Give Me Mimmie
Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!
She 'may' have a flaw.
Not too many I have seen.
She's my oldest 'and' younger sister.
And when she whips her dander up...
Watch out!
She can let off some steam.
A jewel, a star...
A bright light shining.
Never to complain,
She refrains from whining.
Wife, mother and devoted grandmother too.
She says she has retired!
But from what?
She's 'so' busy.
She's always finding something to do!
Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!
She's funny when she says she is going to relax.
By preparing a meal for fifty or more people...
For some function at her church,
Where she is very active at!
She doesn't hesitate,
To express the wisdom that she has.
It's sharp and quite clear,
To whomever it is passed.
And she entertains with humor.
When she jokes,
You are going to laugh.
She's quite accomplished...
Undertaking several task!
Yes...
Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!
Dedicated to:
My sister Andrea Doreen 'Mimmie' Pertillar Dixon
'Love you, young lady! '
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Queen of What Is Right
Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.
No one,
Not even me...
Can argue with Mimmie D.
She is seldom wrong!
So prepare to take a hike.
She's quite talented and gifted.
And seems to never rest.
She makes things look too easy.
Even her children, Shayla and Landry...
Often find time with her protest.
But Mimmie is quite a special person!
And yes, I can say this...
It is true,
She knows what is best.
She knows how to dress with style and grace.
When she cooks a meal,
I've witness people stuff their faces.
Everything she touches,
Has a quality to it.
And she's the first on the scene,
When family, friends and those she loves get sick!
Did I tell you she was a nurse?
When she was just a child...
Healing the 'universe' she use to rehearse.
She tried to practice her skills on me!
But I had to remind her...
I was the one born first!
'Mahhhh...
Will you tell Mimmie to leave me alone.
She's trying to tell me what to say.
When I get on the telephone! '
Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.
Yes, we had our arguments.
And yes we had our childish fights.
But on September 10th two thousand and nine,
My little sister will be sixty.
And it is hard to believe,
Without me...
She has done quite fine.
But sometimes I wonder about her husband AL.
After thirty six years of wedded bliss with sister Mim...
He seems to get better as he ages with her.
And not showing one sign,
He is out of his mind!
There has to be 'something' WRONG with THEM.
Two peas in the same pod.
The love they have for each other,
Today...
IS quite odd!
Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.
And I love her dearly with all my heart!
Since Andrea and me,
Are both alike.
'Mahhhh...
will you tell LArry to leave me alone.
And mine his own business,
When I talk on the telephone! '
Dedicated to my sister,
Andrea 'Mimmie' Doreen Pertillar Dixon.
In celebration of her 60th birthday.
September 10th 2009.
'I love you, Mimmie.'
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Heffa
'Don't let me chase you...
Heffa! '
My mother would say this,
Before she did my sister's hair.
And I would sit in a chair...
To watch my sister.
And she would cry and I would stare.
'What you looking at? '
My sister Mimmie would say!
I'm looking at you!
What you gonna do?
'You kids better not start nothing with me.
Hold your head still, girl!
And don't you say another word, Larry! '
I would think to myself...
'Is Mimmie a 'heffa' when she gets her hair done?
Why when I called her that...
She would chase me,
And I would run?
Then my mother would say,
'Would you kids stop that!
Both of you get on my last nerve.
Stop that fighting crap.'
Ma, what is a 'heffa'?
And why is Mimmie one?
Is it the way she looks...
When her hair is undone?
If I called her that,
She wants to fight with me.
Daddy don't call her a heffa.
Why do you...
Exclusively?
My mother would look at me,
As if I was crazed.
I could tell in her eyes,
She was trying for 'something' to say!
I never heard my mother curse.
She didn't have to back then.
But I grew to understand...
'Heffa' was a word,
Black women shared between them!
And my sister Mimmie...
Thought she needed to keep me in 'check'!
And 'if' I didn't leave her alone...
A grown man I would never become or get!
I grew up in a family of very strong willed 'heffuhs'!
Dedicated to:
Those women in my family whom I love dearly.
And I have learned what they say to each other,
And amongst themselves...
Is between them as women!
And they have provided me with 'much' wisdom!
I know now...
