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Bank Robber

I much admire, I must admit,
The man who robs a Bank;
It takes a lot of guts and grit,
For lack of which I thank
The gods: a chap 'twould make of me
You wouldn't ask to tea.

I do not mean a burglar cove
Who climbs into a house,
From room to room flash-lit to rove
As quiet as a mouse;
Ah no, in Crime he cannot rank
With him who robs a Bank.

Who seemeth not to care a whoop
For danger at its height;
Who handles what is known as 'soup,'
And dandles dynamite:
Unto a bloke who can do that
I doff my bowler hat.

I think he is the kind of stuff
To be a mighty man
In battlefield,--aye, brave enough
The Cross Victorian
To win and rise to high command,
A hero in the land.

What General with all his swank
Has guts enough to rob a Bank!

poem by Robert William Service
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The Golden Boat

Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain.
I sit on the river bank, sad and alone.
The sheaves lie gathered, harvest has ended,
The river is swollen and fierce in its flow.
As we cut the paddy it started to rain.

One small paddy-field, no one but me -
Flood-waters twisting and swirling everywhere.
Trees on the far bank; smear shadows like ink
On a village painted on deep morning grey.
On this side a paddy-field, no one but me.

Who is this, steering close to the shore
Singing? I feel that she is someone I know.
The sails are filled wide, she gazes ahead,
Waves break helplessly against the boat each side.
I watch and feel I have seen her face before.

Oh to what foreign land do you sail?
Come to the bank and moor your boat for a while.
Go where you want to, give where you care to,
But come to the bank a moment, show your smile -
Take away my golden paddy when you sail.

Take it, take as much as you can load.
Is there more? No, none, I have put it aboard.
My intense labour here by the river -
I have parted with it all, layer upon layer;
Now take me as well, be kind, take me aboard.

No room, no room, the boat is too small.
Loaded with my gold paddy, the boat is full.
Across the rain-sky clouds heave to and fro,
On the bare river-bank, I remain alone -
What had has gone: the golden boat took all.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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My river bank

The water hit the bank
Like a wave upon a shore
Happiness just out of reach
Finding that is something you can’t teach
No one to talk to
No one to see
As you can tell just me
I sit alone on my river bank
No happy people passing by as I let out a gentle sigh
I realized I sit alone on my river bank
Unreal happiness in this unreal tournament they call life
I sit alone, isolated on my river bank
I shall always sit alone on my river bank
I will always be alone on this river bank

poem by EmOzEd johnston
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If there was a payment to the bank due, and we needed shoes, she'd get the shoes, and then deal with them guys at the bank. I don't mean she wouldn't pay the bank, but the children always came first.

quote by Larry Bird
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bank Robber Man

I was walking down the street today
Just as somebody blew the doors off of the B of A
Just then I head them call my name
As I was thrown against the car
I was being framed

All units we've got our man
We've got the bank robber man
We don't need no reason
You're going in the can
You look like the bank robber man
I think you misunderstand
Do you think that I am the one that did it
Just because I'm tan?
Just then the officer at hand said
I don't give a damn that you are in a rock and roll band

All units we've got our man
We've got the bank robber man
We don't need no reason
You're going in the can
You look like the bank robber man

Just tell me what's going on ?
Can you tell me what I did wrong ?
Does busting me make you feel strong ?
Make you feel strong

All units we've got our man
We've got the bank robber man
We don't need no reason
You're going in the can
You look like the bank robber man

song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Lenny
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Calling Cards

A sorting office in the old kent road
Caters from coast to most
A nice little number if youre out of work
And arent the sort to boast,
Youre in need of a job, bob-a-job, rob-a-job
Im your man to see
Ill sit Ill listen Ill not say a word
The less said would be best for we
Ooh, what a firm of naughty boys
Ooh, Ive been a naughty boy
We dont want to mark each others card
Except the one you need
I need you and your returns to help
Build my company.
My twins work brighton on a sunny day
They cover town with the shake of a hand
On a high come back coz of no come back
Now theyre working in the promised land.
Ooh, what a pair of naughty boys
Ooh, Ive been a naughty boy
(the allied irish cyprus bank)
(india bank bank of turkey)
(united bank the peoples bank)
(to catch the worm you got to be up early)
Temporarily out of bounds had to move office
Clear out of town
For every problem theres a solution and
I can do without constitution
Dealing cards from up the old kent road
Ive been checked up on my heavy load
You can go but be back soon
Ill have some work for you to groom.
Ooh, what a lot of naughty boys
Ooh, Ive been a naughty boy
(trustees bank, barclays bank)
(the natwest bank, midland bank)
(bank of scotland, williams and glyns)
(bureau de change, the peoples bank)
Ooh, what a lot of naughty boys
Ooh, what a pair of naughty boys
Ooh, what a firm of naughty boys
Ooh, Ive been a naughty boy

