I Was A Bustlemaker Once, Girls
When I was a lad of twenty and was working in High Street, Ken.,
I made quite a pile in a very little while - I was a bustle maker then.
Then there was work in plenty, and I was a thriving man
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade, since the bustle making trade began.
I built bustles with a will then, I made bustles with a wit,
I made bustles as a Yankee hustles, simply for the love of it.
I built bustles with a skill then, surpassed, they say, by none,
But those were the days when bustles were the craze, and now those days are done.
I was a bustle maker once, girls, many many years ago,
I put my heart in the bustle maker's art and I don't mind saying so.
I may have had the brains of a dunce, girls, I may have had the mind of a muff,
I may have been plain and deficient in the brain but I did know a bustle maker's stuff.
I built bustles for the slender, I built bustles for the stout,
I built bustles for the girls with muscles, and bustles for the girls without.
I built bustles by the thousands, in the good old days of yore,
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade and I don't build bustles any more.
Many were the models worn once; but mine were unique, tis said,
No rival design was so elegant as mine; I was a bustle maker bred.
I was a bustle maker born once, an artist through and through,
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade
And what can a bustle maker do?
I built bustles to enchant, girls, I built bustles to amaze,
I built bustles for the skirt that rustles, and bustles for the skirt that sways.
I built bustles for my aunt, girls, when other business fled,
But a bustle maker can't make bustles for his aunt when a bustle maker's aunt is dead.
I was a bustle maker once, girls, once in the days gone by,
I lost my heart to the bustle maker's art, and that I don't deny.
I may have had the brains of a dunce, girls, as many men appear to suppose,
I may have been obtuse and of little other use
But I could make a bustle when I chose.
I built bustles for the bulging, I built bustles for the lithe,
I built bustles for the girls in Brussels and bustles for the girls in Hythe.
I built bustles for all Europe once, but I've been badly hit,
Things have decayed in the bustle making trade
And that it the truth of it.
poem by Patrick Barrington
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Related quotes
For a nation which has an almost evil reputation for bustle, bustle, bustle, and rush, rush, rush, we spend an enormous amount of time standing around in line in front of windows, just waiting.
quote by Robert Benchley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Built For Comfort
By willie james dixon
Arr. by howlin wolf (chester arthur burnett)
Some folk built like this, some folk built like that
But the way Im built, you shouldnt call me fat
Because Im built for comfort, I aint built for speed
But I got everything all the good girls need
I dont have no diamond, and I dont have no gold
But Ive got a lot of lovin and I want you to know
That Im built for comfort, I aint built for speed
But I got everything all the good girls need
Some folk built like this, some folk built like that
But the way Im built, you shouldnt call me fat
Because Im built for comfort, I aint built for speed
But I got everything all the good girls need
Some folk rip and roar, some folk blieve in signs
But if you want me, you got to take your time
Because Im built for comfort, I aint built for speed
But I got everything all the good girls need
But I got everything all the good girls need
I ... I love you baby
I ... I love you baby
But I got everything all of the good girls need
And I dont got no diamonds, dont have no gold
Got a lot of lovin to satisfy your soul
Im built for comfort, I aint built for speed
But I got everything all the good girls need
(lyrics as recorded in 1968 for the howlin wolf album)
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pushed to the Curb
Those holding onto their catty bitch issues?
From days long gone and equally insignificant.
Need to be dropped, stopped and blocked,
From anyone who regarded them as a priority.
The universe bustles with too much life...
To let their continued bickering,
Bring another one strife.
They need to be 'dusted'.
And pushed to the curb.
To be picked up like garbage,
Along with the other crusted stuff!
