Related quotes: Hey, hey cripple creek ferry...

Cripple Creek Ferry

Hey, hey cripple creek ferry
Butting through the overhanging trees
Make way for the cripple creek ferry
The waters going down its a mighty tight squeeze.
All alone the captain stands
Hasnt heard from his deck hands.
The gambler tips his hat and walks towards the door.
Its the second half of the cruise.
And you know he hates to lose.
Hey, hey cripple creek ferry
Butting through the overhanging trees
Make way for the cripple creek ferry
The waters going down its a mighty tight squeeze.

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

Cripple Creek

1: well I married a wife in the month of june,
Married her up by the light of the moon.
We live down on cripple creek.
Weve been there about a week.
Chorus: Im a-goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
Goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
2: now cripple creek girls about half-grown,
Jump on a man like a dog on a bone.
Roll my pants up to my knees,
Cross on cripple creek a-when I please.
Chorus: Im a-goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run,
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
Goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
3: well Im goin to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Im a-goin to cripple creek to have some fun.
Chorus: Im a-goin to cripple creek, Im goin on a run,
Goin to cripple creek to have some fun.

song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dali

High, in Castille,
Lives senora Dali alone.
And higher still
She keeps her gallery.
Distance means nothing to me.
A-ee-aha-ee-aha-oo,
A-ee-aha-ee-aha-oo...
Debris everywhere,
Gazing. It's amazing.
Ferry me over,
Ferry me over,
Ferry me over
The music, Dali.
Deeper here lies hidden answers and treasures for him.
"Oh, I prefer absence," said she,
"My heart grows fonder alone."
A-ee-aha-ee-aha-oo,
A-ee-aha-ee-aha-oo...
Debris everywhere,
Gazing. It's amazing.
Ferry me over,
Ferry me over,
Ferry me over
The music, Dali.

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Horse and Cart Ferry

It was old Jerry Brown,
Who’d an office in town,
And he used to get jocular, very;
And he’d go to the Shore
When they’d serve him no more,
And, of course, by the passenger ferry,
A sight on the passenger ferry.
Now this is a song of the ferry,
And a lay of the juice of the berry;
’Tis the ballad of Brown,
Who’d a business in town,
And commenced to go down
Very slow,
Don’t you know?
By coming home just a bit merry.

By the Drunks’ Boat—that’s right—
On a Saturday night
He would often be past being merry;
With his back teeth afloat,
On the twelve o’clock boat,
And a spectacle there on the ferry
(A picture to all on the ferry).

In the mornings, ashamed—
’Twas the last drink he blamed,
Though the first was the matter with Jerry,
With his nerve out of joint,
He’d sneak down to Blue’s Point,
And he’d cross by the horse-and-cart ferry,
Like a thief—by the horse-and-cart ferry.

But long before night
He’d most likely be tight,
And a subject and theme for George Perry;
And he’d cross to the Shore,
Somewhat worse than before,
And a nuisance to all on the ferry;
Singing-drunk on the passenger ferry.

And so it went on
Till his reason seemed gone,
And the Law, so it seemed, got a derry
On Brown. He went down,
And they sent him to town
One day, by “the trap,” on the ferry—
The Government trap on the ferry.

He was sober and sane
When he came back again,
And the past he’d determined to bury—
Or, I mean, live it down—
And he crossed from the town
Like a man, on the passenger ferry.
(There were sceptical souls on that ferry.)

They say ’twas the jaw
Of his mother-in-law
Drove him back to the juice of the berry;
But he soon got afloat
On the passenger boat
Or adrift on the horse-and-cart ferry
(Wrongly called the ve-hic-ular ferry).

The drink had him fast,
And he drank till at last
He dried up—a withered old cherry;
And they thought him no loss
When they sent him across
In a box, on the cart-and-horse ferry—
In a low, covered trap on the ferry.

Which I rise to explain—
If the moral ain’t plain,
And if you’re a cove that gets merry—
Always stick, when “afloat,”
To the passenger boat;
Or else to the cart-and-horse ferry,
Or you’ll make matters worse, like old Jerry.

But this is the song of the ferry,
And the lay of the juice of the berry;
And you will not deny—
If you read by-and-bye—
That the casual eye
Of the Tight
At first sight
Misses much in the song of the ferry.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Up On Cripple Creek

Up on cripple creek
When I get off of this mountain
You know where I want to go
Straight down the mississippi river
To the gulf of mexico
To lake charles, louisiana
Little bessie, a girl that I once knew
And she told me just to come on by
If theres anything she could do
{refrain}
Up on cripple creek she sends me
If I spring a leak she mends me
I dont have to speak she defends me
A drunkards dream if I ever did see one
Good luck had just stung me
To the race track I did go
She bet on one horse to win
And I bet on another to show
Odds were in my favor
I had him five to one
When that nag to win came around the track
Sure enough he had won
{refrain}
I took up all of my winnings
And I gave my little bessie half
And she tore it up and blew it in my face
Just for a laugh
Now theres one thing in the whole wide world
I sure would like to see
Thats when that little love of mine
Dips her doughnut in my tea
{refrain}
Now me and my mate were back at the shack
We had spike jones on the box
She said, I cant take the way he sings
But I love to hear him talk
Now that just gave my heart a fall
To the bottom of my feet
And I swore as I took another pull
My bessie cant be beat
{refrain}
Now, its hot in california
And up north its freezing cold
And this living off the road
Is getting pretty old
So I guess Ill call up my big mama
Tell her Ill be rolling in
Bet you know, deep down, Im kinda tempted
To go and see my bessie again
{refrain}

