Fu Manchu
You heard about
A criminal man of virtue
Is there any doubt
His minimal strands would suit you?
Is a hard earned way
Is a hard earned way
Ill never lose
My fu manchu
My fu manchu
Let them grow out
In time youll feel so better
The vanishing pout
Now youre a real go-getter
Is a hard earned way
Is a hard earned way
Ill never lose
My fu manchu
My fu manchu
Is a hard earned way
Is a hard earned way
Occidentally tic-tac
Occidentally tic-tac
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Like You Have Earned It
You do nothing at all,
But want to get paid.
And this you insist!
All you want to do,
Is play a childish game.
With sweetened innocence.
Then you want to lay up and sleep all day,
Like you have earned it.
Then you snap your fingers with the giving of orders.
Like you have earned it.
Nobody here is your slave for a day.
Like you have earned it.
Or turn around and give you their hard earned dollar,
Like you have earned it!
While you eat up everything like it's okay.
Like you have earned it!
Oh...
You do nothing all day but want to get paid.
And this you insist.
All you want to do,
Is play a childish game.
With sweetened innocence.
Then you snap your fingers with the giving of orders.
Like you have earned it.
Nobody here is your slave for a day.
Like you have earned it.
Or turn around and give you their hard earned dollar,
Like you have earned it!
While you eat up everything like it's okay.
Like you have earned it!
Then you snap your fingers with the giving of orders.
Like you have earned it.
Nobody here is your slave for a day.
Like you have earned it.
Or turn around and give you their hard earned dollar,
Like you have earned it!
While you eat up everything like it's okay.
Like you have earned it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm Gonna Be Somebody
Bobby played his guitar on the harder side of town
Where it's hard for the poor boy to find the money
He had dedication, he had the heart and soul
Somehow knew he was born to play
People said "Get a real job, support your family
'Cause there's no future in the road you're taking"
He never said a word, the dreamer just kept on
But late at night you could hear him say
He said
"I'm gonna be somebody
One of these days I'm gonna break these chains
I'm gonna be somebody someday
You could bet your hard earned dollar I will
The road was a struggle, took him ten years to the top
Now he's #1 on the stage and the radio
Still he can't believe how they come from miles around
When it only seems like yesterday he was sayin'
"I'm gonna be somebody
One of these days I'm fonna break these chains
I'm gonna be somebody someday
You could bet your hard earned dollar I will"
Bobby played his hometown one full moon August night
When he heard a voice in the front row singin'
It was a sandy- haired Rebel boy with the same old hungry eyes
Looked up at Bobby and said
"I'm gonna be somebody
One of these days I'm gonna break these chains
I'm gonna be somebody someday
You could bet your hard earned dollar I will"
Mmmmmm
"I'm gonna be somebody
One of these days I'm gonna break these chains
I'm gonna be somebody
You could bet your hard earned dollar I will"
Oh, yes I will
You could bet your hard earned dollar
I will
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Just Havent Earned It Yet, Baby
If youre wondering why
All the love that you long for eludes you
And people are rude and cruel to you
Ill tell you why
Ill tell you why
Ill tell you why
Ill tell you why
You just havent earned it yet, baby
You just havent earned it, son
You just havent earned it yet, baby
You must suffer and cry for a longer time
You just havent earned it yet, baby
And Im telling you now ...
If youre wondering why
When all I wanted from life was to be famous
I have tried for so long, its all gone wrong
Ill tell you why
Ill tell you why
Ill tell you why
Ill tell you why
But you wouldnt believe me
You just havent earned it yet, baby
You just havent earned it, son
You just havent earned it yet, baby
You must suffer and cry for a longer time
You just havent earned it yet, baby
And Im telling you now ...
Ill tell you why
Ill tell you why
Today I am remembering the time
When they pulled me back
And held me down
And looked me in the eyes and said
You just havent earned it yet, baby
You just havent earned it, my son
You just havent earned it yet, baby
You must stay on your own for slightly longer
You just havent earned it yet baby
And Im telling you now ...
You just havent earned it yet, baby
Oh ...
You just havent earned it yet, baby
Oh ...
Oh
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The hard earned is well earned
Food smells sweeter
And tastes richer
For waiting souls.
Hard earned woman
Is a well earned treasure.
I found it in her.
08.08.2001
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If Beauty Was Earned
If beauty was earned by caring,
you could not be more beautiful.
If beauty was earned by strength of spirit,
you could not be more beautiful.
If beauty was earned by generosity,
you could not be more beautiful.
If beauty was earned by quiet introspection,
you could not be more beautiful.
