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If the grass is greener in the other fellow's yard - let him worry about cutting it.

quote by Fred Allen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nun in FRiar Small-Bro's Grave... Yard

The midnight clings to dwarfish kings
While robot drones, adorning thrones,
Kneel, bowing to the Old...Guard.
Arrhythmic clocks and wooden box
Grace FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

The diplohacks, in melting wax,
Are swept along, a thriving throng,
Just dying for a life...guard.
And Nun, alone, has beached their bones
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

Beyond the streams, a raven screams
At loser fish that swarm and swish;
Nun gently drips her dreams...jarred.
There are no thanks along the banks
Of FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

While FRiar smiles and prowls the aisles
The hierarch obeys his bark;
His maw is oozing pure...lard.
He tells you who and what to do
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

Well, FRiar's pets are in a sweat;
He calls the tunes near burning dunes
And taps his cloven feet...charred.
They roast in rooms within the tombs
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

His myrmidons, they drool and fawn
While chanting verse near FRiar's hearse -
Extolling, wild, the van...guard.
Remote controls promote the trolls
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

With faces straight, in bent debate,
They compromise their empty lies
With any passing re...tard.
Grey zombies groom white flies in bloom
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

With ghouls, unlearned, no stone's unturned,
They burnish blame with Nun's proud name
And leave the midnight sky... scarred.
They raise their hats to copy cats
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

The rumours spread amongst the dead -
Nun marks the place with saving grace,

[...] Read more

poem by Terry O'Leary
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Green

Sometime ago we broke up for no reason I know
Why do I have this feeling youre still in control
Im confused like Im used to whenever Im in trouble again
But this time I have to grow up and learn to decide
The grass is greener on your side
It was always greener on your side
It will always be greener on your side
Im way too nervous to be patient right now
Why do I have this feeling Im not in control
The price that I pay for in my almost obsessive devotion you see
Is much higher than I would ever expect it to be
The grass is greener on your side
It was always greener on your side
It will always be greener on your side
It will always be greener on your side x5
The grass is greener on your side
It was always greener on your side
It will always be greener on your side

song performed by Hooverphonic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Grass Is Greener

One thing that I have heard
As I have often been told
Was the grass is always greener
On the other side of the road,
And to the that one statement
I truly had no ideal,
Was it but a lie that I often heard
Or was that assumption for real.
So on top of my own roof
I went to, after my climb
To check another ones yard
Of course a yard, that wasn't mine.
And there is where I stood
As I surveyed across the road
To see if anyone's grass was greener
As I often had heard and also been told.
And there from where that I stood
And from what that I could see
Their grass was not any greener
Than my yard, that I do believe.
So I surveyed the yards of my neighbors
As up on my roof I stood as I thought
Maybe all yards are all different then
So I got off my roof, and I went for a walk.
I walked down the street
Then I walked up the next block
Seems as though the houses got bigger
Along with their possession's and their lots.
Their grass didn't seem any greener
Than mine or the other that I have seen
Though theirs yards were much larger
As though a good picture from everyone's dream.
So there I left, and I continued my walk
I then came across some railroad tracks
And there stood houses and from what I saw,
Their grass was as green, front yard and back.
Though their yards they wasn't as large
As the ones I have seen
And their houses weren't as large or as nice
But their yards, they were just as green.
So then I headed back unto my home
To reflect back on the things that I have seen,
And of the ideals people thought of and said
And what in their mind they really did mean.
So when I got back unto my home
I climbed again on top of my roof
So there I could reflect and think to myself
About my neighbors and me and to tell the truth.
Though the grass might be greener, I did say
On the other side of the road,

[...] Read more

poem by Randy McClave
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Uncle Jim's Baptist Revival Hymn

By Sidney and Clifford Lanier.

[Not long ago a certain Georgia cotton-planter, driven to desperation
by awaking each morning to find that the grass had
quite outgrown the cotton overnight, and was likely to choke it,
in defiance of his lazy freedmen's hoes and ploughs,
set the whole State in a laugh by exclaiming to a group of fellow-sufferers:
"It's all stuff about Cincinnatus leaving the plough to go into politics
FOR PATRIOTISM; he was just a-runnin' from grass!"

