I Hear Voices...
And from the graves, where names were carved in
stone, came a mournful Ballad, of life gone by.
A Ballad sang by mothers, whose children left behind,
and left to sing their ballads, of tears that did remain.
And what of Fathers Ballad, whose job was not complete,
who died and sang his song, of things that could not be.
In a smaller voices, still weeping and confused, the children
sang their Ballad, of parents never knew.
And in some far off place, a Ballad did come fourth, of all
the deaths that happened, that wasn't meant to be.
A soldiers painful Ballad, did seemed so unjust, of the
war that finally killed him, in a land he never knew.
The Ballad, of unknown, thou human, none the less,
were buried here alone, with not a one to care.
In the quiet of a cemetery morn, the Ballad of
the dead, echoes silently across green grass,
and through the granite stones.
It makes one wonder, about the Ballad of the dead,
and what will be our song...when we are finally gone.
Related quotes
Hush goes the crowd
(The music plays, the stage is lit, the crowd come in and a man starts to sing)
Hush goes the crowd,
While I sing this sad love ballad,
The story of my heart,
And I continue singing,
One by one,
The leave the theatre,
And soon I’m left alone,
Singing this ballad,
While I weep before every word,
From daybreak to midnight,
From spring till to winter,
I sing this melancholy filled ballad,
Murmuring these words,
As my throat dry’s,
(The man is on his knees)
Now in a empty theatre,
This song still plays,
Even though I’m alone,
My speech does not stop,
And from a sad ballad,
This song his turned into screams,
Shattering through,
Deafening every living being,
But it isn’t even heard,
No not even listened to,
By the muse of this song,
If only she heard my voice,
If only she would come to this theatre,
(Sound of weeping, tears hit the stage floor; the light slowly fades, till there is only silence and darkness)
Then the Hong is hit,
And I awake to sing again,
The same old lyrics,
There is a new audience in the seats,
But she is not here,
She will never be,
Where she is,
Is far away,
(The music plays again and he starts to sing then hush say’s the crowd)
poem by Paurakh Shrestha
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Gothic Ballad
I walk carelessly down the dark road
My heavy black boots constantly clicking
Clicking on the cold cement
My long black and velvet Trench coat
Billowing in the slight breeze
My Chest slightly rising under my tight corset
My chains on my pants jingling together
As I walk down this Moon lit road
Staring up at the midnight moon
This is the ballad
The ballad of the lost
Of the silent warriors
Of the people you pass by and call freaks
Of the people
Who will save your soul
For our souls are pure
Our souls sing this ballad
The ballad of the night
The ballad of the pure hearts
poem by Ankoku Gekido
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballad Of Nice & Easy
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
Two of these kids grew up on the same street
And though some folks blow it, there's no smoke in their eyes
They're tying their dreams with doubled up laces
Falling, free falling, tangled up 'til they die
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
'Cause everyone knows they'll get their hands dirty
Ripping at seams and smoking hot knives
But sooner or later there's an end to this candle
We'll burn it at both ends and switch on the lights
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song of the Sulky Stockman
Come, let us sing with a right good ring
(Sing hey for lifting lay, sing hey!)
Of any old, sunny old, silly old thing.
(Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
The sun shone brightly overhead,
And the shearers stood by the shearing shed;
But "The run wants rain," the stockman said
(Sing di-dum, wattle-gum, Narrabori Ned.
For a lifting lay sing hey!)
The colts were clipped and the sheep were shorn
(Sing hey for a lilting lay, sing hey!)
But the stockman stood there all forlorn.
(Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
The rails were up and the gate was tied,
And the big black bull was safe inside;
But "The wind's gone West!" the stockman sighed
(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, rally for a ride.
For a lifting lay sing hey!)
The cook came out as the clock struck one
(Sing hey for a lilting lay, sing hey!)
And the boundary rider got his gun.
(Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
He fired it once at an old black crow;
But the shot went wide, for he aimed too low;
And the stockman said, "Fat stock is low."
(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, Jerridiiii Joe.
For a lifting lay sing hey!)
They spread their swags in the gum-tree's shade
(Sing hey for a lilting lay, sing hey!)
For the work was done and the cheques were paid.
(Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
The overseer rode in at three,
But his horse pulled back and would not gee,
And the stockman said, "We're up a tree!"
(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, Johnny-cake for tea.
For a lilting lay sing hey!)
