The Face Smiles Back Easily - Hundred Mile High City B-side
Its not the way that you look
Or the way that you comb your hair
I know well always be there
By the look, by the book
And your troops and your devil may care
I know well always be there
I know well always be there
And by the way your eyes are shining through
Theres nothing to do but wake up in light
And like the way your eyes they shine with the sun
And lighten everyone who wakes up in time to see
The face smiled back easily
I know well always be there
By the look, by the book
And your troops as your devil may care
I know well always be there
I know well always be there
Its not the way that you look
Or the way that you comb your hair
I know well always be there (x3)
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Combing My Hair
Now people always come around
But they don't always stick around
I run a comb across my head
I wish my hair would settle down
The clock I see is running slow
The batteries are running low
I run a comb across my head
And it feels the same like it did before
You're just another first footer across my door
And little less care (hair?) than I had last year
But it doesn't worry me because I
I have no fear
Here
The car I see is painted black
I'm steering (staring) at the driver's back
He runs a comb across his head
And it feels the same like it did before
You're just another fresh fare across his door
And little less care than he had last year
But it doesn't worry him because he
He has no fear
Here, here
Now people always come around
But they don't always stick around
They run a comb across your head
I wish my hair would settle down
The clock I see is running slow
We've only got three years to go
We run our combs across our heads
And it feels the same like it did before
You're just another first footer across the door
And little less care than we took last year
But it doesn't worry us because we
We have no fear
Here
Have we
We have no fear
Have we
We have no fear
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Comb Your Hair
Girl comb your hair
It can't be that bad
I had it worse
Don't look so sad No money in the bank
No car to drive
I had to walk
But I survived You'll see some laugh
You'll see some smile
Your day will come
Just wait a while No suit in the closet
No shoes on the rack
One dress on the hanger
But you'll be back Comb your hair
And wash your face
Dry your tears
Thank God for grace
poem by MBA Carrie May Bennett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Best Way to Comb the Blonde Hair
Years is the worst unforgivable hairstylist
He cuts my hair short;
shorter than our short story..
He cuts my hair off;
off the last relationship..
Now it's 4 sharp in the afternoon,
i, wooden, seize the comb, wooden.
Mirror does not tell lies
age can only climb high.
the comb runs through my hair
my hair flows through somewhere
more strands of hair are gone..
more worries are born
I forget how I combed hair
back in those years..
A young blonde is coming..
and i gonna ask her this question.
poem by Garland Jodie Jeen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Boy's Trials
When I was but a little lad
One thing I could not bear,
It was to stand at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
They didn't keep boys' hair as short
As it's kept now-a-days,
And mine was always tangled up
In twenty different ways.
I'd twist my mouth and grit my teeth,
And say it wasn't fair-
It was a trial, and no mistake,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd brush and brush each stubborn curl
That grew upon my pate,
And with her scissors nip and clip
To make the edges straight.
Then smooth it down until it shone,
While I would grin and bear,
And feel a martyr through and through,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd take my round chin in her hand
And hold it there the while
She made the parting carefully,
Then tell me with a smile:
'Don't push your cap down on your curls
And spoil my work and care;
He is a pretty little lad
When mother combs his hair.'
I'd hurry out and rumple up
That mop of hair so thick-
A vandal, I, for she had worked
So hard to make it slick-
And wish I were a grown-up man
So nobody would dare
To put a washrag in my ears,
Or comb my tangled hair.
Heigho! now that I'm bald and gray,
Methinks I would be glad
To have her smooth my brow and cheeks,
And whisper, 'Mother's lad!'
A longing for the care-free days
Doth take me unaware;
To stand, a boy, at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
poem by Jean Blewett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Is She In Love?
Is she in love with you
or what? Reynard said
indicating across
at the girl
at the other side
of the classroom
every time I look up
she's peering over
here like some hawk
after prey
he added
and you guessed
she was
but didn't say
to Reynard
who thought
all thoughts on love
were dumb
or should be left
between pages
of Shakespeare
or Keats
or maybe just
a cover word for
a fumble behind
bike sheds or woods
maybe she just likes
the way I comb my hair
you replied
looking down
at the science book
open on the desk
and by the way
he said
how much grease
you got on your hair
you look like
you fell in the darn jar?
