The Volunteer
Sez I: My Country calls? Well, let it call.
I grins perlitely and declines wiv thanks.
Go, let 'em plaster every blighted wall,
'Ere's ONE they don't stampede into the ranks.
Them politicians with their greasy ways;
Them empire-grabbers -- fight for 'em? No fear!
I've seen this mess a-comin' from the days
Of Algyserious and Aggydear:
I've felt me passion rise and swell,
But . . . wot the 'ell, Bill? Wot the 'ell?
Sez I: My Country? Mine? I likes their cheek.
Me mud-bespattered by the cars they drive,
Wot makes my measly thirty bob a week,
And sweats red blood to keep meself alive!
Fight for the right to slave that they may spend,
Them in their mansions, me 'ere in my slum?
No, let 'em fight wot's something to defend:
But me, I've nothin' -- let the Kaiser come.
And so I cusses 'ard and well,
But . . . wot the 'ell, Bill? Wot the 'ell?
Sez I: If they would do the decent thing,
And shield the missis and the little 'uns,
Why, even _I_ might shout "God save the King",
And face the chances of them 'ungry guns.
But we've got three, another on the way;
It's that wot makes me snarl and set me jor:
The wife and nippers, wot of 'em, I say,
If I gets knocked out in this blasted war?
Gets proper busted by a shell,
But . . . wot the 'ell, Bill? Wot the 'ell?
Ay, wot the 'ell's the use of all this talk?
To-day some boys in blue was passin' me,
And some of 'em they 'ad no legs to walk,
And some of 'em they 'ad no eyes to see.
And -- well, I couldn't look 'em in the face,
And so I'm goin', goin' to declare
I'm under forty-one and take me place
To face the music with the bunch out there.
A fool, you say! Maybe you're right.
I'll 'ave no peace unless I fight.
I've ceased to think; I only know
I've gotta go, Bill, gotta go.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Big Bad Bill (is Sweet William Now)
Well,way down yonder in louisville,
Lived a cat named big bad bill,
I wants to tell ya,
Ah the cat was rough and tough and would strutt his stuff
Had the whole town scared to death,
When he walked by they all held their breath,
Hes a fighting man, sure enough
And then bill got himself a wife,
Now he leads a different life...
Big bad bill is sweet william now,
Married life done changed him somehow,
Hes the man the town used to fear,
Now they all call him sweet pappa willie dear,
Stronger than samson I declare,
Til the brown skinned woman,
Bobbed his hair
Big bad bill dont fight any more,( no he dont )
Doing the dishes,mopping up that floor ( yes he is )
Well he used to go out drinking,
Looking for a fight,
Now he gotta see that woman,everynight,
Big bad bill is sweet william now
Ah play it boys.
I likes that jazz.
Big bad bill dont fight any more,( no he dont )
Doing the dishes,mopping up that floor ( yes he is )
Well he used to go out drinking,
Looking for a fight,
Now he gotta see that woman,everynight,
Big bad bill is sweet william now ( doing the dishes )
Big bad bill is sweet william now ( mop up dat floor )
Big bad bill is sweet william now
Cha........ yeah!
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Bad Bill
Well,way down yonder in louisville,
Lived a cat named big bad bill,
I wants to tell ya,
Ah the cat was rough and tough and would strutt his stuff
Had the whole town scared to death,
When he walked by they all held their breath,
He's a fighting man, sure enough
And then bill got himself a wife,
Now he leads a different life...
Big bad bill is sweet william now,
Married life done changed him somehow,
He's the man the town used to fear,
Now they all call him sweet pappa willie dear,
Stronger than samson i declare,
Til the brown skinned woman,
Bobbed his hair
Big bad bill dont fight any more,( no he dont )
Doing the dishes,mopping up that floor ( yes he is )
Well he used to go out drinking,
Looking for a fight,
Now he gotta see that woman,everynight,
Big bad bill is sweet william now
Ah play it boys.
I likes that jazz.
