Related quotes: So little giv'n at Chapel...

An Epigram On The Same Occasion.

So little giv'n at Chapel Door!--
This People doubtless must be poor:
So much at Gaming thrown away!--
No Nation sure so rich as they.
Britons, 'twere greatly for your Glory,
Should those, who shall transmit your Story,
Their Notions of your Grandeur frame,
Not as you give, but as you game.

poem by Mary Barber
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Glory! Glory!

Hey when that look is in your eyes
I can see my fate
Yes I see my fate
Hey when that look is in your eyes
I can see my fate
Yes I see my fate
Hey got the sun up in the sky
But it comes too late
Yes it comes too late
Im like a dog
When I come crawlin back-to-you
Crawlin back-to-you
You wanna play god
I can see it in your eyes
See it in your eyes
Huh! glory! glory! glory! glory! glory!
Hey I bring you joy - I bring you love
But you walk away
Always walk away
Hey you look down on me from above
And I see my fate
And Im not enough
But - like a dog, I come crawlin back to you
Crawlin back to you
You wanna play god
I can see it in your eyes
See it in your eyes
Huh! glory! glory! glory! glory! glory!
Take it from the rich
And give it to the poor
Oh yeah you wanna take it from the rich
And give it to the poor
Take it from the rich and somehow
Give it to the poor
Ha! but you want - glory! glory! glory! glory! glory!
Well you got - glory! glory! glory! glory! glory!
Ch-ch-ch-woo-hoo!
Take it from the rich
Give it to the poor
All you want is glory
From the boy next door!

song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Sonnet Fashioned Old

'Our love will never last a week, I fear-'
That's to say t'will last a hundred year.
As long as mortal flesh will cling to bone
Some part of my affection you will own;
'My character's a very different sort-'
Hey, the Gemini cannot purport
To shine in parity to equal we-
Provable by spectrography;
Our fortunes are of greatly different share-'
That's to say we both, in kind, are poor,
For one man's simple is another's sumptious fare;
'I'm a royalist and you're a Tory-'
That's to say that love will end the story
Of rich and poor and infamy and glory.

poem by Morgan Michaels
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Poor Little Rich Girl

You say youre gonna testify
Lie away, lie away
So youre gonna gun me down
Go ahead, fire away
You say youll
Bring the curtain down
Turn around, walk away
Youre gonna close
This theatre down
Go ahead, stop the play
Your money talks
You pull the strings
Someone waits in the wings
You flick the switch, the dancer falls
You deal the cards
The dealer calls in your game
Poor little rich girl, your money talks
You pull the strings
Its a shame, poor little rich girl
Your money burns
We all have wings
You say youre gonna
Leave this town, fly away, fly away
So you gonna
Shoot me down, go ahead
Your money burns
Your money stings
Another song that no one sings
Another script left on the floor
Another face is shown the door
In your game
Poor little rich girl, your money talks
You pull the strings
Its a shame, poor little rich girl
Your money burns
We all have wings
In the game, poor little rich girl
Its easy come, its easy go
Its a shame, poor little rich girl
You lock the door, close the show
Its a game

song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Play

I play some card to hand over
So that the game finishes always.
The cards are fully proper
And nobody lies too much.
I lose a game when it is absurd,
I love the game that I have consulted
With open arms, the arms are long.
I play some cards to finish the game,
It is gaming always on the world,
It is rich how we obey the world.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Tax

Tax is for the welfare of the masses
That’s why more tax should levied
Upon the rich than the poor
In such a manner
So that a desired balance is maintained.

There should be no filthy rich
In a poor country
So the government should impose tax
On this people couple of times more
Than the ordinary rich.

Education tax, poverty elimination tax
And tax to rehabilitate the beggars
Can be imposed on the very rich.

The government must go for moderate tax
For the poor people
And they should not slaughter the hen
That lays egg of gold.

