The General Elliott
He fell in victory's fierce pursuit,
Holed through and through with shot,
A sabre sweep had hacked him deep
Twixt neck and shoulderknot....
The potman cannot well recall,
The ostler never knew,
Whether his day was Malplaquet,
The Boyne or Waterloo.
But there he hangs for tavern sign,
With foolish bold regard
For cock and hen and loitering men
And wagons down the yard.
Raised high above the hayseed world
He smokes his painted pipe,
And now surveys the orchard ways,
The damsons clustering ripe.
He sees the churchyard slabs beyond,
Where country neighbours lie,
Their brief renown set lowly down;
His name assaults the sky.
He grips the tankard of brown ale
That spills a generous foam:
Oft-times he drinks, they say, and winks
At drunk men lurching home.
No upstart hero may usurp
That honoured swinging seat;
His seasons pass with pipe and glass
Until the tale's complete.
And paint shall keep his buttons bright
Though all the world's forgot
Whether he died for England's pride
By battle, or by pot.
poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Pipe Smoker
Because I love the soothing weed
And am of sober type,
I'd choose me for a friend in need
A man who smokes a pipe.
A cove who hasn't much to say,
And spits into the fire,
Puffing like me a pipe of clay,
Corn-cob or briar.
A chap original of thought,
With cheery point of view,
Who has of gumption quite a lot,
And streaks of humour too.
He need not be a whiskered sage,
With wisdom over-ripe:
Just give me in the old of age
A pal who smokes a pipe.
A cigarette may make for wit,
Although I like it not;
A good cigar, I must admit,
Gives dignity to thought.
But as my glass of grog I sip
I never, never gripe
If I have for companionship
A guy who smokes a pipe.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Is That Man
He is that man who sent young men to die
In battle underneath a foreign sky
And wars are never won if lives are lost
In human life how can one count the cost.
He is that man who led the big parade
And to him went the victory accolade
The men who died for him are now forgot
And he the hero never fired one shot.
He is that man with hair of silvery gray
A hero then a hero still today
He took the fame the honour and the pride
And many young men for his ego died.
He is that man who with his wife on sunday
Go to the house of God to kneel and pray
But still the taint of sin with him will stay
Of young lives lost for him so far away.
The hurt of loss with mothers will remain
Due to this man who caused such grief and pain
He sent their sons beyond the sea to die
In battle underneath a foreign sky.
He is that man with hair of silvery gray
A hero then a hero still today
The men who died for him are now forgot
And he the hero never fired one shot.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Your Hero Is A Well Known Local
The one who is hailed by the masses will never be a hero to you
Your hero is a quiet achiever to his dedications he's true
An honest and a hard working person and one of high integrity
You have placed him on a pedestal to you there's none greater than he.
Your hero is a well known local and in his work he takes great pride
He is admired and respected by many but he'll never be known far and wide
He's one who leads by good example one to help you out if he could
And for the local community he is one who has done so much good.
He is such a down to earth person and none more hard working than he
One who derives much satisfaction in each sporting local victory
A generous and a likeable fellow and a familiar face of the Town
He's happy to be a well known local and he does not yearn for World-wide renown.
I do like your sort of a hero a person that you do know well
Of any huge business adventures he does not have stories to tell
When you say you'll follow in his footsteps you are walking on solid ground
Why look up to a World renowned hero when there's a local hero to be found.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Don't Want To Be A Hero
I don't want to be a hero renowned for my bravery
All I want is heaps of money and of my worries I'd be free
To pay my bills I have to struggle I live close to poverty
I don't want to be a hero what use would that be to me? .
I don't want to die in battle and be honoured posthumously
And be seen as an example and left for posterity
And the crazy army general say there's none so brave as he
I don't want to die a hero what use would that be to me? .
I don't want to die a hero I don't yearn for such renown
But I would like to own a big house on the outskirts of the town
With a rolls royce in my car port and I sunning by the swimming pool
And a nice dip in the water just to keep the body cool.
You would like to die a hero fighting for your Country's pride
And a stone plaque to your memory and your fame known far and wide
Millions of brave men died in battles they like you believed the lie
That your name will live forever if for your Country you will die.