Big bad bill dont fight any more,( no he dont )
Doing the dishes,mopping up that floor ( yes he is )
Well he used to go out drinking,
Looking for a fight,
Now he gotta see that woman,everynight,
Big bad bill is sweet william now ( doing the dishes )
Big bad bill is sweet william now ( mop up dat floor )
Big bad bill is sweet william now
Cha........ yeah!
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Coward
'Ave you seen Bill's mug in the Noos to-day?
'E's gyned the Victoriar Cross, they say;
Little Bill wot would grizzle and run away,
If you 'it 'im a swipe on the jawr.
'E's slaughtered the Kaiser's men in tons;
'E's captured one of their quick-fire guns,
And 'e 'adn't no practice in killin' 'Uns
Afore 'e went off to the war.
Little Bill wot I nussed in 'is by-by clothes;
Little Bill wot told me 'is childish woes;
'Ow often I've tidied 'is pore little nose
Wiv the 'em of me pinnyfore.
And now all the papers 'is praises ring,
And 'e's been and 'e's shaken the 'and of the King
And I sawr 'im to-day in the ward, pore thing,
Where they're patchin' 'im up once more.
And 'e says: "Wot d'ye think of it, Lizer Ann?"
And I says: "Well, I can't make it out, old man;
You'd 'ook it as soon as a scrap began,
When you was a bit of a kid."
And 'e whispers: "'Ere, on the quiet, Liz,
They're makin' too much of the 'ole damn biz,
And the papers is printin' me ugly phiz,
But . . . I'm 'anged if I know wot I did.
"Oh, the Captain comes and 'e says: 'Look 'ere!
They're far too quiet out there: it's queer.
They're up to somethin' -- 'oo'll volunteer
To crawl in the dark and see?'
Then I felt me 'eart like a 'ammer go,
And up jumps a chap and 'e says: 'Right O!'
But I chips in straight, and I says 'Oh no!
'E's a missis and kids -- take me.'
"And the next I knew I was sneakin' out,
And the oozy corpses was all about,
And I felt so scared I wanted to shout,
And me skin fair prickled wiv fear;
And I sez: 'You coward! You 'ad no right
To take on the job of a man this night,'
Yet still I kept creepin' till ('orrid sight!)
The trench of the 'Uns was near.
"It was all so dark, it was all so still;
Yet somethin' pushed me against me will;
'Ow I wanted to turn! Yet I crawled until
I was seein' a dim light shine.
Then thinks I: 'I'll just go a little bit,
And see wot the doose I can make of it,'
And it seemed to come from the mouth of a pit:
'Christmas!' sez I, 'a mine.'
"Then 'ere's the part wot I can't explain:
I wanted to make for 'ome again,
But somethin' was blazin' inside me brain,
So I crawled to the trench instead;
Then I saw the bullet 'ead of a 'Un,
And 'e stood by a rapid-firer gun,
And I lifted a rock and I 'it 'im one,
And 'e dropped like a chunk o' lead.
"Then all the 'Uns that was underground,
Comes up with a rush and on with a bound,
And I swings that giddy old Maxim round
And belts 'em solid and square.
You see I was off me chump wiv fear:
'If I'm sellin' me life,' sez I, 'it's dear.'
And the trench was narrow and they was near,
So I peppered the brutes for fair.
"So I 'eld 'em back and I yelled wiv fright,
And the boys attacked and we 'ad a fight,
And we 'captured a section o' trench' that night
Which we didn't expect to get;
And they found me there with me Maxim gun,
And I'd laid out a score if I'd laid out one,
And I fainted away when the thing was done,
And I 'aven't got over it yet."
So that's the 'istory Bill told me.
Of course it's all on the strict Q. T.;
It wouldn't do to get out, you see,
As 'e hacted against 'is will.
But 'e's convalescin' wiv all 'is might,
And 'e 'opes to be fit for another fight --
Say! Ain't 'e a bit of the real all right?
Wot's the matter with Bill!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Uncle Bill
My Uncle Bill! My Uncle Bill!
How doth my heart with anguish thrill!
For he, our chief, our Robin Hood,
Has gone to jail for stealing wood!
With tears and sobs my voice I raise
To celebrate my uncle's praise;
With all my strength, with all my skill,
I'll sing the song of Uncle Bill."
