Snarleyow
This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps
Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in war;
An' what the bloomin' battle was I don't remember now,
But Two's off-lead 'e answered to the name o' ~Snarleyow~.
Down in the Infantry, nobody cares;
Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears;
But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog
Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog!
They was movin' into action, they was needed very sore,
To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps,
They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin' down the brow,
When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock to ~Snarleyow~.
They cut 'im loose an' left 'im -- 'e was almost tore in two --
But he tried to follow after as a well-trained 'orse should do;
'E went an' fouled the limber, an' the Driver's Brother squeals:
'Pull up, pull up for ~Snarleyow~ -- 'is head's between 'is 'eels!'
The Driver 'umped 'is shoulder, for the wheels was goin' round,
An' there ain't no 'Stop, conductor!' when a batt'ry's changin' ground;
Sez 'e: 'I broke the beggar in, an' very sad I feels,
But I couldn't pull up, not for ~you~ -- your 'ead between your 'eels!'
'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke the word, before a droppin' shell
A little right the batt'ry an' between the sections fell;
An' when the smoke 'ad cleared away, before the limber wheels,
There lay the Driver's Brother with 'is 'ead between 'is 'eels.
Then sez the Driver's Brother, an' 'is words was very plain,
'For Gawd's own sake get over me, an' put me out o' pain.'
They saw 'is wounds was mortial, an' they judged that it was best,
So they took an' drove the limber straight across 'is back an' chest.
The Driver 'e give nothin' 'cept a little coughin' grunt,
But 'e swung 'is 'orses 'andsome when it came to 'Action Front!'
An' if one wheel was juicy, you may lay your Monday head
'Twas juicier for the niggers when the case begun to spread.
The moril of this story, it is plainly to be seen:
You 'avn't got no families when servin' of the Queen --
You 'avn't got no brothers, fathers, sisters, wives, or sons --
If you want to win your battles take an' work your bloomin' guns!
Down in the Infantry, nobody cares;
Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears;
But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog
Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Death Alley Driver
Rough and ready rider
In a supersonic sound machine
Rock and roll survivor
Chrome pipes between your knees
Running all the red lites
Your gonna make a dead stop
But you just cant see the signs
Oh - youll never win the race
But you cant give up the chase
Death alley driver
Living at high speed
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...who knows what you need
Death alley driver...
One hundred twenty five smokin on the turns
Always on the hit and run
But you never learn...
Running from the man... and youre running
From yourself
Another dirty angel heading straight to hell
Oh - youll never win the race
But you wont give up the chase
Death alley driver...
Live in overdrive...death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...ride to stay alive
Death alley driver...
Lets go
Red lights in the mirror
Danger on the band
Got to take a detour cause a road blocks up ahead
He takes you on the corner with a wave of his hand
Death is in the back seat of a big old black sedan
Oh - youll never win the race...
As you turn and see his face...
Death alley driver...
Movin for the kill
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...
Time is standing still...
Death alley driver...
Always on the run cause youre a...
Death alley driver
Love the way it feels
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver
Hell on wheels...
Death alley driver... ooh -
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Cab Driver
Mr Cab Driver won't you stop to let me in
Mr Cab Driver don't like my kind of skin
Mr Cab Driver you're never gonna win
Mr Cab Driver won't you stop to pick me up
Mr Cab Driver I might need some help
Mr Cab Driver only thinks about himself
Here we go
Mr Cab Driver
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Easy Driver
Easy driver, shes a wicked rider
Shes smooth and shes skinny and shes probably mean
Easy driver, pull up beside her, roll down the window on this fine machine
Chorus:
(ooh ooh ooh) dont turn away, (ooh ooh ooh) just give me a sign
(ooh ooh ooh) dont be afraid, (ooh ooh) love is so hard to find
Easy driver, get on up beside her, she dont drive like she knows the way
Easy driver, roads getting wider
Theres room to run and she might skate away
Come on back, baby what you say
Chorus
One lane away from love, the story of my life
Could I be good enough for your lonely avenue tonight
Its a lonely avenue tonight
Chorus
Easy driver, shes a wicked rider
Shes smooth and shes skinny and shes probably mean
Easy driver, get on up beside her, roll down the window on this fine machine
Easy driver, oh oh oh oh, easy driver, easy driver, easy driver (easy driver)
Easy driver, easy driver, easy driver, easy driver
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sibling Children at Play
Two sibling children are at play;
The ‘horse’ is elder sister, Jill,
Whose younger brother ‘driver’ Bill
Sits on an ‘Umbrella-cart’, gay!
