I Washed My Hands In Muddy Water (Rehearsal 07-29-70)
I was born in Macon Georgia
They kept my daddy over in Macon jail
He told me if you keep your hands clean
You won't hear them bloodhounds on your trail
Well I fell in with bad companions
Robbed a man, oh up in Tennessee
They caught me way up in Nashville
They locked me up and threw away the key
I washed my hands in muddy water
Washed my hands, but they didn't come clean
Tried to do what my daddy told me
But I must have washed my hands in a muddy stream
Well I asked the judge now when's my time up
He said son, oh you know we won't forget
If you try just to keep your hands clean
We might just make a good man of you yet
Oh I couldn't wait to get my time up
I broke out, broke out of Nashville jail
I just crossed the state-line of Georgia
Well I can hear those bloodhounds on my trail
I washed my hands in muddy water
Washed my hands, but they didn't come clean
Tried to do what my daddy told me
But I must have washed my hands in a muddy stream
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I Washed My Hands In Muddy Water
(words & music by joe babcock)
I was born in macon georgia
They kept my daddy over in macon jail
He told me if you keep your hands clean
You wont hear them bloodhounds on your trail
Well I fell in with bad companions
Robbed a man, oh up in tennessee
They caught me way up in nashville
They locked me up and threw away the key
I washed my hands in muddy water
Washed my hands, but they didnt come clean
Tried to do what my daddy told me
But I must have washed my hands in a muddy stream
Well I asked the judge now whens my time up
He said son, oh you know we wont forget
If you try just to keep your hands clean
We might just make a good man of you yet
Oh I couldnt wait to get my time up
I broke out, broke out of nashville jail
I just crossed the state-line of georgia
Well I can hear those bloodhounds on my trail
I washed my hands in muddy water
Washed my hands, but they didnt come clean
Tried to do what my daddy told me
But I must have washed my hands in a muddy stream
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crawford washed her hands a lot. She washed her arms all the way up past her elbows. She just couldn't get enough done in that direction. She was compulsive about being clean, clean, clean!
Auntie and Hand Washing
You made your way from the john
to the dining table
and Auntie said
have you washed your hands?
yes
you said
are you sure?
Auntie asked
looking at you
with her fixed stare
and the black mutt
under the table
gazed at you too
I washed them this morning
you said
let me see your hands
Auntie said
and so you held out your hands
and she turned them over and up
and held them looking at them
you're meant to wash them
after going to the toilet each time
she said
not just
when you get up
in the morning
she released your hands
and you looked at them
as if they were suddenly there
before you for the first time
so you had best wash them
Auntie said
before I dish up your dinner
and so you went back
to the wash room
and turned on the tap
and taking soap
between your hands
you washed and rinsed
and dried them
on the white towel
on the rail and went back
to the dining room
and showed your aunt
that's better
she said
now go sit down
and wait for your dinner
and the black mutt
put its chin on your lap
waiting in anticipation
for titbits from your plate
and Auntie called out
from the kitchen
remember to say your prayer
before meals
and you said ok
and muttered
thank you for what I'm about to eat
may there be few vegetables
and lots of meat
and the mutt's dribble
wet your thigh
its jaw lingering there
giving you
its dark eyed stare.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Hands
Given by God -are these hands!
One can do many things -with these hands
With love one can help a strangers' hands-
Allay and comfort the elders' gnarled hands
Clean sweep and mop with these hands
Decorate and embellish with these hands
Cook and serve food to all with these hands
Clasp a loved one with these hands
Applaud one with pleasure with these hands
Dig the soil and form a garden with these hands
Hold a book to read with these hands
Write and post a card with these hands
Type a poem to cheer someone with these hands
Draw a picture and sew clothes with these hands
Paint a beautiful scene to amuse with these hands
Play a game of volley ball or cricket with these hands
Swim the waters and row a boat with these hands
Pick the harvests and fruits with these hands
Feed the animals and birds with these hands
Seek the warmth of dear ones with these hands
Feel the soft petals of a flower with these hands
Fold the palms to pray with these hands
Given by God - are these hands!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My mother's hands
My mother had thick, wide, hands,
callused from years of hard work.
I used to like to hold them,
feel their strength and warmth
Those were the hands that cared,
caressed and held her me close.
Those were the hands that scrubbed
and washed, cooked for us and nursed.