You would like to be remembered as one of the noble dead
But I don't want to die a hero bullet through my heart or head
I don't want no crazy general saying there's none so brave as he
All I need is heaps of money and of my worries I'd feel free.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Girl
Girl, girl, girl
Thats your life
Girl
Smoking that glass pipe
I come from the city of dope
It couldnt be saved by john the pope
Coz the base head lyric sees the light
Two fat raps to the head last night
Cocaine cocaine, is that your rap
Every day and night its coming back
C-o-c-a-i-n-e
The rich mans high what it used to be
But things looking different in eighty-five
Cocaine, cocaine is that your high
Since age thirteen what have I seen
A lotto of base heads straight coke fiends
Snorting, puffing, thats the life
But its all over when you hit that pipe
Big coke dealers on the knock
All smoked up with no more rocks
Base heads buy, coke from him
But he smokes more than all of them
The big coke man, aint too cool
He smokes more than all you fools
Hes gotta a lotta do, but not a lotta bank
A brand new car with an empty tank
Pretty white smoke all in his chest
And a 84 benz, reposessed
Girl, thats your life
Girl smoking that glass pipe
Fresh young tender only fifteen
Walking on a strip just wanna be seen
Never touch coke a day in her life
But now that girls gotta have her pipe
Coz she met a man his name was jock
Do it to her a good and he smoked a rock
Put it in her joint all crunched up
And now everyday she takes a puff
Girl, thats your life
Girl smoking that glass pipe
I know you know what coke can do
Come into your life and take over you
Now you kicking back thinking bout your dream
But it never comes true coz youre just a coke fiend
You asked your woman whats the prob
She said its you coz you dont do your job
Used to make good love from the start
But now coke had done damage to your private parts
Girl, thats your life
Girl smoking that glass pipe
Your mind is gone your brain is blazed
Youve been wide awake for the last three days
Inhale, exhale you dont care
Coke smoke only no fresh air
You cant even talk you dont wanna listen
You and your body on that cocaine mission
Three days straight wheres your mind
Its gonna out of town and your brain is fried
Just smoke and choke until youre broke
Just smoke that coke until you croke
And it would be, I cant lie
No great loss if you should die
Coz your life is wrecked, you girl is checked
She chose on my and I was set
I took her home to make my move
But she wanted to base she was just like you
song performed by by Too Short
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Drunk
I wasn’t always a drunk
Once I was a child - a little girl
Who wanted love
Which she found - in a bottle
At first it had been fun
There were friends and laughter
She felt complete, unbroken for the first time
But it stole something I couldn’t afford to lose
It took my sanity – for awhile
It took over my life – and my child
Withered and died
I can’t get her back
I’ve tried
But I was a drunk
The kind that drinks in the morning
And falls asleep with a glass in her hand
That spills
Red liquid onto the floor
Who laughs too loud
In a crowd
And doesn’t know
She’s not the centre of attention because she’s fun
poem by Elizabeth Russell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bang The Drum Slowly
(Emmylou Harris/Guy Clark)
I meant to ask you how to fix that car
I always meant to ask you about the war
And what you saw across a bridge too far
Did it leave a scar
Or how you navigated wings of fire and steel
Up where heaven had no more secrets to conceal
And still you found the ground beneath your wheels
How did it feel
Bang the drum slowly play the pipe lowly
To dust be returning from dust we begin
Bang the drum slowly I'll speak of things holy
Above and below me world without end
I meant to ask you how when everything seemed lost
And your fate was in a game of dice they tossed
There was still that line that you would never cross
At any cost
I meant to ask you how you lived what you believed
With nothing but your heart up your sleeve
And if you ever really were deceived
By the likes of me
Bang the drum slowly play the pipe lowly
To dust be returning from dust we begin
Bang the drum slowly I'll speak of things holy
Above and below me world without end
Gone now is the day and gone the sun
There is peace tonight all over Arlington
But the songs of my life will still be sung
By the light of the moon you hung
I meant to ask you how to plow that field
I meant to bring you water from the well
And be the one beside you when you fell
Could you tell
Bang the drum slowly play the pipe lowly
To dust be returning from dust we begin
Bang the drum slowly I'll speak of things holy
Above and below me world without end
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uncle Jim
“White folks is white,” says uncle Jim;
“A platitude,” I sneer;
And then I tell him so is milk,
And the froth upon his beer.
His heart walled up with bitterness,
He smokes his pungent pipe,
And nods at me as if to say,
“Young fool, you’ll soon be ripe!”
I have a friend who eats his heart
Always with grief of mine,
Who drinks my joy as tipplers drain
Deep goblets filled with wine.
I wonder why here at his side,
Face-in-the-grass with him,
My mind should stray the Grecian urn
To muse on uncle Jim.
poem by Countee Cullen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Omarism
With pen in hand and pipe in mouth,
And claret iced to quench my drouth,
I sit upon my balcony
That overlooks the sparkling sea,
Serenly gay, and cool, and bland -
With pipe in mouth and pen in hand.
