Ferry 'Cross The Mersey
Bootle
on Merseyside
known for its docklands
antiques and art exhibitions
also a grand strand shopping centre.
Gerry and the Pacemakers
sang that popular song
and it lingers in
Bootle
poem by Joyce Hemsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Song Is Ended
My thoughts go back to a heavenly dance
A moment of bliss we spent
Our hearts were filled with a song of romance
As into the night we went
And sang to our hearts' content
The song is ended
But the melody lingers on
You and the song are gone
But the melody lingers on
The night was splendid
And the melody seemed to say
"summer will pass away
Take your happiness while you may"
There 'neath the light of the moon
We sang a love song that ended too soon
The moon descended
And i found with the break of dawn
You and the song had gone
But the melody lingers on
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song Is Ended
My thoughts go back to a heavenly dance
A moment of bliss we spent
Our hearts were filled with a song of romance
As into the night we went
And sang to our hearts' content
The song is ended
But the melody lingers on
You and the song are gone
But the melody lingers on
The night was splendid
And the melody seemed to say
"summer will pass away
Take your happiness while you may"
There 'neath the light of the moon
We sang a love song that ended too soon
The moon descended
And i found with the break of dawn
You and the song had gone
But the melody lingers on
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ooddled Up
Total open bootle stroking.
Open toking...
To be broken,
Coping.
And ooddled up.
With the stuff.
Soaking near the ropes to toke.
And poking for some hope,
They cope and smoke...
Feeling dope!
To lube and idolize.
Too pooped to analyze,
The people.
Crunking with a blunt!
To lube and idolize.
Too pooped to analyze,
The people.
And peel we do,
With the tools.
Total open bootle stroking.
Open toking...
To be broken,
Coping.
And ooddled up.
With the stuff.
Crunked with their blunts...
And bumping.
Humping, dump and crumping.
Crunked with their blunts...
And bumping.
Humping, dump and crumping.
Soaking near the ropes to toke.
And poking for some hope,
They cope and smoke...
Feeling dope!
Crunked with their blunts...
And bumping.
Humping, dump and crumping.
Total open bootle stroking.
Open toking...
To be broken,
Coping.
And ooddled up.
With the stuff.
To lube and idolize.
Too pooped to analyze,
The people.
Crunking with a blunt!
To lube and idolize.
Too pooped to analyze,
The people.
And peel we do,
With the tools.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The American Popular Song
It's a popular song, an American popular song.
And there's something about it, can't live without it.
It's the tune of the day, somehow it takes you away
and it grabs you, and it holds you, feel it control you,
makes you want to clap your hands.
Makes you want to stomp your feet.
Makes you want to sing along. It means business.
The American popular song goes on and on.
The American popular song goes on and on and on.
It's a popular song. An American popular song.
A simple story wrapped up in glory.
Once you hear it you know you got to hear it some more.
And that's power, try it, you can't deny it.
Makes you want to clap your hands.
Makes you want to stomp your feet.
Makes you want to sing along. It means business.
The American popular song goes on and on.
The American popular song goes on and on and on.
It's a popular song. An American popular song.
It's a popular song, an American popular song.
It's a popular song, an American popular song.
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I woke up to a lullaby
I woke up to a lullaby
The birds sang a song for me
They sang their hearts out all the while
Dancing on the maple tree
Each bird sang a different song
That melted into one
A song full of promises
For the day that’s just begun
They sang of sorrow
Of happiness and mirth
The sang of marriage
And of birth
They sang of people laughing
And of them crying
They sang of sickness
They sang of dying
This little song
They sang for me
Made me think
Made me free
Shopping
Were buying and selling your history
How we go about it is no mystery
We check it with the city, then change the law
Are you looking forward?
Now you want some more
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Its easy when you got all the information
Inside help, no investigation
(no investigation, investigation)
No questions in the house, no give and take
Theres a big bang in the city
Were all on the make
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Our gain is your loss, thats the price you pay
I heard it in the house of commons: everythings for sale
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
(were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping)
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet's Song
I HID in the world and sang,
And I sang so loud and long
That all the ages rang
With the music of my song.