‘Giddap! ’ ‘Giddap! ’ shouts Bill to her;
‘Pull me, pull me, pull me faster! ’
The fuming, panting tired Jill,
Finds it hard pulling Bill ‘uphill’?
The ‘Umbrella-cart’ moves with speed;
Poor Jill is pulling fast indeed;
Her brother giggles, laughs aloud;
The cart-drive makes him truly proud!
But, Jill is only five-years’ old;
Her baby brother is quite bold;
She does not have the strength to pull;
But give a joy-ride for Bill, she’ll!
The wheels of th’ cart wobble along;
Bill insists her to sing a song;
‘Neigh like a horse! ’ he commands her;
If she does not, Bill will holler.
Her little brother loves the ride;
The cart stops often by road-side;
The ‘driver’ shouts, ‘Pull on farther! ’
Or I will cry and call mother.
Poor Jill cannot pull on and on;
But she must do: she is first-born;
Jill loves her little brother, Bill;
Do anything for him, she will.
Yes, children love to play all day;
They do not know dangers en way;
They copy elders, come what may;
They never like the word called ‘nay’.
But children love a simple ride;
They do it on their own with pride;
They love to learn and enjoy too;
You never know what they can do.
To children, work is also play;
They love to learn in playful way;
At times, they fight as though by right;
They sleep like angels small, at night!
Their innocence is worth watching;
Their childish ways befit smiling;
Their scuffles are worth too, prying;
But sad ’tis to see them sobbing.
And adults dream of childhood years-
The loveliest in life with dears!
That was the time they knew not fears,
While parents never allowed tears.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-21-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Follow Me 'Ome
There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot,
Nor any o' the Guns I knew;
An' because it was so, why, o' course 'e went an' died,
Which is just what the best men do.
So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me!
An' it's finish up your swipes an' follow me!
Oh, 'ark to the big drum callin',
Follow me -- follow me 'ome!
'Is mare she neighs the 'ole day long,
She paws the 'ole night through,
An' she won't take 'er feed 'cause o' waitin' for 'is step,
Which is just what a beast would do.
'Is girl she goes with a bombardier
Before 'er month is through;
An' the banns are up in church, for she's got the beggar hooked,
Which is just what a girl would do.
We fought 'bout a dog -- last week it were --
No more than a round or two;
But I strook 'im cruel 'ard, an' I wish I 'adn't now,
Which is just what a man can't do.
'E was all that I 'ad in the way of a friend,
An' I've 'ad to find one new;
But I'd give my pay an' stripe for to get the beggar back,
Which it's just too late to do.
So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me!
An' it's finish off your swipes an' follow me!
Oh, 'ark to the fifes a-crawlin'!
Follow me -- follow me 'ome!
Take 'im away! 'E's gone where the best men go.
Take 'im away! An' the gun-wheels turnin' slow.
Take 'im away! There's more from the place 'e come.
Take 'im away, with the limber an' the drum.
For it's 'Three rounds blank' an' follow me,
An' it's 'Thirteen rank' an' follow me;
Oh, passin' the love o' women,
Follow me -- follow me 'ome!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Have the Cavalry Done?
What have the cavalry done?
Cantered and trotted about,
Routin' the enemy out,
Causin' the beggars to run!
And we tramped along in the blazin' heat,
Over the veldt on our weary feet.
Tramp, tramp, tramp
Under the blazin' sun,
With never the sight of a bloomin' Boer,
'Cause they'd hunted 'em long before --
That's what the cavalry done!
What have the gunners done
Battlin' every day,
Battlin' any way.
Boers outranged 'em, but what cared they?
"Shoot and be damned," said the R.H.A.!
See! when the fight grows hot,
Under the rifles or not,
Always the order runs,
"Fetch up the bloomin' guns!"
And you'd see them great gun horses spring
To the "action front" -- and around they'd swing.