This state of things -- when the delicate young rootlets of the cotton
are struggling against the hardier multitudes of the grass-suckers --
is universally described in plantation parlance by the phrase "in the grass";
and Uncle Jim appears to have found in it so much similarity
to the condition of his own ("Baptis'") church, overrun, as it was,
by the cares of this world, that he has embodied it in the refrain
of a revival hymn such as the colored improvisator of the South
not infrequently constructs from his daily surroundings.
He has drawn all the ideas of his stanzas from the early morning phenomena of
those critical weeks when the loud plantation-horn is blown before daylight,
in order to rouse all hands for a long day's fight against the common enemy
of cotton-planting mankind.

In addition to these exegetical commentaries, the Northern reader
probably needs to be informed that the phrase "peerten up" means substantially
`to spur up', and is an active form of the adjective "peert"
(probably a corruption of `pert'), which is so common in the South,
and which has much the signification of "smart" in New England, as e.g.,
a "peert" horse, in antithesis to a "sorry" -- i.e., poor, mean, lazy one.]

Solo. -- Sin's rooster's crowed, Ole Mahster's riz,
De sleepin'-time is pas';
Wake up dem lazy Baptissis,
Chorus. -- Dey's mightily in de grass, grass,
Dey's mightily in de grass.

Ole Mahster's blowed de mornin' horn,
He's blowed a powerful blas';
O Baptis' come, come hoe de corn,
You's mightily in de grass, grass,
You's mightily in de grass.

De Meth'dis team's done hitched; O fool,
De day's a-breakin' fas';
Gear up dat lean ole Baptis' mule,
Dey's mightily in de grass, grass,
Dey's mightily in de grass.

[...] Read more

poem by Sidney Lanier
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The Cock And The Fox: Or, The Tale Of The Nun's Priest

There lived, as authors tell, in days of yore,
A widow, somewhat old, and very poor;
Deep in a dale her cottage lonely stood,
Well thatched, and under covert of a wood.
This dowager, on whom my tale I found,
Since last she laid her husband in the ground,
A simple sober life, in patience led,
And had but just enough to buy her bread;
But huswifing the little Heaven had lent,
She duly paid a groat for quarter rent;
And pinched her belly, with her daughters two,
To bring the year about with much ado.
The cattle in her homestead were three sows,
An ewe called Mally, and three brinded cows.
Her parlour window stuck with herbs around,
Of savoury smell; and rushes strewed the ground.
A maple-dresser in her hall she had,
On which full many a slender meal she made,
For no delicious morsel passed her throat;
According to her cloth she cut her coat;
No poignant sauce she knew, nor costly treat,
Her hunger gave a relish to her meat.
A sparing diet did her health assure;
Or sick, a pepper posset was her cure.
Before the day was done, her work she sped,
And never went by candle light to bed.
With exercise she sweat ill humours out;
Her dancing was not hindered by the gout.
Her poverty was glad, her heart content,
Nor knew she what the spleen or vapours meant.
Of wine she never tasted through the year,
But white and black was all her homely cheer;
Brown bread and milk,(but first she skimmed her bowls)
And rashers of singed bacon on the coals.
On holy days an egg, or two at most;
But her ambition never reached to roast.
A yard she had with pales enclosed about,
Some high, some low, and a dry ditch without.
Within this homestead lived, without a peer,
For crowing loud, the noble Chanticleer;
So hight her cock, whose singing did surpass
The merry notes of organs at the mass.
More certain was the crowing of the cock
To number hours, than is an abbey-clock;
And sooner than the matin-bell was rung,
He clapped his wings upon his roost, and sung:
For when degrees fifteen ascended right,
By sure instinct he knew ’twas one at night.
High was his comb, and coral-red withal,
In dents embattled like a castle wall;

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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Cutting It Fine

The door swings open but you wont go it
You hate the movie that you havent seen
You couldnt see what I have in mind
I see you laughing but youre
Cutting it, cutting it fine
You never should have done those things to me
Theres one thread left tween you and history
And while our temperature is rising high
Im warning you that you are
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Cutting it, cutting it fine...
You gambled all on one important game
Now take the debt and dont complain
Your game was up, I saw it all the time
I saw that vice, girl, youre
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Your sole advisor watch out for yourself
You never listen to anyone else
You were the one who ignored the signs
Dancing on a fine line
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Cutting it, cutting it fine...

song performed by Asia
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dont Worry Baby