This life I think is beautiful,
When at the jug I take a pull.
The harbor shines like azure silk;
The claret tastes like mother's milk;
Then to the pipe I turn again -
And then I trifle with the pen.
The red-faced neighbors townward go;
The air is in a furnace glow.
I watch them scorching as they pass,
Like flies beneath a burning glass -
Each clutching at the red-hot hour
For coin; their folly turns me sour.
The Business Man may fret and sweat
In his black coat, for etiquette,
And grow in shop and office old,
And gather wrinkles with his gold -
I sit in shirt-sleeves cool and bland,
With pipe in mouth and pen in hand.
The white clouds - idle they as I -
Like dreaming gods, at leisure lie
Upon the hill-crests. Smoke upcurls
From chimneys lazily, and girls
Below me, with bare, brown arms fine,
Are pegging linen on a line.
The great ships, from the world outside,
Steam slowly in with stately pride,
Their giant screws now gently spin;
'Tis good to watch them gliding in
From East, and West, and North, and South,
With jug in hand and pipe in mouth.
These visions fill me with content,
And I remember not the rent.
When with cool breezes comes the night
It will be time enough to write.
Then you shall see me start the band -
With pipe in mouth and pen in hand.
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Signs Pointing To The Christ
As the snake was lifted on the pole, Christ was lifted up to behold.
Bitten by snakes and destined to die they were told to look on high.
As those who looked were healed, at the cross Salvation was revealed.
We too were destined for the dust, but Christ my friend, died for us.
It pleased The Lord God to offer Christ to the world as a sacrifice.
The Spotless Lamb upon the cross saving men who are eternally lost.
Although He died bearing our sin by God's Power He was raised again.
He couldn't be held in the grave and was raised so we could be saved.
Jonah followed his heart of sin so God prepared a great fish for him.
There was Jonah filled with fright in the belly 3 days and 3 nights.
Jonah was to be a sign for the coming Christ who had been prophesied.
So Jesus gave up all His rights to be in the earth 3 days and nights.
And Christ visited prisons deep within claiming His victory over sin.
Then God raised His body for all to see, affirming Christ's Victory.
And all believers are buried with Christ to be raised unto new life.
One day soon our mortal body will be gloriously raised for Eternity.
He who had no sin died in our place, for this was God's Saving Grace.
He rose again in the morning hour, and this was God's Saving Power.
He rose in victory over sin so that all could have new life in Him.
He's coming back one more time, to bring Home His blood bought Bride.
The Signboard
I will paint you a sign, rumseller,
And hang it above your door;
A truer and better signboard
Than ever you had before.
I will paint with the skill of a master,
And many shall pause to see
This wonderful piece of painting,
So like the reality.
I will paint yourself, rumseller,
As you wait for that fair young boy,
Just in the morning of manhood,
A mother’s pride and joy.
He has no thought of stopping,
But you greet him with a smile
And you seem so blithe and friendly,
That he pauses a chat awhile.
I will paint you again, rumseller,
I will paint you as you stand,
With a foaming glass of liquor
Extended in your hand.
He wavers, but you urge him –
Drink, pledge me just this one!
And he takes the glass and drains it,
And the hellish work is done.
And next I will paint a drunkard –
Only a year has flown,
But into that loathesome creature
The fair young boy has grown.
The work was sure and rapid.
I will paint him as he lies
In a torpid, drunken slumber,
Under the wintry skies.
I will paint the form of the mother
As she kneels at her darling’s side,
Her beautiful boy that was dearer
Than all the world beside.
I will paint the shape of a coffin
Labelled with one word – ‘Lost’
I will paint all this, rumseller,
And will paint it free of cost.
The sin and the shame and the sorrow,
The crime and the want and the woe
That are born there in your workshop,
No hand can paint, you know
But I’ll paint you a sign, rumseller,
And many shall pause to view
This wonderful swinging signboard,
So terribly, fearfully true.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sign-Board
I will paint you a sign, rumseller,
And hang it above your door;
A truer and better signboard
Than ever you had before.
I will paint with the skill of a master,
And many shall pause to see
This wonderful piece of painting,
So like the reality.
I will paint yourself, rumseller,
As you wait for that fair young boy,
Just in the morning of manhood,
A mother's pride and joy.
He has no thought of stopping,
But you greet him with a smile,
And you seem so blithe and friendly,
That he pauses to chat awhile.
