Sweet Lady Genevieve
(sung by the tramp)
Once under a scarlet sky I told you never ending lies,
But they were the words of a drunken vagabond
Who knew very well he would break your heart before long
Oh forgive me genevieve.
Now Ive come back to see sweet lady genevieve,
This time Ill give you some security
And I will make promises I can keep
So will you come back to me sweet lady genevieve.
Let me rock you, hold you,
Take you in my arms.
Forgive me, please,
Smile away all your sadness, put your trust in me.
Oh if you come back to me sweet lady genevieve,
Im not the impetuous fool you used to know
I know that I used you and I hurt you so,
But that was so long ago sweet lady genevieve.
Oh, love me,
Take me in your arms.
Let me rock you, hold you,
Smile away all your sadness, put your trust in me.
Once under a starry sky I led you on and told you lies
Drank too much whiskey on that hot summer night.
I acted so slyly because you were acting so shy,
Oh forgive me genevieve.
If you come back to me sweet lady genevieve,
Youre not the child who smiled so innocently
And Im not the rogue that I used to be,
So will you come back to me sweet lady genevieve.
Oh genevieve, oh genevieve.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Rupert
She has had him since he was a pup some thirteen years or so
And between Genevieve and her border collie the bond of friendship grow
In his prime in the late nineties going back ten years ago
Old Rupert not the dog he was the years have left him slow
A beautiful black and white dog his muzzle has turned to gray
But he still digs for rabbits when he gets the chance his natural dog way
He comes home to Genevieve with an earthy coat and earth around his face and jaws
And she scolds him as she brushes him and washes the earth from his paws
To dig for rabbits to a dog is not doing any wrong
And for this Genevieve is quick to forgive him the bond between them strong
Old Rupert is not hard to please his needs in life are small
A walk or a drive in the car are things he loves best of all
Genevieve has had since he was a pup in nineteen ninety four
He was a fine dog in his prime going back ten years or more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Genevieve
Maid of my love! sweet Genevieve!
In beauty's light you glide along;
Your eye is like the star of eve,
And sweet your voice, as seraph's song.
Yet not your heavenly beauty gives
This heart with passion soft to glow:
Within your soul a voice there lives!
It bids you hear the tale of woe.
When sinking low the suff'rer wan
Beholds no hand outstretched to save,
Fair, as the bosom of the swan
That rises graceful o'er the wave,
I've seen your breast with pity heave
And therefore love I you, sweet Genevieve!
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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What turned the Germans Back
WHAT turned the German myriads back
From Paris whither they had won?
The sword dropped from their hold grown slack;
Children of Attila the Hun,
Like Attila, went backward driven
By a young shepherdess of Heaven.
A shepherdess is Genevieve,
And though her flock should wander light,
This shepherdess is quick to save
The black, the speckled and the white.
She takes her golden crook and goes
And deals destruction to its foes.
She who turned Attila back, so slim,
A shepherdess that keeps the flock,
Waited as once she did for him,
Slight as a reed or her own crook;
'Turn back in God's Name!' They went back.
The tide is stemmed for her sweet sake.
White Genevieve upon her hill
Prays, and the German hosts retreat.
She plucks the Robes of Heaven still
That Heaven give victory for defeat;
And keeps her motley flock in sight,
The black, the speckled and the white.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Handsworth Wood
Have ever you seen
On Halloween,
The cloud that covers the trees so green?
The shroud that covers the last of lovers
The shifting mist of the in-between?
I’ve stood, I’ve stood,
By Handsworth Wood,
I’ve stood as long as I thought I could;
All Hallow’s Eve is the night I grieve
My Genevieve of the purple hood.
She slipped between
The trees so green,
She slipped from me one Halloween;
The cloud had glimmered, the evening shimmered
But she was never to more be seen.
And since that cloud
Became a shroud,
I’ve not forgotten the words I vowed;
My patience burns for the cloud’s return
To help discern what I might have been.
The day she left
I held my breath,
Her sleight of hand was so very deft;
But Genevieve, I still believe
You’ll wander out on some Hallow’s Eve.
I wait in vain,
There’s only rain,
The rain and part of the cloud remain;
But Genevieve I’ve not perceived
Since she went tripping in World’s End Lane.
World End’s Land
In Autumn rain,
There’s nothing left of my lost refrain;
For Handsworth Wood is a neighborhood
Where trees are held in a great disdain.