Convivial to the last degree,
An open-hearted sportsman he.
Did midnight howls our slumbers rob,
We said, "It's uncle 'on the job'."
When sounds of fight rang sharply out,
Then Bill was bound to be about,
The foremost figure in "the scrap",
A terror to the local "trap".
To drink, or fight, or maim, or kill,
Came all alike to Uncle Bill.
And when he faced the music's squeak
At Central Court before the beak,
How carefully we sought our fob
To pay his fine of forty bob!
Recall the happy days of yore
When Uncle Bill went forth to war!
When all the street with strife was filled
And both the traps got nearly killed.
When the lone cabman on the stand
was "stoushed" by Bill's unaided hand,
And William mounted, filled with rum,
And drove the cab to kingdom come.
Remember, too, that famous fray
When the "Black-reds", who hold their sway
O'er Surry Hills and Shepherd's Bush,
Descended on the "Liver Push".
Who cheered both parties long and loud?
Who heaved blue metal at the crowd!
And sooled his bulldog, Fighting Bet,
To bite, haphazard, all she met?
And when the mob were lodged in gaol
Who telegraphed to me for bail?
And -- here I think he showed his sense --
Who calmly turned Queen's evidence?"
Enough! I now must end my song,
My needless anguish, why prolong?
From what I've said, you'll own, I'm sure,
That Uncle Bill was pretty "pure",
So, rowdies all, your glasses fill,
And -- drink it standing -- "Uncle Bill"."
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bill 'Awkins
"'As anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?"
"Now 'ow in the devil would I know?"
"'E's taken my girl out walkin',
An' I've got to tell 'im so --
Gawd -- bless -- 'im!
I've got to tell 'im so."
"D'yer know what 'e's like, Bill 'Awkins?"
"Now what in the devil would I care?"
"'E's the livin', breathin' image of an organ-grinder's monkey,
With a pound of grease in 'is 'air --
Gawd -- bless -- 'im!
An' a pound o' grease in 'is 'air."
"An' s'pose you met Bill 'Awkins,
Now what in the devil 'ud ye do?"
"I'd open 'is cheek to 'is chin-strap buckle,
An' bung up 'is both eyes, too --
Gawd -- bless -- 'im!
An' bung up 'is both eyes, too!"
"Look 'ere, where 'e comes, Bill 'Awkins!
Now what in the devil will you say?"
"It isn't fit an' proper to be fightin' on a Sunday,
So I'll pass 'im the time o' day --
Gawd -- bless -- 'im!
I'll pass 'im the time o' day!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Bill's Grave
I'm gatherin' flowers by the wayside to lay on the grave of Bill;
I've sneaked away from the billet, 'cause Jim wouldn't understand;
'E'd call me a silly fat'ead, and larf till it made 'im ill,
To see me 'ere in the cornfield, wiv a big bookay in me 'and.
For Jim and me we are rough uns, but Bill was one o' the best;
We 'listed and learned together to larf at the wust wot comes;
Then Bill copped a packet proper, and took 'is departure West,
So sudden 'e 'adn't a minit to say good-bye to 'is chums.
And they took me to where 'e was planted, a sort of a measly mound,
And, thinks I, 'ow Bill would be tickled, bein' so soft and queer,
If I gathered a bunch o' them wild-flowers, and sort of arranged them round
Like a kind of a bloody headpiece . . . and that's the reason I'm 'ere.
But not for the love of glory I wouldn't 'ave Jim to know.
'E'd call me a slobberin' Cissy, and larf till 'is sides was sore;
I'd 'ave larfed at meself too, it isn't so long ago;
But some'ow it changes a feller, 'avin' a taste o' war.
It 'elps a man to be 'elpful, to know wot 'is pals is worth
(Them golden poppies is blazin' like lamps some fairy 'as lit);
I'm fond o' them big white dysies. . . . Now Jim's o' the salt o' the earth;
But 'e 'as got a tongue wot's a terror, and 'e ain't sentimental a bit.
I likes them blue chaps wot's 'idin' so shylike among the corn.
Won't Bill be glad! We was allus thicker 'n thieves, us three.
