The Songs of the Lathes
The fans and the beltings they roar round me.
The power is shaking the floor round me
Till the lathes pick up their duty and the midnight-shift takes over.
It is good for me to be here!
Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a man that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!
The cranes and the carriers they boom over me,
The bays and the galleries they loom over me,
With their quarter-mile of pillars growing little in the distance--
It is good for me to be here!
The Zeppelins and Gothas they raid over us.
Our lights give warning, and fade over us.
(Seven thousand women keeping quiet in the darkness!)
Oh, it's good for me to be here.
The roofs and the buildings they grow round me,
Eating up the fields I used to know round me;
And the shed that I began in is a sub-inspector's office--
So long have I been here!
I've seen six hundred mornings make our lamps grow dim,
Through the bit that isn't painted round our sky-light rim,
And the sunshine through the window slope according to the seasons,
Twice since I've been here.
The trains on the sidings they call to us
With the hundred thousand blanks that they haul to us;
And we send 'em what we've finished, and they take it where it's wanted,
For that is why we are here!
Man's hate passes as his love will pass.
God made Woman what she always was.
Them that bear the burden they will never grant forgiveness
So long as they are here!
Once I was a woman, but that's by with me.
All I loved and looked for, it must die with me;
But the Lord has left me over for a servant of the Judgment,
And I serve His Judgments here!
Guns in Flanders--Flanders guns!
(I had a son that worked 'em once!)
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders, Flanders!
Shells for guns in Flanders! Feeds the guns!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Related quotes
In Flanders Field
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
poem by John McCrae
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In flanders
Through sleet and fogs to the saline bogs
Where the herring fish meanders,
An army sped, and then, 't is said,
Swore terribly in Flanders:
"--------!"
"--------!"
A hideous store of oaths they swore,
Did the army over in Flanders!
At this distant day we're unable to say
What so aroused their danders;
But it's doubtless the case, to their lasting disgrace,
That the army swore in Flanders:
"--------!"
"--------!"
And many more such oaths they swore,
Did that impious horde in Flanders!
Some folks contend that these oaths without end
Began among the commanders,
That, taking this cue, the subordinates, too,
Swore terribly in Flanders:
Twas "------------!"
"--------"
Why, the air was blue with the hullaballoo
Of those wicked men in Flanders!
But some suppose that the trouble arose
With a certain Corporal Sanders,
Who sought to abuse the wooden shoes
That the natives wore in Flanders.
Saying: "--------!"
"--------"
What marvel then, that the other men
Felt encouraged to swear in Flanders!
At any rate, as I grieve to state,
Since these soldiers vented their danders
Conjectures obtain that for language profane
There is no such place as Flanders.
"--------"
"--------"
This is the kind of talk you'll find
If ever you go to Flanders.
How wretched is he, wherever he be,
That unto this habit panders!
And how glad am I that my interests lie
In Chicago, and not in Flanders!
"----------------!"
"----------------!"
Would never go down in this circumspect town
However it might in Flanders.
poem by Eugene Field
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High Summer
Pinks and syringa in the garden closes
And the sweet privet hedge and golden roses.
The pines hot in the sun, the drone of the bee;
They die in Flanders to keep these for me.
The long sunny days and the still weather,
The cuckoo and the blackbird shouting together,
The lambs calling their mothers out on the lea;
They die in Flanders to keep these for me.
The doors and windows open: South wind blowing
Warm through the clean sweet rooms, on tip-toe going,
Where many sanctities, dear and delightsome be --
They die in Flanders to keep these for me.
Daisies leaping in foam on the green grasses,
The dappled sky and the stream that sings as it passes --
These are bought with a price, a bitter fee --
They die in Flanders to keep these for me.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Flanders
Flanders, the name of a place, a country of people,
Spells itself with letters, is written in books.
"Where is Flanders?" was asked one time,
Flanders known only to those who lived there
And milked cows and made cheese and spoke the home language.
"Where is Flanders?" was asked.
And the slang adepts shot the reply: Search me.
A few thousand people milking cows, raising radishes,
On a land of salt grass and dunes, sand-swept with a sea-breath on it:
This was Flanders, the unknown, the quiet,
The place where cows hunted lush cuds of green on lowlands,
And the raw-boned plowmen took horses with long shanks
Out in the dawn to the sea-breath.
Flanders sat slow-spoken amid slow-swung windmills,
Slow-circling windmill arms turning north or west,
Turning to talk to the swaggering winds, the childish winds,
So Flanders sat with the heart of a kitchen girl
Washing wooden bowls in the winter sun by a window.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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The Lowlands Of Flanders
THE night that I was married
Our Captain came to me:
Rise up, rise up, new-married man
And come at once with me.
For the Lowlands of Flanders,
It's there that we must fight;
So look your last and buss your last,
For we shall sail to-night.
'Tis all for our Counterie
And for our King we go
To the Lowlands of Flanders
Against the German foe.
