she 'gan to fear.
'Hold up, hold up, Lord William,' she says,
'For I fear that you are slain!'
''Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak
That shines in the water sae plain.'
O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
Until they cam to his mother's ha' door,
And there they lighted down.
'Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says,
'Get up, and let me in!--
Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says,
'For this night my fair ladye I've win.
'O mak my bed, lady mother,' he says,
'O mak it braid and deep!
And lay Lady Marg'ret close at my back,
And the sounder I will sleep.'--
Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,
Lady Marg'ret lang ere day--
And all true lovers that go thegither,
May they have mair luck than they!
Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk,
Lady Margaret in Marie's quire;
Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose,
And out o' the knight's a brier.
And they twa met, and they twa plat,
And fain they wad be near;
And a' the warld might ken right weel,
They were twa lovers dear.
But by and rade the Black Douglas,
And wow but he was rough!
For he pull'd up the bonny brier,
An flang't in St. Marie's Loch.
poem by Andrew Lang
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His Mother's Way
Tomps 'ud allus haf to say
Somepin' 'bout 'his mother's way.'--
_He_ lived hard-like--never jined
Any church of any kind.--
'It was Mother's way,' says he,
'To be good enough fer _me_
And her too,--and certinly
Lord has heerd _her_ pray!'
Propped up on his dyin' bed,--
'Shore as Heaven's overhead,
I'm a-goin' there,' he said---
'It was Mother's way.'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Woh, Dont You Know
Talkin bout jumping jim
Talkin bout a mud slide slim
Dont you know that a fish got to swim
Dont a goose got to fly high
Little dog got to die
And Im goin home
Woh, dont you know
Woh, dont you know
Talkin bout a life on the street
Gonna think about an itch in my feet
Cant you hand me down them highway shoes
Lord knows Im talkin bout the walkin blues
I got the rockin pneumonia blues
And Im headed home, bye-bye
Woh, dont you know
Woh, dont you know
Listen here now, dont you come round
Talkin bout over yonder
Bound to wake up the walkin man in me
And Im bound to wanderin
Hey now, talkin all about spooning into bone
Looking just like sherlock holmes
Looking for a needle in a haystack
Seein and eatin lots of fatback
Talkin bout a railroad track
And Im going home, goodbye
Woh, dont you know
Woh, dont you know
Woh, dont you know
You oughta know
You oughta know
You oughta know
You oughta know like a fish in the stream
Oughta know like a leaf on the tree
Oughta know like a boat in the sea.
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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John Alden And Percilly
We got up a Christmas-doin's
Last Christmas Eve--
Kindo' dimonstration
'At I railly believe
Give more satisfaction--
Take it up and down--
Than ary intertainment
Ever come to town!
Railly was a _theater_--
That's what it was,--
But, bein' in the church, you know,
We had a '_Santy Clause_'--
So 's to git the _old folks_
To patternize, you see,
And _back_ the institootion up
Kindo' _morally_.
Schoolteacher writ the thing--
(Was a friend o' mine),
Got it out o' Longfeller's
Pome 'Evangeline'--
Er some'rs--'bout the _Purituns_--.
_Anyway_, the part
'_John Alden_' fell to _me_--
And learnt it all by heart!
Claircy was '_Percilly_'--
(Schoolteacher 'lowed
Me and her could act them two
Best of all the crowd)--
Then--blame ef he didn't
Git her Pap, i jing!--
To take the part o' '_Santy Clause_,'
To wind up the thing.
Law! the fun o' practisun!--
Was a week er two
Me and Claircy didn't have
Nothin' else to do!--
Kep' us jes a-meetin' round,
Kindo' here and there,
Ever' night rehearsin'-like,
And gaddin' ever'where!
Game was wo'th the candle, though!--
Christmas Eve at last
Rolled around.--And 'tendance jes
Couldn't been surpassed!--
Neighbors from the country
Come from Clay and Rush--
Yes, and 'crost the county-line
Clean from Puckerbrush!