Why! 'Oo's that singin' so 'earty? JIM! And as sure as I'm born
'E's there in the giddy cornfields, a-gatherin' flowers like me.
Quick! Drop me posy be'ind me. I watches 'im for a while,
Then I says: "Wot 'o, there, Chummy! Wot price the little bookay?"
And 'e starts like a bloke wot's guilty, and 'e says with a sheepish smile:
"She's a bit of orl right, the widder wot keeps the estaminay."
So 'e goes away in a 'urry, and I wishes 'im best o' luck,
And I picks up me bunch o' wild-flowers, and the light's gettin' sorto dim,
When I makes me way to the boneyard, and . . . I stares like a man wot's stuck,
For wot do I see? Bill's grave-mound strewn with the flowers of Jim.
Of course I won't never tell 'im, bein' a tactical lad;
And Jim parley-voos to the widder: "Trez beans, lamoor; compree?"
Oh, 'e'd die of shame if 'e knew I knew; but say! won't Bill be glad
When 'e stares through the bleedin' clods and sees the blossoms of Jim and me?
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Hero
Of all the boys with whom I fought
In Africa and Sicily,
Bill was the bravest of the lot
In our dare-devil Company.
That lad would rather die than yield;
His gore he glorified to spill,
And so in every battlefield
A hero in my eyes was Bill.
Then when the bloody war was done,
He moseyed back to our home town,
And there, a loving mother's son,
Like other kids he settled down.
His old girl seemed a shade straight-laced,
For when I called my buddy "Bill,"
She looked at me with some distaste,
Suggesting that his name was "Will."
And then he had to get engaged,
And took unto himself a wife;
And so inevitably caged,
He settled down to wedded life.
He introduced me to his Missis,
But oh I thought her rather silly,
For in between their frequent kisses
She called my hard-boiled here: "Willie."
Now he has long forgot the War,
The which he did a lot to win,
And feeling full of ginger for
He's happy Pop of cherubs twin.
Yet with his air: "Don't care a damn,"
On Main Street he's my hero still . . .
As proud he wheels a double pram
What guy has got the guts of Bill!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fire Bugs
Look 'ere. I'll bet a 'arf-a-crown
To anythink you like to name (said Bushy Bill),
If country fellers went to town,
An' burnt a few big buildin's down,
An' quids an' quids went up in flame (said Bushy Bill),
Do you suppose, by any chance,
You'd put it down to ignorance.
An' let 'em go their dilly way
To do the trick some other day? (Said Bushy Bill).
No fear. You'd take that crim'nal lot
An' likely lynch 'em on the spot.
Fine sense of property you got (said Bushy Bill).
Yet city coves come up this way,
Shootin' or goin' campin' out (said Bushy Bill).
But are they careful blokes? Not they.
An' when their camp fire gets away
They wonder what it's all about (said Bushy Bill).
They sling their matches round the place,
An' carry on a fair disgrace
Wise coots they are, all in the know,
Who reckons country coves is slow (said Bushy Bill).
But when two hundred thousand quid
Goes up, they dunno wot they did.
They can't think 'ow that green scrub caught
They never knoo. They never thought.
Look 'ere. IT'S TIME YOUS BLOKES WAS TAUGHT (said Bushy Bill).
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Song Of The Sandbags
No, Bill, I'm not a-spooning out no patriotic tosh
(The cove be'ind the sandbags ain't a death-or-glory cuss).
And though I strafes 'em good and 'ard I doesn't 'ate the Boche,
I guess they're mostly decent, just the same as most of us.
I guess they loves their 'omes and kids as much as you or me;
And just the same as you or me they'd rather shake than fight;
And if we'd 'appened to be born at Berlin-on-the-Spree,
We'd be out there with 'Ans and Fritz, dead sure that we was right.
A-standin' up to the sandbags
It's funny the thoughts wot come;
Starin' into the darkness,
'Earin' the bullets 'um;
(Zing! Zip! Ping! Rip!
'ark 'ow the bullets 'um!)
A-leanin' against the sandbags
Wiv me rifle under me ear,
Oh, I've 'ad more thoughts on a sentry-go
Than I used to 'ave in a year.