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scam Continued

My bank account ha ha,
I think not
My identification photo
Again I say go play with a rubber duck or something
For I'm not the ignorant fool that your so use to.
Maybe I should make up a bank name, a number, a address, a send the a random photo of a friend.
And see what happens
For it might be entertaining to see them pretend to be someone who has never left the country and try to access a bank account that does not exist.
For they are going to do one thing that is clean out your bank out
As the man who gives everything shouts, I have been ripped off.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Self

Grass has been greater
Skies have been bluer
I know my soul is down in the sewer
You say that I am selfish
Well you know that that is true
I dont care what you say pretty mama
And I dont care what you do
I dont care about anyone except myself
I dont care about anyone except myself
In the land of the brave
And the home of the free
I dont care about anyone except for me
If you are unhappy and
You have not won your race
Well, there aint no mercy in this world
And there aint none out in space
So welcome to the nineties
I hope that you make it through
But if you get in trouble honey
This is what I say to you
I dont care about anyone except myself
I dont care about anyone except myself
In the land of the brave
And the home of the free
I dont care about anyone except for me
This is not the era of roses, peace and love
I must admit Im the only one
That Im thinking of
Well, I just make my honey
And I put it in the bank
I buy myself some presents
With no one but myself to thank

song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two guys on the bus

Two guys talk on the bus
and are convinced that fifty rand for four,
very expensive
and plan a day
to take their collected change
with backpacks to the bank
and I wonder
if with bank charges
they will earn any interest
at the bank.

poem by Gert Strydom
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I'm a parent, especially when you've had the intense parenting the way I had. It's all in the bank. It's all in the great experience bank. Those are your secrets. That's the stuff that makes your work rich, that's what you dip into.

quote by Hector Elizondo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tina Toledos Street Walkin Blues

Sweet talkin johnny push a john quicker than he spit
Street walkin tin with a crooked crown waitin for it
There she goes
She born in boston but the amtrak took her away
She lives in brooklyn but she works outta queens in the
Black limousines, money in the bank
Black limousines, money in the bank
Send it home
Tina toledo got a kid that lives with her ma
She takes the subway after school, makes up her face, changes clothes
There she goes
She feels the rain coming down on washington square
She gives the cops on the beat a little discount
And then, then, then its
Black limousines, money in the bank
Black limousines, money in the bank
Wend it home
Hard on the knees, money in the bag
Hard on the knees, money in the bag
Send it home for medical school
Rock herself to sleep with the rhythm of the rain
Beating like the be against the window frame
Of her hotel room
Rock herself to sleep with the tunes on the dash
Dont take no credit cards, she takes cash
Says, money, money, money in the bank
Money, money, money in the bank
Money, money, money in the bank
Money, money, money in the bank
It aint no easy life but it pays pretty good,
Keeps her out of the cold
It aint no easy life
But its silver and gold
Silver, silver, silver and gold
Tina toledos street walkin blues
Street walkin, wtreet walkin blues

song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Business

Two villains of the highest rank
Set out one night to rob a bank.
They found the building, looked it o'er,
Each window noted, tried each door,
Scanned carefully the lidded hole
For minstrels to cascade the coal
In short, examined five-and-twenty
Good paths from poverty to plenty.
But all were sealed, they saw full soon,
Against the minions of the moon.
'Enough,' said one: 'I'm satisfied.'
The other, smiling fair and wide,
Said: 'I'm as highly pleased as you:
No burglar ever can get through.
Fate surely prospers our design
The booty all is yours and mine.'
So, full of hope, the following day
To the exchange they took their way
And bought, with manner free and frank,
Some stock of that devoted bank;
And they became, inside the year,
One President and one Cashier.

Their crime I can no further trace
The means of safety to embrace,
I overdrew and left the place.

poem by Ambrose Bierce
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The Further Bank

I long to go over there to the further bank of the river.
Where those boats are tied to the bamboo poles in a line;
Where men cross over in their boats in the morning with
ploughs on their shoulders to till their far-away fields;
Where the cowherds make their lowing cattle swim across to the
riverside pasture;
Whence they all come back home in the evening, leaving the
jackals to howl in the island overgrown with weeds.
Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman
of the ferry when I am grown up.
They say there are strange pools hidden behind that high bank.
Where flocks of wild ducks come when the rains are over, and
thick reeds grow round the margins where water-birds lay their
eggs;
Where snipes with their dancing tails stamp their tiny
footprints upon the clean soft mud;
Where in the evening the tall grasses crested with while
flowers invite the moonbeam to float upon their waves.
Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman
of the ferryboat when I am grown up.
I shall cross and cross back from bank to bank, and all the
boys and girls of the village will wonder at me while they are
bathing.
When the sun climbs the mid sky and morning wears on to noon,
I shall come running to you, saying, "Mother, I am hungry."
When the day is done and the shadows cower under the trees,
I shall come back in the dust.
I shall never go away from you into the town to work like
father.
Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman
of the ferryboat when I am grown up.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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A College Going Daughter's Prayer

Lord put money in my bank
And I shall call and earnestly thank
Ma who pestered Pa to bend
To her whims and bitterly end
The fight for money in my bank.....

Ma has told him it is less
What she calls the daughter's cess
For panties, knickers and monthly chum
Things so dear they hardly come
With the money in my bank........