Meetin'-house jes trimbled
As 'Old Santy' went
Round amongst the childern,
With their pepperment
And sassafrac and wintergreen
Candy, and 'a ball
O' popcorn,' the preacher 'nounced,
'Free fer each and all!'
Schoolteacher suddently
Whispered in my ear,--
'Guess I got you:--_Christmas-gift_!--
_Christmas is here_!'
I give _him_ a gold pen,
And case to hold the thing,--
And _Claircy_ whispered '_Christmas-gift_!'
And I give her a _ring_.
'And now,' says I, 'jes watch _me_--
Christmas-gift,' says I,
'_I'm_ a-goin' to git one--
'_Santy's_' comin' by!'--
Then I rech and grabbed him:
And, as you'll infer,
'Course I got the old man's,
And _he_ gimme _her_!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Come On Home
(tom springfield)
The springfields
Don't stand there wailing "got no place to go"
Come on home
You look at me like that and i can't say no
Come on home
Well, i know you done me wrong
And i know i should be strong
But, i cried the whole night long
So, come on home
Come on home
Tell me baby, must you be so cruel?
Come on home
You treat me just like i'm some kind of fool
Come on home
Well, i know you let me down
I was glad when you left town
But, you're good to have around
So, come on home
Don't run away now
Come on home
You got your way now
Come on home
A-hear what i say now
Come on home
Come on home
When you smile at me well i feel so good
Come on home
I can't be mad at you like i know i should
Come on home
Well you took me for a ride
And i thought my love had died
Still i need you by my side
So come on home
Come on home
Come on home
Come on home
Come on home
Come on home
Yeah, when you smile at me well i feel so good
Come on home
I can't be mad at you a-like i know i should
Come on home
Well, you took me for a ride
And i thought my love had died
Still, i need you by my side
So, come on home
Said yes
Come on home
Sit down
Come on home
Come on home
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Good, Old-Fashioned People
When we hear Uncle Sidney tell
About the long-ago
An' old, old friends he loved so well
When _he_ was young--My-oh!--
Us childern all wish _we'd 'a'_ bin
A-livin' then with Uncle,--so
We could a-kindo' happened in
On them old friends he used to know!--
The good, old-fashioned people--
The hale, hard-working people--
The kindly country people
'At Uncle used to know!
They was God's people, Uncle says,
An' gloried in His name,
An' worked, without no selfishness,
An' loved their neighbers same
As they was kin: An' when they biled
Their tree-molasses, in the Spring,
Er butchered in the Fall, they smiled
An' sheered with all jist ever'thing!--
The good, old-fashioned people--
The hale, hard-working people--
The kindly country people
'At Uncle used to know!
He tells about 'em, lots o' times,
Till we'd all ruther hear
About 'em than the Nurs'ry Rhymes
Er Fairies--mighty near!--
Only sometimes he stops so long
An' then talks on so low an' slow,
It's purt'-nigh sad as any song
To listen to him talkin' so
Of the good, old-fashioned people--
The hale, hard-working people--
The kindly country people
'At Uncle used to know!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Sensations
I dont like guilt be it stoned or stupid
Drunk and disorderly I aint no cupid
Two years ago today I was arrested on christmas eve
I dont want pain, I want to walk not be carried
I dont want to give it up, I want to stay married
I aint no dog tied to a parked car
Ooohhh, new sensations
Ooohhh, new sensations
Talkin bout some new sensations
Talkin bout some new sensations
I want the principles of a timeless muse
I want to eradicate my negative views
And get rid of those people who are always on a down
Its easy enough to tell what is wrong
But thats not what I want to hear all night long
Some people are like human toulinols
Ooohhh, new sensations
Ooohhh, ooohhh, new sensations
Talkin bout some new sensations
Talkin a new sensations
I took my gpz out for a ride
The engine felt good between my thighs
The air felt cool, its was forty degrees outside
I rode to pennsylvania near the delaware gap
Sometimes I got lost and had to check the map
I stopped at a roadside diner for a burger and a coke
There were some country folk and some hunters inside
Somebody got themselves married and somebody died
I went to the juke box and played a hillbilly song
They was arguing about football as I waved and went outside
And I headed for the mountains feeling warm inside
I love that gpz so much, you know that I could kiss her
Ooohhh, new sensations
Ooohhh, ooohhh, new sensations
Talkin bout your new sensations
Talkin new sensations
Ooohhh, new sensations
Ooohhh, new sensations
Ooohhh, new sensations
Ooohhh, new sensations
Ooohhh, new sensations
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home Along
When days are getting' short an' cold, an' the long nights begin,
With waves like mountains rollin' high, an' the norther blowin' thin,
Oh, then my thoughts do stretch their wings an' fly across the sea,
Home along, home along, to the place where I would be!