I wonder, Bill, if 'Ans and Fritz is wonderin' like me
Wot's at the bottom of it all? Wot all the slaughter's for?
'E thinks 'e's right (of course 'e ain't) but this we both agree,
If them as made it 'ad to fight, there wouldn't be no war.
If them as lies in feather beds while we kips in the mud;
If them as makes their fortoons while we fights for 'em like 'ell;
If them as slings their pot of ink just 'ad to sling their blood:
By Crust! I'm thinkin' there 'ud be another tale to tell.
Shiverin' up to the sandbags,
With a hicicle 'stead of a spine,
Don't it seem funny the things you think
'Ere in the firin' line:
(Whee! Whut! Ziz! Zut!
Lord! 'ow the bullets whine!)
Hunkerin' down when a star-shell
Cracks in a sputter of light,
You can jaw to yer soul by the sandbags
Most any old time o' night.
They talks o' England's glory and a-'oldin' of our trade,
Of Empire and 'igh destiny until we're fair flim-flammed;
But if it's for the likes o' that that bloody war is made,
Then wot I say is: Empire and 'igh destiny be damned!
There's only one good cause, Bill, for poor blokes like us to fight:
That's self-defence, for 'earth and 'ome, and them that bears our name;
And that's wot I'm a-doin' by the sandbags 'ere to-night. . . .
But Fritz out there will tell you 'e's a-doin' of the same.
Starin' over the sandbags,
Sick of the 'ole damn thing;
Firin' to keep meself awake,
'Earin' the bullets sing.
(Hiss! Twang! Tsing! Pang!
Saucy the bullets sing.)
Dreamin' 'ere by the sandbags
Of a day when war will cease,
When 'Ans and Fritz and Bill and me
Will clink our mugs in fraternity,
And the Brotherhood of Labour will be
The Brotherhood of Peace.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Railroad Bill
Railroad bill were gonna railroad bill
He never works and he never will
Im gonna ride on a railroad bill
Im gonna ride on a railroad bill
Railroad bill he was a mighty bad man
Kill anybody that he think he can
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Im singin railroad bill,
Im talkin railroad bill, uh-huh-huh
He never worked and he never will
Im gonna ride on railroad bill, yeah
(cmon) Im gonna ride on railroad bill
Well old railroad bill he done stole my wife
Im gonna check him down Im gonna take his life
Gonna ride on railroad bill
Gonna ride railroad bill
Im singin railroad bill
On a railroad bill
He never worked and he never will
Im gonna ride on railroad bill
Im gonna ride on railroad bill
Railroad bill he was a mighty bad man
Kill anybody that he think he can
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Gonna ride railroad bill
Im talkin railroad bill
I love him railroad bill
Uh-huh-huh
He never worked and he never will
Gonna ride on railroad bill
Yeah, gonna ride on railroad bill
Well Im goin up the mountain
Yes Im goin out west
I got a mighty big pistol
Stickin out of my vest
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Gonna ride (alright)
Railroad bill, I love that railroad bill
Uh-huh-huh
He never works and he never will
Im gonna ride on a railroad bill
Im gonna ride on railroad bill
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bar-Room Patriot
Why, 'ow's she goin', Bill, ole sport?
I thort I knoo your dile!
My oath! You look the proper sort!
That khaki soots your style.
I never 'eard you'd joined, yeh know
It makes me feel I want to go.
Must be a year or more, I s'pose,
Since last time we two met!
An' then, to see you in them clothes
Can't realise it yet!
I'm proud to think a friend o' mine
Is off to biff the German swine!
You look slap-up in that rig-out.
We ort to celebrate
I fell it's up to me to shout!
But - can't be done, ole mate!
For I 'ave took a solemn vow
I never shout for soldiers now.
No, Bill; you mustn't take offence;
You'll undertsand, I thnk.
I've come to see there ain't no sense
In buyin' soldiers drink.
I loves me country an' me king;
An' boozin' soldiers ain't the thing.
An' yet it's sich a time ago
Since you an' me 'ave met,
It's sorter 'ard to let you go
Without one little wet.
Say, come in 'ere, an' you can take
A soft'un, jist fer ole time's sake.
