Beans and Potatoes
Seventeen years on the graveyard shift
Retetitive work leaves her hands in pain
Swollen are her feet, fifty hours a week
leaves her body drained
Week to week pays of nothing more than minimum wage
Making ends meet is a constant strain
Beans and potatoes
All she has to show for her pain
A cigarette on her midnight break
As every muscle continues to ache
Knowing when arriving home her work is never done....
Wake the kids, rush them to school
Only then the real work has begun.
Grabs her pail to tend the garden crop
In the Kentucky mud, only the best potatoes she will shop
Put the beans on the stove, peel the potatoes,
Feed the children, tuck them into bed
Only then her work will stop
Every hour spent in the garden, and on the hard concrete factory floor
Every miracle made with the monthly bills
Are moments closer to lives her children will never endure
No money saved for a rainy day, nor money for college
Only by example she can lead, so each child knows
To want more out of their lives than beans and potatoes
poem by Carl Leiland
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Related quotes
Hot Potatoes
My baby woke me up this mornin
She said get down that labour exchange,
And if you dont come home with a job son,
Youll get no dinner to-day.
You gotta secure me a weekly workin wage.
Youll get no more fancy cookin,
Youll get no more apple pie,
Youll just get those plain hot potatoes
To satisfy your appetite.
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, yeh,
I want your lovin every single day.
I said I dont need your fancy cooking,
I like the simple things in life,
Just give me those plain hot potatoes
And Ill be well satisfied,
Theyll satisfy my appetite.
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, yeh,
I want your lovin 60 minutes an hour,
I want your lovin 24 hours a day,
I want your lovin 7 days a week.
Yeh, yeh, oh yeh.
I want your love, I need your love,
But all I get is hot potatoes
When I come home late at night
To satisfy my appetite.
Dont give me no more potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes,
I want your lovin every single day.
I want your lovin
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, hot potatoes, yeh.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Retired
I used to sing, when I was young,
The joy of idleness;
But now I'm grey I hold my tongue,
For frankly I confess
If I had not some job to do
I would be bored to death;
So I must toil until I'm through
With this asthmatic breath.
Where others slothfully would brood
beg for little chores,
To peel potatoes, chop the wood,
And even scrub the floors.
When slightly useful I can be,
I'm happy as a bboy;
Dish-washing is a boon to me,
And brushing boots a joy.
The young folks tell me: "Grandpa, please,
Don't be so manual;
You certainly have earned your ease -
Why don't you rest a spell?"
Say I: I'll have a heap of rest
On my sepulchral shelf;
So now please let me do my best
To justify myself."
For one must strive or one will die,
And work's our dearest friend;
God meant it so, and that is why
I'll toil unto the end.
I thank the Lord I'm full of beans,
So let me heft a hoe,
And I will don my garden jeans
And help the beans to grow.
poem by Robert William Service
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End Of The Week
I get out of work
And then I throw away all of my cares
I get out of work
And then I wash the week out my hair
Monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday
Its hard as could be
But by old friday evening
Were free, were free, were free
End of the week
The weekend started
Been working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Youre tasting freedom
No one to push you around
End of the week
And life has a reason
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Street are alive
You know everybodys going somewhere
You put on the slide
You gotta beat the crowd just everywhere
And all the music all the dancing
Get you so high
And all that sweet romancing
Oh my, oh my, oh my
End of the week
The weekend started
Working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Feels good now
Feels good now
End of the week
End of the week
Its real good now
Real good now
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The 'Potato' Poem
I love potatoes chopped up into chunky chips.
I love spicy potato wedges, served up with dips.
I love potato slices which have been fried in a pan:
Of sautéed potatoes, I am the world's biggest fan.
I love potatoes which have been pummelled and bashed
With butter and milk to make a real light, fluffy mash.
Jacket potatoes, I find a bit dry, but with a nice filling
Such as chilli, to give them a try, I am more willing.
With breakfast, I love hash browns or potato cakes,
And I love potatoes mixed up with leeks in a bake.
Crispy, golden potatoes, served up with Sunday roast
Are among the kinds of potato which I love the most.
Mixed in soups and casseroles, I love potatoes diced.
On top on minced beef hotpot, I love potatoes sliced.
Fluffy potato stuffed inside a crispy potato croquette
Is also rather nice, and, for me, it is another safe bet.
I love potatoes cut into crisps: the slices, wafer thin,
And, as a starter, I simply love loaded potato skins:
I do adore a delicious dish of Bombay potato curry:
For me, it is a taste which I won't forget in a hurry.