The sun sank down and the stars shone out
(Sing hey for a lifting lay, sing hey!)
And the old book-keeper moped about.
(Sing ho for the ballad of a backblock day!)
The dingo walled to the mopoke's call,
The crazy colt stamped in his stall;
But the stockman groaned, "it's bunk for all."
(Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, wattle-gum, wattle-gum,
Hey for a backblock day!
Sing hey!
Sing hey for a lifting lay!)
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Barefoot Ballad
(words & music by fuller - morris)
I want a barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a down home country song
cause when I kick my shoes off and I kick my blues off
With a barefoot ballad you just cant go wrong
Give me a honk-tonk fiddle with a guitar in the middle and a melody
Humming like a fountain swinging out on smokey mountain
I want a barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a down home country song
cause when I kick my shoes off and I kick my blues off
With a barefoot ballad you just cant go wrong
Now the big toes connected to the two toe
And the two toes connected to the three toe
And the three toes connected to the four toe
And the four toes connected to the five toe
And the five toe and away we go
I want a barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a down home country song
cause when I kick my shoes off and I kick my blues off
With a barefoot ballad you just cant go wrong
Now the big toes connected to the two toe
And the two toes connected to the three toe
And the three toes connected to the four toe
And the four toes connected to the five toe
And the five toe and away we go
I wanna barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a barefoot ballad song.
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad Of The Black Slave
This is the ballad of the black slave,
Who has been beaten and disgraced,
Who has been called the n-word and negro,
Who has received no pay.
This is the ballad of the black slave,
Who prays for freedom every night,
Who is going to rebel,
For what he thinks is right.
Now this is the ballad of the freed slave,
Who has seen much blood shed,
Who has fought for equal rights,
And who has won his freedom.
poem by Michael Issac Palmer
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Ballad of the Broken Heart
Standing on one side of the bridge
You on the other
Burned at both ends
of the times we spent with one another
As the bridge slowly crumbles apart
A melody starts to play
The Ballad of the Broken Heart
Reminscing of a secret love affair
Wallowing in the pits of despair
This isn't the ending
Its a brand new start
As a melody begins to play
The Ballad of the Broken Heart
For a wounded heart time does not heal
Only gives it a better conceal
In the beginning like a flower our love arose
To end this chapter
The book will close
From within, the music will start
Hail! Sing, sing aloud to the melody
The Ballad of the Broken Heart
poem by Carl Leiland
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Old Songs And Rhymes and Ballads
I love old fashioned earthy stuff old ballads and old rhyme
To modern sophisticated writing I'd prefer it anytime
But that is my opinion and though everyone's opinion ought to count
The opinions of one person to little does amount,
I love old fashioned earthy songs I love to sing along
with the folk or ballad singer of a loved familiar song
Perhaps I do seem boring as old fashioned I am known
But to each their preference like 'tis said to each their own,
I am not anti modern writers in case you get me wrong
But I could listen to ballads and rhyme in an old pub all night long
And with what I say if you are one who choose to disagree
You are entitled to your opinions and that's okay with me,
I may seem a bit dated but give me the earthy stuff
Old songs and rhymes and ballads for me are good enough.
poem by Francis Duggan
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So I did 'Something Happened on the Way to Heaven' and the original version is a ballad. The original Phil record is uptempo but we slowed it down and made it a ballad.
quote by Deborah Cox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sing A Song Of Broken Hearts
Sing a song of broken hearts
And you sing a song for me.
Sing a song of shattered dreams
You're still singing in my key.
Up the tempo just a bit
And watch this puppet dance.
When you sing the second verse,
You'll have another chance,
To sing a song of wasted years
Of broken vows and rules.
Sing a song of fallen tears,
The ballad of a fool.
poem by Marianna Jo Arolin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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John From Fishguard
Sing old John a song of his Hometown of Fishguard in Wales by the sea
The Town he left when he was in his mid twenties in the Spring of nineteen sixty three
With his wife Jenny and their only child Garett who then only had just turned four
They went south to sunny Austrealia thousands of miles from their Homeshore.
His wife she is with the departed she passed on a few years ago
A victim of intestinal cancer her end it was painful and slow
He took care of her when she was bed bound a greater love he never knew
To each other they were devoted and to each other they remained true.
