Billy Of One Hand
His left hand severed just below the elbow
And the nickname for him 'Billy of one hand'
And he still feels quite angry with his father
And why this should be not hard to understand.
It happened when Billy was just four years old
The day his father took him to the zoo
He wandered towards a cage his dad not looking
And an angry tiger bit his hand in two.
But Billy will put no blame on the tiger
A tiger just wild animal he say
And for what happened to me I must blame my father
I see my hand and hate him every day.
I watched him as a young boy beat my mother
'Thanks be to god from us he went away'
I can't remember any good about him
And only darkest memories of him stay.
He left my mum to live with his new lover
To cheat and domineer to him seemed fair
Ten years or maybe more since I've last seen him
And where he live I do not know or care.
'Billy of one hand' his given nickname
And the worst day of his life was at the zoo
He strayed off whilst his father wasn't looking
And an angry tiger bit his hand in two.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Tiger
Tiger with coat of dissimilar stripes,
When he’s angry, tiger swipes,
Tiger cautious, guarding his lair,
Danger lurking, tiger aware.
Tiger hungry so he hunts,
Facing quarry, tiger confronts.
Tiger waiting, being sly,
Undercover, no tiger espy.
Tiger detects, now he purrs,
Hunger pangs, tiger stirs.
Tiger quick, must now surprise,
Here we have one tiger, wise.
Tiger from his throat he roars,
Stretching out those tiger claws.
Tiger moving, stealthy pelt,
Expiration, by tiger dealt.
Tiger now with belly filled,
Anger passed, one tiger stilled.
Tiger sleeping, with the Pride,
Craving gone, tiger satisfied.
Tiger such a majestic sight,
Near extinction, tiger fight.
Tiger beautiful and fine,
You’re such a leonine feline.
Tiger we must have respect, ,
For your great tiger intellect.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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My Other Hand...
the black man's hand,
the poor man's hand.
the Muslim hand, the Jewish hand...
the gay man's hand,
the working man's hand,
the ex-convict's hand,
the farmer's hand, the garbage man's hand...
the Christian's hand, the atheist's hand,
the father's hand, the soldier's hand,
the peacemaker's hand,
the healer's hand, the teacher's hand,
the prodigal's hand, even the murderer's hand...
the victim's hand, the broken hand,
the praying hand, the touching hand...
all, when extended,
feel like my other hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tiger, Tiger
Tiger one to tiger two
Tiger one says I love you
Tiger two does not reply
So tiger one, he starts to cry
Tiger two says why you cry?
Tiger one says 'you did not reply'
Tiger two says I need not to
Tiger one says why?
Tiger two says i love you
Tiger one says i love you too
Tiger one says why oh why?
Why didnt you reply?
Tiger two says I love you
I don't have to say it
You know its true
Now you know the reason why
Tiger two did not reply
Tiger one realises why
Tiger two did not reply
So tiger one he starts to smile
And says tiger two is very fine
For tiger two is my dearest babe
Whome I think of everyday
And tiger two I cannot wait
To see your pretty face again
My Father Is a Great Hunter
In those days they say
Animals live in the bush
I wish my father can travel go West
To see cat and dog
Antelope and elephant
Tiger and lion
Living in man’s house.
They call them pets
But I don’t understand
While in my continent
Mouse hunts for food
Cat hunts for mouse
Dog hunts for cat
Tiger hunts for dog
And my father hunts for tiger and lion.
My father is a great hunter
Our carpet is zebra crossing
Our bed is tiger coat
Our cloth is lion braveness
The walls of my house
Is made with the beauties of boas
And I am proud to be a hunter’s heir.
poem by Abiodun Adekoya
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Cautious Man
Bill horton was a cautious man of the road
He walked lookin over his shoulder and remained faithful to its code
When something caught his eye hed measure his need
And then very carefully hed proceed
Billy met a young girl in the early days of may
It was there in her arms he let his cautiousness slip away
In their lovers twilight as the evening sky grew dim
Hed lay back in her arms and laugh what had happened to him
On his right hand billy tattooed the word love and on his left hand was the word fear
And in which hand he held his fate was never clear
Come indian summer he took his young lover for his bride
And with own hands built a great house down by the riverside
Now billy was an honest man he wanted to do what was right
He worked hard to fill their lives with happy days and loving nights
Alone on his knees in the darkness for steadiness hed pray
For he knew in a restless heart the seed of betrayal lay
One night billy awoke from a terrible dream callin his wifes name
She lay breathing beside him in a peaceful sleep a thousand miles away
He got dressed in the moonlight and down to the highway he strode
When he got there he didnt find nothing but road
Billy felt a coldness rise up inside him that he couldnt name
Just as the words tattooed cross his knuckles he knew would always remain
At their bedside he brushed the hair from his wifes face as the moon shone on her skin so white
Filling their room with the beauty of gods fallen light
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Way I Treated Father [A Bush Song]
I WORKED with father in the bush
At splitting rails and palings.
