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In Boston serpents whistle at the cold.

quote by Robert Lowell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Whistle by Flo-Rida

Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby (ohh baby ohh baby poooo)
Let me know
Girl I'm gonna show you how to do it
And we start real slow
You just put your lips together
And you come real close
Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby
Here we go

I'm betting you like bebop
And I'm betting you love creep mode
And I'm betting you like girls that give love to girls
And stroke your little ego
I bet you're guilty your honor
But that's how we live in my genre
When I hell I pay the rottweiler
There's only one flo, and one rida
I'm a damn shame
Order more champagne, pull a damn hamstring
Tryna put it on ya
Bet your lips spin back around corner
Slow it down baby take a little longer

Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby
Let me know
Girl I'm gonna show you how to do it
And we start real slow
You just put your lips together
And you come real close
Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby
Here we go

Whistle baby, whistle baby,
Whistle baby, whistle baby

It's like everywhere I go
My whistle ready to blow
Shorty don't leave a note
She can get any by the low
Permission not approved
It's okay, it's under control
Show me soprano, cause girl you can handle
Baby we start snagging, you come in part clothes
Girl I'm losing wing, my bucatti the same road
Show me your perfect pitch,
You got it my banjo
Talented with your lips, like you blew out candles
So amusing, now you can make a whistle with the music
Hope you ain't got no issue, you can do it
Give me the perfect picture, never lose it

[...] Read more

poem by Shi Yelami
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Blow Your Whistle

PETEY PABLO - Blow Your Whistle
[Intro:]
Hey hey! Everybody come here, I need all y'all to come over here
Come here come here, yeah, I want you to do this, come on
[Chorus:] [2x]
Blow ya whistle! Blow ya whistle!
Blow ya whistles for me y'all!
I said if you wanna bizzle then you can let a nizzle
to blow ya whistle from Petey Pizzle to come on anda...
[Verse 1:]
I can do anything and everything with new flows
Then take this Manny track and tear the game a new asshole
Me and my do-rag half man, with two black hoes
How in the world could it do this, I be so damn cold
I got a rabbit foot in my pocket, uh huh
Come on I needed the other part of the rabbit
To fill up a pocket, I gotta major problem partna
So that means I don't need to be bothered for nada
Um, feel me dogga
My head hot, uh huh, and my body warm
Uh huh, my nose runnin, could you close the door, uh huh
Letting out all granted and goodies sweet G's and deviled eggs
Boiled tater to goat cheese
Y'all don't even remember me
I'm Petey - take ya shirt off Carolina from Greenborough
But what Petey needs to see this evening
You can keep your shirt on - we gon' use these
[Chorus:]
Blow ya whistle! Blow ya whistle!
Blow ya whistles for me y'all!
I said if you wanna bizzle then you can let a nizzle
to blow ya whistle from Petey Pizzle to come on anda...
[Verse 2:]
I tell ya when I come runnin head down, but naw
But naw, y'all ain't hit me
So I guess I had to ahead hit ya with something that could grip yo attention
That make ya yell at ya kids from the kitchen
What put that whistle down! But Petey on tv
Damn it Petey, ya heard what I say
I just love it when I could take a track and have me some fun
Get footloose, and still can put the club on crunk
Make a girl butt bump [ba bum], make a party go crazy, [ba bum]
When the first two bumps come on [ba bum]
I'ma have some, I'm telling ya mayne
I'm the new spokesman for gas grills and propane
When I wrote this I had to wear shades
I had to wear rubber gloves to get this today
Manny Fresh's CD player wasn't even playin
Man we need a fire truck, where my whistle at baby
[Chorus:]

[...] Read more

song performed by Petey Pablo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cold Feet