Tooley the science teacher
looked your way
and Reynard clamped up
and began writing
in his book
and in between
scribbling words
in the exercise book
you glanced over at her
and took in her eyes
and that smile of hers
and smiled kind of
weakly back
and she mouthed
something to you
her lips making odd shapes
like some fish
out of water
and you tried to lip read
but it didn't make sense
so you just nodded
and hoped you'd not agreed
to anything
that her scary mother
wouldn't agree to
and then looked away
back to the science book
and life dull
and uninteresting books
full of boring questions
and Tooley at front
of the class
writing on the board
her fat ass moving
as she wrote
like some aging stripper
on her last show
and outside
the window
grey clouds
carrying
heavy snow.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It is easy to work with a good comb, said the devil, when he combed his mother's hair with a pitchfork.""
The King’s Beard
There lived a king with beard so long
And scalp with scarcely hair!
He used a comb and sang a song
And groomed it with great care.
The king was proud of his long beard
That made him look so wise!
The queen, his wife knew he looked weird
And cursed him for its size!
The queen was therefore always sad;
His lip got hid by hair!
But one day, she was rather glad;
She told him, she couldn’t bear!
One day, the king slept while he read
A book that was folklore!
He had a dream asleep in bed;
“His beard had grown some more! ”
A burning candle-stick fell down
And lit the curtain-blind;
His beard had caught the fire sown!
The king was off his mind!
His nose smelt smoke: he woke in fright;
His beard was all aflame!
He shaved the stubs of hair by night
And took on him all blame!
The next day when the people saw
The king, they couldn’t believe
Their eyes and gazed at him with awe!
“Could eyes of dawn deceive? ”
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I'd Rather Have Habits Than Clothes
I'd Rather Have Habits Than Clothes,
For that's where my intellect shows.
And as for my hair,
Do you think I should care
To comb it at night with my toes?
I'd rather have ears than a nose,
I'd rather have fingers than toes,
But as for my hair:
I'm glad it's all there;
I'll be awfully sad when it goes.
I wish that my Room had a Floor;
I don't so much care for a Door,
But this walking around
Without touching the ground
Is getting to be quite a bore!
poem by Gelett Burgess
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Witches' Glen - An Auld Tale
Gather aroon the ingle nuek
For ae eerie tale I'll tell -
'Boot a glen whar a witchy spook
Cast folk in her terrible spell.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Warlocks an witches dance at night
When the full-moon turns its ken!
Thunder rides on a bolt of light
The deil's in the witches' glen!
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Auld trees hang o'er the twisted wynd
An' blot oot the licht o' day;
An there, there's staring eyes tae find
A stranger wha's lost their way.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Frae Grennan wood she hailed an flew
A flash thru the black night wind
Come witchin hour everyin knew
She'd get a' the folks wha sinned.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
They burned her on Kirkmaiden hill
An' they bound her on a stake:
She chanted spells that made 'em ill
An' they pray'd for Jesus' sake.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
When ere ye walk the witches' glen,
Whar branches stretch oot like hands
Tak' Bible, cross an' say, Amen!
An' heed the guid Lord's commands.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she's still there tae be seen.
poem by Patrick Scott Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pale & Precious
So pale and precious is the light that will shine
Out of the windows in her head
So pale and precious like the sun as it climbs
Up every morning on her bed
If all of her moments were put down in a book
Then I could read it til I went blind
If all of the tears she cried flowed into a brook
Well than Im sure it would taste like wine
Dont care what the others might say
As far as Im concerned they can all fall apart
Fade away
So pale and precious is the light that will shine
Out of her perfumed golden hair
So pale and precious are the steps that I climb
Up to her room so bright and bare
If all of the things she said were flowers and tress
Well then her garden would always be green
If all of our time together fell on one day
It would be like every christmas theres been
Dont care what the others might say
As far as Im concerned they can all fall apart
Fade away
Up she rises each and every morning
She blows the stars out of the sky
And lights the sun with her bright eyes
The smell of the pinecones
And the sea in her hair
Silver gentle
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
How do you tell troops who volunteered to fight for our freedoms that the country they fought for won't take care of them when they come back? In the time of war our troops and their families are supposed to be our number one priority.
quote by John Salazar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Devil eyes
You had eyes like the devil.