My account should always overflow
And on my face there be a glow
I can then, dream to start
To fulfill the desires of my heart
With the money in my bank......

My sisters' told them I am down
With a viral that's profound
I am ill and need to eat
Medicines, cherries, grapes and sweets
With the money in my bank.....

Send me Lord some pleasing news
Of good money I can use
I shall end to feign and faint
Then douse the town in crimson paint
With the money in my bank

2003

poem by Ravinder Malhotra
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School Dropout

He never went to school
But he was no fool
He was simply playing Mr Cool
Eyes closed by cottonwool
Cheered on my mates
Sealed his present faith

There is a time to play
A time to go to school
His parents told him
Make that your number one rule
He wholly ignored them
How can education
be a such golden gem

Now he sobs, sobs, sobs
Now he robs, robs, robs

No qualifications
Zero education
His mates have moved on
to better jobs
In many glorious nations

Now he sobs, sobs, sobs
Now he robs, robs, robs

He wishes he was a student
He wishes he had the talent
He had at one moment

There are no more screams and shouts
Because he knows what he is all about
He is a school dropout

Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Packing Up Our Dreams

Packing up our dreams today
Told that we must move away
The bank just took our house
Funny don't know how it all went so wrong
When we got the loan
Back in better days
Now all the jobs are gone
Thought we could hold on
But the bank won't help in any way
They got their money from Uncle Sam
Investing it in other lands
To Hell with Us is what they say
I pray someday God takes from them
Like they did to us today

poem by David Kush
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America vs Germany vs India(A funny story)

In a ship the Generals of three nations were traveling with their soldiers. They started the topic that whose soldier had more of guts.
The American general called for one of his men and told him to jump down the ship and take a round swimming around the moving ship. The soldier did as he was commanded and the general boasted of by saying 'See the guts! '
Now the German general called out for one of his men and asked him to take two similar rounds. The soldier did as he was told.
When he came back from the water the German said, 'See the guts.'
Now the Indian General called out for his most courageous man, Santa and asked him to take five similar rounds.
Santa promptly replied, 'Am I your dad`s servant? '
At this the general proudly said 'See the guts'.

poem by Edwin Drood
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I Wish My Own Uterus Was Left Alone

Didn't I tell you not to use,
That kind of language 'inside' this house?

'Yeah, but mommy...
Daddy uses it inside, outside,
And 'everywhere'.'

And tell me this,
Why is it you rush to the mailbox...
When the mailman comes everyday.
What's going on?

'I'm waiting for a letter from the President.
I wrote to ask him a question.
I want to know why he hasn't replaced my piggy bank.
With the money I had in it.'

Didn't I tell you your father did that?

'Yeah but daddy said if it wasn't for the President,
The gas prices wouldn't be high.
And he would be able to buy his own cigarettes.'

The President had nothing to do with your father's actions.

'Tell that to daddy.
He said he can't wait to vote him out of office.'

And what do you think the President will say about that?

'I don't care.
I just want my money and my piggy bank back.'

I wish my own uterus was left alone.
Without debating over who stays and who goes.
Pretty soon we'll need permission to use the bathroom.

'Huh? '

Don't worry about it.
Trust me.
What you have and how it's used...
Will 'never' be up for debate.

'Mommy?
Nevermind.
I don't even know what to ask.
I'll just wait to get my letter from the President.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Bandit

Upon his way to rob a Bank
He paused to watch a fire;
Though crowds were pressing rank on rank
He pushed a passage nigher;
Then sudden heard, piercing and wild,
The screaming of a child.

A Public Enemy was he,
A hater of the law;
He looked around for bravery
But only fear he saw;
Then to the craven crowds amaze
He plunged into the blaze.

How anguished was the waiting spell
Of horror and of pain!
Then--then from out that fiery hell
He staggered forth again:
The babe was safe, in blankets wrapt,
The man flame lapt.

His record was an evil one,
Of violence and sin.
No good on earth he'd ever done,
Yet--may he Heaven win!
A gangster he . . . Is it not odd?
--With guts of God.

poem by Robert William Service
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The River and The Bank

I'm the river
I'm the bank too
There're times the
Bank revolts
Times when the
River overflows
Can't help...!
I struggle
And try reconcile
But when the river side of me flow
Into the sea
I'm an abandoned bank
And a lonely tear
Among the many tears
Flowing in the sea!

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Nightmare of Man

Man works throughout life
from childhood to adulthood.
He builds his place in heaven
sitting leap years in classrooms
harvesting diplomas for his career,
saying the best words of himself
as investment for job applications.

He daily climbs up the ladder as goal
He is obsessed of success and ambition.
From a house to land, bank savings
or loans, he continues to strive on.
But at a wink of an eye, all that he
has struggled for, all that he collects
to own, are lost and gone irrepairable.

For sure enough, the flames of fire
eat up all what he has acquired
within his years and decades in life.
Typhoon, tsunami, flood and cyclone
drown all what he has long labored.
Earthquake, disease and transient thieves
swallow up even his last bank loan.

poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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