Well its been building up inside of me
For oh I dont know how long
I dont know why
But I keep thinking
Somethings bound to go wrong
But she looks in my eyes
And makes me realize
And she says dont worry baby
Dont worry baby
Dont worry baby
Everything will turn out alright
Dont worry baby
Dont worry baby
Dont worry baby
I guess I shouldve kept my mouth shut
When I started to brag about my car
But I cant back down now
I pushed the other guys too far
She makes me come alive
And makes me wanna drive
When she says dont worry baby
Dont worry baby
Dont worry baby
Everything will turn out alright
Dont worry baby
Dont worry baby
Dont worry baby
She told me baby, when you race today
Just take along my love with you
And if you know how much I loved you
Baby nothing could go wrong with you
Oh what she does to me
When she makes love to me
And she says dont worry baby
Dont worry baby
Dont worry baby
Everything will turn out alright
Dont worry baby
Dont worry baby
Dont worry baby

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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From an Upper Verandah

What happier haunt could the gods allot
For loftiest musing to sage or bard?—
Yet I would that this upper verandah did not
Look down on my beautiful Neighbour's Back-yard!

I stir the afflatus: Descend, O ye Nine!
Let the crystalline gates of the soul be unbarred!
No. My thoughts will keep running in one fixed line—
The clothes-line that hangs in my Neighbour's Back-yard!

Let me gaze on the hills; let me think of the sea;
Of the dawn rosy-fingered—the night silver-starred:—
(What dear little feet must the owner's be
Of those stockings that hang in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)

Let me tune my soul to a measure devout:—
Ah, the musical mood is all jangled and jarred,
While things with borders, and things without,
Keep flutt'ring down there in my Neighbour's Back-yard!

Are the True and the Good and the Beautiful dead,
That I win not one gleam of Pierian regard?
(Does she suffer, I wonder, from cold in the head?—
Such a lot of mouchoirs in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)

Comes the fit. While it sways me, high themes would I sing!
Prometheus! Achilles! Have at you! En grade!
Alexander the Great—(oh that I were a string
On that apron hung out in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)

I will shut my eyes fast—I have hit it at last,
Now my purest Ideals flit by me unmarred;
And odours of memory rise from the past,
(And an odour of suds from my Neighbour's Back-yard!)

Ah, yes! when the eyelids together are prest,
Every vestige of earth we throw off and discard.
(These are flannels, I think. Is she weak in the chest?—
There! I'm looking again at my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
Since the Muses back out, let Philosophy in:
Let me ponder its problems cold and hard.
Ah! Philosophy dies in a celibate grin
At that bolster-case down in my Neighbour's Back-yard!

Oh shame on my rapidly silvering hairs!
Oh shame on this veteran battered and scarred!

I to be witched with these frilled—affairs!
Confound my neighbour! Confound her Back-yard!

[...] Read more

poem by James Brunton Stephens
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The Fence

Around my yard there stands a fence
It keeps the outside world out and I safe within
Though the structure is not that immense
It does the purpose as which it was built for and meant.
Neighbors and strangers it keeps out of my yard
Along with their trash and pets which does it harm
I am my yards protector, landscaper and guard
As it is my beauty, and not a trash bin or someone's farm.
My fence allows and welcomes the sunshine and the wind
Mother nature is always welcomed to visit and roam
The squirrels and the birds are always welcomed in
And welcome are the bee's with the pollen they've sewn.

Around my yard there stands a fence
It protects my yard from the enemies about
Too me it makes such perfect sense
Better to stop the entering, than for me to scream and shout.
As my yard is not the playground for a child to use
Or a shortcut for many persons to walk or run
As it it my yard which I won't neglect or abuse
And the work that I do on it, it will never be done.
In the summertime there will be  plants to raise
And the leaves to rake when it becomes the fall
While hoping mother nature with me will always stay
And because of my fence, it will protect it all.

Around my yard there stands a fence
It protects and guards my yard everyday of the year
To others though it might cause an offense
As though it tells the people, not to come over here.
It is my yard which is mine to raise it like a child
To cut it and groom it and keep it nice for all to see
But truly it is GOD'S acre, which I saved from the wild
Then through the wonder of nature, in life I do believe.
So as days will come you will see myself in my yard
And sometimes you might see me nervous and tense
I hate clutter and trash so from there it is always barred
Also to protect my yard and myself, is my mighty fence.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Greener Pastures