So red and angry.
You were by far vile.
You were and are pure evil.
You have eyes of the devil.
You are evil.
Your a match for santon himself.
All you can do is hurt little girls.
Its all you know how to do.
You hurt me and probaly others.
You had a smile of the devil.
To go with your devil eyes.
You were luaghing the whole time.
As I lay crying.
Begging you to stop.
But you were the devil.
And the devil dosent stop.
I was 11 when you had your go.
But rape was all I had known.
You werent the first
And you werent the last.
By bludy god I hate you.
Your worse than the devil.
But you have the devils eyes
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hair Styles I Remember
There are hairstyles I remember wearing
oh so long ago.
My father had a fit with most of them
told me, 'go comb that mess out before you go! '
I'd rat it up with the small toothed end of comb
so the base would hold it up.
Then took a brush to smooth it some
and then I sprayed it so it stuck!
The wind could blow its hardest
but my hair withstood its gail!
When anyone would touch my do
they said it felt as hard as nails!
There was one do called the, Bee Hive
It was hallowed out in the center.
Some gilrs would hide their smokes in there
and have a puff or two after schools dinner.
Then there was the bouffant flip
it was the smallest flip you'd ever seen.
Your head looked like this big balloon
with a small hat rim of hair flipping up, was keen!
Then the Pixie and the Bob
boxed off hair cut for cool guys
long hair for the slobs!
Then the Beatles made their hair debut
my father hated them.
Everyone wore the Nauru jackets
and their pant legs tight and slim!
Then Farra Faucet, that's a funny name
but her hairstyle look, was in the hair book hall of fame!
Not too many new looks I see now a days
just long or short, no curls, no waves.
No teasing of hair, no spray or thick gels
But highlights for sure, all look swell.
I'm glad those days are over with
took forever for you to get ready.
Now it's just blow and go, and sprits or two
and your off on a date with your steady!
poem by Linda Winchell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The barbar down the lane
Most time as much a scissor talk
Call for long legs and hair walk
A thing that happens all the time
To every pocket that has least a dim
The man change a hair one
With smile and happiness morning in line
A hair enters and 'voom' disappears
The man inside with hair on repairs
Our barbar down the lane
Is a man with no shame
My hair I dedicate to him
And mine is down with all vim
The everday I wish to enter
And embrass the comb in my hair
This then I know it him
The barbar down the lane
poem by Henry Nii Ayi Cobblah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Silently She's Combing
Silently she's combing,
Combing her long hair
Silently and graciously,
With many a pretty air.
The sun is in the willow leaves
And on the dappled grass,
And still she's combing her long hair
Before the looking-glass.
I pray you, cease to comb out,
Comb out your long hair,
For I have heard of witchery
Under a pretty air,
That makes as one thing to the lover
Staying and going hence,
All fair, with many a pretty air
And many a negligence.
poem by James Joyce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hairbrush
how i wish my fingers were the bristles
or my breath were the wind when it whistles
thru your hair, thru your hair
i wish you'd hold me in your hands
and let me skate thru all the strands
of your hair, of your hair
i could style it anyway you like it
i could brush it straight or even spike it
au contraire! au contraire!
or i would wait patiently in my box
until next i would comb the locks
of your hair, of your hair
i would braid it tight, tousle, and tease!
or pull it back in a ponytail, if you please;
if you dare, if you dare
how often is it a man confesses
that he wish to run barefoot thru the tresses
of your hair, of your hair?
you may think me a little touch'd
but can i tell you just how much
i hate your hairbrush?
this obsession may be zealous
but can i tell you just how jealous
i am of your hairbrush? !