What is said 'endearingly' between them,
Is not for a man to repeat!
Even though they can say what they wish,
About us!
'Right, fellas'?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I've Done the Best I Can So You Can Do That Better
Beneath the tree
That falling leaves descended from,
I stand.
Thinking of the changes,
I have experienced being the man I am.
'She is now called 'Mama'!
Ma! Or Ms Mimmie'.
When she's with her children...
And grandchildren too!
And I look up above me to witness the branches.
The twigs!
And the wonder of the tree...
All of this ascends from!
'Matriarch she is! ', I think with no doubt.
And the birds, squirrels and all that come to visit,
Are always welcomed
And I wonder if anyone wonders...
'How can anyone disbelieve there is a God? '
How can this be done?
And by whom?
We all can't be vacant with a disconnected fate!
'Something' is planned by the doing in all of this!
'Something' is in control and knows everything that sits...
Within and 'out' of our midst.
'Something' about this most people miss.
'How can anyone disbelieve there is a God? '
And we are God's experiment!
And my 'sisters' were born to nourish the flourishment.
And I can see...
Looking at 'this' tree before me I inspect.
And 'It' observes...knowing!
Encouraging those after birth and going...
After growing up,
With a gentle toughness that is meant.
'I've done the best I can so you can do that better.'
Dedicated:
To my sister Andrea. Mim, Mimmie and MimmieD
'You have 'eight' grandchildren? EIGHT? How, Mimmie? '
Where was I when all of this happened?
And Tammy and Lisa? ? Naw. No way, yo?
You can 'not' be in your 'fffffffffffffaaug. Getting 'more'
mature. Geeeessshhh. HOW do you all get so much older
than me? Overnight it seems.
LOL
Love you,
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One and Of All
Thank You,
Almighty!
I've come to give You
The Praise!
I've come to You focused...
Dear God.
Quiet and subdued,
To ask of You
For a complete release.
From the craving that has crazed,
Those of the flesh...
And of wicked ways.
I've come to You wishing,
And wanting an uplift in consciousness.
To raise higher in my mind...
A rising devotion,
And happiness that is mine!
Knowing without You,
Inside of me stirring my soul...
My life has no dropp of wholesomeness.
None 'that' I should maintain.
None 'that' must remain I should hold!
Without You!
And...
I thank You,
Almighty,
For 'all' and everything.
From the appearance of dew...
Misting the dawning of morning Sun.
To the glistening of those rays,
Reflected...
On the surface of the Moon,
When night comes.
To enhance Your stay,
Father.
And the stars twinkling in the Heavens,
Sparkling from Cosmic light!
This is what I witness.
This delights my appetite.
And I thank You Almighty!
For this life...
This life given.
To adventure and explore this 'gift'
Only You have manifested...
And allowed me to feel blessed with!
Thank You,
Almighty!
Keeper and Giver of 'this' experience!
The One and of All.
And 'here' in me to express...
Such gratefulness,
I wish to give!
Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall!
And so honored I am to confess,
I recognize Your Angels sent...
To ensure that I do for You,
Always pursuing I will,
My best!
Thank You,
Almighty!
I've come to give You
The Praise!
I come and welcome this bliss with You.
Knowing someday,
Eternity with You...
I will come to stay!
Dedicated:
To my wonderful sister...
Mrs. Andrea Doreen ('Mimmie') Pertillar Dixon
Wife, Mother, Grandmother and Friend!
Gifted. Wise. And...'Stubborn'...LOL
'Love you, Mimmie'
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When She Played It Was On Her Piano
As a kid I had ambitions.
And the first of them was to do my chores,
Before my mother would come home from work.
And she would pack them on too!
'I told you to sweep this floor.'
I did!
'With what?
A sandwich?
Do it again.'
My sister, Mimmie, would look at me.
And smile!
I couldn't wait,
To give her the spray can...
To kill the roaches!
I didn't know we weren't suppose to have them,
Until I was eight years old!
And that's not a joke.
One day when my mother went to work,
I made sure Mimmie got introduced.
She's a grandmother now.
And every once in a while...
She will mention how mean I was to her.
Nobody is going to sit,
And enjoy me getting whipped!
