Violin
Four strings across the bridge,
Ready to carry me over,
Over the quavers, drunk in the bars,
Out of the realm of the orchestra,
Out of the realm of the orchestra.
Filling me up with the shivers.
Filling me up with the shivers and quivers.
Filling me up with the shivers.
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Paganini up on the chimney,
Lord of the dance,
With nero and old nicky.
Whack that devil
Into my fiddlestick!
Give me the banshees for b.v.s,*
Give me the banshees for b.v.s.
Jigging along with the fiddle, oh, johnny.
Jigging along with the fiddle-dee-dee.
Jigging along with the fiddle, oh, johnny.
Jigging along with the fiddle-dee-diddle-dee-dee!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Don't let that horse
Don't let that horse
eat that violin
cried Chagall's mother
But he
kept right on
painting
And became famous
And kept on painting
The Horse With Violin In Mouth
And when he finally finished it
he jumped up upon the horse
and rode away
waving the violin
And then with a low bow gave it
to the first naked nude he ran across
And there were no strings
attached
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I was playing violin for a long time, about 6 years. It takes a while. You need very patient people in your house when you have a violin.
quote by Kevin Eubanks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Third Quartet I made the instruments in pairs - Two different pairs - Violin and viola, and violin and cello. They played very different things from each other all through the whole piece.
quote by Elliott Carter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
At the Railway Station, Upways
'There is not much that I can do,
For I've no money that's quite my own!'
Spoke up the pitying child--
A little boy with a violin
At the station before the train came in,--
'But I can play my fiddle to you,
And a nice one 'tis, and good in tone!'
The man in the handcuffs smiled;
The constable looked, and he smiled too,
As the fiddle began to twang;
And the man in the handcuffs suddenly sang
With grimful glee:
'This life so free
Is the thing for me!'
And the constable smiled, and said no word,
As if unconscious of what he heard;
And so they went on till the train came in--
The convict, and boy with the violin.
poem by Thomas Hardy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blue Blooded Woman
Blue blooded womans
She loves a violin, I love a fiddle
We go separate ways but we meet in the middle
Dont see eye to eye but were hand in hand
A blue blooded woman and a redneck man
The lady I love loves silk and satin
She was raised uptown with a silver spoon
Well, I was born on a farm just south of jackson
We had an old ford tractor and a country moon
She loves a violin, I love a fiddle
We go separate ways but we meet in the middle
Dont see eye to eye but were hand in hand
A blue blooded woman and a redneck man
Shes saks fifth avenue perfection
Caviar and dignified
Well, I live my life in wal mart fashion
And I like my sushi southern fried
She loves a violin, I love a fiddle
We go separate ways but we meet in the middle
Dont see eye to eye but were hand in hand
A blue blooded woman and a redneck man
She loves a violin, I love a fiddle
We go separate ways but we meet in the middle
Dont see eye to eye but were hand in hand
A blue blooded woman and a redneck man
Shes a blue blooded woman, Im a redneck man.
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Violin Love
Violin whisperer
Taming the wild beast
Sounds unearthly
Majestic notes surround
She closed her eyes
Swept away in a rush
Burst of emotion
Tears flowing
She says "Play me
I want to be your violin
Pluck my strings
Make me sing
Run your bow over me"
poem by Paul H Nelson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bow and Strings
What heavy, dark delirium!
What dim and moonlit heights!
To touch the violin for years
And not to know the strings by light!
Who needs us now? And who lit up
Two hollow, melancholy faces...
And suddenly the bow felt
Someone take them up, unite them.
"How long it's been! Amidst this gloom
Just tell me this: are you still the same?"
The strings caressed the bow,
Rang out, caressed it slightly trembling.
"Is it not true, that we will never more
Be parted. It's enough..."
Yes, replied the violin,
But pain was throbbing in her heart.
The bow discerned it and grew mute,
The echo still continued in the violin...
What was a torture to them both
The people heard as music.
But the violinist didn't snuff
The candles out 'til dawn...The strings sang on...
