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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Related quotes
Tugg Martin
I.
Tugg Martin's tough.--No doubt o' that!
And down there at
The town he come from word's bin sent
Advisin' this-here Settle-ment
To kindo' _humor_ Tugg, and not
To git him hot--
Jest pass his imperfections by,
And he's as good as pie!
II.
They claim he's _wanted_ back there.--Yit
The officers they mostly quit
_Insistin'_ when
They notice Tugg's so _back'ard_, and
Sorto' gives 'em to understand
He druther not!--A Deputy
(The slickest one you ever see!)
Tackled him _last_--'disguisin' then,'
As Tugg says, 'as a gentlemen!'--
You 'd ort o' hear _Tugg_ tell it!--_My_!
I thought I'd _die_!
III.
The way it wuz;--Tugg and the rest
The boys wuz jest
A-kindo' gittin' thawed out, down
At 'Guss's Place,' fur-end o' town,
One night, when, first we knowed,
Some feller rode
Up in a buggy at the door,
And hollered fer some one to come
And fetch him some
Red-licker out--And whirped and swore
That colt he drove wuz '_Thompson's_' shore!
IV.
Guss went out, and come in agin
And filled a pint and tuck it out--
Stayed quite a spell--then peeked back in,
Half-hid-like where the light wuz dim,
And jieuked his head
At Tugg and said,--
'Come out a minute--here's a gent
Wants you to take a drink with him.'
V.
Well--Tugg laid down his cards and went--
In fact, _we all_
Got up, you know,
_Startin'_ to go--
When in reels Guss aginst the wall,
As white as snow,
Gaspin',--'_He's tuck Tugg!--wher's my gun_?'
And-sir, outside we heerd
The hoss snort and kick up his heels
Like he wuz skeerd,
And then the buggy-wheels
Scrape--and then Tugg's voice hollerun',--
'I'm bested!--Good-bye, fellers!' . . . 'Peared
S' all-fired suddent,
Nobody couldn't
Jest git it fixed,--tel hoss and man,
Buggy and Tugg, off through the dark
Went like the devil beatin' tan-
Bark!
VI.
What _could_ we do? . . . We filed back to
The bar: And Guss jest _looked_ at us,
And we looked back 'The same as you,'
Still sayin' nothin'--And the sap
It stood in every eye,
And every hat and cap
Went off, as we teched glasses solemnly,
And Guss says-he:
'Ef it's 'good-bye' with Tugg, fer _shore_,--I say
God bless him!--Er ef they
Aint railly no _need_ to pray,
I'm not reniggin!--board's the play,
And here's God bless him, anyway!'
VII.
It must a-bin an hour er so
We all set there,
Talkin o' pore
Old Tugg, you know,
'At never, wuz ketched up before--
When--all slow-like--the door-
Knob turned--and Tugg come shamblin' in,
Hand-cuffed'--'at's what he wuz, I swear!--
Yit smilin,' like he hadn't bin
Away at all! And when we ast him where
The _Deputy_ wuz at,--'I don't know where,' Tugg said,--
'All _I_ know is--he's dead.'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Quit
i quit trying to save the world...
and just offered my hand,
and walked beside it.
i quit trying to find the truth,
for it was already within me.
i quit trying to tell anyone anything,
and just listened in perfect stillness.
i quit trying to be religious,
and found the sacred in the common.
i quit trying to stop the wars,
and let the wars within me end!
i quit trying to find god,
and just looked in the mirror.
i quit fighting for freedom,
and found a freedom they couldnt take.
i quit shouting out for justice,
and walked in a way that was just.
i quit wanting to own anything,
and so broke the final bonds.
i quit trying to be what they wanted,
and decided to be myself.
i quit blaming, condemning, and accusing,
and took the responsibility on myself.
i quit trying to make myself a name,
and walked in nobody's shoes.
i quit staring from behind the bars,
that were never really there.
i quit seeking to define and hold,
and just let go and lived.
i quit hiding from death, and opened the door,
and found the light from which darkness
is made!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He that will enjoy the brightness of sunshine, must quit the coolness of the shade.
quote by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quit Hollerin At Me
I dont want your big french fry
I dont want your car
I dont want to buy no soap
From no washed-up movie star
You are so much louder
Than the show I wanna hear
With your sugarless gum
Gee, but Im dumb
Non-alcoholic beer
Its enough to make a grown man
Blow up his own tv
Quit hollerin at me
Quit hollerin at me
I heard you the first time
I heard myself say
Seems like the little woman
Is getting bigger every day
You dont have to tell the neighbors
A little silence aint no sin
They already think my name is
Where in the hell you been?