There was a little boy once upon a time
Who in spite of his young age and small size knew his mind
For every copper penny and clover he would find
Make a wish for better days the end of hard times
For no more cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
His clothes were always clean
His face was always scrubbed
There was food on the table enough to fill him up
His house was full of life - his house was full of love
But when winter days arrived
There was never money enough to shod his cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He grew up to be a worker determined to succeed
He made a life for himself, free from worldly wants or needs
But with nobody to share the life hed made
No body to keep him warm at night
When hed go to sleep hed sleep alone with his cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
One night he walked the street looking to the heavens above
Searching for a shooting star a benevolent god
When a woman passing by brushed his arm
He turned and found love
He then wished for the courage to ask this stranger
Who she was to not have cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He thought shed like the party life and want the finer things
So he promised more than he could buy
And he promised her the sun and moon to not have cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He worked day and night his fingers to the bone
Hi worried mind guilty conscience drive him on
He cant give her what she needs
He wants to give her what he thinks she wants
Her sad-eyed face, his empty pockets drive him on and his cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
Hed struggled all his life to be an honest man
Proud that the dirt on his palms was the soil of the land
But some guys he knew from high school days
Said they had a plan to get rich quick
And they could count him in if he dont have cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He thought about their offer accepted it without qualms
Dreamt about the life hed buy
The comfort that would come without cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He decided to tell his wife things would soon turn around
He said the little boy is dead
A man stands with you now without cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet

[...] Read more

song performed by Tracy Chapman
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cold Feet

He just turned seventeen
When the moment came
He was standing on the corner
In the pouring rain
She pulled up along side
And rolled the window down
And said can I drive you
To some part of town
Hes sitting beside her
With a great big smile
The lady had class
It stood out a mile
His heart was beating
Like a big bass drum
Thinking at last
His time had finally come
He started talkin fast
Trying to loosen up
But he just felt kinda stupid
So he shut up
She said dont think Im fast
cause Im really not
But his fever went all wild
It was getting hot
She pulled into the driveway
Of a big brown stone
He was champing at the bit
And then her heart be told
She said my husbands working
Hell be gong all day
But he couldnt believe it
When he heard himself say
Im getting cold feet
Im getting cold feet
Lady dont ya hear me talking to you
Hey theres something that you can do
Im so nervous I just might shoot you
Ive got them cold, cold feet
Well a couple years on
And our heros grown
Hes a professional musician
With a band of his own
Hadnt had much luck
With the girls that he meets
Might get another case of terminal cold feet
He met a girl not too long ago
She thought she could change him
But it wasnt so
As soon as she mentioned long term romance
He went into that same old song and dance

[...] Read more

song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hiawatha And The Pearl-Feather

On the shores of Gitche Gumee,
Of the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood Nokomis, the old woman,
Pointing with her finger westward,
O'er the water pointing westward,
To the purple clouds of sunset.
Fiercely the red sun descending
Burned his way along the heavens,
Set the sky on fire behind him,
As war-parties, when retreating,
Burn the prairies on their war-trail;
And the moon, the Night-sun, eastward,
Suddenly starting from his ambush,
Followed fast those bloody footprints,
Followed in that fiery war-trail,
With its glare upon his features.
And Nokomis, the old woman,
Pointing with her finger westward,
Spake these words to Hiawatha:
"Yonder dwells the great Pearl-Feather,
Megissogwon, the Magician,
Manito of Wealth and Wampum,
Guarded by his fiery serpents,
Guarded by the black pitch-water.
You can see his fiery serpents,
The Kenabeek, the great serpents,
Coiling, playing in the water;
You can see the black pitch-water
Stretching far away beyond them,
To the purple clouds of sunset!
"He it was who slew my father,
By his wicked wiles and cunning,
When he from the moon descended,
When he came on earth to seek me.
He, the mightiest of Magicians,
Sends the fever from the marshes,
Sends the pestilential vapors,
Sends the poisonous exhalations,
Sends the white fog from the fen-lands,
Sends disease and death among us!
"Take your bow, O Hiawatha,
Take your arrows, jasper-headed,
Take your war-club, Puggawaugun,
And your mittens, Minjekahwun,
And your birch-canoe for sailing,
And the oil of Mishe-Nahma,
So to smear its sides, that swiftly
You may pass the black pitch-water;
Slay this merciless magician,
Save the people from the fever