2 July 1977
poem by David Lewis Paget
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To Genevieve On Her Twenty Ninth Birthday
Happy Birthday to you Genevieve today you are twenty nine
And with age you have grown mellow like the good expensive wine
And on looking back a decade the years simply seemed to fly
And hope this tenth day of August is a day you will enjoy.
I remember in your teen years you had dreadlocks in your hair
And when things were going against you at your mum you used to swear
But the years have made you mellow and you see things differently
And now with you and mummy dearest it's mostly love and harmony.
Happy Birthday Genevieve Ladds you are twenty nine years old
And you are a special person and your's is a heart of gold
And your friends to you important and they seem to multiply
And hope this tenth day of August is a day you will enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I don't like to intellectualize about my acting.
quote by Genevieve Bujold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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While making Genevieve, I learned there could be a lot more to a film than just acting in it.
quote by Dinah Sheridan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gypsy Twist
The gypsy walked at the shingle,
Her dress flared out in the breeze,
Her hair tied back with a coloured scarf
As she wandered at her ease,
She fed the gulls at the water's edge
And she gazed back, moodily,
Where the Master of Harrington Hall was stood
As he watched her, through the trees.
While back at the house there, on the hill,
His wife sat in despair,
She'd worn her prettiest dress for him,
She'd combed her auburn hair,
She'd flushed her cheeks with a touch of rouge,
Her lips were gypsy red,
But she hadn't attracted a single glance
From his lordship's noble head.
He'd taken her as a child, and taught her
How to walk with grace,
He'd sent her off to a finishing school
To learn her lady's place,
She'd learnt to stifle emotion when
It rose in her frightened eyes,
And sat with her needlework and thread,
A work that she despised!
Then once she was taught, and tamed enough,
He showed her to his kin,
They nodded with faint approval at
The match that he'd made for him,
They dressed her up in a wedding gown
And mocked, behind her back,
This would-be lady from finishing school,
So open to attack!
They'd beaten her conversation out,
They'd left her feeling small,
He'd tried to speak to her once or twice,
But she couldn't reply at all.
She knew but little or nothing of
The world, or its great affairs,
So sat at the window sewing,
Watched him stray in the woods out there.
The gypsies came in the autumn,
Made their camp at the edge of the wood,
The Lord of Harrington Hall had said:
'Some colour will do us good!
He wandered out to inspect the camp,
Its caravans, horses and thieves,
But the sight that caught at his jaundiced eye
Was the gypsy, Genevieve!
She'd danced in a leafy clearing to
The sound of an ancient lute,
Her smile so bright, her teeth so white
And a necklace made of fruit,
She seemed at one with the humid earth
With a perfume made from musk,
She danced like sin, and she drew him in
As the day drew down to dusk.
Simone sat long at the window with
Her needlework denied,
While down at the long breakwater
Sat her husband, watching the tide!
She saw as the colony of terns
Wheeled screaming into the air,
And Genevieve knotted a love-knot
Into her wild, beribboned hair.
The gypsies left as the winter snow
Turned white the pebbled shore,
But long after dusk, the lord returned
Came in at the servants' door,
Behind him the gypsy, Genevieve,
Had sat by the kitchen fire,
As he told Simone that he'd brought her home,
And this was his one desire!
'She needs to be educated, needs
A mentor, full of grace,
Get rid of the rough and ready parts
Of her rough and ready race!
I've taken it on myself to form her,
Teach her to sip her wine,
She'll have the advantage you have had,
You'll see - it'll work out fine! '
She went away to the finishing school
And Simone sighed with relief,
She tried so hard with her wayward lord
That she felt a new belief,
But she lost a child in the early spring
And it turned his lordship's head,
She knew that she'd lost her only chance,
Her marriage, as good as dead!
A year went by, as a year it will
In the flash of an eye, and gone,
And Genevieve had returned one day
In a carriage, a bonnet on!
She looked demure as she curtsied low
To the lord, who smiled her way,
But she'd lost her pout, and her fire was out,
And she seemed no longer gay.
Now Genevieve takes her needlework
And she sits by the windowsill,
But she never utters a word to him
The Master of Harrington Hall.
He watches Simone as she trips the beach,
And her dress flares out in the breeze,
As she dances, wild as a gypsy girl,
To a lute that sounds through the trees.