I like potatoes diced up with creamy mayonnaise,
Served up with salad on really hot summer days.
But I don't like potatoes which have been boiled:
From potatoes, cooked this way, in horror, I recoil.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Bob Says
Bob says the harder I work the luckier I seem to get
And do not tell me there is not money in the loss of human sweat
If I did not work as hard less money I would have for to spend
The wealthy one has lots of mates but the pauper does not have a friend.
Bob says my neighbour Freddy he does like to complain
He only works three days a week and though to him I try to explain
Had he got another part time job how much better off he would be
But he just likes to have his whinge he does not listen to me.
Hard work doesn't seem to bother Bob the harder I work he say
The more money I always make life seems to be that way
One would have to become very lucky to become a lotto millionaire
And those who come by money in the easy way to say the least are rare.
Bob says the harder I work the wealthier I seem to grow
Were I a lazy fellow I would not have much to show
For the opportunities I've been granted for the betterment of myself, my children and my wife
The work shy and lazy person never will succeed in life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Everything She Wants
Somebody told me
Boy everything she wants is everything she sees
I guess i must have loved you
Because i said you were the perfect girl for me, baby
And now we're six months older
And everything you want and everything you see
Is out of reach not good enough
I don't know what the hell you want from me
Somebody tell me
(won't you tell me)
Why i work so hard for you
(to give you money, work to give you money)
Some people work for a living
Some people work for fun
Girl i just work for you
They told me marriage was give and take
Well you've shown me you can take
You've got some giving to do
And now you tell me that your having my baby
I'll tell you that i'm happy if you want me to
But one step further and my back will break
If my best isn't good enough
Then how can it be good enough for two
I can't work any harder than i do
Somebody tell me
(won't you tell me)
Why i work so hard for you
(to give you money, work to give you money)
Oh why do i do the things i do
I'd tell you if i knew
My god, i don't even think that i love you
(won't you tell me)
(to give you money, work to give you money)
How could you settle
For a boy like me
When all i could see
Was the end of the week
All the things we sign
And the things we buy
Ain't gonna keep us together
It's just a matter of time
My situation
Never changes
Walking in and out of that door
Like a stranger
For the wages
I give you all
You say you want more
And all i could see
Was the end of the week
All the things we sign
And the things we buy
Ain't gonna keep us together
Girl it's just a matter of time
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Modern Day Miracle
Where could you find an example
of true faith in the twentieth century?
‘Faith Like Potatoes’ to plant
in El Nino, in drought, in dust
a never grown before potato crop?
Angus Buchan, a farmer, in Durban
South Africa declared before 35,000
“To hell with El Nino! We are going
to plant this year! And we are going
to plant potatoes.” Fool or Man of Faith?
The Wisdom Of The Modern World
Scientists warned farmers not to plant!
“Do not plant this season unless
you have irrigation.” Angus had none!
Planting planting potatoes in dust
would be a massive massive risk!
It would require a miracle!
Did Angus expect a miracle?
Or was he an experienced potato farmer?
Angus was a maize and cattle farmer!
He had never grown potatoes!
No farmer could grow potatoes in drought!
Not in drought without irrigation!
But all farmers and men of faith
know a crop, a harvest is grown,
from a seed, a seed of planted faith.
Angus prayed and prayed
during the planting and he knew;
in his heart that the Lord;
wanted him to plant potatoes.
Angus expected a modern day miracle from God!
God has complained men lack faith!
To dream their dreams large enough!
Angus planted potatoes in dust on his farm in drought!
Without irrigation without water on his farm in faith!
Angus hired two extra farms, planted potatoes in their dust!
If the potato crop failed, Angus would loose everything!
“Faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not yet seen.” Hebrews 11: 1.
Potatoes grow under the ground
and are not seen until the harvest!
Angus planted in faith; reaped a miracle of faith!
“because the righteous one will live by reason of faith.” Galatians 3: 11.
“The condition for a miracle is difficulty,
however the condition for a great miracle
is not difficulty, but impossibility.” Angus Buchan
“Seek and you shall find knock
and the door shall be opened to you.”
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Tony Abbott's Invitation
Politician Tony Abbott in the paper crying poor
Saying his family can't take the effects of his pay cut anymore
He still earns more in one day than I do in 26 weeks
Doesn't he think of our farmers while his gives this 'poverty' speech?
His concept of poverty reads like a comedy
Can't he hear his arrogance as he's speaking?