The sun found them worn out
On the black velvet of their bed.
poem by Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Father, With His Arthritic Hands
My father, with his arthritic hands
Closes his door, picks up the bow
Tucks the bit under his chin
Tunes it real low
My father can compete with the world's best bands
My father plays the violin.
His eyes are dim but the notes are clear
His hearing is faulty but we can hear
The songs that pour out from within
People outside stop to listen
When my father plays the violin.
He opens up another world
Far from stress and pain
I become a child again
As without a word
He picks up the bow, tunes it real low
My father plays the violin.
My father with his arthritic hands
Holds a magnifying glass to his eyes to read
He sits out there under the clear blue skies
Now that he can hardly walk
(Luckily my sisters are there when he needs to talk) .
And when its dusk and he enters within
Then with his arthritic hands
Father picks up his violin.
poem by Rani Turton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dum Dum Diddle
I can hear how you work, practising hard
Playing night and day, woah-oh
And it sounds better now
Yes, you improve every time you play, woah-oh
But its bad
Youre so sad
And youre only smiling
When you play your violin
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
To be so near you and not just hear you
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
I think then maybe youd see me, baby
Youd be mine
And wed be together all the time
Wish I was, dum-dum-diddle, your darling fiddle
But I think you dont know that I exist
Im the quiet kind, woah-oh
From the day when I first listened to you
Youve been on my mind, woah-oh
You dont care
Its not fair
And youre only smiling
When you play your violin
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
To be so near you and not just hear you
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
I think then maybe youd see me, baby
Youd be mine
And wed be together all the time
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
To be so near you and not just hear you
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
I think then maybe youd see me, baby
Youd be mine
And wed be together all the time
Wish I was, dum-dum-diddle, your darling fiddle
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Its What I Am
(john calvert/aaron sain)
I got my first guitar when I was just a boy
I was playing the blues instead of playing with toys
Listening to the opry and dreaming of the neon lights
So it was late to bed and early to rise
I worked the field all day and the crowd all night
My finger on the trigger and nashville in my sights
Im the real thing and I sing songs about real life
And I never heard a fiddle called a violin
Never really worried if I fit in
Country aint what I sing its what I am
This hat aint something I wear for style
These boots have been around a while
Country aint what I sing its what I am
I learned to drive on a dirt road
Cruised the strip on rock and roll
And drove around on miles and miles of texas
And as I grew daddy showed me now
To earn a living by the sweat of my brow
But he never made me follow in his steps
He said work hard and let the good lord do the rest
And I never heard a fiddle called a violin
Never really worried if I fit in
Country aint what I sing its what I am
This truck aint something I drive for style
These boots have been around a while
Country aint what I sing its what I am
And I never heard a fiddle called a violin
Never really worried if I fit in
Country aint what I sing its what I am
This hat aint something I wear for style
These boots have been around a while
Country aint what I sing its what I am
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
You're The Violin
You're the violin
Nazareth
Some beat me like a drum
Some stroke me like a guitar
Some shake me like a tambourine
Some beat me into the wall
In the song of my life
Baby, you're the violin
Some blow me like a horn
Some slide me like a trombone
Some smoke me like a tuba dude
Some cut me like a saxophone
In the song of my life
Baby, you're the violin
When you touch me like you touch me
Don't it feel like a summer breeze
When you lay down in my lonely soul, ya
It brings me to my knees
Think i'm makin' love to you
Sweet baby, ya
When you touch me like you touch me
Well, don't it feel like a summer breeze
When you lay down in my lonely soul, ya
It brings me to my knees
Think i'm makin' love to you
Sweet baby, ya
Some beat me like a drum
Some stroke me like a guitar
Sh-sh-sh-shake me like a tambourine
Some beat me into the wall
In the song of my life
Baby, you're the violin
In the song of my life
Baby, you're the violin
(words and music by nazareth)
Copyright 1975 jenevieve music (bmi)
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Itzhak Perlman
HE loves most
the violin
because
it is sad
and all he cared
most of the time
was nursing his sadness
like it were
a very important visitor
in her house feeding it
with so much nice
accommodations
caring for it
nursing a wound
wishing that it
will not heal
there is something
strange about you
itzhak
while all the rest have
gone to the beach
to play
because the wounds
have healed
you wished that the wound
would stay fresh forever
like a violin song floating in the air wishing that it would not disappear.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Bow and the Strings
How dark and heavy’s the delirium’s embrace!