I will paint you again, rumseller,
I will paint you as you stand,
With a foaming glass of liquor
Extended in your hand.
He wavers, but you urge him-
Drink, pledge me just this one!
And he takes the glass and drains it,
And the hellish work is done.
And next I will paint a drunkard-
Only a year has flown,
But into that loathsome creature
The fair young boy has grown.
The work was sure and rapid.
I will paint him as he lies
In a torpid, drunken slumber,
Under the wintry skies.
I will paint the form of the mother
As she kneels at her darling's side,
Her beautiful boy that was dearer
Than all the world beside.
I will paint the shape of a coffin,
Labeled with one word-'lost,'
I will paint all this, rumseller,
And will paint it free of cost.
The sin and the shame and the sorrow,
The crime and the want and the woe
That are born there in your workshop,
No hand can paint, you know.
But I'll paint you a sign, rumseller,
And many shall pause to view
This wonderful swinging signboard,
So terribly, fearfully true.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Knock Three Times
Hey,girl
What are you doing down there?
Dancing alone every night
While I live right above you.
I can hear your music playing,
I can fell your body swaying,
One floor below me,
You don't even know me,
I love you.
Oh,darling,knock three times on the ceiling if you want me
Twice on the pipe if the answer is no.
Oh,my sweetness,(knock)means you'll meet me in the hallway,
Twice on the pipe means you ain't gonna show.
If you look out your window tonight,
Pull in the string with the note
That's attached to my heart,
Read how many times I saw you,
How in my silence I adore you,
And only in my dreams
Did that wall between us come apart.
Oh,darling,knock three times on the ceiling if you want me
Twice on the pipe if the answer is no.
Oh,my sweetness,(knock)means you'll meet me in the hallway,
Twice on the pipe means you ain't gonna show.
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sanity
Sanity never came my way.
(Came his way)
Sanity never came my way.
(His way)
I don't know what I'll do today.
(Way)
'Cause sanity never came my way.
Lost my mind just a couple of times.
(Lost his mind)
Lost my mind just a couple of times.
(His mind)
You can spend your nickels, you can spend your dimes.
(Mind)
But I lost my mind just a couple of times.
You can trespass anywhere.
(A-ny-where)
You can trespass anywhere.
(Ny-where)
Where you go, you'd better beware
(Be-ware)You can trespass anywhere.
I forgot the rules, I forgot my pride.
('Got his pride)
I forgot the rules, I forgot my pride.
(His pride)
I don't need a place to hide.
(Hide)
I forgot the rules, I forgot my pride,
but I don't need a place to hide!
The stars in the sky are very bright.
(Stars are bright)
The stars in the sky are very bright.
(Are bright)
The stars they really suck tonight!
(Stars suck)
The stars in the sky are very bright.
And I don't care if the world explodes.
(world ex-plodes)
No, I don't care if the world explodes.
(Ex-plodes!)
You can save the whales, you can save the toads.
(Toads)
But I don't care if the world explodes.
BANG!
BOOM!
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Piper
AGAIN I hear you piping, for I know the tune so well, -
You rouse the heart to wander and be free,
Tho' where you learned your music, not the God of song can tell,
For you pipe the open highway and the sea.
O piper, lightly footing, lightly piping on your way,
Tho' your music thrills and pierces far and near,
I tell you you had better pipe to someone else to-day,
For you cannot pipe my fancy from my dear.
You sound the note of travel through the hamlet and the town;
You would lure the holy angels from on high;
And not a man can hear you, but he throws the hammer down
And is off to see the countries ere he die.
But now no more I wander, now unchanging here I stay;
By my love, you find me safely sitting here:
And pipe you ne'er so sweetly, till you pipe the hills away,
You can never pipe my fancy from my dear.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Country Comes To Town
(toby keith)
Well the weatherman said it might storm today
I gotta hit the field
Gotta bail some hay
And I cant let it rain on my daddys farm
Til I get it all stacked up high in the barn
And Im gonna call my baby
Shes been waiting on me
She lives down town on sycamore street
And the wheels on the black top
A startin to whine
As I pass that oklahoma city limit sign
Im a hayseed
And a plow boy
Im a farm kid
And a cowboy
Im a roughneck
My daddy was a roughneck too
I run around with hillbilly girls
The weekend sits on my hillbilly world
You better be ready when the sun goes down
Thats when country comes to town
Well her daddy said child you better let him be
Well I dont like him and he sire dont like me
Momma just says yall have a little fun
Aint doin nothing me and papa aint done
Open up the door to my pick-up truck
And my baby jumps in and she fires it up
And she gives me a kiss
As I crawl in
Weve been waiting all week for a weekend
Im a hayseed
And a plow boy
Im a farm kid
And a cowboy
Im a roughneck
My daddy was a roughneck too
I run around with hillbilly girls
The weekend sits on my hillbilly world
You better be ready when the sun goes down
Thats when country comes to town
Yeah its true I run around with hillbilly girls
The weekend sits on my hillbilly world
You better be ready when the sun goes down
Cause thats when country comes to town
Here I come
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The old farm yard
I see a spade making holes
and shoots of peach trees
Appearing in rows in an orchard.