Find the range with some queer machine
"At four thousand with fuse fourteen.
Ready! Fire number one!"
Handled the battery neat and quick!
Stick to it, too! How did they stick!
Never a gunner was seen to run!
Never a gunner would leave his gun!
Not though his mates dropped all around!
Always a gunner would stand his ground.
Take the army -- the infantry,
Mounted rifles, and cavalry,
Twice the numbers I'd give away,
And I'd fight the lot with the R.H.A.,
For they showed us how a corps should be run,
That's what the gunners done!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Name Is Jonas
My name is jonas!
Im carrying the wheel.
Thanks for all youve shown us.
But this is how we feel.
Come sit next to me, pour yourself some tea.
Just like grandma made, when we couldnt find sleep.
Things were better then.
Once but never again.
Weve all left the den, let me tell you bout it.
The choo-choo train left right on time.
A ticket cost only your mind.
The driver said hey man, we go all the way.
Of course we were willing to pay!
My name is wepeel !
Got a box full of your toys.
Theyre fresh out of batteries.
But youre still making noise! making noise!
Tell me what to do,
Now the tank is dry, now this wheel is flat, and you know what else!
Guess what I received in the mail today,
Words of deep concern, for my little brother.
The buildings not going as he planned...
The foreman has injured his hand,
The dozer will not clear a path,
The driver swears he learned his math !
The workers are going home.
Workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
Yeah!
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
Yeah yeah yeah!
My name is jonas.
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rusted, Busted But Will Not Give Up
The car stalls.
And...
Wheels on it seems corrupted,
By a collection of dust...
No one has thought,
To have ever cleaned...
The build up of muck,
That has it stuck.
Rusted, busted but will not give up,
Are those riding inside...
Demanding from the driver,
To push!
While those riding inside decide,
If it is to their benefit...
To assist the driver,
With either a push or a pull.
OR...
Maybe someone should consider,
Perhaps there is a need for gas.
And...
Who should pay the price.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Knocked And Ran
He, on a road, was standing
Ignorant of the road-laws.
He was in his tattered clothes;
A poor village child he was.
I was sitting in a car
On the left of the driver.
When the car came near the child,
It was slowed by the driver.
He sounded aloud the horn,
But the child did not it care.
The child, in his tattered clothes,
Remained standing mutely there.
He was aping the gesture
Of the driver of the car.
How joyful in his action,
As if he were in the car!
He was moving round his arms
In driving his unreal car.
The driver, taking the side,
Safely steered his real car.
But a truck from the front side
Down the road speedily ran.
The child, in his tattered clothes,
The truck driver knocked and ran.
poem by Aziz Ahmad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soul Driver
I rode through forty nights of the gospels rain
neath black sky pouring snakes, frogs, and a love in vain
You were down where the river runs wide
Baby, let me be your soul driver
Well if something in the air feels a little unkind
Dont worry darling, oh itll slip your mind
Ill be your gypsy joker your shotgun rider
Baby let me be your soul driver
Well now no one knows which way loves wheel turns
We may get rich or crash and burn
This fortune weight or just the black hand of fate
This love rushes over us and its ghostly voice
If the angels are unkind or if the seasons are dark
Or if in the air love just falls apart
Well then heres to our destruction
Baby let me be your soul driver
Yea heres to our destruction
Baby let me be your soul driver
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knocked And Ran
He, on a road, was standing
Ignorant of the road-laws.
He was in his tattered clothes;
A poor village child he was.
I was sitting in a car
On the left of the driver.
When the car came near the child,
It was slowed by the driver.
He sounded aloud the horn,
But the child did not it care.
The child, in his tattered clothes,
Remained standing mutely there.
He was aping the gesture
Of the driver of the car.
How joyful in his action,
As if he were in the car!
He was moving round his arms
In driving his unreal car.
The driver, taking the side,
Safely steered his real car.
But a truck from the front side
Down the road speedily ran.
The child, in his tattered clothes,
The truck driver knocked and ran.
poem by Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz Moradabadi'
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Driver 8
The walls are built up, stone by stone,
The fields divided one by one.