How they’re turbid under moon – the heights!
To have touched Violin for so many years
And not distinguish those Strings in light!
Who craves for us? Who, insolent, has set
In flames two faces, yellow and vexed,
And suddenly the saddened Bow felt
That someone took them and forever merged.
‘How long ago it was – as in a dream –
Tell me trough dark: are you the same one, else?’…
And Strings pressed close, caressing, to him,
Ringing and tossing in their fond caress.
‘Is that all true, that it’s enough, God blessed,
That we shall never ever part again?
And poor Violin replied him always ‘yes’,
Though its heart was sinking in sharp pain.
Bow fell silent, understanding, then,
But poor Violin still echoed its complaint,
And what seemed music to the most men,
To both of them was everlasting pain.
The man didn’t blow, till the night was gone,
The candles … And the Strings were singing, yet…
And they were found, drained of strength, by sun
On the black velvet of the sleepless bed.
Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, January, 2001
poem by Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Studio Flat and the ballad
My friend who plays violin for the Choir
Goes to that flat to teach her the Violin, besides
Piano and singing.
Nowadays he looks so excited and I asked the reason.
'She stays alone and very playful
And I am scared something would happen,
I told her about you that you write poetry
And a small lie too.'
'What's that? '
'A good singer, and she wants to see you.'
'You rascal put me in trouble,
She knows my wife who does a part time baby-sitting together
And wife knows that I never sing in my life unless in dreams.'
* It's easier to build boys than to mend men.
-Unknown
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What is Sometimes Hidden.
Just as Minnie gets in the mood
to play the Debussy Violin
Sonata her mother says the
photographer is waiting and
so she has to go along to the
lounge and pose and have her
picture taken and as she stands
there with her violin dressed
to the nines the photographer
says no do not smile it cheapens
the effect and so she stiffens
her lips and stares at the young
photographer's moustache and
her mother says do has the man
wants dear and don't pout so
and so she ceases to pout and
gazes at the box camera and man
hidden behind the cloth his hand
visible and do not move he says
hold it do not fidget dear her
mother says and puts her hands
on her shoulders and places her
in the position her mother thinks
the photographer wants is that it?
her mother asks the photographer
smiling in that way she smiles that
gives the impression of an imbecile
yes yes he says that is it and so she
stands as placed the sensation of
wanting to urinate suddenly upon
her and so she squeezes her thighs
together her knees touching her
hands gripping the violin trying
silently to keep the urine in.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Vanessa Mae
after the fiddle in the wildest harmonies
of your classical violin
please come to my room and fiddle
the best of all the best songs
the base, the tip of my top, the
giggle of the gigs inside my
underwear, there is this fire
that damns me to an eternal longing
this madness not anymore bound
to a second fiddle. play me, please.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Without Your Love
Johnny lange / stryker
Without your love
Im like a song without words
Just like a nest without birds
Without your love
Fine sun above
Will never shine at my door
My life holds nothing in store
Without your love
I rode the crest of a wave
With you beside me
Now whos to guide me
Because Im lost at sea
Without your love
Im like a plane without wings
A violin with no strings
Without your love
Ive rode the crest of a wave
With you beside me
Now whos to guide me
Because Im lost at sea
Without your love
Im like a plane without wings
A violin with no strings
Without your love
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I was much distressed by next door people who had twin babies and played the violin; but one of the twins died, and the other has eaten the fiddle, so all is peace.
quote by Edward Lear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
How sick the plaintive violin
how sick the plaintive violin
even more so when long long-drawn
its drawl how plaintive is, how sick:
even when less slow it is drawn
the plaintive notes still flow, still sick
and in the night, the long dark night
still plays the plaintive violin.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It was really amazing. I mean, he'd never mentioned that he played in the symphony, like serious violin playing, not fiddle playing. And he just blew us away.