Too long rusted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Going Back Home After Days Of Desolation
you hear the noise
of the day
drums beat so hard
on the city
streets
on a mardi gras
people march with the sound
of victory
upon a mass demonstration
of their
mobbing slogans
masks of faces
that you have not fully
figured
crowd the mall
outside
you hear the loud
screams of the heavy rain
the blowing horns of
the cars and
the jeepneys
on those rush hours
people are running
women are holding on
to their kids
from school
lights are turned on
blinding
your view
this is the horror of
the
daily bustle
the noise of
every day's struggles
the existential
angst
that no philosophy
can hide
time knows no one
and the hours
treats no one with
specialty
x x x
you rest your head
upon a green velvet sofa
and you remember
hearing once again the variant
bustles of the hour
at the center of
this huge mall
the sounds have turned into pins
and thorns
in your brain
there is no rose
nothing red nothing blue as a
cloud
x x x
when you finally go home
to the house that you leave
days ago
which you think
created the worst loneliness
dragging your life
like a steel ball
to your chained
legs and arms
x x x
you close the door
and then you know how beautiful
is silence
for now
how satisfying like water to your thirsty mouth
how comforting like the softest pillow to your head....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In the Garden of Remembrance
A simple curved stone bench
Set in a rustic niche.
Outside, this city bustles,
here, time passes by the inch.
There’s a fine array of roses
and stone tablets on the wall.
The inscription is in Irish,
It tells of a rise and fall.
As I sit, quiet, here
Near the bronze children of Lir
The reflecting pool brims full
of my races’ gathered tears.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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When You’re Bad in Your Inside
I remarked that man is saddest, and his heart is filled with woe,
When he hasn’t any money, and his pants begin to go;
But I think I was mistaken, and there are many times I find
When you do not care a candle if your pants are gone behind;
For a fellow mostly loses all ambition, hope, and pride,
When—to put the matter mildly—he is bad in his inside.
Bobby Burns was down on toothache, and it troubled him no doubt;
But you know a man can always have a molar taken out,
And be all right then, excepting for the duller pain that comes
To the hollow that is lying like a gully in the gums.
But you can’t extract your innards—they must stay within your hide,
And you’ve got to moan and cuss it—when you’re bad in your inside.
You dunno what to take for it—you dunno what to do:
You are puzzled to remember what has disagreed with you,
You lie in all positions—there is none will give you ease;
And you think an aching stomach is the king of agonies.
You feel as though your innards in a double knot are tied,
While the devil ties it tighter—when you’re bad in your inside.
Then you send that boy—that Harry—and you tell him to be quick,
For a shilling’s worth of brandy, “for a person who is sick”.
You make him swear to hurry, and he goes off like a shot;
But you wait an hour and suffer, and the brandy cometh not;
Then you look out through the window, and you swear to bust his hide,
For the wretch is playing football, while you’re bad in your inside.
Then there’s mostly some old woman, with your aunt or mother, too,
And it’s really quite indecent how she cross-examines you.
She insists on giving physic, and will hear of no excuse;
And dilates upon your bowels till you wish her to the deuce.
You wish she’d go and leave you—let you be and let it slide,
And go about her business, when you’re bad in your inside.
But she’s come to see you through it, and she bustles in and out;
And she talks of private matters that she oughtn’t talk about.
She proceeds to pill and dose you, and she vows that you’ll be ill
Till you’ve swallowed every nostrum—castor oil, and draught and pill,
And you wish, good Lord! that she would pass across the Stygian tide,
And nurse the gory Devil, when he’s bad in his inside.
But the hag is interested, and she bustles out and in;
And in various disguises give you nauseous medicine.
Till she’s shifted all obstructions, and has soothed your keenest pain
(Though her remedies may leave you a much sicker man again);
But she’s done her best to help you, for her sympathy is wide,
And you’ll bless that same old woman when you’re right in your inside.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Today... 'The Cornerstone
Rejected of men for being too good
we crucified you on a cross of wood
But Your Father had other plans for You
for the temple was to be built anew
A building not made of rock or of stone
but one made up of Christians alone
Built of people saved by the grace of God
the Cornerstone is Jesus Christ the Lord
A great temple not built by human skill
but made up of those who follow God's will
The living temple of Your body Lord
because its' builder and maker is God
To build it the old temple had to go
through death so that You could raise it up so.