Home along, home along, there's deep an' leafy lanes,
Where kind an' warm's the summer sun an' soft the autumn rains;
An' many a ship to harbour comes, an' sailor home from sea,
Home along, home along, in the West Countrie!
I wonder how they're farin' now, the young folks an' the old,
An' if they think at all o' me, when nights are cold;
An' what's the tale on Market Strand, the news on Fish Strand Quay,
Home along, home along, in the West Countrie!
Home along, home along, 'tis maybe not the same
Wi' no one left but old men there, the faint 'earts an' the lame;
Who'll pull my oar to lifeboat now, when the blue lights burn at sea,
Home along, home along, in the West Countrie?
I wish that 'Igh Kiel fleet would come, the waitin's cruel slow,
An' when I get my bit o' leave, oh, I know where I will go,
To sit me down beside the fire, or stroll beside the quay,
Home along, home along, in the West Countrie.
Home along, home along, an' I'd like to see it now,
The ruddy furrow white wi' gulls behind my father's plough -
A friend to greet, an' a girl to meet, an' a score o' folks to see,
Home along, home along, in the West Countrie!
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Keepsake Mill
Over the borders, a sin without pardon,
Breaking the branches and crawling below,
Out through the breach in the wall of the garden,
Down by the banks of the river we go.
Here is a mill with the humming of thunder,
Here is the weir with the wonder of foam,
Here is the sluice with the race running under--
Marvellous places, though handy to home!
Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller,
Stiller the note of the birds on the hill;
Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller,
Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.
Years may go by, and the wheel in the river
Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day,
Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever
Long after all of the boys are away.
Home for the Indies and home from the ocean,
Heroes and soldiers we all will come home;
Still we shall find the old mill wheel in motion,
Turning and churning that river to foam.
You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled,
I with your marble of Saturday last,
Honoured and old and all gaily apparelled,
Here we shall meet and remember the past.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tom Johnson's Quit
A passel o' the boys last night--
An' me amongst 'em--kindo got
To talkin' Temper'nce left an' right,
An' workin' up 'blue-ribbon,' _hot_;
An' while we was a-countin' jes'
How many bed gone into hit
An' signed the pledge, some feller says,--
'Tom Johnson's quit!'
We laughed, of course--'cause Tom, you know,
_He's_ spiled more whisky, boy an' man,
And seed more trouble, high an' low,
Than any chap but Tom could stand:
And so, says I '_He's_ too nigh dead.
Far Temper'nce to benefit!'
The feller sighed agin, and said--
'Tom Johnson's quit!'
We all _liked_ Tom, an' that was why
We sorto simmered down agin,
And ast the feller ser'ously
Ef he wa'n't tryin' to draw us in:
He shuck his head--tuck off his hat--
Helt up his hand an' opened hit,
An' says, says he, 'I'll _swear_ to that--
Tom Johnson's quit!'
