Girls in Wet Boots
Girls in wet boots,
paddled, holding jam jars
and fishing nets,
their long skirts tucked
into thick, cotton knickers.
They tossed the ribbons of plaits,
laughed like the tinkling
of this slow-flowing, silver stream.
Under a July blaze of a sun,
in our high, tin camp;
supported on branches of beech,
we boys watched, prodded
and whispered to each other
of secret love letters.
Devotees of newly formed breasts,
the sap rose in our safe tree…
as Summer fused memories.
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Spanish Boots
(beck, stewart, wood)
I used to work and take a salary
In a hole up near a foundry
But it did not take me too long
To get my boots on a so long!
Long spanish boots on a so long!
I took a day job in bethlehem
I nearly threw in the towel then
But it did not take me too long
To get my boots on a so long!
High spanish boots on a so long!
Dig it
I took a spanish haberdashery
Restored with 15th century tapestry
But oh, mr. nesbitt got the best of me
So I strapped on my boots and said so long!
Laced up my high boots and so long!
Goodbye
... am on a job you see
cause my old boots they mean too much to me
Leather boots are just a mystery
Put on my boots and said so long!
High spanish boots on and so long!
Put on my boots and said so long!
Those old spanish boots
Put on my boots and said so long!
High spanish boots
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tucked Away
Well, I saw you once
Then I blew it for the next ten thousand days
I should have flapped away
I needed to come back and show you
I needed to go back
I know its wrong
I laughed to get along
[chorus]
Mama just called
Says shes tucked away
Mama just called
Says shes tucked away another day
Mama just called
Says shes tucked away
Mama just called
Says shes extra sad today
Well, I spent the whole day yesterday
On clichs about love
Making me remember when your pushes became shoves
I wanted to come back and show you
Needed to go back
I know its wrong
I laughed to get along
[chorus]
So whyd you go and play my trust
Todays the same as yesterday, and Im okay
? ? i take the time this weatherman did time again to get along? ?
Since youve been gone
Ill get along anyway at all
Mama just called
Says shes tucked away
Mama just called
Says shes tucked away another day
Mama just called
Says shes tucked away
Mama just called
Says shes tucked away another day
(tucked away)
(tucked away)
(tucked away)
(tucked away)
song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Must Have Been The Roses
Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Ten years the waves roll the ships home from the sea,
Thinkin well how it may blow in all good company,
If I tell another what your own lips told to me,
Let me lay neath the roses, till my eyes no longer see.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
One pane of glass in the window,
No one is complaining, no, come in and shut the door,
Faded is the crimson from the ribbons that she wore,
And its strange how no one comes round any more.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boots
INFANTRY COLUMNS
We're foot--slog--slog--slog--sloggin' over Africa --
Foot--foot--foot--foot--sloggin' over Africa --
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!
Seven--six--eleven--five--nine-an'-tw enty mile to-day --
Four--eleven--seventeen--thirty-two the day before --
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!
Don't--don't--don't--don't--look at what's in front of you.
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again);
Men--men--men--men--men go mad with watchin' em,
An' there's no discharge in the war!
Try--try--try--try--to think o' something different --
Oh--my--God--keep--me from goin' lunatic!
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!
Count--count--count--count--the bullets in the bandoliers.
If--your--eyes--drop--they will get atop o' you!
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again) --
There's no discharge in the war!
We--can--stick--out--'unger, thirst, an' weariness,
But--not--not--not--not the chronic sight of 'em --
Boot--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again,
An' there's no discharge in the war!
'Taint--so--bad--by--day because o' company,
But night--brings--long--strings--o' forty thousand million
Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again.
There's no discharge in the war!
I--'ave--marched--six--weeks in 'Ell an' certify
It--is--not--fire--devils, dark, or anything,
But boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again,
An' there's no discharge in the war!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fishing Time
Hands in pockets
Pants tucked neatly in his boots
He stood looking at the river
Brown cap with earflaps down
Keeping the cold at bay
This sunny February morning
Longing by the river
His eyes measured the banks
Dreaming of fishing time
February 20,1997
poem by Marjorie DeBol DeFazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cotton Eyed Joe
Traditional
If it hadnt been for cotton-eye joe
Id been married long time ago
Where did you come from. where did you go?