Louder, louder, louder, louder, louder
Constantly
Quit hollerin at me
Quit hollerin at me
Whoa oh whoa oh
Sweet serenity
Whoa oh whoa oh
Quit hollerin at me
Quit hollerin at me
Aint it great at the end of the day
When there aint no sound around
Just me and the fence post
Staring each other down
Nothing but a big bunch of nothing
Driving me insane
Cause there aint no voice thats louder
Than the one inside my brain
Hey you go on
Go on and let me be
Quit hollerin at me
Quit hollerin at me
Whoa oh whoa oh
Sweet serenity
Whoa oh whoa oh
Quit hollerin at me
Quit hollerin at me
Quit hollerin at me
Quit hollerin at me
Quit hollerin at me
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Noey's Night-Piece
'They ain't much 'tale' about it!' Noey said.--
'K'tawby grapes wuz gittin' good-n-red
I rickollect; and Tubb Kingry and me
'Ud kindo' browse round town, daytime, to see
What neighbers 'peared to have the most to spare
'At wuz git-at-able and no dog there
When we come round to git 'em, say 'bout ten
O'clock at night when mostly old folks then
Wuz snorin' at each other like they yit
Helt some old grudge 'at never slep' a bit.
Well, at the _Pars'nige_--ef ye'll call to mind,--
They's 'bout the biggest grape-arber you'll find
'Most anywheres.--And mostly there, we knowed
They wuz _k'tawbies_ thick as ever growed--
And more'n they'd _p'serve_.--Besides I've heerd
Ma say k'tawby-grape-p'serves jes 'peared
A waste o' sugar, anyhow!--And so
My conscience stayed outside and lem me go
With Tubb, one night, the back-way, clean up through
That long black arber to the end next to
The house, where the k'tawbies, don't you know,
Wuz thickest. And t'uz lucky we went _slow_,--
Fer jest as we wuz cropin' tords the gray-
End, like, of the old arber--heerd Tubb say
In a skeered whisper, 'Hold up! They's some one
Jes slippin' in here!--and _looks like a gun_
He's carryin'!' I _golly!_ we both spread
Out flat aginst the ground!
''What's that?' Tubb said.--
And jest then--'_plink! plunk! plink!_' we heerd something
Under the back-porch-winder.--Then, i jing!
Of course we rickollected 'bout the young
School-mam 'at wuz a-boardin' there, and sung,
And played on the melodium in the choir.--
And she 'uz 'bout as purty to admire
As any girl in town!--the fac's is, she
Jest _wuz_, them times, to a dead certainty,
The belle o' this-here bailywick!--But--Well,--
I'd best git back to what I'm tryin' to tell:--
It wuz some feller come to serenade
Miss Wetherell: And there he plunked and played
His old guitar, and sung, and kep' his eye
Set on her winder, blacker'n the sky!--
And black it _stayed_.--But mayby she wuz 'way
From home, er wore out--bein' _Saturday!_
'It _seemed_ a good-'eal _longer_, but I _know_
He sung and plunked there half a' hour er so
Afore, it 'peared like, he could ever git
His own free qualified consents to quit
And go off 'bout his business. When he went
I bet you could a-bought him fer a cent!
'And now, behold ye all!--as Tubb and me
Wuz 'bout to raise up,--right in front we see
A feller slippin' out the arber, square
Smack under that-air little winder where
The _other_ feller had been standin'.--And
The thing he wuz a-carryin' in his hand
Wuzn't no _gun_ at all!--It wuz a _flute_,--
And _whoop-ee!_ how it did git up and toot
And chirp and warble, tel a mockin'-bird
'Ud dast to never let hisse'f be heerd
Ferever, after sich miracalous, high
Jim-cracks and grand skyrootics played there by
Yer Cousin Rufus!--Yes-sir; it wuz him!--
And what's more,--all a-suddent that-air dim
Dark winder o' Miss Wetherell's wuz lit
Up like a' oyshture-sign, and under it
We see him sort o' wet his lips and smile
Down 'long his row o' dancin' fingers, while
He kindo' stiffened up and kinked his breath
And everlastin'ly jest blowed the peth
Out o' that-air old one-keyed flute o' his.