A gray haired man in his late sixties his better days he surely has seen
His son Garett who lives in New Zealand has a son of twenty and a daughter of nineteen
And though he lives on his own he seems happy at the local pub he is known to all
He enjoys his beer and the sing song and he loves to talk of football.
I once heard him ask the ballad singer sing a song of Fishguard for me
The old Town I left in my twenties in Wales by the Atlantic sea
The ballad singer did not know any Welsh song so he handed John his guitar
And John in his fine singing voice sung a song of Fishguard in distance from here very far.
The Welsh accent it is still with him and with him doubtless it will stay
Until the Grim Reaper will claim him the one we all must fall to one day
He enjoys a drink at the local pub where he is well liked and well known
And he never does seem dejected though he is one who lives on his own.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I was kind of known as a ballad singer. People would send ballads. Some of them would go over my shoulder and float off the top of my head, and I just didn't feel anything. Then I would hear a song that would absolutely shake me.
quote by Rita Coolidge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poor Children Of Iraq
They've never harmed anybody so why are they under attack
Born in the wrong Land at the wrong time the poor children of Iraq
For the crimes of other people why must they be made to pay
They are the innocent victims and why do it have to be this way?
Poor children are made to suffer pawns of a deadly war game
Left to live with horrific injuries this is to all of our shame
They have been robbed of a future war is so very unfair
Damage done to the minds of children in war zones time will not even repair,
Innocent Iraqi war children they deserve better than this
Why deprive them of a future rob them of any chance of happiness
Mothers weep for their dead and injured children war is a terrible thing
Though ballads of famous war victories the balladeers well may sing
But who will sing of the innocent war victims of every bombing and terrorist attack
Like the poor children living in war zones the innocent kids of Iraq.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dry
Trying hard to face another day
No more left to give, nothing left to break
Melting in the sun, breathing in the day
Falling into love and climbing out again
Theres nowhere left to run
No more tears to cry
The rivers running dry
Theres no more left to give
Love has left me dry
Reaching out beneath a sea of pain
Riding high on waves of hope again
Chipping as the stone face cracks away
Crying out again as my bones break
Theres nowhere left to run
No more tears to cry
The rivers running dry
Theres no more left to give
Love has left me dry
Why is every minute like a year
What if we could save ourselves from this
Life is such a bitch and it gets worse
Fate is like a rope around your neck
Theres nowhere left to run
No more tears to cry
The rivers running dry
Theres no more left to give
Love has left me dry - love has left me dry
The rivers running dry again
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Is His Father's Son
His father a decorated soldier a noble hearted one
And he the ballad singer sings of battles fought and won
A true chip of the the old block when all is said and done
He has his father's D N A and he is his father's son.
'Tis not to listen to war ballads that I have come in here
I came in for to quench my thirst with a cool frothy beer
He ends another war song to another loud encore
Yet why do they applaud him and beg him to sing more?
His songs fire the patriotism in them by keeping old wars alive
And ballads of old soldiers insure that wars survive
The songs he sing are very old and have been often sung
Of brave men who risked their lives in war and of brave men who died young.
He sings of young men who went to war that was the choice they made
These old men now who on war memorial day march in the big parade
With their bravery medals on display they won't leave old wars die
The war that was to end all wars another old war lie.
The son of a war hero of war he choose to sing
Though too much of patriotism is not a healthy thing
A true chip of the old block when all is said and done
He has his father's D N A and he is his father's son.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Cant Put Your Arms Around Whats Already Gone
I saw red, stayed at home
Placed a big pillow over the phone
In this town where Im from
Ive learned two is so much better than one
But you left me alone
You cant put your arms around whats already gone
Watch you sink like a stone
You cant put your arms around whats already gone
Well, you hurt to the core
You used to kiss like no one had done before
And your taste turned me on
Now you drive me real crazy just by being born
Cos you left (left left left) me alone (left me alone)
And you cant put your arms around whats already gone
Watch you sink like a stone
You cant put your arms around whats already gone
Baba b-baba b-baba ba
Baba b-baba b-baba ba
Took the tram round the bay
Where everyone tells you to have a nice day
And my pride almost broke
When the tears dont fit you, you look like a joke
And you left (left left left) me alone (left me alone)
You cant put your arms around whats already gone
Cryin eyes gettin worn
You cant put your arms around whats already gone
Hey, you left (left left left) me alone (left me alone)
You cant put your arms around whats already gone
Watch you sink like a stone
You cant put your arms around whats already gone
Baba b-baba b-baba ba
Baba b-baba b-baba ba
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be with me
This is a ballad for the good times
So put a battery in your leg
Put a rock beat over anything
Get it stuck there in your head
You can be with me
I got nothing to rely on
I've broken every bone
Everybody's stop believing
But you know you're not alone
You can be with me
This is a ballad for the good times
And all the dignity we had
Don't get het up on the evil things
You ain't coming back
You can be with me
If you want to be
You can be with me....