Where did you come from cotton-eye joe?
(repeat)
He came to town like a midwinter storm
He rode through the fields so
Handsome and strong
His eyes was his tools and his smile was his gun
But all he had come for was having some fun
(repeat intro)
He brought disaster wherever he went
The hearts of the girls was to hell broken sent
They all ran away so nobody would know
And left only men cause of cotton-eye joe
(repeat intro)
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scarlet Ribbons
I peeked in to say good-night,
When I heard my child in prayer.
And for me some scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for my hair.
All the stores were closed and shuttered,
All the streets were dark and bare.
In our town no scarlet ribbons,
Not one ribbon for her hair.
Thru the night my heart was aching,
Just before the dawn was breaking.
I peeked in and on her bed,
In gay profusion lying there,
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.
If I live to be a hundred,
I will never know from where.
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.
Scarlet ribbons- theres magic in the air,
Scarlet, scarlet ribbons for her hair.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scarlet Ribbons
(jack segal/evelyn danzig)
I peeped in to say good night
When i heard my child in prayer
"send for me, some scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for my hair"
All the stores were closed and shuttered
All the streets were dark and bare
In my town no scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
Through the night my heart was aching
Just before the dawn was breaking
I peeped in and on her bed
In gay profusion lying there
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
If i live to be a hundred
I will never know from where
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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5. Gone Fishing
Fishermen cast out their nets
We all in turn go fishing
Some will use a rod and line
While others fish by wishing
Some wish for so many things
Like numbers in a line
If the line is lacking some
Next time they say that’s fine
Others fish for gossip
So they can tell to others
No escape for anyone
Not even someone’s brothers
Fishing for a missing sock
The washer won’t release
Hiding out behind the drum
With fluff and bits of fleece
You see we all go fishing
Not always using bait
Just cast a line for what you want
Then settle down and wait
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whats She Like
Whats she like when she turns around to kiss you goodnight? /
When she wakes up in the morning by your side? / whats she like?
Whats she like? / the yellow moon or the deep blue of the sea? /
Do you feel the same way you did when it was me? / whats she like?
Oh Ive been holding on / Ive been holding on for far too long /
Ive been holding on / Ive been holding on much too long.
Whats she like when youre making love and stars are in her eyes? /
When youre looking for the answers in her smile? / whats she like?
Oh Ive been holding on / Ive been holding on for far too long /
Ive been holding on / Ive been holding on much too long / too long.
I never knew I could love somebody the way I loved you /
I never thought Id be the broken-hearted /
Well, nothing hurts you like the truth.
So whats she like when she turns to you, when push comes to shove? /
When she whispers in your ear that shes in love? / whats she like?
Oh Ive been holding on / Ive been holding on for far too long /
Ive been holding on / Ive been holding on much too long /
So whats she like?
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boots
When I got out of bed this morning
a pair of boots stood on the stairs.
I don’t know to whom they belonged
or how they happened to be there.
The black boots looked large and heavy,
slightly worn, so not new or old.
The laces were long and tucked inside
and the tongue had a forward fold.
They looked really soft and comfortable,
and I couldn’t resist trying them on.
They slipped onto my feet oh so easily,
and in an instant I was up and gone.
I couldn’t do anything to stop them,
they had taken control of me.
I ran all through the day and night,
with no breakfast, dinner or tea.
I was totally exhausted and tired,
and was running in my sleep.
I awoke running along a forest path
and then up a hill so steep.
I could hear the sound of water
and ran down the riverbank.
The water wasn’t going to give way,
so I very quickly sank.
As I continued along the pebbly bottom
I very quickly ran out of breath.
My feet came out of the sodden boots
and I swam from the water’s depth.