Well, Bill - 'ere MIss! Don't you attend
To customers in 'ere?
A lime-an'-soder fer me friend:
And' mine's a long, cool beer.
Ah, Bill, you stick to that soft stuff;
Chuck booze, an' you'll be right enough.
Well, 'ere's a go!...My oath, that's goo!
Bets beer I've 'ad to-day....
Yes, Bill, I 'olds no soldier should
Drink all 'is brains away.
I'm patriotic, that I am;
To fight on beer ain't worth a damn.
Now, Bill, look 'ere, you take my tip
I know that German lot
An', when you meet 'em, let 'er rip.
An' prod 'em in the - wot?
Well, jist one more. Mine's beer thish time.
An' bill, ole frien', you shtick to lime.
'Ere's joy!...Wot was I sayin'? Oh!
Them Germans allush funk
The bay'nit. Take my tip, an' go
Fair for their stummicks - plunk!
Jist stick 'em in the - 'Ere, Miss, 'ere!
Give 'im the soft one! Mine's the beer.
See, Miss, I don't booze sojers now.
They shouldn't drink the stuff!
Me conshuns, Miss, it won't allow
'Right, Bill; don't cut up rough.
I'm proud to let the ole bar 'ear
I wouldn't buy no sojers beer.
I wouldn't buy no cursed drink
Fer any fightin' bloke!
Wot? Torkin' loud? Well, do yeh think
I'm 'shamed o' wot I shpoke?
I stansh on principle, by Gosh!
'Ere, 'ave anurrer lemin squash.
Oh, yesh; I've 'ad a few ter-day.
Thish makes - eighteen er so.
But I don't 'ave to go away
To fight no rotten foe!
Go fer their stummichsk, Bill, ole man!
Jist prod 'em - why, 'ello! 'Ere's Dan!
'Ave one wi' ush, Dan. Yoush a beer?
Yes, mine'sh a - wot-o, Jim!
Lesh innerjooce my cobber 'ere
I'm buyin' squash fer 'im.
'E's sojer....Took a solemn vow:
I don't - (hic) - shoush fer soljersh now.
I jist been tellin' soljer frien'
Them Germans got no - whash?
Orright, Dan: mine's a beer agen.
Me friend 'ere'sh drinkin' sqauash.
Yeh mustn't buy no beer fer 'im
Unpa'ri - (hic) -. Whash you think, Jim?
It 'urts me feelin's, all er same.
Bill'sh 'listed!....Orful sad!....
Pore bill! That fightin'sh rotten game.
Go fer their stummicksh, lad!
Sharge wisher bay'nit, ev'ry time!
An' take my tip - you shtick ter lime!
'Ere'sh to Aushtralier, ev'ry time!
I doesh my lirrle bit
Be buyin' only squash 'n' lime
To keep er soljersh fit.
Fine, pa'ri-otic effort. Wot?
'Ere's to er blockesh wash gettin' shot!
Aw, I kin shtan' annurrer, Jim.
Yesh, mine's a long, wet beer.
But don't you buy no beer fer 'im,
'N' get 'im on 'is ear!
I never shoush fer sojersh now.
Unpari-pari - sholum vow!
Wash sayin', Bill? Wash 'at I 'ear?
Yeh don't want me ter shout?
You been teeto'ler fer a year!
Well, 'ash a fair knock-out!
You mean er shay...lemme buy lime,
Wile you....injoyed it all er time!
You mean er shay you thort it ni-esh
To take yer ole pal in?
You lemme make self-sacrifi'esh,
Wile you stan' there an' grin!
Wash? Goin', ie 'e? let 'im go!
Ni'esh sorter bloke ter fighter foe!
I wouldn't shoush fer sojersh now
Not fer a million poun'!
I bought 'im lemon-squash, ther cow,
And then 'e takesh me down!
Go fer the'r stummiscksh? 'Im? No fear!
Down wish er Kaiser! Mine'sh a beer.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dont Drop That Bomb On Me
We sailed our ships upon the shores
That once were out of reach
Turned the silence into war and bloodied up the beach
Trashed the forests and the trees
Til theres nothin left to cut
We raped the rivers and the seas and turned the land to dust
It goes on and on
On and on...