This is marvellous in our sight O Lord
One in Christ we are the temple of God.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
On A Railway Platform
The world
Becomes small
On a railway platform
Irrespective of
Cast, color or creed
Old and young
Rich and poor
Known, unknown
Meet
Arrive and depart
The loved ones
Are received and sent off
Tears of happiness
And sorrow flow
Bustles
With noise and activity
Anxiety leaves
When the train arrives
Turns in to place with
Death like silence
Once it whistles
Leaves
For its destination
The world
Becomes still
On a railway platform
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Forgiveness
There may be innuendoes from the mealy-mouthed individual.
Her skeptical husband who listens to the scaremongers?
It seems very sad the newly built nest will be scattered to the unexpected storms.
There should be a mutual understanding each other
If not the domesticity is turn up inferno.
The doubt leads the road to catastrophe and the ups and downs are the reality of life.
Let her sleep without stir or bustle.
Brother forgiveness is a rare quality of a human being.
Forget the nightmare and look into the beautiful side of life.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Girls Want To Be With Girls
The girls don't want to play like that,
They just want to talk to the boys.
The just want to do what is in their hearts,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(CHORUS)
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls want things that make common sense,
The best for all concerned.
They don't want to have to go out of their way,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(CHORUS)
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls are getting into abstract analysis,
They want to make intuitive leap.
They are making plans that have far reaching effects.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(CHORUS)
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Geelong
The earliest lady in the land,
Her pride of caste is high.
Where blue Corio's gleaming strand
Dream 'neath a peaceful sky,
She sat her down by her five towns,
And, garbed in best of homespun gowns,
She watched life pass her by.
A leisured lady then, and staid,
She mused beside her Bay,
While Barwon, in the You Yangs shade,
Droned thro' the drowsy day.
But now comes unaccustomed stir,
Since Henry, to enliven her,
Sent Lizzie here to stay.
A spiteful story men once spread,
Who sought to work her wrong,
About a woman who, they said,
Bore three sons hale and strong.
And, of the three, they used to tell,
Two still survived alive and well;
The third was in Geelong.
Now, she lives down that libelled past;
Life quickens in her streets;
Her mien grows brisk, her trade is vast;
With eager hands she meets
New ways, and bustles with a will;
But, fat and comfortable still,
Smiles upon all she greets.
Alert, yet sensible and sane,
As trade comes rushing in,
She shrewdly turns it to her gain
With sturdy will to win;
And still, withal contrives to wear
A kindly and complacent air.
And woollens next the skin.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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This House
(nile rodgers)
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Our toys are in the attic baby
Pictures on the wall
We can see our memories
From the days past in the mirror
Down the hall, oh yeah
Our love will survive in our own little paradise
So inspired, so inspired
Palatial it may not be
But its a home and a castle to me
A dream from a magazine
And well never give it up cause
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Ill try to comfort you baby
You try to comfort me yeah
I know you love me
With all your heart, oh yeah
cause you say you do
You know that when you are sad
Ill be there in a flash
At the drop of a hat, oh yeah
cause I want you to feel love
And you dont have to say a thing
You dont have to ask, cause baby
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Maybe well strike it rich
One day really make it big
And I know because our love is so strong
Well always have a home
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Girls Want To Be With The Girls
The girls dont want to play like that,
They just want to talk to the boys.
The just want to do what is in their hearts,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(chorus)
And the boys say, what do you mean?
And the boys say, what do you mean?
Well there is just no love,
When theres boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls want things that make common sense,
The best for all concerned.
They dont want to have to go out of their way,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(chorus)
And the boys say, what do you mean?
And the boys say, what do you mean?
Well there is just no love,
When theres boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls are getting into abstract analysis,
They want to make intuitive leap.