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Song Of Hiawatha IX: Hiawatha And The Pearl-Feather

On the shores of Gitche Gumee,
Of the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood Nokomis, the old woman,
Pointing with her finger westward,
O'er the water pointing westward,
To the purple clouds of sunset.
Fiercely the red sun descending
Burned his way along the heavens,
Set the sky on fire behind him,
As war-parties, when retreating,
Burn the prairies on their war-trail;
And the moon, the Night-sun, eastward,
Suddenly starting from his ambush,
Followed fast those bloody footprints,
Followed in that fiery war-trail,
With its glare upon his features.
And Nokomis, the old woman,
Pointing with her finger westward,
Spake these words to Hiawatha:
'Yonder dwells the great Pearl-Feather,
Megissogwon, the Magician,
Manito of Wealth and Wampum,
Guarded by his fiery serpents,
Guarded by the black pitch-water.
You can see his fiery serpents,
The Kenabeek, the great serpents,
Coiling, playing in the water;
You can see the black pitch-water
Stretching far away beyond them,
To the purple clouds of sunset!
'He it was who slew my father,
By his wicked wiles and cunning,
When he from the moon descended,
When he came on earth to seek me.
He, the mightiest of Magicians,
Sends the fever from the marshes,
Sends the pestilential vapors,
Sends the poisonous exhalations,
Sends the white fog from the fen-lands,
Sends disease and death among us!
'Take your bow, O Hiawatha,
Take your arrows, jasper-headed,
Take your war-club, Puggawaugun,
And your mittens, Minjekahwun,
And your birch-canoe for sailing,
And the oil of Mishe-Nahma,
So to smear its sides, that swiftly
You may pass the black pitch-water;
Slay this merciless magician,
Save the people from the fever

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato

Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore,
In that small heap of dust, was not confined
So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt
And narrow cell sprang forth and sought the sky
Where dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of air
Upreaching to the poles that bear on high
The constellations in their nightly round;
There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth
Abide those lofty spirits, half divine,
Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul
Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse
That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,
Where nor the monument encased in gold,
Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring
The buried dead, in union with the spheres,
Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly light
His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars
And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;
Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day
And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.
Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight,
And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleet
Tossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breast
Tarried awhile, and roused his angered soul
To reap the vengeance; last possessed the mind
Of haughty Cato.

He while yet the scales
Were poised and balanced, nor the war had given
The world its master, hating both the chiefs,
Had followed Magnus for the Senate's cause
And for his country: since Pharsalia's field
Ran red with carnage, now was all his heart
Bound to Pompeius. Rome in him received
Her guardian; a people's trembling limbs
He cherished with new hope and weapons gave
Back to the craven hands that cast them forth.
Nor yet for empire did he wage the war
Nor fearing slavery: nor in arms achieved
Aught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell,
The aim of all his host. And lest the foe
In rapid course triumphant should collect
His scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfs
Concealed, and thence in ships unnumbered bore
The fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.
Who in such mighty armament had thought
A routed army sailed upon the main
Thronging the sea with keels? Round Malea's cape
And Taenarus open to the shades below
And fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleet

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Tiriel

1

And Aged Tiriel. stood before the Gates of his beautiful palace
With Myratana. once the Queen of all the western plains
But now his eyes were darkned. & his wife fading in death
They stood before their once delightful palace. & thus the Voice
Of aged Tiriel. arose. that his sons might hear in their gates
Accursed race of Tiriel. behold your father
Come forth & look on her that bore you. come you accursed sons.
In my weak arms. I here have borne your dying mother
Come forth sons of the Curse come forth. see the death of Myratana
His sons ran from their gates. & saw their aged parents stand
And thus the eldest son of Tiriel raisd his mighty voice
Old man unworthy to be calld. the father of Tiriels race
For evry one of those thy wrinkles. each of those grey hairs
Are cruel as death. & as obdurate as the devouring pit
Why should thy sons care for thy curses thou accursed man
Were we not slaves till we rebeld. Who cares for Tiriels curse
His blessing was a cruel curse. His curse may be a blessing
He ceast the aged man raisd up his right hand to the heavens
His left supported Myratana shrinking in pangs of death
The orbs of his large eyes he opend. & thus his voice went forth
Serpents not sons. wreathing around the bones of Tiriel
Ye worms of death feasting upon your aged parents flesh
Listen & hear your mothers groans. No more accursed Sons
She bears. she groans not at the birth of Heuxos or Yuva
These are the groans of death ye serpents These are the groans of death
Nourishd with milk ye serpents. nourishd with mothers tears & cares
Look at my eyes blind as the orbless scull among the stones
Look at my bald head. Hark listen ye serpents listen
What Myratana. What my wife. O Soul O Spirit O fire
What Myratana. art thou dead. Look here ye serpents look
The serpents sprung from her own bowels have draind her dry as this[.]
Curse on your ruthless heads. for I will bury her even here
So saying he began to dig a grave with his aged hands
But Heuxos calld a son of Zazel. to dig their mother a grave
Old cruelty desist & let us dig a grave for thee
Thou hast refusd our charity thou hast refusd our food
Thou hast refusd our clothes our beds our houses for thy dwelling
Chusing to wander like a Son of Zazel in the rocks
Why dost thou curse. is not the curse now come upon your head
Was it not you enslavd the sons of Zazel. & they have cursd
And now you feel it. Dig a grave & let us bury our mother
There take the body. cursed sons. & may the heavens rain wrath
As thick as northern fogs. around your gates. to choke you up
That you may lie as now your mother lies. like dogs. cast out
The stink. of your dead carcases. annoying man & beast
Till your white bones are bleachd with age for a memorial.
No your remembrance shall perish. for when your carcases
Lie stinking on the earth. the buriers shall arise from the east

[...] Read more

poem by William Blake (1789)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Cold Chill

Feelin young and full of fun
Hangin out with my crew
Hot to trot and about to pop
Tryin to find some girl to get into
There she was fine as can be
Hair braided down to her knees
She took me home, she turned me out
But before sunrise she said I must leave
It was a cold chill on a summer night
Never thought the girlie wouldnt treat me right
It was a cold chill on a summer day
Never thought the girl would dog me out that way
It was a cold chill on a summer morn
Never cried like a baby since the day I was born
It was a cold chill on a summer eve
Never had no chopper bring me to my knees
I was feeling so trusting
Gave it all right down to the bone
But she did me wrong
On a summer night
Far from meek, and feelin chic
Refusing to concede defeat
There I was same crew, same time
Same club we kicked it at the previous week
I asked her how could she have the nerve
To treat me with such disgrace
She blinked her eyes, smiled, apologized
Threw her drink right in my face
It was a cold chill on a summer night
Never thought the girlie wouldnt treat me right
It was a cold chill on a summer day
Never thought the girl would dog me out that way
It was a cold chill on a summer morn
Never cried like a baby since the day I was born
It was a cold chill on a summer eve
Never had no chopper bring me to my knees
I was feeling so trusting
Gave it all right down to the bone
But she did me wrong
On a summer night, on a summer night
On a summer night, on a summer night
A cold chill, a cold chill, a cold chill, cold chill
Weekends came and weekends passed
But not the yearning in my heart
And there she was to light the spark
Like she did right from the very start
I took no time, drove to her house
Got deep into a passion high
I heard a knock, the turn of a key
And the voice of another guy

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peter Rugg the Bostonian

I

The mare is pawing by the oak,
The chaise is cool and wide
For Peter Rugg the Bostonian
With his little son beside;
The women loiter at the wheels
In the pleasant summer-tide.