My mother had beautiful hands
and would paint her nails light pink.
They were warm, artistic hands
that could crochet well and knit.
Those were the hands that created,
made beautiful shawls and clothes.
Those were the hands that altered dresses
I wore ‘til they were old.
My mother had beautiful hands
that cooked and cleaned and scrubbed,
and within the things that those hands did
were bundles and bundles of love.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Scavenging For Coal
At the back
of the coal wharf
you and Fay
picked up coal pieces
that fell through
the iron railings
and put them
in an old bag from home
Fay looked
at her blackened fingers
and said
if my daddy sees
these fingers
and finds out
what I've been doing
he'll spank me
for sure
you gazed at her
beside you
and said
you can wash your hands
at my place
she looked around
at the bombsite behind you
the evening sun
slowly going down
behind the railway bridge
and nearby buildings
what if someone sees you
she asked
picking up these pieces?
no one worries about this
all the kids do it
you replied
my daddy says
it is evil to steal
she said
you put a black piece
of coal in the bag
and lifted it
to feel the weight
that's enough
you said
too much
and I won't be able
to carry it
Fay stood up
and looked around
at the darkening sky
you held the bag
in one hand
and scanned
the area around you
let's go
you said
and so you both
walked away
from the coal wharf
into Meadow Row
by the public house
where piano music played
and down towards
the flats
where you lived
and after climbing
the concrete stairs
to your landing
you opened the door
and put the bag
by the indoor
coal bunker
and showed Fay
where to wash her hands
turning on
the cold water tap
you both washed
your hands
with the red
Life Buoy soap
her hands near yours
her wet flesh
touching yours
the black water
running away
and another adventure
and another day.
poem by Terry Collett
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My heart is my hands
My hands
Is
Only my hands...
Not for
your hands....
So...
I want too work
My hands...
I want too serve
My hands...
I want to do about
Somthing of my
Hands...
My hands is
Free for only
Sleeping time only...
my hands is
working all the times
My hands not only
Hands...
It is human workers...
Allways for my friends...
My hands...is my heart...
My heart is my hands.....
Ok...How is your hands...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Fish In A Bowl
Everywhere I go
A thousand faces stare at me
Eating from the palm
A date from hand to mouth
Break a leg!
The shoes are on the bottom
On your way
But the wardrobe always stays wide open
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
Everywhere I go
All bob and weave
Or sew it seams
Aiming low in life
They keep their noses clean
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
An ordered life from start to finish
And my timing is out
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up...fish!
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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MuDdY......... wAtEr............! !
MuDdY......... wAtEr............! !
Pouring muddy water?
I clean my self
Again he throws
Muddy water
I throw him out again
There walks a new person
Sprinkles little mud around
I dust them here n there
And I walk towards life
He stops me there
I turn back at him
He splashes the muddy water
I wash them again with
With waters of tears!
Words of apology
Gestures of forgiveness
He takes my crying face
And paints me again
Again with muddy water
No tears this time
Its blood I use again
To clear the muddy water
And I limit the days I want to live
In distress he pats my pats my back
With his right hand
But alas he was staining me
With his left hand
Muddy water was it again
I clear my seat
I tidy myself
Painstakingly not with
Brush nor broom
But with scalpel and knife
Cutting and chistlling
Callous and critical
Every inch of my individuality
But still he would silently take me
Take me to the corners of love
& again teem me with muddy water
There I attempt to kill myself
& he pacifies me again
With explanations of muddy water
Now I know scrubbing and scouring
Will never help
Virtuous and untainted
Spotless and shipshape do I wannu be
But its muddy water this lfe
So i`l go beneath heaps of mud
Cause however much of muddy water
Muddy water he pours
I`l be mud all the time
My blood minced in mud
My bones decayed in mud
My flesh sink in mud
Every cell of mine
Crumble into the muddy mud! !
poem by Dr DHANA LAKSHMI
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Tees spoon
Hand is
Use for eat...
Ok...
Wash every time
At your's hands...
At every works...
Wash your's hands...
Clean...
with clean...
Wash And eat food...
Tell about your children
Today...
Wash hands
And eat...
You are lazy
Don't wash
Your hands...