I sang of the earth and sky,
5
I sang of the whispering seas,
I sang of the mountains high,
And I sang of the flowers and trees;
I sang of the early spring,
I sang of the dawning day,
10
I sang, for I had to sing
As the young lambs have to play;
Till heaven and earth were ringing,
And all the people heard,
And they said, "We love his singing,
15
For his song is the song of the bird."
poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Centre Stage
There were times when I was young
I wanted to be centre stage,
the one everyone screamed to for more
whenever I sang my song.
As the years progressed
and I could see it wasn’t going to happen,
I grew content to sit in the stalls
and watch someone else take the applause.
I realized that centre stage
wasn’t where I wanted to be
and that I could entertain
just by being me.
I did not need a spotlight
to show the sparkle in my eyes.
I did not need to dress up
to be someone I wasn’t,
I didn’t need a centre stage,
I only need to be me.
I didn’t need glitz and glamour,
just an opportunity to give others pleasure
from any talent that I had.
I didn’t need the centre stage,
but just a means of escape
and just be ordinary me.
20 March 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Money makes you high
Unheard, one sang to oneself.
Unpaid, one sang to the crowd.
Having paid, one sang in a concert
And became soon popular.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Great Wonder
It is no wonder
the grand Universe
does not go asunder
which is so diverse
as a spider-web grand
made up of Galaxies billions
with many a connecting strand
of Stars trillions and trillions.
It is no wonder
when our complete Solar system
in its motion performs no blunder
with its Planets, and Sub-system
being a part of Milky Way
along with asteroids and comets.
All the components with precision play
from their appointed posits.
It is no wonder
the Earth revolving around the Sun.
Even when we ponder
the circles of the Sun's turn
to the centre of the galaxy
of stars in true radiancy.
It is a great wonder
and an exclusive mystery
as to how the kind human mind is a blender
of gore, and murder is the query!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her Song
I sang that song on Sunday,
To witch an idle while,
I sang that song on Monday,
As fittest to beguile;
I sang it as the year outwore,
And the new slid in;
I thought not what might shape before
Another would begin.
I sang that song in summer,
All unforeknowingly,
To him as a new-comer
From regions strange to me:
I sang it when in afteryears
The shades stretched out,
And paths were faint; and flocking fears
Brought cup-eyed care and doubt.
Sings he that song on Sundays
In some dim land afar,
On Saturdays, or Mondays,
As when the evening star
Glimpsed in upon his bending face
And my hanging hair,
And time untouched me with a trace
Of soul-smart or despair?
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Figures In There Somewhere (Revised)
Came home to a brightly coloured work text
with Edith Piaf's life resounding in my head,
read a Roger Bootle (Fortune magazine) écrit
on PIIGS (probable Euro-split, Portugal,
Ireland, Italy, Greece & Spain) explained
And Edith Piaf's life intervenes, paging too
violently in the magazine, reading a heading
Dad Doesn't Have Hobbies, He Has Passions
Tom Ricketts said; admonished by my love
I rest the magazine, time to get rid of
Edith Piaf's passions in my head, her words
ringing in my ears - what's the use of being
Edith if I cannot do what I want? It may be
why being Margaret Alice fails, I cannot do
what I want, becoming instead
Expert at hiding desire from myself; I shall
never know what I really want except that
music and singing and dancing figures in
there somewhere
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pretty Whitehaven
Whitehaven, Britain, on the
Banks of the Mersey
Steeped in Industrial history...
Not 'The Fog on the Tyne is All Mine'
But Mersey sunshine makes
Whitehaven divine.
Where north-west breezes blow
Whitehaven Harbour lights are aglow.
And the pretty Cumbrian town
Lives on, recalling coalfields of
Long ago, when imported tobacco
Was the status quo.