The Muslims should give tax properly
Since it is obligatory for them
So in a Muslim country
The government should highlight this
In order to increase revenue.

poem by Asif Andalib
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Gaming in general is a male thing. It isn't that gaming is designed to exclude women. Everybody who's tried to design a game to interest a large female audience has failed. And I think that has to do with the different thinking processes of men and women.

quote by Gary Gygax
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As I said in my state of the state address, we can no longer rely on gaming and sales taxes to pay our way. Indian gaming next door in California is eroding our major industry in Nevada.

quote by Kenny Guinn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If we were to be asked suddenly to give a definition of humility we would doubtless be greatly embarrassed.

quote by Edwin Holt Hughes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Across The Nation

Somewhere in the city
Theres a struggle going on
Someones making money
Someones doing wrong
Everybody searching for a little piece of gold
(power play? )(fix a face? ) never grow old
Its a shame
Whos gonna take control?
Its a game they play
Whos gonna save your soul?
And theyre never gonna stop
Till they reach the top
All across the nation
Fever takes control
Money is temptation
Money saves your soul
One thing I can tell you
Of this there is no doubt
The rich man needs his comfort
And the poor man does without
Everybody loves somebody
All around the world
But everybody knows
Its the rich man gets the girl
-chorus-
Look at all the little people
(cowering? ) from the rain
Standing at the bus stop
Dreaming bout spain
Here comes the rich man
Driving his car
When he was poor he was sure
He was gonna go far
-repeat chorus to fade-

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back in the thirties we were told we must collectivize the nation because the people were so poor. Now we are told we must collectivize the nation because the people are so rich.

quote by William F. Buckley, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New movement

I can't believe! ! England,
For poverty how can She stands.
The land of liberty and dignity,
Where are identity and humanity?
The poor become poorer,
the rich become richer.
Oh bad capitalization is in top of civilization,
Allah helps the poor in every nation.
If the poverty were a man, i 'd kill
Omar 's dictum curing for the ill.
The rich must help the poor
To have no envy, make the heart pure.
We respect you! ! England,
Rising humanity, you put a hand.
We don't go to the black ages,
when people put in cages,
Where they escape in caves.
We are at the era of enlightenment,
The revolutions are everywhere in new movement.

poem by khaled Elbalishy
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The Death of the Old Mendicant

There was a rich old gentleman
Lived on a lonely moor in Switzerland,
And he was very hard to the wandering poor,
'Tis said he never lodged nor served them at his door.

'Twas on a stormy night, and Boreas blew a bitter blast,
And the snowflakes they fell thick and fast,
When a poor old mendicant, tired and footsore,
Who had travelled that day fifteen miles and more,
Knocked loudly at the rich man's door.

The rich man was in his parlour counting his gold,
And he ran to the door to see who was so bold,
And there he saw the mendicant shivering with the cold.

Then the mendicant unto him said,
My dear sir, be not afraid,
Pray give me lodgings for the night,
And heaven will your love requite;
Have pity on me, for I am tired and footsore,
I have travelled fifteen miles to-day and more.

Begone! you vagabond, from my door!
I never give lodgings to the poor;
So be off, take to your heels and run,
Or else I'll shoot you with my gun!
Now do not think I'm making fun;
Do you hear, old beggar, what I say?
Now be quick! and go away.

Have mercy, sir, I cannot go,
For I shall perish in the snow;
Oh! for heaven's sake, be not so hard
And God will your love reward.

My limbs are tired, I cannot go away,
Oh! be so kind as let me stay.
'Twas vain! the rich man said, I shan't,
And shut his door on the mendicant,
And said, That is the way I'll serve the poor
While I live on this lonely moor.

Then the old mendicant did go away,
And, murmuring to himself, did say,
Oh, woe's me that ever I was born!
Oh, God, protect me from the storm!
My feeble limbs refuse to go,
And my poor heart does break with woe.
Then he lay down and died among the snow.

He was found by the rich man's shepherd next day,
While he was searching for sheep that had gone astray;
And he was struck with fear and woe
To see the body lying dead among the snow.

So the shepherd ran home and told his master
About the very sad disaster;
That he had found a dead body in the snow,
But whose it was he did not know.