poem by James Dickenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pigeon's Plight
'(Craving from one place to another
For a false death with feathered life) '
Written in a paper-
A cushioned pigeon
Engrossed at my grimace ballad-
A dream finishing the final act to play-
The pigeon’s plight achieved the
Tensed past of beating waves...
“(Pigeons past, dream lasts
And the ballad still in turn....) ”
25/9/08
poem by Moushumi moushumi
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Two Folk Songs
I. THE SOLDIER
(Roumanian)
When winter trees bestrew the path,
Still to the twig a leaf or twain
Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath,
But that foreknown forlorner pain-
To fall when green leaves come again.
I watch'd him sleep by the furrow-
The first that fell in the fight.
His grave they would dig to-morrow:
The battle called them to-night.
They bore him aside to the trees, there,
By his undigg'd grave content
To lie on his back at ease there,
And hark how the battle went.
The battle went by the village,
And back through the night were borne
Far cries of murder and pillage,
With smoke from the standing corn.
But when they came on the morrow,
They talk'd not over their task,
As he listen'd there by the furrow;
For the dead mouth could not ask-
How went the battle, my brothers?
But that he will never know:
For his mouth the red earth smothers
As they shoulder their spades and go.
Yet he cannot sleep thereunder,
But ever must toss and turn.
How went the battle, I wonder?
-And that he will never learn!
When winter trees bestrew the path,
Still to the twig a leaf or twain
Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath,
But that foreknown, forlorner pain-
To fall when green leaves come again!
II. THE MARINE
(
Poitevin
)
The bold Marine comes back from war,
So kind:
The bold Marine comes back from war,
So kind:
With a raggety coat and a worn-out shoe.
'Now, poor Marine, say, whence come you,
All so kind?'
I travel back from the war, madame,
So kind:
I travel back from the war, madame,
So kind:
For a glass of wine and a bowl of whey,
'Tis I will sing you a ballad gay,
All so kind.
The bold Marine he sips his whey,
So kind:
He sips and he sings his ballad gay,
So kind:
But the dame she turns toward the wall,
To wipe her tears that fall and fall,
All so kind.
What aileth you at my song, madame,
So kind?
I hope that I sing no wrong, madame,
So kind?
Or grieves it you a beggar should dine
On a bowl of whey and the good white wine,
All so kind?
It ails me not at your ballad gay,
So kind:
It ails me not for the wine and whey,
So kind:
But it ails me sore for the voice and eyes
Of a good man long in Paradise.-
Ah, so kind!
You have fair children five, madame,
So kind:
You have fair children five, madame,
So kind:
Your good man left you children three;
Whence came these twain for company,
All so kind?
'A letter came from the war, Marine,
So kind:
A letter came from the war, Marine,
So kind:
A while I wept for the good man dead,
But another good man in a while I wed,
All so kind.'
The bold Marine he drained his glass,
So kind:
The bold Marine he drained his glass,
So kind.
He said not a word, though the tears they flowed,
But back to his regiment took the road,
All so kind.
poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drug Ballad
Back of the building, we're with your friends
Back of the mind, smoke in the air then
Let's clear that up, even if we felt ends
Something these withdrawal pills won't mend
The numb tips when my hands on your hips
The nasty taste on lips, oh how they miss
Your dirty kiss, drugs, love, must mix up rough.
Oh princess, you can keep all that stuff
Smell of the haze, reminds me of my dad
Slowly no haste, do it till I don't feel my hands
I can't feel my face, don't stop till I can't stand
Give me that slutty taste, show your friends...that I'm a man
Snow the white, burn the smoke, just to start, dropp the spheres
It isn't right, down the throat, cut the heart with your spears
Bite my lips, I just might back
We're so lit, let's come back
Numb those hips, break that back
Drug ballad, dancing with you
Drug ballad, even though it's threw
Drug ballad, dream of it, oh yes I do
Drug ballad, I know you do too
poem by Freddy Ibarra
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