His 'poverty' to others is the life of a king
I invite Tony Abbott to come and live on my pay
He wouldn't survive 'till the end of Monday
Come and see what an empty fridge means
Learn a baked meal is just a can of baked beans
Come be someone who won’t own real estate
When he's got a tooth ache, how long does he wait?
Does he pain with hunger as he sells his body to pay rent?
His children getting sicker because the medicine money is spent?
Tony Abbott I challenge you today
To come and live three whole months on my pay
Go work a five day week and earn the same as me
Then come back and talk about your poverty
I invite Tony Abbot to come and live on my pay
He wouldn't survive ‘till the end of Monday
Can you see the headline on the newspaper page?
'Abbott goes postal raising family on 'low' wage'
poem by Helen Warren
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Zen does not confuse spirituality with thinking about God while one is peeling potatoes. Zen spirituality is just to peel the potatoes.
quote by Alan Watts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sacrifice
She worked from morning 'til the sun went down
and never did complain.
She earned some money but not enough.
It became her private pain.
How do you feed four children
and keep your bills all paid?
You beg, you steal, you borrow
and your life you trade.
For to watch your children slowly starve
and know they'll be taken away
fills you with dread and so instead
you get down on your knees and pray.
And when that doesn't seem to work
you do unreasonable things.
You sell your body and your soul
to the rich and mighty kings.
You close your eyes and try to forget
what it is you do.
You accept the shame and all the blame
and feed them heartbreak stew.
There is no right. There is no wrong.
There are just four kids to feed.
You work all night 'til the sun comes up
and buy the food they need.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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This One Meal
This one meal mom just made
All this food she prepared
This one meal, I remembered
Mom and I had a deal
She said 'Just Eat It'
I stared at the bread I just bit
Watching mom throw away the leftover
Did she even think about the world hunger?
I tried to stop thinking about all this
I couldn't look at my full dish
I cannot hide it
It is too hard, ..
All the world hunger..
From which people die
All this food mom just threw away
Kidney Beans, Sausages, Potatoes...
If only she thought of what she was doing
Throwing away all this food
If only she thought
of what this food could do
save lives, prevent hunger..
Help people live their lives longer..
poem by Klaudia Kuczynska
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Rape Of The Poor
working 32 hours a week,
minimum wage, no benefits...
to buy third world clothes
from minimum wage Walmart cashiers,
made by Asian children
in sweat shop conditions...
spend the change on
war raped, terror raped,
bomb raped, third world oil...
3.69 a gallon gasoline.
crinkled dollar bills...
'In God We Trust'!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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My work schedule has changed over the years. The one constant is, when at work on a novel, I try to work seven days a week, so as not to lose touch with that world. Within that, I'm flexible on hours and output.
quote by Donald E. Westlake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In A Can
sitting in my old chair
on the porch breaking
green beans... waiting
on the storm.
wind whips through the trees,
a streak of lightning, occasional
thunder... breaking beans.
thinking about my grandparents,
working down at the mill...
farming, grew four gardens...
cows, pigs, chickens, and
turkeys...
no one ever went hungry
there... no one around them
went hungry...
there was always food to eat,
and work to be done....
but that day has come and gone....
now we work on computers,
or dont work at all....
and most young people think
chickens come from the meat
section... and...
green beans come in a can....
no wonder we're hungry!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Thanksgiving
It’s getting close to thanksgiving day
When every ones table will be on display.
Tablecloths of different patterns and designs
Making the tables look just fine.
Where every mother or wife try to
Fill their hearts delight.
Food dishes and desserts passed down
From generation to generation
Leaving you with a tasty temptation.
On the table a butterball turkey
And a honey baked ham
Both sitting in their juices
In a large roasting pan.
Mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes
Green bean salad, and corn on the cob
It looks like someone was doing their job.
A pan of beans, and a large bowl of rice
Bottles of apple cider sitting on ice.
Everything to make a thanksgiving complete
Spending it with family and friends
What a beautiful treat.
But this holiday can not be celebrated
If it wasn’t for those pilgrims on that historic day
When they spent it with Indians
and learned different games to play.
This was the creation of this
Great country that we all know
And now macy’ s puts on its thanksgiving show.