He never was unkind to me,
Although he “had his failings:”
And now his grave is old and green,
And now at times I’m rather
Inclined to think ’twas very mean
The way I treated father.
The mother had for years been dead,
And Dad and I and Stumpy
Were living in a little shed—
What bushmen call a humpy;
And now I think when day began,
And it was cold and chilly,
’Twas mean to see a grey old man
Get up and boil the billy.
And though my lazy limbs were stiff;
And though ’twas winter weather.
And though my eyes were shut as if
The lids were glued together,
I think ’twas mean to lie in bed;
I think that I was silly,
Because I growled if father said,
“Git up and bile the billy!”
I didn’t help the cooking much
For I was always “tired”—
’Twas strange that I could eat with such
An appetite as I had;
But now I mind I never growled
When father shouted, “Willie!
It’s gittin’ on for dinnertime;
Go home and bile the hilly.”
His grave is growing old and green
And things have altered rather;
But still I think ’twas mighty mean
The way I treated father.
He left a tidy sum to me,
But I’d give all the money
To hear him say, “Will you get up
And bile the billy, Sonny?”
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Tiger by William Blake
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Yesterday
My friend says I was not a good son
you understand
I say yes I understand
he says I did not go
to see my parents very often you know
and I say yes I know
even when I was living in the same city he says
maybe I would go there once
a month or maybe even less
I say oh yes
he says the last time I went to see my father
I say the last time I saw my father
he says the last time I saw my father
he was asking me about my life
how I was making out and he
went into the next room
to get something to give me
oh I say
feeling again the cold
of my father's hand the last time
he says and my father turned
in the doorway and saw me
look at my wristwatch and he
said you know I would like you to stay
and talk with me
oh yes I say
but if you are busy he said
I don't want you to feel that you
have to
just because I'm here
I say nothing
he says my father
said maybe
you have important work you are doing
or maybe you should be seeing
somebody I don't want to keep you
I look out the window
my friend is older than I am
he says and I told my father it was so
and I got up and left him then
you know
though there was nowhere I had to go
and nothing I had to do
poem by William Stanley Merwin
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Billy The Kid
(traditional, arranged by ry cooder)
(g) - (d)
(g) Ill sing you a true song of (d) billy the (g) kid
Ill (d) sing the record of (g) deeds that he did
Way out in new mexico a long time (d) ago
When a (g) mans only friend was his (d) own forty- (g) four
Now when billy the kid was a very young lad
In old silver city he went to the bad
Way out west with a knife in his hand
At the age of twelve years he killed his first man
Fair mexican maidens play guitars and sing
Songs about billy their boy bandit king
Before this young manhood reached its sad end
Hed a notch on his pistol for twenty one men
It was on one black night that poor billy died
He said to his friends, Im not satisfied
Theres twenty one men that Ive put bullets through
And sheriff pat garretts gonna make twenty-two
Well, this is how billy the kid met his fate
A big moon was shining and the hour was late
Shot down by pat garrett, silver citys best friend
The poor outlaws life have reached its sad end
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hands & Knees
You see me walking away
What more could I say than sorry
I failed by all your complaints
You pushed a life change but its not me
And filthy hands lay apon my chest
Lay upon my sin, but I do it for green
And in your mind you are blind
And your back turn so fine
Where were you when I needed you most
So mother so father
Im on my hands and knees
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
My self-indulgence to blame
For all of the shame in the family
You dont know what its like
How I feel how I cry
How I hate the way I hate my life
So mother so father Im on my hands and knees
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
Pues madre, y padre
Esta vida no quiero vivir
So mother so father
I dont want to live this way
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
So mother so father
I dont want to live this way
So mother so father
Im scrounging for whats left of me
song performed by by Unloco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Father
Hand in his hand though the park
All afternoon
A fine day to fly balloons or tell him a story
Hand in his hand to wonder
Till day is done
Sunday father and son
Sundays are theres to explore
Alone by law
One day to keep the two from turning to strangers
One day to know the answers
Be firm , be fun
Sunday father and son
The father weaves though the weekend streets
Sunday done, monday comin' on
He leaves the child by a modest home
That they share no more
With the woman who waits indoors
Till she knows he's gone
Where are the words or the games
A place to go
Someway to let him know you want to be with him
Somehow it's always ending
Just half begun
Sunday father and son
Sunday father and son
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Boys
"I'm going, Billy, old fellow. Hist, lad! Don't make any noise.