If beauty was earned by joy,
you could not be more beautiful.
If beauty was earned by unselfish love,
you could not be more beautiful.
If beauty was earned by the light behind your eyes,
you could not be more beautiful to me.
poem by Robert Hiers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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But economic recovery must be earned. And it will be earned by entrepreneurs and it will be earned by small businesses.
quote by Jon Huntsman, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reason To Believe
Seen a man standin over a dead dog lyin by the highway in a ditch
Hes lookin down kinda puzzled pokin that dog with a stick
Got his car door flung open hes standin out on highway 31
Like if he stood there long enough that dogd get up and run
Struck me kinda funny seem kinda funny sir to me
At the end of every hard earned day people find some reason to believe
Now mary lou loved johnny with a love mean and true
She said baby Ill work for you every day and bring my money home to you
One day he up and left her and ever since that
She waits down at the end of that dirt road for young johnny to come back
Struck me kinda funny seemed kind of funny sir to me
How at the end of every hard earned day people find some reason to believe
Take a baby to the river kyle william they called him
Wash the baby in the water take away little kyles sin
In a whitewash shotgun shack an old man passes away
Take his body to the graveyard and over him they pray
Lord wont you tell us tell us what does it mean
Still at the end of every hard earned day people find some reason to believe
Congregation gathers down by the riverside
Preacher stands with his Bible groom stands waitin for his bride
Congregation gone and the sun sets behind a weepin willow tree
Groom stands alone and watches the river rush on so effortlessly
Lord and hes wonderin where can his baby be
Still at the end of every hard earned day people find some reason to believe
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Work Overtime Turbo Drive
long overdue
a well earned rest
about to sleep,
sweet sweet well earned sleep,
my eyes can hardly peep
about to hit my pillow,
think instant sleep sublime,
will caress my soul be bedtime mine
I will heartily wallow,
in gentle sleeps slumber pastime,
this rest of tired mind be chime downtime fine
long long past,
sleep sleep past early dawn time,
long overdue this hard nightime earned recline
peacetime nest so welcomed
this rest among clime blessed
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Be (Love Poem)
Sometimes it’s hard to be apart
Sometimes it’s hard to be brave
Sometimes it’s hard to be cold
Sometimes it’s hard to be daring
Sometimes it’s hard to be early
Sometimes it’s hard to be friends
Sometimes it’s hard to be good
Sometimes it’s hard to be happy
Sometimes it’s hard to be in-love
Sometimes it’s hard to be just
Sometimes it’s hard to be kind
Sometimes it’s hard to be lovely
Sometimes it’s hard to be mellow
Sometimes it’s hard to be nasty
Sometimes it’s hard to be out
Sometimes it’s hard to be poor
Sometimes it’s hard to be quiet
Sometimes it’s hard to be ready
Sometimes it’s hard to be simple
Sometimes it’s hard to be together
poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is Payment Price This Poet Pays
My friend is a salary man luckily gainfully employed
five days a week for eight hours a day he earns his pay.
I also for decades worked my days for weekly monthly pay.
I studied hard put in extra time to fully earn my worker pay,
years sped by I worked and worked to earn hard earned pay,
now for a time a time and a half I do not work this way.
I write I write each day by day or through long night.
I work far harder than I did employed in salary fight.
I live on savings hard earned to earn a right to write.
I charge not chance reader read or read not just as you like.
I work I sacrifice to give gift of love as free as stars above.
I give in time in thought in words in wisdom I give in love.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I worked very hard and I earned all the attention I'm getting.
quote by Anna Kournikova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whiners and Losers
A man who can achieve his dream.
Because he’s willing to work hard
is worthy of our high esteem.
Success his well earned reward.
Yet some are jealous it would seem
and his hard work they disregard.
Because they will not recognise
success comes to the man who tries.
poem by Ivor .e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Someone must stand up to those who say, Here's the key, there's the Treasury, just take as many of those hard-earned tax dollars as you want.
quote by Ronald Reagan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Singin' The Blues
I've been working so hard,
Just came home from my job.
Looked down in my wallet,
Good God, I've been robbed.
Now where can my money be,
All my hard-earned pay?
What am I going to do now?
I got my bills to pay.
You got me singin' the blues,
And I'm paying all my dues.
You got me singin' the blues,
Ain't got nothing to lose.
I got to tell you I got the blues down in my pockets.
People, what did I say?
Bills are gonna rob me tomorrow,
Why I need my ten dollars today.
Chorus
Ain't no way to get even
Because, you know what I mean,
Every time I make me some money
Somebody's going to take it from me.