And the train conductor says
take a break driver 8, driver 8 take a break
Weve been on this shift too long
And the train conductor says
take a break driver 8, driver 8 take a break
We can reach our destination, but were still a ways away
I saw a treehouse on the outskirts of the farm.
The power lines have floaters so the airplanes wont get snagged.
Bells are ringing through the town again,
Children look up, all they hear is sky-blue, bells ringing
And the train conductor says
take a break driver 8, driver 8 take a break
We can reach our destination, but were still a ways away
Way to shield the hated heat.
Way to put myself to sleep.
Way to shield the hated heat.
Way to put myself, my children to sleep.
He piloted this song in a plane like that one.
She is selling faith on the go tell crusade.
Locomotive 8, southern crescent, hear the bells ring again.
Field of wheat is looking thin
And the train conductor says
take a break driver 8, driver 8 take a break
Weve been on this shift too long.
And the train conductor says
take a break driver 8, driver 8 take a break
We can reach our destination, but were still a ways away
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Driver 8
(r.e.m)
The walls are built up, stone by stone;
The fields divided one by one.
And the train conductor says,
Take a break driver 8, driver 8 take a break
Weve been on this shift too long
And the train conductor says,
Take a break driver 8, driver 8 take a break
We can reach our destination, but were still a ways away
I saw a treehouse on the outskirts of the farm.
The power lines have floaters so the airplanes wont get snagged.
Bells are ringing through the town again,
Children look up, all they hear is sky-blue, bells ringing
And the train conductor says
Take a break driver 8, driver 8 take a break
We can reach our destination, but were still a ways away
Way to shield the hated heat.
Way to put myself to sleep.
Way to shield the hated heat.
Way to put myself, my children to sleep.
He piloted this song in a plane like that one.
She is selling faith on the go tell crusade.
Locomotive 8, southern crescent, hear the bells ring again.
Field to weed is lookin thin
And the train conductor says
Take a break driver 8, driver 8 take a break
Weve been on this shift too long.
And the train conductor says,
Take a break driver 8, driver 8 take a break.
We can reach our destination, but were still a ways away
song performed by by Hootie & The Blowfish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Limousine Driver
Hey, mr. limousine driver,
Can i ask you a favor, please?
Let her in my door and don't look back here no more,
I know you can do it with ease.
Although, we're on our way from the show,
And you don't like to get off the track.
Please, mr. chauffeur, let's talk things over,
'cause she says she loves me and that's a fact.
Can you hear what i'm sayin', it's not like i'm prayin',
You know, because you've done it before.
So, why make me wait, please don't hesitate,
Just get back here, and let her in my door.
Hey, mr. limousine driver,
I know you know where it's at.
Too late will be later, you just read your evening paper,
And don't worry 'bout what's goin' on in back.
Hey, mr. limousine driver ...
Hey, mr. limousine driver ...
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You cannot expect the guy who drove the car into the ditch to navigate it out of the ditch. You have to put a new driver in the seat. I'm not saying the new driver is going to be any better, but we need a new driver. Kerry is the only choice.
quote by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bus Driver and Bella
Bella used to catch the bus from church gate;
Everyday took same bus which was never late.
Not to miss Bella, driver always reached in time;
Reaching office daily in time, Bella also felt fine.
On seeing her, the driver opened the front door,
She stepped forward smilingly and used to board.
He started feeling joy in heart, never felt before
Cherished in his soul, towards her he was lured.
Whenever not seen her, the driver became sad,
Moved slowly with grave soul feeling the day bad.
Suddenly she stopped coming but he held his time
Reaching the bus stop chanting her names’ rhyme.
When the bus was about to reach that bus stop,
The driver used to see all around but Bella was not.
After a long, Bella was seen standing near the stop
Driver delighted and thought for few words swop.
Driver at once opened front door, asked her to rush.
She too thrown sight and smiled; turned towards bus.
To surprise Bella kept outside and looking at him told
That she had got a car standing near that billboard.
She was waiting for her husband who was nearby,
She wanted perfume for car, he had gone to buy.
They got married a month ago, she was on vacation
Driver put his foot to give bus maximum acceleration.
S.D. Tiwari
email [email protected]
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No One Wants To Listen To Him
Why are those people screaming,
At the driver of the vehicle?
He didn't cause the wheels to fall off.
