Related quotes: When Yankee soldiers reach the...

Mark Twain and Joan of Arc

When Yankee soldiers reach the barricade
Then Joan of Arc gives each the accolade.

For she is there in armor clad, today,
All the young poets of the wide world say.

Which of our freemen did she greet the first,
Seeing him come against the fires accurst?

Mark Twain, our Chief, with neither smile nor jest,
Leading to war our youngest and our best.

The Yankee to King Arthur's court returns.
The sacred flag of Joan above him burns.

For she has called his soul from out the tomb.
And where she stands, there he will stand till doom.

But I, I can but mourn, and mourn again
At bloodshed caused by angels, saints, and men.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

You know about transmigration of souls; do you know about transposition of epochs–and bodies?

Mark Twain in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1889)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Yankee Was A Bad Man, Yankee Was A Thief,

Yankee was a bad man, Yankee was a thief,
Yankee came to my house and stole a side of beef;
I went to Yankee's house, Yankee he had fled,
Caught him on the battle-field, and there I killed him dead.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Another Yankee Doodle

Yankee Doodle had a mind
To whip the Southern traitors,
Because they didn't choose to live
On codfish and potatoes,
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
And to keep his courage up
He took a drink of brandy.

Yankee Doodle said he found
By all the census figures,
That he could starve the rebels out,
If he could steal their niggers.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
And then he took another drink
Of gunpowder and brandy.

Yankee Doodle made a speech;
'Twas very full of feeling;
'I fear,' he says, 'I cannot fight,
But I am good at stealing.'
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
Hurrah for Lincoln, he's the boy
To take a drop of brandy.

Yankee Doodle drew his sword,
And practiced all the passes;
Come, boys, we'll take another drink
When we get to Manassas.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
They never reached Manassas plain,
And never got the brandy.

Yankee Doodle soon found out
That Bull Run was no trifle;
For if the North knew how to steal,
The South knew how to rifle.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
'Tis very clear I took too much
Of that infernal brandy.

Yankee Doodle wheeled about,
And scampered off at full run,
And such a race was never seen
As that he made at Bull Run.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
I haven't time to stop right now
To take a drop of brandy.

Yankee Doodle, oh! for shame,
You're always intermeddling;
Let guns alone, they're dangerous things;
You'd better stick to peddling.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
When next I go to Bully Run
I'll throw away the brandy.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Yankee Doodle Never Went To Town

Arthur freed / bernie hanighan
Yankee doodle never went to town
I just discovered the story was phony
Let me give you all the real low-down
He didnt even own a pony
He was really very short and fat
While in the story so skinny and moany
And so hungry that he ate his hat
And called the felt macaroni
Underneath the chestnut tree
He and the blacksmith would sip that tea
Then hed bring out his uniform down
Thats how he went to town
Yankee doodle tried to leave one day
Took his belongings and mounted his saddle
But he never got it on his way
Cause he didnt have a pony
And the fairy tale is phony
How could yankee doodle go to town?

song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God Save The South

It was a red hot night night in mobile
Sweat glistened on the reverends chin
His mohair suit was shinin
He told us all about sin
It could be wall to wall in wall street
We could be livin hand to mouth
Jesus loved a yankee
But God saved the south
Across the street in the pool hall
Bubba put the eight ball down
Its a high five celebration
They passed the jack around
Its wall to wall in wall street
Were livin hand to mouth
Jesus loved a yankee
But God saved the south
God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
Yes, God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
Shut your mouth
Some long haired boys with guitars
Playin behind the chicken wire
Theyre goin up to new york city
Gonna sing about atlantas fire
It could be wall to wall in wall street
We could be livin hand to mouth
Jesus loved a yankee
But God saved the south
And God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
Yes, God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
Yes, God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
And God saved the south
So,yankee boy shut your mouth
And God saved the south
Yankee boy shut your mouth
Yes, God saved the south
So, yankee boy shut your mouth
God saved the south
So, yankee boy shut your mouth

song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Is It…

You ask;

“Why is it Ray you always dress in black?
Do you mourn the dying and the dead?
Is it because soldiers come home in sacks,
Or on TV see jihad Muslims behead? ”

“Do you mourn Mother Earth they trash?
For laying waste to once lush forest lands?
A greedy few who sell their souls for cash,
Who on Liberty’s apron wipe bloody hands? ”

I answer;

Today and more tomorrows, I’ll wear black
Till peace upon a troubled Earth prevails
When evil ones let go and give power back
When balance returns to “Justice Scales”

ROTMS

poem by Ray Lucero
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To pitch a perfect game wearing pinstripes at Yankee Stadium, it's unbelievable. Growing up a Yankee fan, to come out here and make history, it really is a dream come true.

quote by David Wells
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Yankee Girls

LET greener lands and bluer skies,
If such the wide earth shows,
With fairer cheeks and brighter eyes,
Match us the star and rose;
The winds that lift the Georgian's veil,
Or wave Circassia's curls,
Waft to their shores the sultan's sail,--
Who buys our Yankee girls?