Then the rich man ordered the body to be brought to his house
And to be instantly dressed by his loving spouse,
For his conscience smote him with fear and woe,
When he heard of the old mendicant being found dead in the snow.

So the poor old mendicant was buried without delay
In a very respectable way,
And from that very day the rich man was kind to the poor
And never turned any one away from his door.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Magnetic Game

Every poor uses slang
But the crux of the fun
Is that every one wants to be a rich man

If one day I become the richest one
On that day I surely will be a fakir or nun
And my whole property will be for the poor man

As I need nothing more than
Two pieces of cloths
And two timely meals
But in the middle there is a game
Very non-materialistic
People call it name and fame
Towards it every one madly rushes in
As it is very, very magnetic
But you can not earn any thing
Until it is given to you by the masses, the poor man

poem by Abdul Wahab
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Rich and Poor

In me a sense has felt like each,
One causes others to wonder of strange beliefs,
In a feeding are the poor,
Poor are the opposite of the Rich.

In this side of the valley,
The Rich are better at living,
In opposition to the laughter
Of the Poor.

Poor is not Rich,
And Rich carries no Wealth
Of Heavenly Times.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Xyz

Once was, never the better by worse -
Adopted by the attitude which is used by the rich -
Stones are stones, yet they carry gold -
Why do we exchange to letter the poor, poor -
Struggle becomes normal, rags dressed to be formal -
Food is the sacred passage whereby some have to survive -
That which is thrown away by you as useless -
Builds another mans house -
A home, protection for his family -
What will be the outcome, to standby to fly -
And the rest of the humans die -
Of hunger, starvation is an equations -
One does not equal the other -
Rich does not equal poor -
XYZ
Yet, without the poor you will be dead

poem by Unic Cjonr
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Let Me Ride

Hand me down my golden crown and let me ride
Dont deny the highway in my soul
Jump and sing that silver thing that I feel inside
Hallelujah let that big wheel roll
Its time to give me just a little bit of old time glory
Im talking bout the coming of the sunshine story
Set this poor soul free
Let it be
Break these bonds that hold my soul and Im on my way
I cant help feeling theres no time to lose
I done made my mind up yesterday that I just cant stay
So hand me down my highway shoes
Its time to give me just a little bit of old time glory
Im talking bout the coming of the sunshine story
Set this poor soul free
Let it be

song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sacred Journey

In the renaissance
of Western spirituality.

The linear logic of
frame by frame reality.

Is no longer a suitable roadmap
for a blue print of practicality.

The shining clarity of
thought unfettered by the dream.
Unfolding the universe as never before.
Ever revealing the unforseen.

Breaking the chaos
of matter based existence.
From this heightened state of thought
there can be no resistance.

We emerge in all our splendor
the doubts and fears must all surrender.

Thus revealed in all its glory
mans true birthright.
The magnificant story.

Peace and Love for every nation.
Found in God's Blessed creation.

poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
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Washington and Lincoln

Come, happy people! Oh come let us tell
The story of Washinton and Lincoln!
History's pages can never excel
The story of Washington and Lincoln.
Down through the ages an anthem shall go,
Bearing the honors we gladly bestow--
Till every nation and language shall know
The story of Washington and Lincoln:

Who gave us independence,
On our continent and sea
Who saved the glorious Union!
And set a people free!
This is the story--
Oh happy are we--
The story of Washington and Lincoln.

Parents to children shall tell with delight,
The story of Washington and Lincoln;
Free born and freed men together recite
The story of Washinton and Lincoln.
Earth's weary bond men shall listen with cheer--
Tyrants shall tremble, and traitors shall fear--
When, in it's fullness of glory, they hear
The story of Washington and Lincoln:

Though on the war cloud recorded with steel,
The story of Washington and Lincoln;
Peace only Peace, can completely reveal
The story of Washington and Lincoln.
Thanks to the Lord for the days we behold!
Thanks for the unsullied flag we unfold!
Thanks to us, and in our time, was told
The story of Washington and Lincoln.

poem by Henry Clay Work
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