Does anybody know whats goin on
Can anybody tell me where we went wrong
Can anyone say why wrong is right
If we wanna little peace well we got to fight
Can anyone say things are lookin good
Just take a look around your neighbourhood
The worlds gone crazy
Crash-we can fight it
Crash-we gotta try
Crash-we cant hide it
We gotta stop that fire
Dont drop that bomb on me
Save that little tree
Dont drop that bomb on me
Save our seven seas
Dont drop it, dont drop it
Dont drop that bomb on me
Should every thing thing have a life to give
Will every little child have a place to live
Does anybody feel just a little bit scared
Isnt it about time everybody cared
The worlds gone crazy
Crash-we can fight it
Crash-we gotta try
Crash-we cant hide it
We gotta stop that fire
Dont drop that bomb on me
Save that little tree
Dont drop that bomb on me
Save our seven seas
Dont drop it, dont drop it
Dont drop that bomb on me
If ya gonna talk that talk
Ya gotta walk that walk
If ya gonna fly that flag
Ya gotta shake a leg
Ya everybody should try
Cause were much too young to die
song performed by by Bryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Somethings Gotta Give
Somethings gotta give,
Somethings gotta give
Somethings gotta give
When an irresistible force such as you
Meets and old immovable object like me
You can bet as sure as you live
Somethings gotta give, somethings gotta give,
Somethings gotta give.
When an irrepressible smile such as yours
Warms an old implacable heart such as mine
Dont say no because I insist.
Somewhere, somehow,
Someones gonna be kissed.
So en garde who knows what the fates have in store
From their vast mysterious sky?
Ill try hard ignoring those lips I adore
But how long can anyone try?
Fight, fight, fight, fight, fight it with all of our might,
Chances are some heavenly star spangled night
Well find out as sure as we live
Somethings gotta give, somethings gotta give,
Somethings gotta give.
Fight, fight, fight it with all of our might,
Chances are some heavenly star spangled night
Well find out as sure as we live
Somethings gotta give, somethings gotta give,
Somethings gotta give.
Somethings gotta , somethings gotta give
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Face The Face
Weve got to face the face
You must have heard the cautionary tales
The dangers hidden on the cul-de-sac trails
>from wiser men who have been through it all
And the ghosts of failures spray-canned up on the wall
Weve got to judge the judge
Got to find the finds
Weve got to scheme the schemes
Have to line the lines
We must stake the stakes
And show the shown
We must take the takes
And know the known
Try to place the place
Where we can face the face
Face the face-got to
Face the face
You must have tried and the defied belief
Maybe found futility in insular grief
I need your hunger just as you need mine
A million appetites can swallow up time
Weve got to fool the fools
And plan the plans
We must rule the rules
Got to stand the stands
We must fight the fight
And fall the falls
We must light the light
And call the calls
We must race the race
So we can face the face
New york! chicago!
London and glasgow!
Keep looking!
Keep on cooking
Keep on looking
Gotta stay on this case
Study the pix
Watch the fix
Weve got to find the face
Try to place the place where we can face the face
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lets Go
Dont wanna study on the g.i. bill.
Want more action, havent had my fill mercenary,
Fight for anyone, fight for money, fight for fun.
Lets go.
Got a country you wanna protect.
But your army is more likely to defect.
Hire my smg with a full clip.
On automatic its a guaranteed hit.
Lets go.
Gee its kinda scary out here.
Mosquitos are happy tonight.
Mommy, daddy, can I please come home.
Even if just for on night.
Lets go.
Shocked how deadly we fight back.
Troublemakers who attack mercenary.
Fight for anyone, fight for money, fight for fun.
Lets go.
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party!)
YEAH!
KICK IT!
You wake up late for school - man you don't wanna go
You ask you mom, "Please?" - but she still says, "No!"
You missed two classes - and no homework
But your teacher preaches class like you're some kind of jerk
You gotta fight for your right to party
You pop caught you smoking - and he said, "No way!"