Chorus
Chorus
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's hard to detect good luck - it looks so much like something you've earned.
quote by Frank Howard Clark
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Treat each federal dollar as if it was hard earned; it was - by a taxpayer.
quote by Donald Rumsfeld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Money
Money when God-given, will everlast;
Though spend you may like water for good deeds;
Money when earned by man will get spent fast;
And never can suffice to meet your needs.
Money when God-given will grow like trees,
And give you many luscious fruits and seeds;
Money when earned by man is gone with th'breeze,
And grows to be like scattered, useless weeds.
Money when God-given in time will stay;
Remaining blest, it helps to change man's fate;
Money when earned by man fritters away,
And invites vices, troubles, peoples' hate.
Money God-given can't beget evils,
The soul stays pure, resistant to devils.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I would take William H. Macy as a teacher any day of the week. He's incredible. He's got a lot of hard-earned experience.
quote by Skeet Ulrich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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George Jones Reflects
It's up an' down, as me father said,
An' his as went before him
Good days could never turn his head
Nor the worst of seasons floor him.
(Said old george Jones). I've heard him say
Full many a time an' often,
'The man who knows no evil day
Ain't toughened so he can out-stay
Good times, in which men soften.'
See-saw. 'Tis the older law
That's ruled the world since Adam.
If men ain't sipped the bitter cup,
How can the good days cheer 'em up?
They never know they had 'em.
So, by-an'-large, I'm sorter glad
I've had a chance to share 'em
These long, lean years we've lately had.
Now good years come we've got the bad
With which we can compare 'em.
I've heard men say the land is done
Because the hard times fool 'em.
Poor simple loons, they ain't begun
To know the laws wot rule 'em.
'Men ain't learned yet to live on air,'
I've hard my ole dad chuckle.
'Stick to the land. All wealth lies where
Earth bids all men to seek it, e'er
When life gets near the knuckle.'
See-saw. 'Tis the olden law;
An' laws help them as learned 'em.
An' us ole stagers wot held fast
To earth, now clear days down at last,
Why, praise the Lord, we've earned 'em.
Hard earned (said old George Jones) most ways
High prized. New loads is lighter,
Us, who held fast can well spare praise,
Aye, even for then strengthenin' days
That makes these good days brighter.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sinful identity
It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so handsomely procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
infantile cry; overflowed with unfathomable oceans of
glittering gold,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
baselessly rejoiced and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; miserably dithered in my
impoverished life to carve a philanthropically
blissful identity of my very own….
It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so majestically procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my
first baby cry; had an endless inundation of sparkling
currency coin,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
parasitically feasted and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; pathetically staggered in my
diminutive life to carve a synergistically blazing
identity of my very own….
It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so wonderfully procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
incoherent cry; remained perpetually embellished with
resplendently enamoring diamonds,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
derogatorily marauded and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; dismally stuttered in my truncated
life to carve a celestially vibrant identity of my
very own…
It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so marvelously procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
nimble cry; contained every speck of prosperity on
this timeless planet,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
indiscriminately terrorized and took all their
hard-earned wealth for granted; meaninglessly quavered
in my destined life to carve a beautifully magnanimous
identity of my very own…..
It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so amazingly procreated me; nor was it
my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
inaudible cry; had its foundations resting on an
insurmountable mountain of pearls,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
savagely massacred and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; horrendously trembled in my
penurious life to carve an iridescently kingly
identity of my very own….
It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so gorgeously procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
incongruous cry; solely diffused the fragrance of
everlastingly priceless richness,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
satanically splurged and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; gruesomely faltered in my
pecuniary life to carve a spell bindingly righteous
identity of my very own….
It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so divinely procreated me; nor was it
my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
evanescent cry; harbored countless trees from which
gloriously fructified currency coin instead of leaves,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
ruthlessly blew and took all their hard-earned wealth
for granted; disdainfully lost in my flickering life
to carve an enchantingly vivacious identity of my very
own….
It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so Omnipotently procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
meek cry; was the hub of all state-of-the art
businesses that unfurled on the trajectory of this
fathomless planet,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
insanely trampled and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; flagrantly wavered in my limited
life to carve an ingratiatingly altruistic identity of
my very own…..
And it wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so blessedly procreated me; nor was it
my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
nervous cry; was the most indefatigably serenaded
castle in the entire world since times immemorial,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
cold-bloodedly spat and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; unscrupulously dithered in my
indigent life to carve a harmoniously distinct
identity of my very own….
(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
poem by Nikhil Parekh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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