And, bless their hearts, that's all the 'tale' they is!'
And even as Noey closed, all radiantly
The unconscious hero of the history,
Returning, met a perfect driving storm
Of welcome--a reception strangely warm
And _unaccountable_, to _him_, although
Most _gratifying_,--and he told them so.
'I only urge,' he said, 'my right to be
Enlightened.' And a voice said: '_Certainly:_--
During your absence we agreed that you
Should tell us all a story, old or new,
Just in the immediate happy frame of mind
We knew you would return in.'
So, resigned,
The ready flutist tossed his hat aside--
Glanced at the children, smiled, and thus complied.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Original Wrapper
The last shot should've killed me
Pour another drink
Let's drink to the last shot
And the blood on the dishes in the sink
Blood inside the coffee cup
Blood on the table top
When you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot
But when you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot
I shot blood at the fly on the wall
My heart almost stopped
Hardly there at all
I broke the mirror with my fall
With my fall - fall - fall
Fall - fall - fall
Gimme a double
Give yourself one too
Gimme a short beer
One for you too
And a toast to everything that doesn't move
That doesn't move
But when you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot
When you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot
Whiskey, bourbon, vodka and scotch
I don't care what it is you've got
I just want to know that it's my last shot
My last shot
I remember when I quit pretty good
See this here's where I chipped my tooth
I shot a vein in my neck and I coughed up a quaalude
On my last shot
My last shot
But when you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot
When you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Johnson, alias Crow
Where the seasons are divided and the bush begins to change,
and the links are rather broken in the Great Dividing Range;
where the atmosphere is hazy underneath the summer sky,
lies the little town of Eton, rather westward of Mackay.
Near the township, in the graveyard, where the dead of Eton go,
lies the body of a sinner known as “Johnson alias Crow”.
He was sixty-four was Johnson, and in other days, lang syne,
was apprenticed to a ship-wright in the land across the Rhine;
but, whatever were his prospects in the days of long ago,
things went very bad with Johnson—Heinrich Johnson (alias Crow).
He, at Eton—where he drifted in his age, a stranded wreck—
got three pounds by false pretences, in connection with a cheque.
But he didn’t long enjoy it, the police soon got to know;
and the lockup closed on Johnson, lonely Johnson alias Crow.
Friday night, and Crow retired, feeling, as he said, unwell;
and the warder heard the falling of a body in the cell.
Going in, the warder saw him bent with pain and crouching low—
Death had laid his hand on Johnson, Heinrich Johnson, alias Crow.
Then the constable bent o’er him—asked him where he felt the pain. Johnson only said, “I’m dying”—and he never spoke again.
They had waited for a witness, and the local people say
Johnson’s trial would have ended on that very Saturday;
but he took his case for judgment where our cases all must go,
and the higher court is trying Heinrich Johnson (alias Crow).
poem by Henry Lawson
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At Cheshire Cheese
When first of wise old Johnson taught,
My youthful mind its homage brought,
And made the pond'rous crusty sage
The object of a noble rage.
Nor did I think (How dense we are!)
That any day, however far,
Would find me holding, unrepelled,
The place that Doctor Johnson held!
But change has come and time has moved,
And now, applauded, unreproved,
I hold, with pardonable pride,
The place that Johnson occupied.
Conceit! Presumption! What is this?
You surely read my words amiss;
Like Johnson I,--a man of mind!
How could you ever be so blind?
No. At the ancient 'Cheshire Cheese,'
Blown hither by some vagrant breeze,
To dignify my shallow wit,
In Doctor Johnson's seat I sit!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Johnson's Boy
The world is turned ag'in' me,
And people says, 'They guess
That nothin' else is in me
But pure maliciousness!'
I git the blame for doin'
What other chaps destroy,
And I'm a-goin' to ruin
Because I'm 'Johnson's boy.'
THAT ain't my name--I'd ruther
They'd call me IKE or PAT--
But they've forgot the other--
And so have _I_, for that!
I reckon it's as handy,
When Nibsy breaks his toy,
Or some one steals his candy,
To say 'twas 'JOHNSON'S BOY!'
You can't git any water
At the pump, and find the spout
So durn chuck-full o' mortar
That you have to bore it out;
You tackle any scholar
In Wisdom's wise employ,
And I'll bet you half a dollar
He'll say it's 'Johnson's boy!'