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ferry Me Across The Water

‘Ferry me across the water,
Do, boatman, do.’
‘If you've a penny in your purse
I'll ferry you.’
‘I have a penny in my purse,
And my eyes are blue;
So ferry me across the water,
Do, boatman, do.’
‘Step into my ferry-boat,
Be they black or blue,
And for the penny in your purse
I'll ferry you.’

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Otter Creek

Past meadows, beyond trees, down muddy banks flows otter creek.
King fisher in branches, perched, poised.
Skydiver, bullet from above, silent splash, into otter creek.
Muscles plucked from their beds, shells discarded, gathered for fun, pass up not one.
Trout fry swim swiftly, cray fish beneath rocks avoid seeking hands, pincers poised, threatening stance.
Kids crossing fallen logs, catching frogs, skipping rocks, swimming in otter creek.
Mud wars rage, picnic blanket laid on the green glade near otter creek.
We follow paw prints, beneath willow tree roots, den site dug deep into muddy banks of otter creek.
Within the town of Franklinville, hot summers day, sister, niece, and I, our dad's.
Never saw the otters of the creek, only paw prints, left proof of an existence.
In memories I venture, hoping, just a glimpse.
To sit once again, past meadows, beyond trees, down muddy banks, there it flows, otter creek.

poem by Gary Kedron
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By the creek

By the creek
Canoes are extinct and fishing net hung dry
On the mangrove, starved fishes initiate an exodus

By the creek
Idleness I saw in the abode of a young man
In search of oil greed in the wrong ways of the city

By the creek
The gliding seagulls no longer shower kisses on the waves
As gunboats threatens even the creatures underneath the aquatic ridges

By the creek
The night taunts me, of the horrors of the morrow
And the sorrow that lay await

By the creek
The crowd stood still, hungry in their eyes
And food monger, driven away by hostile wind

By the creek
I saw men living comfortably in squalor
Accompany by winds of mediocrity
And greed

By the creek
In addition, I saw the sea eating away farmlands
While the shore reclamation fund mound in politicians save

By the creek
I saw fleeing, vessels from foreign shores
And a deserted jetty a save heaven for militant

poem by Regha Julius
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Ticket On A Ferry Ride

By jeff barry and bobby bloom
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I got a ticket and it hurts inside.
I wonder if she knows
That I dont really want to go, oh no
I still love her so.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I got a ticket and it hurts inside.
I never though the day
Would come when I would say good bye this way
Wanted so to stay.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I still love her so.
Dont really wanna go.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I got a ticket and it hurts inside.
I wonder if she knows
That I dont really have to go, oh no
I still love her so.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I got a ticket and it hurts inside.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride.
I got a ticket and it hurts inside.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride, ah.
I got a ticket on a ferry ride (repeat).

song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bitter Creek

Once I was young and so unsure
Id try any ill to find the cure
An old man told me
Tryin to scold me
oh, son, dont wade to deep in bitter creek,
(bitter creek)
Out where the desert meets the sky
Is where I go when I wanna hide
Oh, peyote (oh,peyote,mm)
She tried to show me
(tried to show me)
You know there aint no cause to weep
At bitter creek
(bitter creek)
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo, doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Were gonna hit the road for one last time
We can walk right in and steal em blind
All that money (all that money,ooh..)
No more runnin (no more runnin)
I cant wait to see the old mans face
When I win the race
(bitter creek)
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo,
Doo doo doo doo doo
Doo..........

song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What the Ghost of the Gambler Said

Where now the huts are empty,
Where never a camp-fire glows,
In an abandoned cañon,
A Gambler's Ghost arose.
He muttered there, "The moon's a sack
Of dust." His voice rose thin:
"I wish I knew the miner-man.
I'd play, and play to win.
In every game in Cripple-creek
Of old, when stakes were high,
I held my own. Now I would play
For that sack in the sky.
The sport would not be ended there.
'Twould rather be begun.
I'd bet my moon against his stars,
And gamble for the sun.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Bear Creek

Way up on bear creek watching the sun go down.
Way up on bear creek watching the sun go down.
It makes me feel like, Im on my last go round.
The water on bear creek tastes like cherry wine.
The water on bear creek tastes like cherry wine.
You take one drink of it, your tasting it all the time.
If you stay on bear creek youll get like jesse james.
If you stay on bear creek youll get like jesse james.
Youll take two old pistols, and hold up that bear creek train.
Im going high high up on some lonesome hill.
Im going high high up on some lonesome hill.
Look down on bear creek, where my good gal used to live.

song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Island Of Love (Love Ballad) :

The ferry crossed the water.
The ferry crossed the sea.
The ferry crossed to the island.
To the island, the island of love.