I suppose those boots are still running
and they’re probably now out at sea.
I know that I’ll never again try on boots
that don’t belong to me.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ribbons For Boys And Girls
Keep writing for the boy
And I'll keep singing for the girl
Write ribbons and ribbons
That will turn into beautiful bows
Multicoloured bows for his kite
Flying in the cleared air
I'll sing ribbons
And ribbons too
While saying goodnight
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
An air so soothing
It will quiet them to sleep
This boy and girl
Without a care
poem by Harriet James
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Cotton Alley
[ music: john lombardo/lyric: natalie merchant ]
One time
You made me cry
Be proud that i
Remember
My chin is sore
The bruise is gone
But the spot is tender
Gave my hand a sister coy
To cotton alley where
You did enjoy
Your wicked games
You curious boy
Tied my laces up together
When I fell
You laughed
Until your belly was sore
In the brick laid aisle behind
The five and dime store
Thats how
I made you blush
But doubt if you
Remember
Were my tears genuine
Or those of a skilled
Pretender
Nothing precious
Plain to see
Dont make a fuss over me
Not loud
Not soft
But somewhere in between
Say sorry
Let it be
The word you mean
I was a little pest who
Never took a hint
Could never
Take a hint
You pinched my fingers
In a door
Tossed my coloring book in a
Rusty barrel
Pulled spiders from my hair
Fingers in the door
My favorite blue blouse
Stained on the back
Running from a berry war
Can you hear me scream
In cotton alley
Scream in cotton alley
In cotton alley
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bad Day Of Fishing
A bad day of fishing,
Can go a long way.
It beats a good day of work,
Any old day.
Nothing beats fishing, I guarantee,
Listen to what I say.
If you don't like fishing, you'll still agree,
Have a bad fishing day.
11/3/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wonderful Baby
Wonderful baby livin' on love the
sandman says maybe he'll take you above,
up where the girls fly on ribbons and bows, where
babies float by, just counting their toes.
Wonderful baby nothin' but new, the
world has gone crazy, I'm glad I'm not you.
At the beginning or is it the end? It goes
in and comes out and starts over again.
Wonderful baby livin' on love the
sandman says maybe he'll take you above,
up where the girls fly on ribbons and bows, where
babies float by, just counting their toes.
Wonderful baby I'll watch while you grow. If
I knew the future you'd be first to know. But
I don't know nothin' of what life's about, Just as
long as you live, you'll never find out.
Wonderful baby, nothin' to fear.
Love whom you will, but doubt what you hear.
They'll whisper sweet things to make untrue. So be
good to yourself, that's all you can do. You're a
wonderful baby livin' on love the
sandman says maybe he'll take you above,
up where the girls fly on ribbons and bows, where
babies float by, just counting their toes, where
babies float by, just counting their toes... Ooh...
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Joy of Fishing
Oh how I enjoyed so very much
Fishing off a bridge
Or perhaps ‘long side the road
Or from up on a slight ridge
I remember many years ago
On the first day of the season
Going out before daylight
Getting my limit was the reason
Cold when I would paddle out
In a small and rented boat
And if I caught lots of fish
Oh, how I loved to gloat
But it was fun, I remember
As I tossed the long line out
And when I’d feel that tug
I’d wait to give a mighty shout
Until that little fish was on
And I’d nailed him on the spot
It was so much fun, my friend
Especially if he really fought
By the afternoon it was hot
So a cold drink I’d be wishing
And ready to go out again
For the ultimate joy of fishing!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I love shopping. I wear skirts and dresses, because I really think guys like girls in skirts. And I always wear nice underwear.
quote by Christa Miller
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Two Little Boots
TWO little boots all rough an' wo',
Two little boots!
Laws, I's kissed 'em times befo',
Dese little boots!
Seems de toes a-peepin' thoo
Dis hyeah hole an' sayin' 'Boo!'
Evah time dey looks at you —
Dese little boots.