The girl that weds a soldier
Must never blench for fear;
I kissed my last and looked my last
Upon my lovely dear.
The Lowlands of Flanders,
Their rivers run so red.
But I must say Good-bye, my dear,
My only dear, I said.
For now I must go sailing
Upon the stormy main;
Good-bye, good-bye, my only Love,
Till I shall come again.
I put her white arms from me,
Her cheek was cold as clay.
The night that I was married
No longer I might stay.
Our bugles they are blowing,
And I must sail the sea,
For the Lowlands of Flanders
Betwixt my love and me.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky, The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard among the guns below.
quote by John McCrae
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wonder.
In Flanders Fields red poppies grow.
But long dead warriors lie below.
Their rotted bodies nourishing
The scarlet poppies flourishing..
As if to draw attention to.
The graves of men who never knew.
That they would not see their homes more
But here they lie for evermore.
In Flanders Fields lost heroes lie.
In unmarked graves beneath the sky.
Far from the which gave them birth
They add their substance to the earth.
Which Belgian farmers cultivate.
Selected randomly by fate.
There can be few survivors left
But those of us who choose to go
To Flanders where the poppies grow.
All make the trip to show respect
Numbers dwindling as you'd expect.
There's very few now left to go.
To see the scarlet poppies glow
The numbers grow less day by day.
When they are called they must obey.
Rejoining those who went before.
The men who fell in the Great War.
I wonder will poppies still grow
When there's no one left to go.
Monday,25 June 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Tommies lot
While general's drink their claret wine
In taverns far behind the lines
The English Tommy spills another wine
On Flanders table made from mothers pride
In front of guns in faltered stride
The sweet wine of youth seeps away
Dragging dreams of tomorrows men
Into broken hearts to be remembered by she.
A vintage lost to you and me
And, when autumns harvest came
The Tommy was the crop,
The Somme and Verdun is where life was stopped
And when winter froze the ground
The Tommy slept with reaper sound
Content to die with enemies damned
Caressed by yesterday's ghosts in this Flanders land
When loved ones sent letters from home
The Tommy bore silent pain alone
For tears are for lovers and kisses for wives
Now replaced by the tears of loss
And boys too young to find love
Their first kiss that of the bullet
For they were not too young to die
Though "mother" was often their last dying cry
Now the guns are silent
And the fields are green
The marble cross the epitaph to nightmares dream
In death the axis and Allies are equal
In life we failed to stop the sequel,
So remember that cross and remember these lads
Remember the wives and remember the dads
Rest in peace our brave Tommy lads.
poem by Steven Cooke
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Take Your Guns To Town
On the eastern highway we ride
Windshield wipers disperse the rain from the sky
Whats left is ivy and vine
All the letters Id sent back home
Never express the idea of how a young man
Can be so far from home
Take your guns to town
Dont take your guns to town
Take your guns to town
Dont take your guns to town
Stumble down main street alone
Just gotten home with my hand on the phone
I was drinking alone on the quilted (? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? )
Take your guns to town
Dont take your guns to town
Take your guns to town
Dont take your guns to town
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Billy Get Your Guns
I just seen trouble
He's calling out your name tonite
Billy get your guns
You could walk away
But I know you were born to fight
So Billy get your guns
The bandileros are strung out
In the promenade
Billy get your guns
Chorus
Billy get your guns
There's trouble blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns
That's the price on your head for the
Price of fame
And it'll never change
Billy get your guns
There's a whiskey bottle empty
Sittin' on the bar
Billy get your guns
And some organ grinder singing
About some sucker moving on
Billy get your guns
All the whores are hanging out
Waiting to get paid
Billy get your guns
From some Johnny on the spot
Who said hey keep the change baby
Billy get your guns
There's trouble blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns
That's the price on your head for the
Price of fame
And it'll never change
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We shall not sleep, though poppies grow: In Flanders fields.
quote by John McCrae
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire Your Guns
Wild beast, Ill make you mine
Taste your kiss, sweet lips devine
She got moves, drips of sweat
She got eyes of blue, body curves
n legs thatll break your nerves
Chorus:
Fire - when shes going down
Fire - then she make you drown
Fire - then she blow you round
Yeah, you want some fun
Fire your guns
Fire your guns
Fire your guns
Fire your guns
That lady bites, hard style
Drips of sex, eyes are wild
She got moves, long long legs
She got eyes of blue, body curves
Legs thatll shake the earth
Chorus
Yeah, you want some fun
You gotta fire your guns
Fire your guns
You gotta fire your guns
Fire your guns
(yeah, yeow!)
Yeah
Chorus
Yeah, you want some fun
Gotta fire your guns
Fire your guns (x9)
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Generally speaking
The guns fall silent and the dead
lie quietly they’ve played their part.
The night hour’s pass heavy with dread
at first light the big guns will start.