On the island of love.
There are songbirds above.
On the island of love.
They sing their song.
They sing a song that songbirds sing.
On the island, the island of love.

The ferry crossed the water.
The ferry crossed the sea.
The ferry crossed to the island.
To the island, the island of love.

On the island of love.
There are lovers ashore.
On the island of love.
There's love at your door.
There's love on the shore.
There are songbirds above.
On the island, the island of love.

So much love in the air.
So much love everywhere.
Love might knock at your door.
You might come ashore.
To the island, the island of love.

You might stay on the island of love..

Love Ballad By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1984,2009..
ALL rights reserved..

poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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Andrew Jones

I hate that Andrew Jones; he'll breed
His children up to waste and pillage.
I wish the press-gang or the drum
With its tantara sound would come,
And sweep him from the village!

I said not this, because he loves
Through the long day to swear and tipple;
But for the poor dear sake of one
To whom a foul deed he had done,
A friendless man, a travelling cripple!

For this poor crawling helpless wretch,
Some horseman who was passing by,
A penny on the ground had thrown;
But the poor cripple was alone
And could not stoop--no help was nigh.

Inch-thick the dust lay on the ground
For it had long been droughty weather;
So with his staff the cripple wrought
Among the dust till he had brought
The half-pennies together.

It chanced that Andrew passed that way
Just at the time; and there he found
The cripple in the mid-day heat
Standing alone, and at his feet
He saw the penny on the ground.

He stopped and took the penny up:
And when the cripple nearer drew,
Quoth Andrew, "Under half-a-crown,
What a man finds is all his own,
And so, my Friend, good-day to you."

And 'hence' I said, that Andrew's boys
Will all be trained to waste and pillage;
And wished the press-gang, or the drum
With its tantara sound, would come
And sweep him from the village.

poem by William Wordsworth
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I don't want to save a creek for the creek's sake, but what's in it for human beings.

quote by Jim Fowler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Honey moon Forever

The bell had rang, the bride in cloud nine
Heaven's gate a jar, the bride groom in cloud nine

Sweet is a heart that yearned, a heart that conquered
Life of bliss, the love of sweet heart conquered

Celebration jewel in worth of sunsets wait
Honeymoon a far, an island in Indian ocean all for wait

The bride's eyes sparkled, a step in ferry
Bridegroom in delight sighed, with a step in ferry

Swallows flew and waves called the ferry pulled
In hurricane, ferry with lovers in bottom sea pulled

Breaking news, everybody on board had flown to sky forever
Tears filled cheeks, lovers in honey moon forever.

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Ferry Across The Mersey

Life goes on day after day after day after day.
Hearts torn in every way,
So ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love and here I'll stay,
And here I'll stay.
People they rush every where, Each with their own secret care,
So ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love and here I'll stay,
And here I'll stay
People around every corner, they seem to smile and say, they'll tell you!
We don't care what you name is boy, We'll never send you away,
Send you away, Send you away, Send you away
So I'll continue to say here's where I always must stay,
So ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love,
Ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love and here I'll stay.
and here I'll Stay, stay, stay,
Ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love.
Ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love.
Ferry cross the Mersey, Cos this lands the place I love.

song performed by by Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Clairvoyant

Over a cold Nordic coast a seagull flies and sees
the bay between the island and the coastal town.
40 minutes each way by ferry. It’s an old gull and
has a blind eye and one leg; yes, you are right,
a real pirate I used to know years ago, it knew me
too when I was a cook on that a ferry boat, sat on
the mast and waited for me to throw scraps of
food into the sea shrieking harshly, it is the gulls
way of wishing me well.

This year has no ice in the bay, there was a time
when the ferry was icebound islander folk had to
walk on ice across to get to the shops, they still
do [there is a bridge now,) ferry been sold and
is plying its trade on the delta of Bangladesh.

The day is clear I’m a seagull and can see the past
lucid as the day it is lucky that I can’t see the future,
but there is a name that warms my heart: Falluja.
The down trodden, the raped, took up arms and
fought the mightiest army the world has seen and
won a moral victory that one day will bring peace,
to Iraq. I’m not a seer, but the old pirate is, flies
beside me now and harshly shrieks, it is the way we
seagulls greet each other.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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I Always Remember The Cool Shade Of The Bamboo Grove

his poverty takes him to long walks
on the paths of hill and mountains for days
the sun scorches his back
he wears his buri hat and covers
his body with big anahaw leaves
he passes the same river that winds
towards his nipa hut, ten times
he plunges his weary feet on
the running waters of the creek

the heavy work he does indeed
turns him into a man of the plough
and the rugged muddy fields
the sweat of his brow and the sighs
of his unbroken spirit, the trials
and the tribulations of his insignificance

above all these, he passes by the
bamboo grove where a creek runs gently by
he remembers her again
his first love his first plunge naked into the water

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Kind Of Story

a red cliff stands beside
a running creek

from a distance it looks like
a hand
C-shaped trying to give
a view of spring

fluffy clouds hang there
like friends
wanting to save someone
from an impending harm

the valley presents a shadow
of a gray land
offering the promises of
a bumpy harvest

meanwhile everyone watches
how a creek dies.