"And when wilt thou be home, Father?"
"And when, good husband, say:
The cloud hangs heavy on the house
What time thou art away."
He answers straight, he answers short,
"At noon of the seventh day."

"Fail not to come, if God so will,
And the weather be kind and clear."
"Farewell, farewell! But who am I
A blockhead rain to fear?
God willing or God unwilling,
I have said it, I will be here."

He gathers up the sunburnt boy
And from the gate is sped;
He shakes the spark from the stones below,

The bloom from overhead,
Till the last roofs of his own town
Pass in the morning-red.

Upon a homely mission
North unto York he goes,
Through the long highway broidered thick
With elder-blow and rose;
And sleeps in sounds of breakers
At every twilight's close.

Intense upon his heedless head
Frowns Agamenticus,
Knowing of Heaven's challenger
The answer: even thus
The Patience that is hid on high
Doth stoop to master us.

II

Full light are all his parting dreams;
Desire is in his brain;
He tightens at the tavern-post

[...] Read more

poem by Louise Imogen Guiney
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You Say France & Ill Whistle

You say france
And Ill whistle.
You say france
And Ill whistle.
Ill whistle,
You say france.
No, you say france and Ill whistle.
No, no, you whistle and Ill say france.
No, no, you say france and Ill whistle.
Yeah, you whistle, Ill say france, yeah.
No, no,
You say france and Ill whistle.

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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They're Not Here, They're Not Coming

(don henley/stan lynch)
From the arizona desert
To the salisbury plain
Lights on the horizon
Patterns on the grain
Anxious eyes turned upward
Clutching souvenirs
Carrying our highest hopes and our darkest fears
They swear there was an accident back in '47
Little man with a great big head
Splattered down from heaven
Government conspiracy; cover-ups and lies
Hidden in the desert under endless skies
Well, it's a cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold
Post, postmodern world
No time for heroes, no place for good guys
No room for rocky the flying squirrel
They're not here, they're not coming
Not in a million years
Turn your weary eyes back homeward
Stop your trembling, dry your tears
You may see the heavens flashing
You may hear the cosmos humming
But i promise you, my brother
They're not here, they're not coming
Would they pile into the saucer
Find orlando's rat and hug it?
Go screaming through the universe
Just to get mcnuggets?
Well, i don't think so, i don't think so
It's much too dangerous, it's much too strange
Here in a world that won't give oprah no home on the range
Well, it's a cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold
Post, postmodern world
No authenticity, no sign of soul
The radio won't play george and merle
They're not here, they're not coming
Not in a million years
'til we put away our hatred
'til we lay aside our fears
You may see the heavens flashing
You may hear the cosmos humming
But i promise you, my sister
They're not here, they're not coming
To this garden we were given
And always took for granted
It's like my daddy told me, you just bloom where you're planted.
Now you long to be delivered
From this world of pain and strife
That's a sorry substitution for a spiritual life

[...] Read more

song performed by Don Henley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Theyre Not Hereyre Not Coming

(don henley/stan lynch)
From the arizona desert
To the salisbury plain
Lights on the horizon
Patterns on the grain
Anxious eyes turned upward
Clutching souvenirs
Carrying our highest hopes and our darkest fears
They swear there was an accident back in 47
Little man with a great big head
Splattered down from heaven
Government conspiracy; cover-ups and lies
Hidden in the desert under endless skies
Well, its a cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold
Post, postmodern world
No time for heroes, no place for good guys
No room for rocky the flying squirrel
Theyre not here, theyre not coming
Not in a million years
Turn your weary eyes back homeward
Stop your trembling, dry your tears
You may see the heavens flashing
You may hear the cosmos humming
But I promise you, my brother
Theyre not here, theyre not coming
Would they pile into the saucer
Find orlandos rat and hug it?
Go screaming through the universe
Just to get mcnuggets?
Well, I dont think so, I dont think so
Its much too dangerous, its much too strange
Here in a world that wont give oprah no home on the range
Well, its a cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold
Post, postmodern world
No authenticity, no sign of soul
The radio wont play george and merle
Theyre not here, theyre not coming
Not in a million years
til we put away our hatred
til we lay aside our fears
You may see the heavens flashing
You may hear the cosmos humming
But I promise you, my sister
Theyre not here, theyre not coming
To this garden we were given
And always took for granted
Its like my daddy told me, you just bloom where youre planted.
Now you long to be delivered
From this world of pain and strife
Thats a sorry substitution for a spiritual life