There's Boches to beat all creation, the pitch of a bomb away.
I've fixed the note to your collar, you've got to get back to my Boys,
You've got to get back to warn 'em before it's the break of day."
The order came to go forward to a trench-line traced on the map;
I knew the brass-hats had blundered, I knew and I told 'em so;
I knew if I did as they ordered I would tumble into a trap,
And I tried to explain, but the answer came like a pistol: "Go."
Then I thought of the Boys I commanded -- I always called them "my Boys" --
The men of my own recruiting, the lads of my countryside;
Tested in many a battle, I knew their sorrows and joys,
And I loved them all like a father, with more than a father's pride.
To march my Boys to a shambles as soon as the dawn of day;
To see them helplessly slaughtered, if all that I guessed was true;
My Boys that trusted me blindly, I thought and I tried to pray,
And then I arose and I muttered: "It's either them or it's you."
I rose and I donned my rain-coat; I buckled my helmet tight.
I remember you watched me, Billy, as I took my cane in my hand;
I vaulted over the sandbags into the pitchy night,
Into the pitted valley that served us as No Man's Land.
I strode out over the hollow of hate and havoc and death,
From the heights the guns were angry, with a vengeful snarling of steel;
And once in a moment of stillness I heard hard panting breath,
And I turned . . . it was you, old rascal, following hard on my heel.
I fancy I cursed you, Billy; but not so much as I ought!
And so we went forward together, till we came to the valley rim,
And then a star-shell sputtered . . . it was even worse than I thought,
For the trench they told me to move in was packed with Boche to the brim.
They saw me too, and they got me; they peppered me till I fell;
And there I scribbled my message with my life-blood ebbing away;
"Now, Billy, you fat old duffer, you've got to get back like hell;
And get them to cancel that order before it's the dawn of day.
"Billy, old boy, I love you, I kiss your shiny black nose;
Now, home there. . . . Hurry, you devil, or I'll cut you to ribands. . . . See . . ."
Poor brute! he's off! and I'm dying. . . . I go as a soldier goes.
I'm happy. My Boys, God bless 'em! . . . It had to be them or me.
poem by Robert William Service
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Tiger By The Tail
What a shock it was so surprising
You looked so small and frail
I didnt know what to do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
People said that you must be joking
You let emotions run away with you
I realized a little too late
I bit off more than I could chew
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
At times life can be so enlightening
But it can turn on you
Lately it gets so complicated i
I dont know what the tiger will do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Huntress
Oh the tantalizing tiger
You make me feel on fire
Why must you be so pretty and aloof
The huntress is just a big goof
The tiger is caught by another
Another, better suited I presume
To capture the tiger and keep as her own
And yet the huntress feels the tiger’s groan
How can it still be, that in the wild there could be
An attraction, to shoot down the prey
In mid-stride, the tiger taunts the huntress
The huntress stares yet shows not the emotion
The want, the craving of the tiger’s gaze
To catch a vibe would be all she would need
Yet, the huntress knows there will be defeat
The tigress triumphs and trumps them all
The heart of her tiger is stronger than the fall
It’s not for one to know nor assume
Yet obsession seems to loom
Like the freak, the huntress merely stumbles.
Falling and hitting hard she’s now humbled.
poem by Jessica Thomas
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Saintly Tiger
here comes tiger
he has reached old age
he says i have lost my brave image
i am subject of laughter even of cage
suddenly an idea striked him i will catch animals by becoming sage
soon this surprise came to animals rise
everybody used to visit tiger
he used to eat them and say
your brain is like brick
you cannot understand my trick
once fox came to knew this news
fox said tiger may be timid
but my brain is double speed
he went to tiger cave
i am new tiger and i will fight you and make your grave
challenge from other tiger was rare the sage was scared
fox trickery made dissapear the tiger's timid bravery
poem by Rohan Bendre
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Eye of the Tiger
Tiger, Tiger burning bright
hunts his prey by neon light
Real or bleached, you know the kind
big up front with a sweet behind..