Folks don't know how I suffer
In my uncomplainin' way--
They think I'm gittin' tougher
And tougher every day.
Last Sunday night, when Flinder
Was a-shoutin' out for joy,
And some one shook the winder,
He prayed for 'Johnson's boy.'
I'm tired of bein' follered
By farmers every day,
And then o' bein' collared
For coaxin' hounds away;
Hounds always plays me double--
It's a trick they all enjoy--
To git me into trouble,
Because I'm 'Johnson's boy.'
But if I git to Heaven,
I hope the Lord'll see
SOME boy has been perfect,
And lay it on to me;
I'll swell the song sonorous,
And clap my wings for joy,
And sail off on the chorus--
'Hurrah for 'Johnson's boy!''
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Quit Your Low Down Ways
Oh, you can read out your bible,
You can fall down on your knees, pretty mama,
And pray to the lord
But it aint gonna do no good.
Youre gonna need
Youre gonna need my help someday
Well, if you cant quit your sinnin
Please quit your low down ways.
Well, you can run down to the white house,
You can gaze at the capitol dome, pretty mama,
You can pound on the presidents gate
But you oughta know by now its gonna be too late.
Youre gonna need
Youre gonna need my help someday
Well, if you cant quit your sinnin
Please quit your low down ways.
Well, you can run down to the desert,
Throw yourself on the burning sand.
You can raise up your right hand, pretty mama,
But you better understand you done lost your one good man.
Youre gonna need
Youre gonna need my help someday
Well, if you cant quit your sinnin
Please quit your low down ways.
And you can hitchhike on the highway,
You can stand all alone by the side of the road.
You can try to flag a ride back home, pretty mama,
But you cant ride in my car no more.
Youre gonna need
Youre gonna need my help someday
Well, if you cant quit your sinnin
Please quit your low down ways.
Oh, you can read out your bible,
You can fall down on your knees, pretty mama,
And pray to the lord
But it aint gonna do no good.
Youre gonna need
Youre gonna need my help someday
Well, if you cant quit your sinnin
Please quit your low down ways.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seeing Yourself In A Mirror
on a fading day
between your busy hour and that moment
when you want to stop
or quit
you stand in front of a mirror
and ask yourself: is this worth it?
there is this voice which says
you must quit, you have had enough
there is no use
of another day
you stare and another image stares back at you
it is worth it
there is no justification to quit
you make
a difference
then you tighten your belt and with your hands
you iron out what is creased
you promise
you will go neat with life
you will finish what you have started
the voice comes assuredly like a
conscience
you make a difference
you are not a quitter
you are a winner.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Last Shot
Last shot sure killed me
Pour another drink
Lets drink to the last shot
And the blood on the dishes in the sink
Blood inside the coffee cup
Blood on the table top
But when you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot
When you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot
I shot blood at the fly on the wall
My heart almost stopped hardly there at all
I broke the mirror with my fall, with my -
- fall-fall-fall
Fall-fall-fall
Gimme a double, give yourself one two
Gimme a short beer, one for you too
And a toast to everything that doesnt move
That doesnt move
But when you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot
When you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot
Whiskey, bourbon, vodka and scotch
I dont care what it is youve got
I just want to know that its my last shot
My last shot
I remember when I quit pretty good
See this here, this is where I chipped my tooth
Shot of vein in my neck and I coughed up a quaalude
On my last shot
My last shot
Heres a toast to all thats good
And heres a toast to hate
And heres a toast to toasting and Im not boasting
When I say Im getting straight
When I say Im getting straight
But when you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot
When you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This is not Johnson's war. This is America's war. If I drop dead tomorrow, this war will still be with you.
quote by Lyndon B. Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Looking (Meditation)
looking for awakening,
i gave up, and quit looking,
- the petals opened!
i do the wrong thing,
say the wrong thing,
think the wrong thing,
feel the wrong thing...
so many times every day
that it pisses me off!
seems like the harder i try
the worse i become!
maybe i need to quit trying!
looking for freedom,
i gave up, and quit looking,
- my chains fell to the ground!
i walk down this same road
again and again, and
nothing ever changes!
every time i get to the end
it begins again.
this really pisses me off!
seems like the further i walk
the further i have to go!
maybe i need to quit walking!