You’ve got to love it!
poem by Louis Rams
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Simple As That
You go to work, work hard all day
At the end of the week, you collect your pay
Thats just where its at
Its as simple as that
You pay your bills the best that you can
But the rising cost sure hurts a family man
While the rich man gets fat
Its as simple as that
And the money goes so fast it aint funny
Your minds made up to get that house on the hill
But you just dont know if you ever will
Because you cant get the cash
Its as simple as that
Cause the man from the bank, he wont give you a loan
Without putting a morgage on all that you own
A tit for a tat
Its a simple as that
And the money goes so fast it aint funny
Before you know it the kids are all grown
And married off with kids of their own
And its all in the past
Its as simple as that
Youve reached the autumn of your life
And all thats left is you and your wife
And a dog and a cat
Its as simple as that
And the money goes so fast it aint funny
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Merit
To Parmentier Parisians raise
A statue fine and large:
He cooked potatoes fifty ways,
Nor ever led a charge.
'_Palmam qui meruit'_-the rest
You knew as well as I;
And best of all to him that best
Of sayings will apply.
Let meaner men the poet's bays
Or warrior's medal wear;
Who cooks potatoes fifty ways
Shall bear the palm-de terre.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Albert's Allotment
Albert loved being on his allotment
he'd be on his plot everyday of the week
growing Cauliflower, Parsnip, Cabbage,
and winning awards for his Carrots, and Leek.
He spent so much time on his allotment
his wife thought he was having an affair
but Albert was more interested in his Potatoes
than any curvy woman with long Blonde hair.
When it rained Albert sat in his shed
reading Gardening books and having a cuppa
then he'd be out again digging for hours
till his wife called him in for his supper.
Albert liked growing all sorts of vegetables
but his favourite of the lot was the Marrow
he could grow them so big and so large
that some wouldn't fit into his Wheelbarrow.
Albert is buried down on his beloved allotment
as that was to be his final dying wish
when tearfully his wife asked him why he replied:
'So I can keep an eye on my Runner Beans and Radish! '
poem by Kevin Halls
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Uh! All Night
Everywhere around the world
Everybodys doin time
Freedom comes at 5:15
Prison starts at quarter to nine
It takes a hard workin lover
To keep on towin the line
Ill meet you under the covers
I get excited, Im so excited
Well, we work all day
And we dont know why
Well, theres just one thing that money cant buy
When your bodys been starved feed your appetite
When you work all day, you gotta uh! all night
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, whoo
Take me to the jungle, honey
Were livin in a human zoo
Getcha turnin tricks for money
Id rather roll around with you
cause when the waitin is over
I come a-runnin to you
I got the whole night to show you
I get excited, Im so excited
Well, we work all day
And we dont know why
Well, theres just one thing that money cant buy
When your bodys been starved feed your appetite
When you work all day, you gotta uh! all night
Ooh, let me hear you, uh, right, uh, uh, uh, yeah
Well, we work all day
And we dont know why
Well, theres just one thing that money cant buy
When your bodys been starved feed your appetite
When you work all day, you gotta uh!
They got me workin, they got me runnin
But when Im comin home to you, yeah
Well, we work all day
And we dont know why
Well, theres just one thing that money cant buy
When your bodys been starved feed your appetite
When you work all day, you gotta uh! all night
Well, we work all day (they got me working)
And we dont know why (they got me runnin)
Well, theres just one thing that money cant buy (ooh yeah)
When you bodys been starved (my bodys hungry)
Feed your appetite (dont need no money)
When you work all day, you gotta uh! all night (comin home, yeah)
Well, we work all day
And we dont know why
Well, theres just one thing that money cant buy
When you bodys been starved, feed your appetite
When you work all day, you gotta uh! all night
Well, we work all day
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Hundred Years Of Work, A Second Junked
sad. i must tell you it is sad
and there is a reason for me, for us, to be sad
on this sad day bringing the saddest news
you work on it a hundred days
it is read, their heads shaking, they could have told you,
you are wasting your time, you could have spent it planting
potatoes, yes potatoes in your backyard,
you emote, this is my life, these are the lines of my life,
authentic, deep, true, sincere, eathly, mundane,
and too divine, God given, Spirited, conscientiously worded
deep from the heart of me, a prayer, my innermost
my heart, my soul, chasm of pure intentions
honest,
they shake their heads of your piece of shit,
junk, scratch, crumple, into the wastebasket of your days.
a hundred years of work, in a second junked, discarded.
they're honest, you're no good salamagan salamander.
think and be quiet. Hmmmmmmmmm...who cares?
whisper this to yourself: om om om i am good, i am good,
i am beautiful. i am great.
consolaton price. consuelo de bobo.
you're ggggggggggggggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreat. amen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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