The gay grisette, whose fingers touch
Love's thousand chords so well;
The dark Italian, loving much,
But more than one can tell;
And England's fair-haired, blue-eyed dame,
Who binds her brow with pearls;--
Ye who have seen them, can they shame
Our own sweet Yankee girls?

And what if court or castle vaunt
Its children loftier born?--
Who heeds the silken tassel's flaunt
Beside the golden corn?
They ask not for the dainty toil
Of ribboned knights and earls,
The daughters of the virgin soil,
Our freeborn Yankee girls!

By every hill whose stately pines
Wave their dark arms above
The home where some fair being shines,
To warm the wilds with love,
From barest rock to bleakest shore
Where farthest sail unfurls,
That stars and stripes are streaming o'er,--
God bless our Yankee girls!

poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Mourn Not For Me

As I pass by mourn not
but render me a smile.
Feel pride in your heart
stand a little taller.

Mourn not for me
just because I am gone.
Let not your tears
be those of sorrow.

As I pass by salute.
Salute not only me
but the flag as well.
I fought so hard for.

Hold dearly and tightly
to those ideals.
Without regret or remorse
I defended.

Then listen
with love in your heart.
To the song of the 'pipes
that escort me with dignity home.

06May03

poem by Kurt Hearth
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Wanderers Lost

Oh, we are the phantoms of rovers lost
See how the mocking mirages play!
Men who have ventured and paid the cost.
Lone, waiting women, 'tis vain to pray!
We dies unshriven, as rovers die,
And no man knows where our white bones lie.
Black birds gather when rovers stray,
Out where the mocking mirages play.

A maiden has waited a long year thro'.
Mark where a crow from the northward flies!
'Ah, can he be false that had sworn so true?'
They say that a wanderer woos with lies.
A maiden has waited and counted the days,
Since a lover went roving the northward ways.
What do they profit - unheeded sighs?
Mark where a crow from the northward flies!

Out in the desert a still thing lies.
Westward the sun is sinking low.
Who is to mourn when a rover dies?
Hark! 'Tis the caw of a sated crow.
Who is to tell of a mad'ning thrist
Of a lonely death in a land accurst?
Merciful God! Is she ne'er to know?
(Hark to the caw of a sated crow.)

Oh, we are the legion that never came back
Ever have rovers to count the cost.
Men who went out on the waterless track.
Curst is the plain that was ne'er recross'd!
Restless to roam o'er the desert our doom,
Till our end shall be known and our bones find a tomb.
Mourn for the souls of wanderers lost,
Ever have rovers to count the cost.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Joan and Romeo's Juliet

Once upon a time,
There was a Romeo and a Juliet
But Juliet was really Joan
who left Romeo to lead the captives to victory
Then captured and put on trial for heresy
After judgment was rendered, but before being burned at the stake,
a peasant girl loosened Joan's chains and won her heart
They Escaped to France to
live happily ever after in eachother's arms

Romeo got elected to congress
And as he rose in power,
He set out to win back Juliet
Only to find that his efforts were in vain
So on one very dark day,
He stole Juliet's lover away…

Joan offered ransom for her lover
Romeo gave a counter-offer
And in France at sunset
Romeo and Joan met
Over coffee
To negotiate the heart of Romeo's discontent
An offer to let Joan's lover go
In exchange for Joan to return as Juliet
And it was so
That her lover was let go...

But empty beds do lie a lover's soul
That cannot bear to take in the sunlight all alone
And so it was, that Joan's lover died of a broken heart
After coming home to find a note
'Had to return to Romeo. Love Joan xoxo'

Upon hearing her lover's fate
Joan, a version of her former Juliet self,
Took upon her lips a mix of poisons sure to set Joan free
From the Juliet of her Romeo
To live in heaven with her lover happily

Soon after, Romeo returned, anticipating a Juliet open and waiting
But saw instead that death had taken hold
Realizing too late - that Juliet was always Joan

And Romeo, who swore he would live with no other,
that he could never recover...indefinitely,
the very next day,
married his press secretary

The end

poem by God Diaries
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Joan of Arc

This word had Merlin said from of old:—
That out of the Oak Tree Shade
In the day of France's direst dule,
God's hand should send a Maid.
And where Domremy, by Burgundy,
Sits crowned with its oakenshaw,
Even there Joan d'Arc, the Maid of God's Ark,
The light of the day first saw.

Where spirits go, what man may know?
Yet this may of man be said:—
That, when Time is o'er and all hath sufficed,
Shall the world's chief Christ-fire rise to Christ
From the ashes of Joan the Maid.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work