poem by Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mi Hermosa Fay
There is a girl for who I care
With deep brown eyes
And long blonde hair
A natural beauty to behold
The love she has can not be told
Oh how I wish that I was there
To see those eyes
And Stroke that hair
To keep her safe and free from pain
Something she'll never feel again
One day my Fay this will be true
And I will give my love to you
I'll see those eyes
And stroke that hair
And prove to you how much I care
poem by Alex Dixon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Devil and Demon Park
The girl that captured my heart, I knew
As Angela Dupree,
She stood at the centre of every group
At the university,
The comb in her hair was tortoiseshell,
Her necklace, crosses and beads
And silver bangles jangled her wrists
While her dress trailed lace at the knees.
The hair that fell at her shoulders was
More silvery then, than grey,
She said: ‘It's a strange genetic thing
That came from my grandma's way! '
We went to the self-same English tute
But she barely spared me a glance,
She favoured the sweatier, sporting type
So I didn't stand much of a chance!
I'd watch her in the refectory
As she sipped her herbal teas,
But glanced away from the leering mob,
From their ribald jokes, and pleas,
As each of them tried to seize her hand
And vie for her every smile;
While soaking in their adoring spin
She basked in their wit, and guile!
They'd form a huddle beside the quad
With Angela at the core,
And pass the tokes with their feeble jokes
But kept their eyes on the door,
She came to the tutes all glassy-eyed,
And dreamed, not saying a word,
‘Til the tutor noticed, took her aside,
But I doubt if she even heard.
She failed a paper on Rupert Brooke,
I saw the look of alarm,
She'd never failed an assignment yet
But I saw the tracks in her arm,
Her face grew troubled, her brow was dark
With the slide, already begun,
Down to the Devil and Demon Park
And on to oblivion!
I found her sitting alone one day
And sat right down by her side,
‘Your ‘friends' will take you to hell and back
But they're just along for the ride! '
She looked at me and she curled her lip:
‘So why would you even care? '
But she saw the love-light shine in my eyes,
As I caught the scent of her hair!
She wept, and muttered: ‘It's far too late,
I'm weak, and sick as can be!
All I can think is - how can I score?
Get rid of this devil in me! '
‘There isn't an easy path, ' I said,
‘But start by taking my arm,
I'll see you clear, though the demons jeer,
And I'll keep you free from harm! '
I spent a week in her unit there
As she twisted, turned, perspired,
I mopped her brow and I gave her strength
Though she swore, and cursed, and cried.
There were times that she said she hated me,
There were times that she lay and wept,
She would suffer the fits of pain and cramps,
But there at the end, she slept!
I'd like to say that it all worked out
That we fell in love in the end,
But once recovered, she kissed me, said:
‘I will treasure you, as a friend! '
I was there when she married a banker's son,
Was feeling a tear begin,
But she saw me then, and she whispered, ‘Hush!
An Angel has just come in! '
poem by David Lewis Paget (3 August 2012)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To the Same
I WOULD I had thy courage, dear, to face
This bankruptcy of love, and greet despair
With smiling eyes and unconcerned embrace,
And these few words of banter at “dull care.”
I would that I could sing and comb my hair
Like thee the morning through, and choose my dress,
And gravely argue what I best should wear,
A shade of ribbon or a fold of lace.
I would I had thy courage and thy peace,
Peace passing understanding; that mine eyes
Could find forgetfulness like thine in sleep;
That all the past for me like thee could cease
And leave me cheerfully, sublimely wise,
Like David with washed face who ceased to weep.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On Her Lightheartedness
I WOULD I had thy courage, dear, to face
This bankruptcy of love, and greet despair
With smiling eyes and unconcerned embrace,
And these few words of banter at “dull care.”
I would that I could sing and comb my hair
Like thee the morning through, and choose my dress,
And gravely argue what I best should wear,
A shade of ribbon or a fold of lace.
I would I had thy courage and thy peace,
Peace passing understanding; that mine eyes
Could find forgetfulness like thine in sleep;
That all the past for me like thee could cease
And leave me cheerfully, sublimely wise,
Like David with washed face who ceased to weep.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!