18 September 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Like I said, TLC has enough of my life. I have to keep some of it for myself.
quote by Genevieve Gorder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You need to have a home to go back to, whether it's a hotel room or a barn. It's only home when he's there.
quote by Genevieve Gorder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
Oft in my waking dreams do I
Live o'er again that happy hour,
When midway on the mount I lay,
Beside the ruined tower.
The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene
Had blended with the lights of eve ;
And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve !
She leant against the arméd man,
The statue of the arméd knight ;
She stood and listened to my lay,
Amid the lingering light.
Few sorrows hath she of her own,
My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve !
She loves me best, whene'er I sing
The songs that make her grieve.
I played a soft and doleful air,
I sang an old and moving story--
An old rude song, that suited well
That ruin wild and hoary.
She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace ;
For well she know, I could not choose
But gaze upon her face.
I told her of the Knight that wore
Upon his shield a burning brand ;
And that for ten long years he wooed
The Lady of the Land.
I told her how he pined : and ah !
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
With which I sang another's love,
Interpreted my own.
She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes, and modest grace ;
And she forgave me, that I gazed
Too fondly on her face !
But when I told the cruel scorn
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he crossed the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day nor night ;
That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade,--
There came and looked him in the face
An angel beautiful and bright ;
And that he knew it was a Fiend,
This miserable Knight !
And that unknowing what he did,
He leaped amid a murderous band,
And saved from outrage worse than death
The Lady of the Land !
And how she wept, and clasped his knees ;
And how she tended him in vain--
And ever strove to expiate
The scorn that crazed his brain ;--
And that she nursed him in a cave ;
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest-leaves
A dying man he lay ;--
His dying words--but when I reached
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faultering voice and pausing harp
Disturbed her soul with pity !
All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve ;
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve ;
And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherished long !
She wept with pity and delight,
She blushed with love, and virgin-shame ;
And like the murmur of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name.
Her bosom heaved--she stepped aside,
As conscious of my look she stepped--
The suddenly, with timorous eye
She fled to me and wept.
She half enclosed me with her arms,
She pressed me with a meek embrace ;
And bending back her head, looked up,
And gazed upon my face.
'Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly 'twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.
I calmed her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride ;
And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beauteous Bride.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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I confess it, I love the camera. When it's not on me, I'm not quite alive.
quote by Genevieve Bujold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The birth of any show is always a rough one.
quote by Genevieve Gorder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't sit around and study the pages of a script over and over again.
quote by Genevieve Bujold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I will not do work that isn't done well or right. Stuff happens - things break, contractors don't come through - but I don't want to be responsible for not doing something correctly.
quote by Genevieve Gorder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's a big difference between decorators and designers and the training is very different.
quote by Genevieve Gorder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think that, in comparison, New Yorkers and Northerners are so guarded.
quote by Genevieve Gorder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So, like I said, I will visit Jeffersonville more often because I now have a little getaway house up there.
quote by Genevieve Gorder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm a designer, I love it, and I haven't worked this hard to do bad work.
quote by Genevieve Gorder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Lady Luck
(coverdale/vandenberg)
You hold all the aces,
I never get the chance to deal
Flick of the wrist and you cut me down,
Im spinning like a roulette wheel
You say that loves a gamble
But, you play with loaded dice
You hide behind a good girl smile
With a heart stone cold as ice
But, I want it, I need it
If you dont give it Ill steal it,
Ill take it all and walk away
Lady luck,
Youre a loser in the game of love, sweet lady luck
Who you gonna call when it all falls down on you,
Sweet lady luck...
You cant stop your dealing
cos its a crying shame,
When the winner takes it all
And never ever takes the blame
But I want it, I need it
If you dont give it Ill steal it,
Ill take it all and walk away
Lady luck,
Youre a loser in the game of love, sweet lady luck
Who you gonna call when it all falls down on you
Uh, what you gonna do?
Lady luck
I need your love, I need it now,
Ive got to have it anyhow,
Sweet lady luck...
I cant win for losing,
Its tearing me apart
So Ill play the joker to your queen of broken hearts
But, I want it, I need it,
If you dont give it Ill steal it
Ill take it all and walk away
Lady luck,
Youre a loser in the game of love, sweet lady luck
Spinning like a roulette wheel, sweet lady luck
Youre a loser in the game of love, sweet lady luck
I need your love, I need it now,
Ive got to have it anyhow
Sweet lady luck..
Sweet lady luck..
Sweet lady luck..
Lady luck!
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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