Youre always tellin me to go out more
Go ahead, get out and see the world
But then I think, why should i
Id rather stay home and cry
I never thought that I could be the other
The other way like the other ones
Let me open wide, let you see inside
And then you might agree
Would you say they find me unstable
cause they see me act a little bit different
But I know my way to greener pastures and
Think about it, wont you think it over
Please
Without you I can move
I can stretch my arms out, I can feel it
And when Im in my room alone I feel good
Because I dont have to deal with you or the outside world
Would you say they find me unstable
cause they see me act a little bit different
But I know my way to greener pastures and
Think about it, wont you think it over
Please
I guess Ill get over it
Ooh - I guess Ill get over it
I guess Ill get over it
I guess Ill get over it
Would you say they find me unstable
cause they see me act a little bit different
But I know my way through greener pastures
Would you say they find me unstable
cause they see me act a little bit different
But I know my way through greener pastures
Would you say they find me unstable
Cause they see me act a little bit different
But I know my way through greener pastures
Greener pastures
See me act a little bit different
But I know my way through greener pastures

song performed by Gwen Stefani
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dont Worry

Theres no need for you,
Baby,
It aint what you think,
So dont worry,
[verse 1]
You remember back in the day when,
We thought it was special,
When we always stayed down,
No matter where we went youd stay in touch,
Two people that were just so in love,
Now you probably aint feelin much,
Like things aint really been the way they used to be,
And you say it seems like I changed,
But Im still the same.
[chorus (2x)]
Theres no need for you,
(to worry bout me)
Baby,
(dont worry bout me)
It aint what you think,
(you still got me)
So dont worry,
(dont worry bout, dont worry bout me)
Even though it seems,
(youre losing me)
And things,
(aint what they used to be)
Baby,
(I aint gonna leave)
Dont worry,
(dont worry bout, dont worry bout me)
[verse 2]
I was headin out to cali,
For a show,
Said that on tuesday,
Id be home,
Left a message on your voicemail
Sayin Id call you later,
To inform you Im alright,
Now you callin,
Just to tell me that you heard,
I was seen in a bentley with my girls,
So Im on my way to a spot where people hang,
But nothings changed.
[chorus (2x)]
[bridge]
Theres no need to
Worry bout what
I do when Im away.
(dont worry bout a damn thing)

[...] Read more

song performed by Aaliyah
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The Great Hunger

I
Clay is the word and clay is the flesh
Where the potato-gatherers like mechanised scarecrows move
Along the side-fall of the hill - Maguire and his men.
If we watch them an hour is there anything we can prove
Of life as it is broken-backed over the Book
Of Death? Here crows gabble over worms and frogs
And the gulls like old newspapers are blown clear of the hedges, luckily.
Is there some light of imagination in these wet clods?
Or why do we stand here shivering?
Which of these men
Loved the light and the queen
Too long virgin? Yesterday was summer. Who was it promised marriage to himself
Before apples were hung from the ceilings for Hallowe'en?
We will wait and watch the tragedy to the last curtain,
Till the last soul passively like a bag of wet clay
Rolls down the side of the hill, diverted by the angles
Where the plough missed or a spade stands, straitening the way.
A dog lying on a torn jacket under a heeled-up cart,
A horse nosing along the posied headland, trailing
A rusty plough. Three heads hanging between wide-apart legs.
October playing a symphony on a slack wire paling.
Maguire watches the drills flattened out
And the flints that lit a candle for him on a June altar
Flameless. The drills slipped by and the days slipped by
And he trembled his head away and ran free from the world's halter,
And thought himself wiser than any man in the townland
When he laughed over pints of porter
Of how he came free from every net spread
In the gaps of experience. He shook a knowing head
And pretended to his soul
That children are tedious in hurrying fields of April
Where men are spanning across wide furrows.
Lost in the passion that never needs a wife
The pricks that pricked were the pointed pins of harrows.
Children scream so loud that the crows could bring
The seed of an acre away with crow-rude jeers.
Patrick Maguire, he called his dog and he flung a stone in the air
And hallooed the birds away that were the birds of the years.
Turn over the weedy clods and tease out the tangled skeins.
What is he looking for there?
He thinks it is a potato, but we know better
Than his mud-gloved fingers probe in this insensitive hair.
'Move forward the basket and balance it steady
In this hollow. Pull down the shafts of that cart, Joe,
And straddle the horse,' Maguire calls.
'The wind's over Brannagan's, now that means rain.
Graip up some withered stalks and see that no potato falls
Over the tail-board going down the ruckety pass -
And that's a job we'll have to do in December,

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick Kavanagh
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Dead Tomorrow