Membah de time he put 'em on,
Dese little boots;
Riz an' called fu' 'em by dawn,
Dese little boots;
Den he tromped de livelong day,
Laffin' in his happy way,
Evaht'ing he had to say,
'My little boots!'
Kickin' de san' de whole day long,
Dem little boots;
Good de cobblah made 'em strong,
Dem little boots!
Rocks was fu' dat baby's use,
I'on had to stan' abuse
W'en you tu'ned dese champeens loose
Dese little boots!
Ust to make de ol' cat cry,
Dese little boots;
Den you walked it mighty high,
Proud little boots!
Ahms akimbo, stan'in' wide,
Eyes a-sayin' 'Dis is pride!'
Den de manny-baby stride!
You little boots.
Somehow, you don' seem so gay,
Po' little boots,
Sence yo' ownah went erway,
Po' little boots!
Yo' bright tops don' look so red,
Dese brass tips is dull an' dead;
'Goo'-by,' whut de baby said;
Deah little boots!
Ain't you kin' o' sad yo'se'f,
You little boots?
Dis is all his mammy's lef',
Two little boots.
Sence huh baby gone an' died,
Heav'n itse'f hit seem to hide
Des a little bit inside
Two little boots.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Allies
August 14th, 1914
Into the brazen, burnished sky, the cry hurls itself. The zigzagging cry
of hoarse throats, it floats against the hard winds, and binds the head
of the serpent to its tail, the long snail-slow serpent of marching men.
Men weighed down with rifles and knapsacks, and parching with war.
The cry jars and splits against the brazen, burnished sky.
This is the war of wars, and the cause? Has this writhing worm of men
a cause?
Crackling against the polished sky is an eagle with a sword. The eagle is red
and its head is flame.
In the shoulder of the worm is a teacher.
His tongue laps the war-sucked air in drought, but he yells defiance
at the red-eyed eagle, and in his ears are the bells of new philosophies,
and their tinkling drowns the sputter of the burning sword. He shrieks,
'God damn you! When you are broken, the word will strike out new shoots.'
His boots are tight, the sun is hot, and he may be shot, but he is in
the shoulder of the worm.
A dust speck in the worm's belly is a poet.
He laughs at the flaring eagle and makes a long nose with his fingers.
He will fight for smooth, white sheets of paper, and uncurdled ink.
The sputtering sword cannot make him blink, and his thoughts are
wet and rippling. They cool his heart.
He will tear the eagle out of the sky and give the earth tranquillity,
and loveliness printed on white paper.
The eye of the serpent is an owner of mills.
He looks at the glaring sword which has snapped his machinery
and struck away his men.
But it will all come again, when the sword is broken to a million dying stars,
and there are no more wars.
Bankers, butchers, shop-keepers, painters, farmers - men, sway and sweat.
They will fight for the earth, for the increase of the slow, sure roots
of peace, for the release of hidden forces. They jibe at the eagle
and his scorching sword.
One! Two! - One! Two! - clump the heavy boots. The cry hurtles
against the sky.
Each man pulls his belt a little tighter, and shifts his gun
to make it lighter. Each man thinks of a woman, and slaps out a curse
at the eagle. The sword jumps in the hot sky, and the worm crawls on
to the battle, stubbornly.
This is the war of wars, from eye to tail the serpent has one cause:
PEACE!
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forever in Boots
Swimming costume, bib and tucker
Stonewashed jeans or three-piece suits
Never going to be, a tidy looker
I am the man, forever in boots
Funerals, parties or weddings
Working days or evening pursuits
Planting flowers in their beddings
I am the man, forever in boots
I want to be forever in boots
I wear boots on land or sea
I can be a miserable old coot
If you hide my boots from me
In the ring wearing boxing boots
On a horse in my riding boots
At the riverside in Wellington boots
Happy to be the man, forever in boots
Man forever in boots
Seeks woman, to be his puss in boots
For country hikes, in walking boots
Eternal happiness, both; forever in boots
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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