Use tees spoon...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem for Mothers' Day
Oh we never know our parents…
isn’t that the cruellest thing?
we were never old enough
to know them as they were;
how I wish I had been just as old
as she and he were; to sit
across the rug from them and say
now tell me the story of your life,
don’t miss out anything..
how could I then not love you more,
you strangers whom I fought to be
myself; where were yourselves the while?
*
I’m crumpling this poem in
my salty hand and throwing it
into the wind whose wisdom
may dropp it at your feet;
your feet I never washed;
would wash now with my tears;
and then, perhaps, wash history
clean, with touched hands, shared laughter;
as clean now as ever after.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Hands Clean
If it weren't for your maturity none of this would have happened
If you weren't so wise beyond your years I would've been able to control myself
If it weren't for my attention you wouldn't have been successful and
If it weren't for me you would never have amounted to very much
Ooh this could be messy
But you don't seem to mind
Ooh don't go telling everybody
And overlook this supposed crime
We'll fast forward to a few years later
And no one knows except the both of us
And I have honored your request for silence
And you've washed your hands clean of this
You're essentially an employee and I like you having to depend on me
You're kind of my protege and one day you'll say you learned all you know from me
I know you depend on me like a young thing would to a guardian
I know you sexualize me like a young thing would and I think I like it
Ooh this could get messy
But you don't seem to mind
Ooh don't go telling everybody
And overlook this supposed crime
We'll fast forward to a few years later
And no one knows except the both of us
And I have honored your request for silence
And you've washed your hands clean of this
what part of our history's reinvented and under rug swept?
what part of your memory is selective and tends to forget?
what with this distance it seems so obvious?
Just make sure you don't tell on me especially to members of your family
We best keep this to ourselves and not tell any members of our inner posse
I wish I could tell the world cuz you're such a pretty thing when you're done up properly
I might want to marry you one day if you watch that weight and keep your firm body
Ooh this could be messy and
Ooh I don't seem to mind
Ooh don't go telling everybody
And overlook this supposed crime
song performed by by Alanis Morissette from Under Rug Swept
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Aint Much Different
(gary rossington -- johnny vanzant -- hughie thomasson -- rickey medlocke -- mike estes)
This is a story bout livin
A tale of a long hard road
Aint a whole lot of misgivins
Of the things that I thought I sowed
My daddy was a real hard worker
He said son there will come a day
Talk aint always cheap
And heres what daddy had to say
With these hands Ive made my livin
With these hands Ive held a child
With these hands Ive climbed a mountain
Sometimes we forget
We aint much different at all
He likes grits, you like the apple
There aint nothin wrong with that
He says yall, you say youse
It all depends on where youre at
Well a little bit of music is a whole lot of fun
And its always good for the soul
From new york city out to california
You know its only rock and roll
With these hands we come together
With these hands we can change the world
With these hands I play my music
Sometimes we forget
We aint much different at all
Oh, not at all
So what Im trying to tell you
Is that Im only one son of the south
Its gonna take more than you me and you
To work this whole thing out
With these hands Ive made my livin
With these hands Ive held a child
With these hands Ive climbed a mountain
Sometimes we forget
With these hands we come together
With these hands we can change the world
With these hands I play my music
Sometimes we forget
We aint much different
We aint much different
Aint much different
At all
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hands.... (That Dared To Speak!)
the hands....
that cleaned the old man
lying on urine stained sheets,
that planted the bulbs
in the old woman's flower bed.
that washed the dishes
for forty years....
the hands...
that built the old barn,
that plowed the fields,
that harvested the crops....
the hands...
that stroked desire's body,
that found each secret treasure,
that closed the window.
that held the baby,
that taught the child to write,
that buttoned his suit
on the day he was married.
the hands....
that buried the body,
that brushed leaves from the grave,
that packed away pictures.
the hands....
that picked up the pen,
that turned bloodstained pages,
that dared to speak!
the hands...
now old and withered,
painfully bruised,
often clasped in prayer,
that open to take the small child's hand;
that unlock the door,
and beckon to those in need...
the hands...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Too Much Time On My Hands
Written by tommy shaw
Lead vocals by tommy shaw
Sitting on this barstool talking like a damn fool
Got the twelve oclock news blues
And Ive given up hope on the afternoon soaps
And a bottle of cold brew
Is it any wonder Im not crazy? is it any wonder Im sane at all
Well Im so tired of losing- I got nothing to do and all day to do it
I go out cruisin but Ive no place to go and all night to get there
Is it any wonder Im not a criminal?