Kathy Griffin, Emily Kosloski, Mark Phillips, Don Rickles, Joan Rivers, Melissa Rivers, Larry A. Thompson

from Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work (2010)
Submitted by Monica
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The soul of your heart

as you return to start for a new day, never surrender,
retreat as it goes, forward not to stop, but stay so as
you go in the day of today, where your heart calm your
soul to say that you’re on your way, of yesterday
before today

reaching out is what you always want to explore,
the highway of change never returns, it passes only
once more, it run motionless and see never stop, the
road is so stormy and the day is to dark, and if the
light shine above nobody can' say please stop, for
every leaving there always a soul that falls

as the heart comes to tear and the soul comes to
break the angels wish to end the soul that call, the day
has widen the entrance to all, while the journey of bells
always ring, the departed soul cried, leaving behind the
heart that mourn, to the heavens reborn

wisdom the heart and let the soul rejoice, the emptiness
have opened to the soul, of the heart that call.... have
mercy oh! my Dear God

poem by Antonio Liao
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We can all be angels to one another. We can choose to obey the still small stirring within, the little whisper that says, 'Go. Ask. Reach out. Be an answer to someone's plea. You have a part to play. Have faith.' We can decide to risk that He is indeed there, watching, caring, cherishing us as we love and accept love. The world will be a better place for it. And wherever they are, the angels will dance.

quote by Joan Wester Anderson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Homestead

JEST as atween the awk'ard lines a hand we love has penn'd
Appears a meanin' hid from other eyes,
So, in your simple, homespun art, old honest Yankee friend,
A power o' tearful, sweet seggestion lies.
We see it all--the pictur' that our mem'ries hold so dear--
The homestead in New England far away,
An' the vision is so nat'ral-like we almost seem to hear
The voices that were heshed but yesterday.

Ah, who'd ha' thought the music of that distant childhood time
Would sleep through all the changeful, bitter years
To waken into melodies like Chris'mas bells a-chime
An' to claim the ready tribute of our tears!
Why, the robins in the maples an' the blackbirds round the pond,
The crickets an' the locusts in the leaves,
The brook that chased the trout adown the hillside just beyond,
An' the swallers in their nests beneath the eaves--
They all come troopin' back with you, dear Uncle Josh, to-day,
An' they seem to sing with all the joyous zest
Of the days when we were Yankee boys an' Yankee girls at play,
With nary thought of 'livin' way out West'!

God bless ye, Denman Thomps'n, for the good y' do our hearts,
With this music an' these memories o' youth--
God bless ye for the faculty that tops all human arts,
The good ol' Yankee faculty of Truth!

poem by Eugene Field
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Your pride in a flag

Just a small part of this World of your Nation you brag
And you wave your patriotism in your National flag
If your team win the International game today
Your boss won't give you extra in your next week's pay.

You feel so indifferent to people from elsewhere
Remember there's a World called the big World out there
And united we stand and divided we fall
Those words apply to all Nations and to one and all.

Tonight in the bar-room you will drink till late
And with your pub friends today's win celebrate
A win for your Nation in such a big game
Though only the players involved in the victory will know of the fame

And the financial windfall to them that this victory will bring
And of their praises you and those like you do sing
And are the supporters of the losing team worse off than you
Your pride in a flag tell me that is not true?

For pride of their flag young men go to war
And in victory boast of how marvellous they are
And for pride of their flag far too many have died
And so much division created by pride.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Dear Joan

Dear joan
Ive almost forgotten, the pane in the window
Blue dress in the doorway
Dear joan
Help me remember, the face I forget
And the traps that Ive sprung
I guess Ive grown tired, its just whats expected of me
To tear your heart from the inside to the outside
You know I was wired, I just couldnt help it
The hundred thousand times I hurt you
Chorus:
Dear joan, I wanted to say
That Im sorry for the screaming last night
And the nights before
Well Ive wanted more from this
Than anything Ive ever known
Dear joan
Dear joan
Your face has a brightness that Ive never seen
In the years that Ive known you
Dear joan
I pick up the pieces, but some scattered too far
You say they flew when I kicked them
I know you believed when I said it was over
You stood by me patiently waiting and broading
So deeply in love with every face that Ive shown
(chorus)
Once I forgive, twice Im a fool, three times I wrapped my hands around your neck
While youre sleeping, youre quietly sleeping, sleeping and dreaming
Dear joan
Dont walk out the doorway
Because if you did
I believe I could honestly kill you
(chorus) x 2

song performed by by Matchbox 20
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To

I will not mourn thee, lovely one,
Though thou art torn away.
'Tis said that if the morning sun
Arise with dazzling ray
And shed a bright and burning beam
Athwart the glittering main,
'Ere noon shall fade that laughing gleam
Engulfed in clouds and rain.

And if thy life as transient proved,
It hath been full as bright,
For thou wert hopeful and beloved;
Thy spirit knew no blight.

If few and short the joys of life
That thou on earth couldst know,
Little thou knew'st of sin and strife
Nor much of pain and woe.

If vain thy earthly hopes did prove,
Thou canst not mourn their flight;
Thy brightest hopes were fixed above
And they shall know no blight.

And yet I cannot check my sighs,
Thou wert so young and fair,
More bright than summer morning skies,
But stern death would not spare;

He would not pass our darling by
Nor grant one hour's delay,
But rudely closed his shining eye
And frowned his smile away,

That angel smile that late so much
Could my fond heart rejoice;
And he has silenced by his touch
The music of thy voice.

I'll weep no more thine early doom,
But O! I still must mourn
The pleasures buried in thy tomb,
For they will not return.

poem by Anne Brontë
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