They are making plans that have far reaching effects.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(chorus)
And the boys say, what do you mean?
And the boys say, what do you mean?
Well there is just no love,
When theres boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn Night
leaves change color
the cool breeze flies
the song of the leaves roars
rustles and bustles in the brush
birds begin to sing to the south
sky turns red as the sun sets on an Autumn evening
clouds not white but pink
coco and cookies all around
coats and children surround
the fire of life
roads and streets quiet
what a sound, what a sight
what a wonderful Autumn night
marsh mellows in fire places
smoke of warmth fills the night sky
sweet Autumn night
make the stars shine bright
the sun rises
the moon disappears
stars that once shone
are now gone
what a night
what a sight
please Autumn day
bring one more
poem by Diana Americano
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A Memoir
Something never turns back -
Time is that genre so prime;
getting past often so fast,
makes all run after the vast
meandering path of life
full of bustles, full of strife.
Todays or tomorrows just live
a short while, so fast and active,
memories overcasting minds,
find time so short lasting.
Just last year you went past
a shocking loss still lambastes.
Diving in the divine ocean,
for gems of your all sweet passions,
your memoir is written in tears -
as a companion to adhere
to my sand dune of hot blast
like planets deeming to last.
[ Written on the first death anniversary of my wife in October,2005]
poem by Gautam Sen
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Pray
Listen to my voice.
We are gathered here today
To speak of things we have to do,
And the friends we have to call,
From the middleground,
From the darkness.
Its been many years,
Many years,
Since we have faced a danger such as this.
There is nowhere left to hide.
No safety in old glories.
No sanctuary.
Ive seen the same nightmare in all our dreams,
But now its come to earth in search of us,
And through treachery, we are found.
So we must pray to the maker of all things,
And wait for the storm to come.
Maker
We are disciples to your desire.
Maker
We are the voices that sing your praises.
Maker
We are the rage that feeds your devotion.
Maker
Rise from the ground and be our salvation.
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Built This City
Chorus:
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Say you dont know me or recognize my face
Say you dont care who goes to that kind of place
Knee deep in the hoopla sinking in your fight
Too many runaways eating up the night
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, dont you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Chorus:
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Someone always playing corporation games
Who cares theyre always changing corporation names
We just want to dance here someone stole the stage
They call us irresponsible write us off the page
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, dont you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Its just another sunday, in a tired old street
Police have got the choke hold, oh then we just lost the beat
Who counts the money underneath the bar
Who rides the wrecking ball in two rock guitars
Dont tell us you need us, cos were the ship of fools
Looking for america, coming through your schools
(Im looking out over that golden gate bridge
Out on another gorgeous sunny saturday, not seein that bumper to bumper traffic)
Dont you remember (member)(member)
(whats your favorite radio station, in your favorite radio city
The city by the bay, the city that rocks, the city that never sleeps)
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, dont you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
(we built, we built this city) built this city (we built, we built this city)
(repeats out)
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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West End Girls
(....forever)
Sometimes youre better off dead
Theres gun in your hand and its pointing at your head
You think youre mad, too unstable
Kicking in chairs and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a west end town
Call the police, theres a madman around
Running down underground to a dive bar
In a west end town
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
Too many shadows, whispering voices
Faces on posters, too many choices
If, when, why, what?
How much have you got?
Have you got it, do you get it, if so, how often?
And which do you choose, a hard or soft option?
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
Oooh west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
Youve got a heart of glass or a heart of stone
Just you wait till I get you home
Weve got no future, weve got no past
Here today, built to last
In every city, in every nation
From lake geneva to the finland station
(how far have you been? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
A west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how far have you been? )
Girls
East end boys
And west end girls
And west end girls
And west end girls
East end boys
The west end girls
The west end boys
And west end girls
The west end girls
The west end boys
The west end girls
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I begin to think, that a calm is not desirable in any situation in life....Man was made for action and for bustle too, I believe.
quote by Abigail Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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