Well, we was stumpt, an' tickled too,--
Because we knowed ef Tom _had_ signed
Ther wa'n't no man 'at wore the 'blue'
'At was more honester inclined:
An' then and there we kindo riz,--
The hull dern gang of us 'at bit--
An' th'owed our hats and let 'er whizz,--
'_Tom Johnson's quit!_'
I've heerd 'em holler when the balls
Was buzzin' 'round us wus 'n bees,
An' when the ole flag on the walls
Was flappin' o'er the enemy's,
I've heerd a-many a wild 'hooray'
'At made my heart git up an' git--
But Lord!--to hear 'em shout that way!--
'_Tom Johnson's quit!_'
But when we saw the chap 'at fetched
The news wa'n't jinin' in the cheer,
But stood there solemn-like, an' reched
An' kindo wiped away a tear,
We someway sorto' stilled agin,
And listened--I kin hear him yit,
His voice a-wobblin' with his chin,--
'Tom Johnson's quit--
'I hain't a-givin' you no game--
I wisht I was!... An hour ago,
This operator--what's his name--
The one 'at works at night, you know?--
Went out to flag that Ten Express,
And sees a man in front of hit
Th'ow up his hands an' stagger--yes,--
_Tom Johnson's quit_.'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Well Run Away
We know theyre right when they say were not ready
But all we care is how we feel right now
Well go ahead just the same
Prepare to take the blame
Well run away and get married anyhow
They warned us that we cant live on love forever
But we just tell them well get by somehow
Our problems will be greater
Well worry bout them later
Well run away and get married anyhow
If other kids went through it
Then I know we can do it
If our love is that much stronger
It will last that much longer
It wasnt too long ago when our folks were
Were going through the same thing we are now
But one thing theyre forgetting
A thing theyre not regretting
They ran away and got married anyhow
(ran away and got married)
Anyhow
(ran away and got married)
They ran away and got married anyhow
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby Come On Home
There was a time
I used to call ya all my very ow__n.
We were so happy woman,
Talkin for hours an hours on the telephone.
An then one day
I said you upd and walked-a righta outa my life,
Leavin me all by myself,
All alone to cry every night.
Babe, babe, babe
Whoah,
Come on home.
I want you to come back home yeah.
Ohhh yeah.
Sweet little girl ahh,
You been gone too long.
You been away so long
Now listen to me.
I said I made up my mind,
A-woman when you left me there oh.
I was gonna find another sweet lover
A-gonna feel all-a-my, all-a-my, all-a-my care.
So I met a sweet little girl,
Just about as nice as she could be ahh.
I fell in love with that woman
But she turned around and did the same
Thing again to me ohh~ohh.
Babe, oh! babe, babe
Baby, baby
Come on home.
Please come home ho__ yeah, its alright.
Ohhh yeah.
I know
You been gone too long.
You been away so long.
Babe, babe, babe
I want you to please
Come on home.
Come home ohh.
Ohhh yeah.
You been gone too long.
So I made up my mind:
Im gonna crawl right back to you woman,
Im gonna plead and plead and plead yeah,
til youre here by my side.
I cant even walk down the same
Old streets we used to walk down
cause I keep thinkin bout all the good times.
Keep thinkin bout it, I wanna make you mine.
Ohh babe,
Babe, babe, babe, babe babe
Please
Come on home. come home yeah.
Ohhh yeah.
You been gone too long.
I want you to ohh-ah,
Babe, babe, babe
I want you to come back runnin
Come on home.
Home to me woman.
Ohhh yeah.
I want you to sing about
When we walked through the trees together.
You been gone too long.
You know we had such a real good time.
Whoah, here they come!
Babe, babe, babe
I believe its always callin.
Can you feel the brown leaf against your face?
You oughta sing and shout and say
Ohhh yeah.
Baby, baby, baby
You been gone too long.
I want you to come home.