Don't you understand me?
In the back of all these visions
All these dreams inside me rotting
Like the clock is ticking down
Words like eyes they turn you inside out
To drown you later in your life
You see nothing but feel disturbed
When the pain just comes rushing in.
Words convulsing in full circles
Turning inside out to make
Us better on the outside, so much stronger now.
Can't look back because the past is burnt out
From the past because its burnt out from the past
Because its burnt out tune me out.
All my life waiting for the answers to
These dreams alone of the knife
That's cutting from my life
It's cutting from my life
It's cutting from my life
It's cutting from my life
It's cutting from my
Dead Tomorrow, dead tomorrow,
You'll be dead tomorrow
Dead Tomorrow,
You'll be dead tomorrow
Dead Tomorrow,
All my life waiting for the answers to
These dreams alone of the knife
That's cutting from my life
It's cutting from my life
It's cutting from my life
It's cutting from
Don't you understand me?
In the back of all these visions
All these dreams inside me rotting,
Like the clock is ticking down,
Can't look back because the past is burnt out
From the past because its burnt out from the past,
Because it's burnt out tune me out.
Dead Tomorrow, Dead Tomorrow,
You'll be dead Tomorrow, Dead Tomorrow

song performed by Velvet Acid Christ
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On The Other Side

La, la, see the morning sunshine, shine, shine on the mountain side
Dont think the grass is always greener, on the other side
There was a time I felt like you, did not know what to do
Dont worry now youll be alright,, youre alright, I see, see
La, la, see the morning sunshine, shine, shine on the mountain side
Dont think the grass is always greener, on the other side
Oh, I know how you feel, if you really do
Dont worry now youll be alright, hold on tight, youll see, see
La, la, see the morning sunshine, shine, shine on the mountain side
Dont think the grass is always greener, on the other side-on the other side
La, la, see the morning sunshine, shine, shine on the mountain side
Dont think the grass is always greener, on the other side
On the other side...

song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Twixt the Wings of the Yard

Hear the loud swell of it, mighty pell mell of it,
Thousands of voices all blent into one:
See “hell for leather” now trooping together, now
Down the long slope of the range at a run,
Dust in the wake of ‘em: see the wild break of ‘em,
Spear-horned and curly, red, spotted and starred:
See the lads bringing ‘em, blocking ‘em, ringing ‘em.
Fetching ‘em up to the wings of the yard.

Mark that red leader now: what a fine bleeder now,
Twelve hundred at least if he weighs half a pound,
None go ahead of him. Mark the proud tread of him,
See how he bellows and paws at the ground.
Watch the mad rush of ‘em, raging and crush of ‘em.
See when they struck how the corner post jarred.
What a mad chasing and wheeling and racing and
Turbulent talk ‘twixt the wings of the yard.

Harry and Teddy, there! let them go steady there!
Some of you youngsters will surely get pinned.
What am I saying? I’ve had my last day in
The saddle: I might as well talk to the wind.
Why should I grieve at all? soon I must leave it all -
Leave it for ever; and yet it seems hard
That I should be lingering here ‘stead of fingering
Handle of whip ‘twixt the wings of the yard.

Hear the loud crack of the whips on the back of the
Obstinate weaners who will not go in -
Sharp fusilade of it till, half afraid of it,
Echo herself shuts her ears at the din.
They’ll say when it’s over now that I’m in clover now -
Happy old pensioner, yet it seems hard,
E’en on the brink of the grave, when I think of the
Times out of mind that I rode to that yard.

Hark to the row at the rails, there’s a cow at the
Charge: how she laughs all their lashes to scorn.
Mark how she ran ag’in little Tom Flannagan.
Lucky for him that it wasn’t her horn:
He’d make no joke of it had he a poke of it.
There she comes back! but he’s put on his guard,
Greenhide descending now, sharp reports blending now,
Flogging her back up the wings of the yard.

The breeze brings their bellowing, soft’ning it, mellowing,
Till it sounds like a spent giant in pain -
Steals up the valley on, sounding a rally on

[...] Read more

poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
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Give Me That Signal

Take your hands out your pockets...
And,
Give me every signal...
That you don't have to worry at all.
Give me that signal...
That you don't have to worry at all.
Give me that signal...
That you don't have to worry at all.

If you believe...in!
Whatever that it was that gave you faith.
Believe...in!
Whatever that it was that kept you in faith.
If you 'believed'....
You could move any cloud cover in the sky.
You would not cry.

Give me that signal...
That you don't have to worry at all.
Give me that signal...
That you don't have to worry at all.

If you believe...in!
Whatever that it was that gave you faith.

You wouldn't have to worry at all.
Give me that signal
And wouldn't have to worry at all.
Give me that signal
You wouldn't have to worry at all.