That hypocrite - smokes two packs a day
Man, living at home is such a drag
Now your mom threw away your best porno mag (Bust it!)
You gotta fight for your right to party
You gotta fight
Don't step out of this house if that's the clothes you're gonna wear
I'll kick you out of my home if you don't cut that hair
Your mom busted in and said, "What's that noise?"
Aw, mom you're just jealous - it's the Beastie Boys!
You gotta fight for your right to party
You gotta fight for your right to party
song performed by by Beastie Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Comin And Goin
Stay at home
Phone that should be ringin'
Quiet as a picture on the wall
Now, tea for one, a song I'm used to singin'
Walking up and down an empty hall
Takin' off a wrinkled dress
That you never got to see
Then you come a-knockin' at my door
You know you could've fooled me
You've got me comin' and goin' baby
And I never know exactly what to do
So I ask myself why should I care?
What is it I see in there?
That makes the same old line sound like it's new?
Oh I'm comin' and goin' crazy over you, ah
Ahh, you and me
Once we get together
For a little while we're Jack and Jill
Baby, baby, now face to face, it's too good to believe it
Sure enough, you leave me standing still
You're a complicated man
But I do the best I can
I go in and out of heaven so fast
I don't know where I am
You've got me comin' and goin' baby
And I never know exactly what to do
So I ask myself why should I care?
What is it I see in there?
That makes the same old line sound like it's new?
Oh, I'm comin' and goin' crazy
Comin' and goin' crazy
You've got me comin' and goin' baby
And I never know, now I never know, what to do, ahh
You've got me comin' and goin' baby
You just don't know what you put me through
When the only face I see is you
You've got me comin' and goin' baby
Say the magic isn't really gone
It's you I'm still depending on
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gypsy Jill
They're hanging Bill at eight o' clock,
And millions will applaud.
He killed, and so they have to kill,
Such is the will of God.
His brother Tom is on my bed
To keep me comforted.
I see his bleary, blotchy face,
I hear his sodden snore.
He plans that he can take Bill's place;
I felt worse than a whore
As in his arms I cried all night,
Thinking of poor Bill's plight.
I keep my eyes upon the clock;
It nears the stroke of eight.
I think how bravely Bill will walk
To meet his gallows fate . . .
His loaded gun is in the tent,--
I know now what he meant.
Though Tom is boastful he will wed
With me, no more to part,
I'll put a bullet through his head,
Another through my heart:
At eight, stone-dead we three will be,
--Bill, Tom and me.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Answer
Bill has left his house of clay,
Slammed the door and gone away:
How he laughed but yesterday!
I had two new jokes to tell,
Salty, but he loved them well:
Now I see his empty shell.
Poker-faced he looks at me;
Peeved to miss them jokes - how h
Would have belly-laughed with glee!
He gives me the pip, I swear;
Seems just like he isn't there:
Flown the coop - I wonder where?
Bill had no belief in "soul";
Thought the body was the whole,
And the grave the final goal.
Didn't reckon when we pass,
This old carcass maybe has
Spirit that sneaks out like gas.
"Look here, Bill, I'm asking you
What's the Answer? Tell me true:
Is death the end of all we do?
"Hand me out the dope - are we
No more than monkeys on a tree?"
... And then I swear to God I see
bill bat an eye and - wink at me.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cumberland Blues
I cant stay much longer, melinda, the sun is getting high.
I cant help you with your troubles, if you wont help with mine.
I gotta get down, I gotta get down, I gotta get down to the mine.
You keep me up just one more night, I cant sleep here no more.
Little ben clock says quarter to eight; you kept me up till four.
I gotta get down, I gotta get down, or I cant work there no more.
A lotta poor man make a five dollar bill, keep him happy all the time.
Some other fellas makin nothin at all and you can hear him cry,
Can I go, buddy, can I go down take your shift at the mine?
Gotta get down to the cumberland mine.
Gotta get down to the cumberland mine.
Thats where I mainly spend my time.
Make good money, five dollars a day. made anymore, I might move away.
Lotta poor man got the cumberland blues he cant win for losin
Lotta poor man got to walk the line just to pay his union dues.
I dont know now, I just dont know if Im goin back again.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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