And that has been my philosophy...
Learned very early in my life.
Those days are long gone.
And being assigned to responsibilites,
I believe every child needs.
However...
Too many parents have raised lazy and spoiled children.
Believing one day,
They will awaken and be accountable for their actions!
Today as I reflect on my childhood,
I am glad my mother did not allow me to go to sleep...
To chance an awakening to what I knew I should do.
What I had and was going to do got done,
Before I had an opportunity to give it thought.
Procrastination,
Was not a lesson my mother taught.
I've seen parents,
Do everything possible for their children.
To wonder at a later date in time,
Why their children disrespect them.
Even 'if' I looked as if I wanted to say something back,
My mother would put a 'switch' to my behind.
AND...
I would have to fine one she liked to use on me.
That was before the calling of 911.
Today...
They would call that child abuse.
When I grew up...
We got our 'butts' tore up.
Just for looking as 'if'...
We did not enjoy getting whippings!
And I aint hardly kidding.
How does that 'old' saying go?
~Spare the rod and spoil the child.~
Well...
Mimmie and I were very spoiled.
But...
A rocking of a boat,
Did not float at all...
With Ms Edna!
When she played,
It was on her piano!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Moments of Their Mourning
The biggest honor you can bestow,
On someone deceased.
Is to participate,
If asked to speak...
During their homegoing service.
You may not believe,
You have this skill or ability!
But someone saw it in you.
That's why you were approached...
To deliver inspiration.
Only in the way that you can do.
Bringing somewhat of a closure,
To those in heartbreak exposing grief.
Your words will lift them up and away...
And relieve them from their agony.
With an effectiveness,
That can and will assist...
To bring them in memory,
Of those happy times that existed.
And it was felt,
That only you would be able to do this...
To ease them during this period,
In which loved ones are certain to mourn.
And you need to be there...
Aware and sharing,
In moments of their mourning.
Dedicated to...
My sister Andrea (Mimmie) D. Pertillar Dixon.
These words were spoken to her daughter Shayla,
My niece.
Who felt she could not speak,
During a funeral in 'celebrating' the life...
And not the death of a close friend.
'Mimmie? What can I say?
I 'had' to lift this conversation.
I hope you realize how great your comments made
to Shayla, inspired me as well.
I may be biased!
However...
You are one terrific person.
I may be one of the writers in the family.
But...
You sure know how to deliver the right words.
And at the right time and place.'
Love you,
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Where's Daddy?
My mother and I were close.
And had a unique relationship.
People thought I was a mama's boy.
And I didn't mind.
Since both my mother and I,
Would laugh when we discussed this.
I remember talking before I could walk.
And when we were out together publicly,
She would say to me...
'Please Larry, do not say one word.
I don't want anyone staring at you.'
~You mean like daddy does? ~
'Exactly.'
And when I got older,
When my sister Mimmie was born...
I use to ask my mother,
~Why is she so quiet? ~
'Give her time.
She's only a few months old.'
And...
When she did get older,
And we'd all be out in public...
My mother not once told her,
To be quiet.
I tried.
But she never listened to me.
And my father?
He would just stare at us in disbelief.
~Ma?
Where's daddy? ~
'Who knows? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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How It Feels to be 61
I was asked how it feels to be 61?
As if I was an exhibit.
Lost...
And finding my way back to a museum.
I didn't know whether to say I still felt like a human being.
Nothing about that has changed!
Was I being made to feel paranoid?
How could I avoid that 'look' if it was seen?
'I feel great!
I have never been this age before.
So the experience is new to me.
I can better respond to that,
When I turn 62! '
Sixty-two? SIXTY-TWO? ? ?
Seriously.
I never think of aging until someone brings it up.
When I am with my nephew and niece and their children,
We all have a lot of fun.
Now my brother-in-law and sister see them more than I do.
Maybe that is the reason they are less hesitant,
To jump around and giggle with them.
AL and my sister Mim look as if they have giggled out!
With expressions that beg for vacations.
I tell them all the time just how blessed they are!
'Yeah, we're smothered in our fortunes! '
I can just imagine!
Ahhh...to be 61!
God knows what He is doing.
Because I know if I had children...