I thought they hired full time mechanics,
To monitor the safety of it.
'They do have full time mechanics.'
Shouldn't they be the ones found,
To be at fault for the wheels falling off?
That is in 'their' area of expertise.
I would think.
'Yeah. I agree.
However...
Here is the dilemma.
You see...
They were not hired because they were qualified.
They were hired because they had the look,
And the presence of being mechanics.
Now...
Those that actually had qualifications,
Were denied because they knew the driver...
And supported his position as the best driver around.'
Oh?
But still,
It makes no sense to hold the driver responsible.
'That has been the argument of the driver.
And he has been the one,
Trying to keep the passengers together.
To get the mechanics that were hired,
To at least make attempts...
To get them all back on the road.
But no one wanted to listen to him,
To get the vehicle fixed.
And yet...
They want to convince everyone within listening distance,
That the driver is the reason they are in their present predicament.'
Perhaps they have other reasons and motivations to blame him.
'Oh. you mean the obvious? '
What other reason could they have?
And who are those other people,
Welding the wheels to the frame of the vehicle?
They 'look' as if they are foreigners.
'They claim they just arrived from overseas.
On a sightseeing vacation.
And volunteered their services for free.'
Aren't you a bit suspicious about that?
'Who me?
I could care less who does what to who and why.
I don't mind walking to my destinations.
I have things I want to get done and do,
With my life.'
Why are those foreigners winking at you?
'I have no clue.
Maybe they are overhearing our conversation.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The power of destiny
When I was but a child
I saw a red tractor,
hit a black boulder
and get jacked right over.
Red dust clouds
rushed into the air
from the spinning wheels,
but the grim reality
of the crushed driver
was there for all to see.
Till this day
the power of destiny,
stays with me.
I wonder if the driver
was late
and drove past that rock,
if it would have happened
at another time and place?
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving
My aunt gave me a turkey to give to my brother who
lived in the neighbouring town, I cooked the fowl first
to stop it going bad and put it in a bag, went down to
the post office to send it, but the place had closed for
the day. Took the bus to my brother’s town, but when
arriving I had forgotten his address, asked the doorman
at a hotel, who new my brother, to show me the way,
only to find when we got there that I had left the bag
on the bus. Got lost trying to find the bus terminal,
I didn’t know brother’s phone number I also resented
the fact that aunt had given him the bird because he
was the oldest, leaving me with all the work, so I got
fed up and left; but I couldn’t get home as no bus was
going my way. Down at the docks there was a steamer
ready to sail for Djibouti, with a cargo of frozen turkey
for the presidential army, she needed a cook, so I sign
on, but did sent brother a cable telling him where his
turkey was. Too late, the bus driver, since no one had
claimed it, took the bird home and had a feast.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brother Trucker
Breaker number nine big buddy
Put your ears on me now
This trucker got to have a big lie tonight
Come on sucker
Come back brother trucker
I keep seeing double
Unless I close one eye
And Ive got to roll, roll, roll brother trucker
Sure enough a shame bout the shape Im in
Roll, roll, roll brother trucker
Im back on my wheels again
Roll, roll, roll brother trucker
Someone to love the truck driving man
Roll, roll, roll brother trucker
Im back on my wheels again
Im a driving fool
I make my own rules
One part man and one part mule
One part fossil fuel
I got the heart of steel
I pull eighteen wheels
Mister nine to five in his coup de ville
No, never know how it feels
To really roll, roll, roll brother trucker
Holding my own just the best as I can
Roll, roll, roll brother trucker
Im back on my wheels again
Roll, roll, roll brother trucker
Outward bound from south bend
Roll, roll, roll brother trucker
Im back on my wheels again
Moon over new jersey
Big state police
Well, Im in a hurry
Could you let me go in peace
Im an independent
I dont make no teamster dough
cause the a.f.l. and the c.i.o.
Still dont own the road
And the only man telling me where to go
Is the man who owns my load
And he says roll, roll, roll brother trucker
I say where and you say when
Roll, roll, roll brother trucker
Get back on your wheels again
Turn the goddamn thing around and do it again
Roll, roll, roll brother trucker
Im back on my wheels again
Fat bucket, Im back on my wheels again
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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