There’s a hot sun
that hangs above in a bright blue sky
and sweat flow in streams,
from under the old dark brown hat.
The old red Massi Ferguson tractors
machine has turned for a last time
and red dirt lies blown thick,
where it stands on the side against an old oak tree.
At the shed there’s a big silver tank
full of expensive diesoline
and I hear the boreholes
pump humming monotonous
and I see spill points in the distance
spraying water on the field
and the smell of wet ground
hangs like a blessing
in the air.
An old big Cock
raise its white wings
and crows angrily,
when the green John Deere tractor
with its trailer full of workers
stop in front of the homestead
Where it stands and scratches.
It’s great to eat country fare,
but the peace and tranquillity
on the old farm yard
me desire
to also live at such a place.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Final Old Hero
The final old hero has faded away
His bones even beyond the state of decay
He gave rise to many a patriotic song
But to Mother Nature he finally belong.
He was a great King in a Land from here far
And he was one who led his army in war
He died a true hero on the battle-ground
And stories about him in folklore abound.
No heroes amongst the war leaders of today
From the heat of the battle they stay far away
The children of others for them fight and die
And the rewards of renown and wealth they enjoy.
I see them as manipulative deceitful and sly
Yet that the majority cannot see through them I do wonder why
For what they truly are many them cannot see
And the hero to many is a coward to me.
Though his legend inspired the bards for to rhyme
The final old hero almost forgotten in time
He led his men in war and in battle he died
And true greatness of him never can be denied.
poem by Francis Duggan
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After We Pass
The trials and test we have to go through,
And to be honoured and glorified after we pass;
For this world is full of troubles!
Be wise in choosing what is right,
For the sun tans a person who works longer in the it;
But the beauty of the day is for us all.
The devastating of wars!
And of the minds of the beings after these wars;
For this world is full of toubles.
A sign of mourning and a sign of man's transgressions!
But in fasting and in prayers we will win our ways;
And of the grief suffered in life's own journey,
But we hope to be honoured after these trials.
Of all the stars in heaven and of all the people on earth,
We all have names like the constellations in heaven!
But we have to go through these pressures of life on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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High Times
Written by jay kay, toby smith, stuart zender and derrick mckenzie
You dont need your name in bright lights
Youre a rock star
And some thin foil with a glass pipe
Is your guitar, now yes it is
Little angela suffers delusions
From these high times
Shes been cleaning up,
Since she was fourteen
On the main line
And her hunky funky junky,
Of a boyfriend
Got her on late nights
With her skirt tight
Woah shes a wild thing, letting it all swing
God bless our high times
Dont you know that last night
Turned to daylight
And a minute became a day
Last night
All my troubles
Well they seemed so, so far away
Searching my reflection
For a glimpse of, an other me
Ive got to get away from these high times
All these high high times
Cause these hight times
Are killing me
Now high times go on
And on and on
High times rock your mind yeah
This twisted crystal kingdom
Where you live your nine lives
And your head spins
With purple cyclones made of dexadrine
And when the phone rings
You think bad things
Well these are high high
High high times yeah
In any backstreet when you take a hot seat
Make sure you check your flight times
Oh now mama
Dont you know that last night
Turned to daylight
And a minute became a day
Last night
All my troubles
Well they seemed so, so far away
Searching my reflection
For a glimpse of, an other me
Ive got to get away from these high times
All these high high times
Cause these hight times
Are killing me
Now drop it this time
Paranoia will destroy ya
Paranoia will destroy ya
Paranoia will destroy ya
Paranoia
Paranoia
Dont you know that last night
Turned to daylight
And a minute became a day
Last night
All my troubles
Well they seemed so, so far away
Searching my reflection
For a glimpse of, an other me
Ive got to get away from these high times
All these high high times
Cause these hight times
Are killing me
La la la la la
High times (oh yeah)
Were living in high high high times yeah
song performed by by Jamiroquai
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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