'Ferry Cross The Mersey' -
A popular song; this song worldwide
Could do no wrong! Jerry and the
Pacemakers turned up the heat
Whilst The Beatles & Rolling Stones
Turned on the beat.
Whitehaven, Britain, on the
Banks of the Mersey is steeped
In Industrial history...
Not 'The Fog on the Tyne is All Mine'
But Mersey sunshine makes
Whitehaven divine.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One of the people that wrote a forward to my book is Gerry Spence, whom I admire. Gerry is a friend of mine, and Gerry's perhaps the leading criminal defense attorney in the country.
quote by Vincent Bugliosi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like Mother Like Daughter
When I was a child had dollies and teddies
I played tea party and bookstore,
And followed mum around the shopping centre with my dolly in her pram
I had my pretend credit cards and they were the coolest thing ever.
Now the dolly in her pram has turned in to a real child,
And my pretend credit cards are real
I don’t play tea party but make dinner every night
And a bookstore is a place where I buy text books and parenting books,
Not comics and novels
Soon again it will be time for tea parties and teddies,
And going shopping with dolly in tow
But now it is my little girl who has grand dreams of being just like her mum
Of having credit cards and a daughter of her own.
But for now as I watch her sleep I pray she does not repeat my mistakes
poem by Kayla Lines
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Towards The Final Day
Towards the final day
Knows one for certain hundred percent
Sure to wind up thoroughly
Leaving behind even the mortal sheath
Thereso the blood vessels shrink
Then the brass and bronze vessels
Then the sentimental tradition
Children can't be glued to
Tradititional furniture pappa's, grand-pa's then
Espoused with mamma's, grand-ma's silver, gold
All secretly or forcibly to the mart
Grand-old-mistress innocent
Holding back her darlings' left-by goods
Snaps, clothes, books
Grand-old-mister adament
Mindless leaving his own house
Tear-sold bucks mamma's, pappa's
Celebrate purchasing antiques..
Children enjoy their special days
Far farther
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Angel On My Shoulder
There's an angel on my shoulder,
asking me whats wrong?
and as i speak the words to her
she starts to sing a song
This song she sings is powerfull
yet its the saddest song you'll hear.
She sings a song of pain and love,
even the angel has a tear.
She sang of how she found true love,
and how she let it go.
she sang of how she pushed aside
the only love she'd know
she sang of how she pushed him away
to find another love thats true
she sang of how she looked at him
as he spoke the words 'thats you'
She never faulted in her words
as she sang and as she cried
for as she sang she told me
of how her true love died
She said he died of a broken heart
that only she could mend
her true love died because of her
his true love and friend
as the angel sang her final words
she looked at me and said
Kolee this is not my song
but your true loves instead
There's an angel on my shoulder
asking me whats wrong
asking me to love you,
and to never hear your song.
poem by Angel of Darkness
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May This Song Reach Your Heart
A strong young woman sings,
Her voice so divine.
'May this song reach your heart.'
She showed the epitome
Of soul, body, and mind.
'May this song reach your heart.'
She sang to the heavens
With uplifting spirit.
'May this song reach your heart.'
Her song was made
So the world could hear it.
'May this song reach your heart.'
The song she sang
Was that of fine art.
'May this song,
Reach your heart.'
poem by Devon McElveen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sinn Fein has demonstrated the ability to play a leadership role as part of a popular movement towards peace, equality and justice.
quote by Gerry Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Singer Sang His Song
Hed sing his song most evry night
Wishing she was there behind the light
The people danced and sang along
On the cardboard stage he never sang it wrong
And the piper played the tune
And the drummer wore his spurs
But the song that the singer sang was for her
Now the singers song is never heard
And the visions he once saw are disappeared
Now they never dance or sing along
But on the cardboard stage he never sang it wrong
And the piper played the tune
And the drummer wore his spurs
But the song that the singer sang was for her
(break)
Ah..........
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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