The sound of the artillery
will fill the silent skies again.
Eroding further bravery
of the war weary fighting men.
The brave young men on either side
are doomed to die face down in mud.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Their dug outs do but little good.
A shell burst may not kill just maim
The lucky ones are those who die,
they are the winners in this game
when thick and fast the bullets fly.
Opposing sides move to and fro
to capture trenches they’ve just left.
For no good reason that they know
obeying orders quite bereft
of any sign of sanity.
The generals are safe behind the lines
Unlike the vast majority
who fight to fulfil their designs.
Lions by donkeys badly led
Young men by the thousand died.
A foreign field their final bed
because good sense was not applied.
In Flanders fields the poppies grow.
The soil enriched by their hearts blood
What have we learnt we did not know?
Nobody won Nobody could.
There are no winners none at all
except perhaps the carrion crows
They dine well when the soldiers fall
as mighty nations come to blows.
Survivors return home broken men
with small support and little praise.
Until they’re needed once again
when countries their new armies raise.
Another war to end all wars.
We do not learn from history
For men can always find a cause.
Why this should be a mystery.
18-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Melt The Guns
(andy partridge)
Programmes of violence,
As entertainment,
Brings the disease into your room.
We know the germ,
Which is man-made in metal,
Is really a key to your own tomb.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Children will want them,
Mothers supply them,
As long as your killers are heroes.
And all the media
Will fiddle while rome burns,
Acting like modern-time neros.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Im speaking to the justice league of america.
The u s of a,
Hey you,
Yes you in particular!
When it comes to the judgement day and youre standing at the gates with your weaponry,
You dead go down on one knee,
Clasp your hands in prayer and start quoting me,
cos we say...
Our father weve managed to contain the epidemic in one place, now,
Lets hope they shoot themselves instead of others,
Help to civilize the race now.
Weve trapped the cause of the plague,
In the land of the free and the home of the brave.
If we listen quietly we can hear them shooting from grave to grave.
You ought to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Melt The Guns
(andy partridge)
Programmes of violence,
As entertainment,
Brings the disease into your room.
We know the germ,
Which is man-made in metal,
Is really a key to your own tomb.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Children will want them,
Mothers supply them,
As long as your killers are heroes.
And all the media
Will fiddle while rome burns,
Acting like modern-time neros.
Prevention is better than cure,
Bad apples affecting the pure,
Youll gather your senses Im sure
Then agree to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
Im speaking to the justice league of america.
The u s of a,
Hey you,
Yes you in particular!
When it comes to the judgement day and youre standing at the gates with your weaponry,
You dead go down on one knee,
Clasp your hands in prayer and start quoting me,
cos we say...
Our father weve managed to contain the epidemic in one place, now,
Lets hope they shoot themselves instead of others,
Help to civilize the race now.
Weve trapped the cause of the plague,
In the land of the free and the home of the brave.
If we listen quietly we can hear them shooting from grave to grave.
You ought to,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more to fire them.
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
Melt the guns,
And never more desire them.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eating people is wrong.
quote by Michael Flanders
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If God had intended us to fly he would have given us railways.
quote by Michael Flanders
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let everyone leave all the guns - British guns and Irish guns - outside the door.
quote by Martin McGuinness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give up the fight
Do you know what's worth fighting for?
When it's not worth dying for?
Does it take your breath away and you feel
yourself suffocating?
Does the pain weigh out the pride?
And you look for a place to hide?
Did someone break your heart
inside, you're in ruins
One,21 Guns
Lay down your arms
Give up the fight
One,21 Guns
Throw up your arms into the sky
You and I...
When you're at the end of the road
And you lost all sense of control
And your thoughts have taken their toll
When your mind breaks the spirit of your
soul
Your faith walks on broken glass and the
hangover doesn't pass
Nothing's ever built to last, you're in ruins
One,21 Guns
Lay down your arms
Give up the fight
One,21 Guns
Throw up your arms into the sky
You and I...
Did you try to live on your own?
When you burned down the house and
home?
Did you stand too close to the fire?
Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a
stone
When it's time to live and let die
And you can't get another try
Something inside this heart has died, you're
in ruins
One,21 Guns
Lay down your arms
Give up the fight
One,21 Guns
Throw up your arms into the sky
One,21 Guns
Lay down your arms
Give up the fight
One,21 Guns
Throw up your arms into the sky
You and I
poem by Pawan Kumar 'Meonlafesta'
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Your Guns
Rivers, trees and the law had received the dead;
And from the very act of the guns in your hands,
But try to replace your guns with pens to write with.
It is like an elusive commodity to hold at last,
But with an untrammelled rowdy as a culture;
For you are my heart'sd fream when it comes for love,
And i will live where peace is taught always.
How long can you learn from all these guns? !
I will prefer to live where love is taught also but,
How long will your guns kill each other?
For the earth had taken enough of the dead.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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