Is it any wonder Im not in jail?
Is it any wonder Ive got
Too much time on my hands, its ticking away with my sanity
Ive got too much time on my hands, its hard to believe such a calamity
Ive got too much time on my hands and its ticking away from me
Too much time on my hands, too much time on my hands
Too much time on my hands
Well, Im a jet fuel genius - I can solve the worlds problems
Without even trying
I have dozens of friends and the fun never ends
That is, as long as Im buying
Is it any wonder Im not the president
(hes not the president)
Is it any wonder Im null and void?
Is it any wonder Ive got
Too much time on my hands, its ticking away at my sanity
Ive got too much time on my hands, its hard to believe such a calamity
Ive got too much time on my hands and its ticking away from me
Too much time on my hands, too much time on my hands
Too much time on my hands
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fractured
can't you see my hands are clean
I'm as holy as can be
I will never do you harm
I am fractured
it can't ever be the same
can't you see my hands
are clean
can't you see,
I'm as holy as can be
what kind of life is this?
what kind of life is this?
can't you see my hands are clean,
can't you see, i'm as holy as can be
I'll never do you harm again,
I am fractured,
it can never be the same
what kind of...
i warned you a thousand times
it's like crying to the clouds
and why are you asking me,
questions you already know the answer to,
can't you see,
my hands are clean
what kind of...
song performed by by Zeromancer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hands In The Air
Words and music by bob seger, craig frost, tim mitchell
Ive seen two time losers running everywhere
Shouting and screamin, I was never there!
With their hands in the air
Hands in the air
Ive seen bad news messengers avoiding kings
Cheating spouses twisting their rings
With their hands in the air
Oooh, got their hands in the air
As guilty as the wind out on the sea
Affecting who we are and who well be
Theres a desperation, a real despair
Even the good people are starting to declare
Ive got my hands in the air
Ah my hands are in the air
Theyre surrendering, theyre giving in
Theyll do anything not to go through this again
Theyve got their hands in the air
Ooh, their hands in the air
And theyre sinking in the quicksand like a stone
Broken to the marrow of the bone, oh
The dealers are dividing up their tips
The gamblers, theyre all cashin in their chips
Theres a man in the middle of a parking lot
Wondering which way he should go
Theres a star on the horizon
Sinking low, low
All you death wish addicts, you corrupters of truth
You killers of the spirit, you marauders of youth
Get your hands in the air
I want to see your hands in the air
If youre selling these lies, these impossible dreams
You can keep on washin but youll never get clean
Get your hands in the air
Let me see your hands in the air
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Icb
My love falls from heaven
To talk of this strange design
Then it goes forever
Where all things never die
People look whenever
These races have been won
Minds just for breathing
When the means for this have begun
Its so far away, and its closing in
Its so far away, and it seems to travel in
Taken from the killing ground
By all dividing hands
With no sense or reason,
They came, they found, they ran
Taking good advantage of
All the things they are told
I washed my hands of innocence
When you started taking control
Its so far away, and its closing in
Its so far away, and it seems to travel in
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You come before me this morning with clean hands and clean collars. I want you to have clean tongues, clean manners, clean morals and clean characters.
quote by John Burns
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The tale of the sparkling white river
At the sparkling white river
that cuts its way through the earth,
some green reeds grew in bushes into the water.
Tranquillity and the magic
of water, sun and wind
was the spirit that dwelt in the reeds.
a Really ugly god appeared and started to cry,
as no beautiful nymph
would set an eye on him.
He washed his face in the water
to try and transfix some of its healing magic
to himself and washed his face again,
but the image reflected upon the gentle pool
remained the same
and deeper into the water he went.
Half blind by his crying,
he stumbled into the reeds
and walk still deeper in,
to hide away from the creatures
that lived upon the water
and dwelt in the sparkling stream.
There was power in his tears
and where they fell upon the reeds,
they were cut from the stems.
To Pan on that day,
the river and the reeds
came as a blessing.
With reeds in his hands
he walked to the shore
and the setting and sounds did something to him.
He cut the reeds into pipes
of different lengths
with notches and holes
and blew life in to them
and to this very day,
that instrument bears his name.
poem by Gert Strydom
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