song performed by by Led Zeppelin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home
(alan jackson)
In a small town down in georgia over forty years ago
Her maiden name was musik til she met that jackson boy
They married young like folks did then, not a penny to their name
But they believe the one you vow to love
Should always stay that same
And on the land his daddy gave him, a foundation under way
For a love to last forever or until their dying day
They built a bond thats strong enough to stand the test of time
And a place for us to turn to when our lives were in a bind
And they made their house from a toolshed
Grandaddy rolled down on two logs
And they builts walls all around it
And they made that house a home
They taught us bout good living
They taught is right and wrong
Lord therell never be another place
In this world Ill call home
My momma raised five children, four girls then there was me
She found her strength with faith in gof and love of family
She never had a social life, home was all she knew
Except the time she took a job, to play a bill or two
My daddy skinned his knuckles on the cars that he repaired
He never earned much money but he gane us all he had
He never made the front page but he did the best he couold
And folks drove their cars from miles around
To let him look underneath the hood
And they made their house from a toolshed
Grandaddy rolled down on two logs
And they builts walls all around it
And they made that house a home
They taught us bout good living
They taught is right and wrong
Lord therell never be another place
In this world Ill call home
No therell never be another place in this world
That Ill call home
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire In The Belly
Call of the wildest, its got the best of you
Fire in my heart, fire in my belly too
Got a heart and a mind and a fire inside
And Im crazy about you
You, you on your high flying cloud
You, you when youre laughing out loud
You, you with your hidden surprise
You
Stoke up my engine, bring me my driving wheel
Once I get started youll see just how I feel
And Im crazy about you
And Im crazy about you
And Im crazy about you
You, you on your high flying cloud
You, you when youre laughing out loud
You, you with your hidden surprise
You
Gotta get through january
Gotta get through february
Gotta get through january
Gotta get through february
Gotta get through january
Gotta get through february
Gotta get through january
Spring in my heart, fire in my belly too
I come apart, I dont know just what to do
Got a heart and a mind and a fire inside
And Im crazy about you
You, you on your high flying cloud
You, you with the laugh in your eyes
You, you with your hidden surprise
You
Gotta get through january
Gotta get through february
Gotta get through january
Gotta get through february
Gotta get through january
Gotta get through february
Gotta get through january
Spring in my heart, fire in my belly too
I come apart, I dont know just what to do
Got a heart and a mind and a fire inside
And Im crazy about you
You, you on your high flying cloud
You, you with the laugh in your eyes
You, you with your hidden surprise
You
Talkin bout you
Talkin bout you
Talkin bout you
Talkin bout you
Talkin bout you
Talkin bout you (talkin bout you)
Talkin bout you (fire in the belly too)
Talkin bout you (talkin bout you)
Talkin bout you (talkin bout you)
Talkin bout you (talkin bout you)
Talkin bout you (talkin bout you)
Talkin bout you (talkin bout you)
Talkin bout you
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writin' Back To The Home-Folks
My dear old friends--It jes beats all,
The way you write a letter
So's ever' _last_ line beats the _first_,
And ever' _next_-un's better!--
W'y, ever' fool-thing you putt down
You make so inte_rest_in',
A feller, readin' of 'em all,
Can't tell which is the _best_-un.
It's all so comfortin' and good,
'Pears-like I almost _hear_ ye
And git more sociabler, you know,
And hitch my cheer up near ye
And jes smile on ye like the sun
Acrosst the whole per-rairies
In Aprile when the thaw's begun
And country couples marries.
It's all so good-old-fashioned like
To _talk_ jes like we're _thinkin'_,
Without no hidin' back o' fans
And giggle-un and winkin',
Ner sizin' how each-other's dressed--
Like some is allus doin',--
'_Is_ Marthy Ellen's basque ben _turned_
Er shore-enough a new-un!'--
Er 'ef Steve's city-friend haint jes
'A _lee_tle kindo'-sorto''--
Er 'wears them-air blame eye-glasses
Jes 'cause he hadn't ort to?'
And so straight on, _dad-libitum_,
Tel all of us feels, _some_way,
Jes like our 'comp'ny' wuz the best
When we git up to come 'way!
That's why I like _old_ friends like you,--
Jes 'cause you're so _abidin'_.--
Ef I was built to live '_fer keeps_,'
My principul residin'
Would be amongst the folks 'at kep'
Me allus _thinkin'_ of 'em,
And sorto' eechin' all the time
To tell 'em how I love 'em.--
Sich folks, you know, I jes love so
I wouldn't live without 'em,
Er couldn't even drap asleep
But what I _dreamp'_ about 'em,--
And ef we minded God, I guess
We'd _all_ love one-another
Jes like one fam'bly,--me and Pap
And Madaline and Mother.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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