[...] Read more

song performed by Don Henley
Added by Lucian Velea
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Rocket Love

Do do do, do do do, do do do, do do do
Do do do, do do do, do do do-oo
I longed for you since I was born
A woman sensitive and warm
And that you were
With pride and strength no one would test
But yet have feminie finesse
And so much more
You took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
A female shakespeare of your time
With looks to blow picassos mind
You were the best
Your body moved with grace and song
Like symphonies by bach or brahms
Nevertheless, oh oh
You took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Ooh you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Da da da, da da da, da da da, da da da
Da da da, da da da-aa
The passion burning in your heart
Would make hells fire seem like a spark
Where did it go
Just why that you would overnight
Turn love to stone as cold as ice
Ill never know
But you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Baby you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Cold, too cold, you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Oh, oh, oh, took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to into this cold, cold world
I would not do that to a dog
Took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Whistle In

Dum dum dum dum dum dum dum
Dum dum dum dum dum dum
Whistle in
(all day)
Remember the day day
(all night)
Remember the night night
All day long
Whistle in
(all day)
Remember the day day
(all night)
Remember the night night
All day long
Whistle in
(all day)
Remember the day day
(all night)
Remember the night night
All day long
Whistle in
(all day)
Remember the day day
(all night)
Remember the night night
All day long
Whistle in
(all day)
Remember the day day
(all night)
Remember the night night
All day long
Whistle in
(all day)
Remember the day day
(all night)
Remember the night night
All day long
Whistle in

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Whistle Of Sandy McGraw

You may talk o' your lutes and your dulcimers fine,
Your harps and your tabors and cymbals and a',
But here in the trenches jist gie me for mine
The wee penny whistle o' Sandy McGraw.
Oh, it's: "Sandy, ma lad, will you lilt us a tune?"
And Sandy is willin' and trillin' like mad;
Sae silvery sweet that we a' throng aroun',
And some o' it's gay, but the maist o' it's sad.
Jist the wee simple airs that sink intae your hert,
And grup ye wi' love and wi' longin' for hame;
And ye glour like an owl till you're feelin' the stert
O' a tear, and you blink wi' a feelin' o' shame.
For his song's o' the heather, and here in the dirt
You listen and dream o' a land that's sae braw,
And he mak's you forget a' the harm and the hurt,
For he pipes like a laverock, does Sandy McGraw.

* * * * *

At Eepers I mind me when rank upon rank
We rose from the trenches and swept like the gale,
Till the rapid-fire guns got us fell on the flank
And the murderin' bullets came swishin' like hail:
Till a' that were left o' us faltered and broke;
Till it seemed for a moment a panicky rout,
When shrill through the fume and the flash and the smoke
The wee valiant voice o' a whistle piped out.
`The Campbells are Comin'': Then into the fray
We bounded wi' bayonets reekin' and raw,
And oh we fair revelled in glory that day,
Jist thanks to the whistle o' Sandy McGraw.