Tiger, tiger, none too bright
Left his cell phone in plain sight
When Elin saw his contact list
She grabbed his driver in her fist.
Four hundred yards straight off the tee
Tiger drives that easily
But when his little wife went clubbing
His face and lawn both took a drubbing
Tiger Tiger burning bright
Doesn’t like the bright spotlight
Yet on his off days he’d resort
To pros who play a different sport
Tiger Tiger made a tape
of Tiger 'eagaling' his date
It came into the hands of 'Vivid'
If they release it he'll be Livid
Tiger, tiger lost Gillette
And Gatorade sent their regrets
Now he’s hawking Trojan’s Wares
and lady Clairol for Blonde hair.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Island Of Souls
Billy was born within sight of the shipyard
First son of a riveters son
And billy was raised as the ship grew a shadow
Her great hull would blot out the light of the sun
And six days a week he would watch his poor father
A working man live like a slave
Hed drink every night and hed dream of a future,
Of money he never would save
And billy would cry when he thought of the future
Soon came a day when the bottle was broken
They launched the great ship out to sea
He felt hed been left on a desolate shore
To a future he desperately wanted to flee
What else was there for a shipbuilders son
A new ship to be built, new work to be done
One day he dreamed of the ship in the world
It would carry his father and he
To a place they would never be found
To a place far away from this town.
Trapped in the cage of the skeleton ship
All the workmen suspended like flies
Caught in the flare of acetylene light
A working man works till the industry dies
And billy would cry when he thought if the future
Then what they call an industrial accident
Crushed those it couldnt forgive
They brought billys father back home in an ambulance
A brass watch, a cheque, maybe three weeks to live,
And what else was there for a riveters son
A new ship to be built, new work to be done
That night, he dreamed of the ship in the world
It would carry his father and he
To a place they could never be found
To a place far away from this town,
A newcastle ship without coals
They would sail to the island of souls.
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tiger (revised)
Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright,
In the forests of the night.
What immortal mind or eye
Could frame thy foolish symmetry?
From what distant keeps and skies
Have a watched with my spies?
Oh, with whom would I conspire
If I could quench thy brilliant fire?
What the methods, what the pain
Would I endure to forge thy chain?
What demons would I willingly clasp,
If I could have thee in my grasp?
I have watched thee many a year.
Would I could to teach thee fear!
Then you would finally see
Thyself as weak as you seem to me.
Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright,
In the forests of the night.
This immortal hand and eye
Would dare to mar thy symmetry.
poem by Lena Hairston
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Button Hand Me Down
(rod stewart, ian mclagen)
I dont need no ones opinion
On the matter concerning my dress.
I was raised in a clinic down in oklahoma,
There were many things I did not possess.
Well I never complained, because my father said,
Son you get your chance before youre my age.
Then he took me upstairs and gave me this suit
(? ) written all over his face
He said, others may come and others may go,
But that suit will be around wherever youre goin
Three button hand me down
Three button hand me down
Hold on a minute
Now I had my fair share of neat women,
But they came between me and my suit.
That was a filly from boston, a barmaid from houston,
Not forgetting the one in detroit.
They said, we like you boy and we think youre sweet,
But cant you lose your suit?
I said, nononono, you cant do that to me
I remember what my father said:
He said, others may come and others may go,
But that suit will be around wherever youre goin
Three button hand me down, ha ha,
Three button hand me down
Ive never been a tidy dresser
And the fold in my trousers it aint straight.
Still I know a good cloth when I see one.
Thats why Im clad in this gray flannel suit.
Sometimes I wonder if I should visit a tailor
And get myself a smooth outfit.
Then I remember what my father said to me.
I make it from the open road, you all know this
He said, others may come and others may go,
But that suit will be around wherever you go
Three button hand me down,
Three button hand me down, ha ha
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tiger in a Cage
I am a tiger in a cage
Pacing up and down
Trying hard to stem my rage
Growling with a scowl and frown
I am a tiger in a cage
Here by my honour bound
Doing my very best to gauge
Just when they will come ‘round
Although my weekly pay is nil
And my hours hard to manage
Because I am their friend I will
Remain the tiger in the cage
poem by Russel Tanner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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