They way these children are today?
I'd be sitting up in a prison.
Or strait jacketed in a pad locked cell!
I was extremely sad when my son Michael passed.
Many years ago!
But I can say I am rather glad...
Mimmie and AL had the task,
Of raising some wonderful children!
'Yes...
We are so blessed.
Aren't we AL? '
My sister Mimmie gives these looks,
That are so very funny!
I can look at them all and leave!
That's how it feels to be 61!
Kiss them all and leave with them my love.
And take some with me.
To a place where I have quiet and peace.
'Thank you, God! '
I was asked how it feels to be 61?
As if I was an exhibit.
Lost...
And finding my way back to a museum.
I didn't know whether to say I still felt like a human being.
Nothing about that has changed!
Was I being made to feel paranoid?
How could I avoid that 'look' if it was seen?
'How do I feel?
Great.
I had a wonderful workout with my great niece Kamara...
And my great nephew, Kevin...her brother!
I feel wonderful.
I go for my next workout sometime next month!
But I will take twice that time to rest...
In the quietness of my home! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Competition
Competition?
I don't like it,
When no one else is involved!
And opponents?
They are becoming rare these days!
Myself?
I'm my worse competitor!
I am never satisfied,
Unless I'm looking for challenges!
My sisters...
Andrea ('Mimmie') , Tammy and Lisa
They did this to me!
They make me 'sick' with their brilliance!
But,
I will never let them know that.
They will want to raise the bar!
As if this is some contest of some kind.
And it ain't!
I am too grown for that!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We Prefer 'Butter' Beans
What do I contribute to my being tenacious?
A dislike for lima beans.
It seems as if my sister, Mimmie, and I...
Ate them everyday.
And my mother would say to us...
'Be thankful for what you've got.
Some people aren't even eating that.'
To say to us...
Times then were 'meager'.
'So eat and shut up.'
Well,
That was many years ago.
Long before my younger sisters, Tammy and Lisa...
Acquired a craving for those weekly 'Grinder' sandwiches,
Our dad would buy for them.
And they would cling onto them as if they possessed,
Fort Knox.
And Tammy would look at me,
As 'if' I had better not...
Ask for a piece to taste.
She's the one most opionated.
To this very day,
My sister, Mim and I can not stand lima beans!
But...
For some reason,
We prefer 'butter' beans.
And...
You can not tell us,
They are the same thing as those 'limas'.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I've Been Doing This Most Of My Life
'I never thought you were that serious.'
About what?
Serious about what?
'That which you do.'
Please.
I have no time for riddles.
What are you talking about?
'Your writing.'
I 'keep' telling you,
I've been doing this most of my life.
Almost 60 years now.
'Lies!
That's impossible.
I thought you told me you were in your late 40's? '
You see...
Even I am confused.
That's how long it has been.
When I was then a mere child,
In the mid...
'70's? '
70's? ? ?
Are you kidding?
I've been doing this...much...
You know?
You are right!
I write so much...
I forget!
It's 2011 isn't it?
I am so glad you are here.
God works in mysterious ways.
It just seems as if,
I've been doing this much, much longer.
'I know it was in the '70's' because I remember,
You told me your oldest sister, Mimmie...
Believes she is your mother sometimes.'
LOLOLOL...
Yep!
That she does.
But...
Don't tell her.
She will 'never' forgive me for revealing her real age!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thankful For A Fixed Income I Magically Manage
I did not grow up picking Lillies from the field.
I was a latchkey child with chores and responsibilities.
That's the way my mother raised my sister Mimmie and me.
To be independent and aware at a very early age.
I can sometimes be difficult, direct and demanding.
Traits others discover within minutes in my presence.
However...
When I give of myself and time,
That is done without question.
I am one of those Give-Back-To-The Community kind.
And I've learned after many years of doing it...
Not too many in the community appreciate the sacrifice.
Since I am limited with 'bling' to impress!
I've been told many times,
'Why are you here wasting your life?
You can go somewhere else with the skills you have.
And make lots of money! '
It sickens me to hear this,
From those who assess others...
By what they 'visual' possess.
They same folks that express 'unity'.
Based on conditions met!
But...