looking for redemption,
i gave up, and quit looking,
-and found the key within my heart!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crazy Lowdown Ways
Well i got a problem
and it just won't wait
I've been getting on one
With the man who guards your gate
When he says you're sleeping
In your hideaway
It is what he's keeping back
That gives your game away
Come quit your crazy lowdown ways
You're walking astray
Come quit your weary worn out ways
You're walking astray
And i'd like to say
That i like this
More than i do today
Yes i' got a problem
like you've never seen
I've been getting bothered
By the man who locks your screen
When he says you're hiding
And in your room you'll stay
It is what he's holding back
That says what he can't say
Come quit your crazy lowdown ways
You're walking astray
Come quit your weary worn out ways
You're walking astray
And i'd like to say
That i like this
More than i do today
I'm just a lazy man
Who has to hear the truth
And i hear what's true from you
Come quit your crazy lowdown ways
You're walking astray
Come quit your weary worn out ways
You're walking astray
Come quit your crazy lowdown ways
Come quit your weary worn out ways
You're walking astray
And i'd like to say
That i like this
More than i do today
La la la
La la la
La la la
La la la
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reluctance
Will I have some mo' dat pie?
No, ma'am, thank-ee, dat is--I--
Bettah quit daihin' me.
Dat ah pie look sutny good:
How 'd you feel now ef I would?
I don' reckon dat I should;
Bettah quit daihin' me.
Look hyeah, I gwine tell de truf,
Mine is sholy one sweet toof:
Bettah quit daihin' me.
Yass'm, yass'm, dat's all right,
I 's done tried to be perlite:
But dat pie 's a lakly sight,
Wha 's de use o' daihin' me?
My, yo' lips is full an' red,
Don't I wish you 'd tu'n yo' haid?
Bettah quit daihin' me.
Dat ain't faih, now, honey chile,
I 's gwine lose my sense erwhile
Ef you des set daih an' smile,
Bettah quit daihin' me.
Nuffin' don' look ha'f so fine
Ez dem teef, deah, w'en dey shine:
Bettah quit daihin' me.
Now look hyeah, I tells you dis;
I 'll give up all othah bliss
Des to have one little kiss,
Bettah quit daihin' me.
Laws, I teks yo' little han',
Ain't it tendah? bless de lan'--
Bettah quit daihin' me.
I 's so lonesome by myse'f,
'D ain't no fun in livin' lef';
Dis hyeah life's ez dull ez def:
Bettah quit daihin' me.
Why n't you tek yo' han' erway?
Yass, I 'll hol' it: but I say
Bettah quit daihin' me.
Holin' han's is sholy fine.
Seems lak dat 's de weddin' sign.
Wish you 'd say dat you 'd be mine;--
Dah you been daihin' me.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am sworn to uphold the Constitution as Andy Johnson understands it and interprets it.
quote by Andrew Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faster
Tom Berenger, Dwayne Johnson, Carla Gugino, Micaela Johnson, Jennifer Carpenter
I Quit
When you said you were leavin
I said here we go again
I aint even breakin even
In this game I just cant win
The cards are stacked against me
Your aces beat my twos
Seems like bad luck travels with me
Like I was born to lose
I quit
Ive had enough of fallin in and out of love
Im done, Im through, thats it
If I cant have you... I quit
You were my only sunshine
In a world of pouring of pouring rain
So this will be my last time
I cant go through this again
Chorus
Im done, Im through, thats it if I cant have you... I quit
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Giving In
Giving in may,
Not be a benefit.
Giving in may,
Just be an excuse to quit.
Giving in may,
Not be the end of it
If,
What is done to another is offensive.
Giving in may,
Not be a benefit.
Giving in may,
Just be an excuse to quit.
And giving in may,
Not be the end of it.
If,
What is done to another is offensive.
Saying what is wrong to one,
May not be the right thing.
Especially if the other is a lover.
Who believes what is done,
Is okay and approved.
With an acceptance expected,
To be received as cool.
Giving in may,
Not be a benefit.
Giving in may,
Just be an excuse to quit.
And giving in may,
Not be the end of it.
If,
What is done is offensive.
And it is said and admitted.
Giving in may,
Not be a benefit.
Giving in may,
Just be an excuse to quit.
Giving in may,
Not be the end of it.
If,
What is done is offensive.
And an argument begins,
That is unended.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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