If you believe...in!
Whatever that it was that gave you faith.
You wouldn't have to worry at all.
Give me that signal
No wouldn't have to worry at all.
Give me that signal
No wouldn't have to worry at all.
Give me that signal
No wouldn't have to worry at all.
Give me that signal
No wouldn't have to worry at all.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Shepherds Calendar - July

Daughter of pastoral smells and sights
And sultry days and dewy nights
July resumes her yearly place
Wi her milking maiden face
Ruddy and tand yet sweet to view
When everywhere's a vale of dew
And raps it round her looks that smiles
A lovly rest to daily toils
Wi last months closing scenes and dins
Her sultry beaming birth begins

Hay makers still in grounds appear
And some are thinning nearly clear
Save oddly lingering shocks about
Which the tithman counteth out
Sticking their green boughs where they go
The parsons yearly claims to know
Which farmers view wi grudging eye
And grumbling drive their waggons bye
In hedge bound close and meadow plains
Stript groups of busy bustling swains
From all her hants wi noises rude
Drives to the wood lands solitude
That seeks a spot unmarkd wi paths
Far from the close and meadow swaths
Wi smutty song and story gay
They cart the witherd smelling hay
Boys loading on the waggon stand
And men below wi sturdy hand
Heave up the shocks on lathy prong
While horse boys lead the team along
And maidens drag the rake behind
Wi light dress shaping to the wind
And trembling locks of curly hair
And snow white bosoms nearly bare
That charms ones sight amid the hay
Like lingering blossoms of the may
From clowns rude jokes they often turn
And oft their cheeks wi blushes burn
From talk which to escape a sneer
They oft affect as not to hear
Some in the nooks about the ground
Pile up the stacks swelld bellying round
The milking cattles winter fare
That in the snow are fodderd there
Warm spots wi black thorn thickets lind
And trees to brake the northern wind
While masters oft the sultry hours
Will urge their speed and talk of showers
When boy from home trotts to the stack

[...] Read more

poem by John Clare
Added by Poetry Lover
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A cartoon's speech

YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
popet nyein way

poem by Nyein Way
Added by Poetry Lover
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Dont You Worry bout A Thing

(s. wonder)
Everybodys got a thing
But some dont know how to handle it
Always reachin out in vain
Just taking the things not worth havin
Chorus:
But dont you worry bout a thing
Dont you worry bout a thing (dont you worry, baby)
cause Ill be standing on the side when you check it out
They say your style of lifes a drag
And that you must go other places
Just dont you feel too bad
When you get fooled by smiling faces
Chorus
When you get off your trip
Dont you worry bout a thing
Dont you worry bout a thing
Chorus
Everybody needs a change
A chance to check out the new
Youre the only one who see
The changes you take yourself through
Dont you worry bout a thing
Dont you worry bout a thing (sweet baby)
cause Ill be standin in the wings when you check it out
Dont you worry bout a thing
Dont you worry bout a thing
Dont worry, dont worry, dont worry cause Ill be right here waitin for you baby
Repeat (fade)

song performed by Incognito
Added by Lucian Velea
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Young Fellow My Lad

"Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad,
On this glittering morn of May?"
"I'm going to join the Colours, Dad;
They're looking for men, they say."
"But you're only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad;
You aren't obliged to go."
"I'm seventeen and a quarter, Dad,
And ever so strong, you know."

* * * *

"So you're off to France, Young Fellow My Lad,
And you're looking so fit and bright."
"I'm terribly sorry to leave you, Dad,
But I feel that I'm doing right."
"God bless you and keep you, Young Fellow My Lad,
You're all of my life, you know."
"Don't worry. I'll soon be back, dear Dad,
And I'm awfully proud to go."

* * * *

"Why don't you write, Young Fellow My Lad?
I watch for the post each day;
And I miss you so, and I'm awfully sad,
And it's months since you went away.
And I've had the fire in the parlour lit,
And I'm keeping it burning bright
Till my boy comes home; and here I sit
Into the quiet night.

* * * *

"What is the matter, Young Fellow My Lad?
No letter again to-day.
Why did the postman look so sad,
And sigh as he turned away?
I hear them tell that we've gained new ground,
But a terrible price we've paid:
God grant, my boy, that you're safe and sound;
But oh I'm afraid, afraid."

* * * *

"They've told me the truth, Young Fellow My Lad:
You'll never come back again:
(Oh God! the dreams and the dreams I've had,
and the hopes I've nursed in vain!)
For you passed in the night, Young Fellow My Lad,
And you proved in the cruel test

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poem by Robert William Service
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