My mother didn't raise me like that!
She taught 'me' to make contributions.
Delivering to others my best.
Needless to say we had many arguments about this.
Guess who won?
The only regret I have?
Not too many were present to digest her message.
Although I am grateful and blessed,
To have listened.
And thankful for a fixed income I magically manage.
And a can opener I use without protest.
Yes...
I am skilled.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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These Times Can't Last Forever
'These times can't last forever,
GOD! '
My mother, Edna, seem to always say,
To herself...
While putting a belt to my sister, Mimmie
And me...
As if she made to us promises,
We would 'never' forget.
And somehow GOD would agree.'
~Why is 'she' the one crying? ~
*Would you shut up.*
'And...
She was right.
Overnight,
Those times seemed to have moved on.'
'These times can't last forever! '
People are heard to say,
Those exact words today.
But not with the same conviction,
My mother had expressed.
However...
They too are right.
Like it or not,
These times are not here to stay.
Not the way they are.
And experience should teach...
For better or worse,
These times we live now...
Will from us leave!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those Sugarcoating Days
The last time I had the opportunity,
To sugarcoat anything...
I was a child making candied apples.
From a family recipe,
My West Indian mother, Edna, taught me.
With a dipping of the apples in the mix.
To then let them sit,
In the icebox.
And my sister Mimmie and I,
Were left to get impatient.
During those days when the iceman came,
With blocks of ice.
And the milk and soda was delivered to our door.
Leaving those sugarcoating days,
Not to exist for me any more.
With a wish for them to return..
I do not do.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Why Did You Step On Those Toes?
This has been brought to my attention:
Some of you have stated...
In the privacy of whispers,
Of course.
That I have a tendency,
To step on a few toes!
And I thought about this.
Knowing the intention,
Of the message I had to send.
So I prayed to God.
And asked what should I do?
Since my only desire,
Is to reflect the 'will' of God.
In complete devotion.
Not to offend Him.
Or upset undo emotions.
And I prayed and prayed.
Staying there in prayer.
Hoping to make what I've done,
More clear!
Then a voice so near and gently spoke.
Saying to me...
'My son,
I love you.
But for the life I've given to thee...
'WHY' did you step on those toes?
When you clearly could have stomped,
On the feet! '
HUH?
'On the feet, My son!
On the feet!
You know...
The whole foot?
Next time take advantage,
Of these opportunities.'
Inspired by:
My sister Mim.
And Reverand White
Springfield, Massachusetts.
'Mimmie, I thank you.
Please thank Reverand White.
U 2 funny.'
Love you,
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Aint Been 'Right' Since
Just throw me any compliment you wish,
With superlatives dripping with adverbs and adjectives.
And don't forget that 'ego' written all over my forehead.
Be sure not to miss that.
That wants to be massaged.
I'm telling you...
Just how 'shallow' is my deepness?
Don't get me wrong...
I am tremendously grateful I am blessed,
But...
Comeon!
I guess some people perceive my head,
To be as big as...
Alaska or Texas.
I'd be stuck on 'uh' if it was.
I just do what I know I do.
Those who 'really' know me,
Know this is no secret.
The only time I was impressed,
Is when my mother followed my every movement...
During my tap dance recital.
She was on my every step.
Better than I was.
And that was 59yrs ago.
And it was more than 50yrs ago,
My sister 'Mimmie' exclaimed...
'Larry? You did 'not' write this! '
Her nosey eyes was all up in my business,
Back then.
Don't get me wrong...
I am tremendously grateful I am blessed,
But...
Comeon!
I guess some people perceive my head,
To be as big as...
Alaska or Texas.
It really isn't.
Although it's expected to be.
And I don't know why.
Not soon after my birth...
I demanded my parents,
Stop by the store...
To pick up some pads an pens!
I had some ideas to jot down...
As soon as we got home!
And wouldn't you know...
They got me pencils instead.
And I aint been 'right' since!
Well...
At least the pads had 'lines'.
Upon which I was prepared to deliver.
I am embellishing a little bit.
But...
Not by much.
Give or take a few years!
I would 'add' at least...
6 or 7.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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THAT, I Do Know
You see this?
I've been doing it,
Most of my life.