* * * * *

At Loose, it wis after a sconnersome fecht,
On the field o' the slain I wis crawlin' aboot;
And the rockets were burnin' red holes in the nicht;
And the guns they were veciously thunderin' oot;
When sudden I heard a bit sound like a sigh,
And there in a crump-hole a kiltie I saw:
"Whit ails ye, ma lad? Are ye woundit?" says I.
"I've lost ma wee whustle," says Sandy McGraw.
"'Twas oot by yon bing where we pressed the attack,
It drapped frae ma pooch, and between noo and dawn
There isna much time so I'm jist crawlin' back. . . ."
"Ye're daft, man!" I telt him, but Sandy wis gone.
Weel, I waited a wee, then I crawled oot masel,
And the big stuff wis gorin' and roarin' around,
And I seemed tae be under the oxter o' hell,
And Creation wis crackin' tae bits by the sound.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
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Boston

Where the ferries come to shore
She never really knew how good it would feel
To finally find herself in a place so warm and real
She wears a Red Sox cap
To hide her baby dreads
The girl she was in New England
Is different now and dead
In all the local bars
She flirts and tells the boys while they're talkin'
She's from Boston
She comes from Boston
Talks to her family now and then
Through e-mails and postcards
She tries to explain to them
That education and occupation will have to wait for now
She loves the Rasta, reggae rhythms, her dreams have changed somehow
She wears a Red Sox cap
To hide her baby dreads
The girl she was in New England
Is different now and dead
In all the local bars
She flirts and tells the boys while they're talkin'
She's from Boston
Her toes dig deep and deeper in the sand
She's seduced by the sunsets and her new life at hand
She wears a Red Sox cap
To hide her baby dreads
The girl she was in New England
Is different now and dead
In all the local bars
She flirts and tells the boys while they're talkin'
She's from Boston
She wears a Red Sox cap
To hide her baby dreads
From Boston

song performed by Kenny Chesney
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rescue The Slave

This song was composed while George Latimer, the fugitive slave, was
confined in Leverett Street Jail, Boston, expecting to be carried back
to Virginia by James B. Gray, his claimant.

Sadly the fugitive weeps in his cell,
Listen awhile to the story we tell;
Listen ye gentle ones, listen ye brave,
Lady fair! Lady fair! weep for the slave.

Praying for liberty, dearer than life,
Torn from his little one, torn from his wife,
Flying from slavery, hear him and save,
Christian men! Christian men! help the poor slave.

Think of his agony, feel for his pain,
Should his hard master e'er hold him again;
Spirit of liberty, rise from your grave,
Make him free, make him free, rescue the slave.

Freely the slave master goes where he will;
Freemen, stand ready, his wishes to fulfil,
Helping the tyrant, or honest or knave,
Thinking not, caring not, for the poor slave.

Talk not of liberty, liberty is dead;
See the slave master's whip over our head;
Stooping beneath it, we ask what he craves,
Boston boys! Boston boys! catch me my slaves.

Freemen, arouse ye, before it's too late;
Slavery is knocking, at every gate,
Make good the promise, your early days gave,
Boston boys! Boston boys! rescue the slave.

poem by Anonymous Americas
Added by Poetry Lover
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Boston

Sicut Patribus, sit Deus Nobis)

The rocky nook with hilltops three
Looked eastward from the farms,
And twice each day the flowing sea
Took Boston in its arms;
The men of yore were stout and poor,
And sailed for bread to every shore.

And where they went on trade intent
They did what freeman can,
Their dauntless ways did all men praise,
The merchant was a man.
The world was made for honest trade,-
To plant and eat be none afraid.

The waves that rocked them on the deep
To them their secret told;
Said the winds that sung the lads to sleep,
'Like us be free and bold!'
The honest waves refuse to slaves
The empire of the ocean caves.

Old Europe groans with palaces,
Has lords enough and more;-
We plant and build by foaming seas
A city of the poor;-
For day by day could Boston Bay
Their honest labor overpay.

We grant no dukedoms to the few,
We hold like rights and shall;-
Equal on Sunday in the pew,
On Monday in the mall.
For what avail the plough or sail,
Or land or life, if freedom fail?

The noble craftsmen we promote,
Disown the knave and fool;
Each honest man shall have his vote,
Each child shall have his school.
A union then of honest men,
Or union nevermore again.

[...] Read more

poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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