Writing.
I began in the '50's
The nineteen fifties.
With little or no encouragement,
At all that I could see.
OH...
My mom use to buy my sister
And I writing pads and finger painting sets
to keep me from writing on the walls.
And...
I guess a few spankings supplied an incentive!
Now that I remember certain events.
It was my sister Mimmie,
Who discovered I could write poetry.
And she didn't believe me.
People 'assume' I was nourished,
And encouraged by my parents.
I don't think they knew what I did,
To be honest.
I was born 'this creative being'.
With demands I made.
No one 'gave' me a thing,
But a headache.
With a parade of negative comments,
About my exposed interests.
They assigned to being a little effeminate.
But I played ball and stuff like that.
I wasn't hung up on gender!
That is more expressed today,
Than in those days I grew up.
So...
I am quite amazed today,
Especially...
That someone would ask me 'how'
I do 'this' and what they need to know...
To do 'that'?
'Gee, I don't know what to say.
Or how to say anything at all about it.
Uh...you...uh...well? ...I...uh...Gee.'
Sometimes I'm left speechless.
I just know...
If it is something done that is loved,
It will discover a way to express itself.
THAT,
Is what I have discovered over many years,
Of unrelentless devotion.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Breathtaking
Why do I applaud them,
With enthusiasm in my standing ovation?
Did you just see that?
Their performance given...
Was absolutely brilliant.
The execution of presentation...
Superb.
Close to flawless.
The diction?
Eye contact?
And conviction with elecution?
Lifted me right out of my seat!
I have not witnessed such commitment,
To a staged production like this...
Since my parents tried to convince me,
Santa Claus was alive and well!
And that was after I saw them...
Wrapping up our Christmas gifts,
When my sister Mimmie and I were kids!
I felt compelled to applaud that!
It was the most remarkable piece of nonsense...
That came completely devoid of substance!
It was magical.
And for that...
I imagine,
Is one of the reasons...
All who stand are totally stunned.
We are shocked they pulled off this BS,
Without a single trace of reality.
None associated to depicting a way of life we now live.
Even though they want us to accept,
What they have delivered is a way of life that reflects.
That alone...
Is breathtaking!
And that was done with flag waving,
Ballons dropping.
Fireworks and a singing chorus.
Do you have any tissue?
I must dry my eyes!
That was marvelous.
One for the archives.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Sisters
I have three sisters.
Each I adore.
With seperate aggressions,
Too tiring to explore.
Dynamic they are.
With a creative genius.
Brilliant and humorous...
They truly represent Venus.
Me?
I am Mars.
I know I am 'out there'.
My dad was too!
But his attention,
Was on them like glue.
And 'stuck' he was.
Like a bee caught in a jar.
To be dehoneyed!
Especially the younger two.
Who got him to do anything.
And this I observed...
When learning how women can 'sting'.
Especially when expectations,
Were limiting.
Sometimes my mom and I,
Would look at each other and smile.
She knew too well I was an outsider.
When my sisters decided,
To inflict their 'styles'.
And each of them were respectfully different.
I have three sisters.
Each I adore.
With seperate aggressions,
Too tiring to explore.
And if I had a brother,
I know he'd run away.
Since I tried that myself.
But I am hooked to their 'allure'.
And that's how it has been,
To this very day.
I have three sisters,
Very wise...
And quick with wit.
So proud I am they are who they are.
I have no choice.
Since I'm sure they wouldn't have it,
Any other way.
'Women!
To love them is to...
Well,
Love them.'
Dedicated to:
Mimmie 'D', Tammy and Lisa
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give Up
(bernard edwards/nile rodgers)
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
You better listen well
When I tell you
To be on the look out
You cant call for help
cause I know you inside out
Despite all your hideouts
Im no great pretender
Ill make you surrender
So come along quietly
Heres a thought to remember
I have not met a man yet
To escape from my drag-net
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Ill give you just the facts man
And you can draw all your own conclusions
Ill keep your mind surrounded
With chains of love so strong
You cant break through them
My arsenal is stocked
With all kinds of seductive weapons
Although your hearts locked up
My love will assist me
So that you cant resist me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
No, no, no
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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