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The Independence

A message has come from the northern winds; The statue of Liberty whispers ' It's enough and I would like to shift to the Southern part if possible? '

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Shift

Check out the chick with the new dress on
(wearin a shift and it looks real fine)
The call it a shift and it comes on strong
(wearin a shift and it looks real fine)
When shes got it on, well she cant do no wrong
(wearin a shift, wearin a shift)
You may think a dress cant do very much
(wearin a shift really turns me on)
With the slit up the side, you cant resist that touch
(wearin a shift really turns me on)
Its tighter than a moo-moo and its just too much
(wearin a shift, wearin a shift)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(cant go wrong now) (go wrong now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (turns me on now)
Get your girl a shift and shell look real fine
(wearin a shift and its just too much)
It fits like a glove and drives you outta your mind
(wearin a shift and its just too much)
Shell ball it with her shift on and well have a good time
(wearin a shift, wearin a shift)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)
(turns me on now) (get a shift now)

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Working The Midnight Shift

Im just a working girl, just earning a living
When the citys waking up, Im going home
Working the midnight shift
While my friends are all out
Theyve all gone out dancing
Theyre out having fun
Working that midnight shift
For that extra little something
The things that are out of my reach
I need so bad
So bad, so bad
Seems like Im always leaving
When all the others arrive
My body still carries on
But Im dying inside
Working the midnight shift
While my friends are all out
Theyve all gone out dancing
Theyre out having fun
Working that midnight shift
For that extra little something
The things that are out of my reach
I need so bad
I need so bad, need so bad
Midnight shift, midnight shift
Midnight shift, midnight shift
Midnight shift, midnight shift
Im just a working girl
Just earning a living
When the citys waking up
Im going home
Working the midnight shift
While my friends are all out
Theyve all gone out dancing
Midnight shift, midnight shift
Midnight shift, midnight shift
Midnight shift, midnight shift
Midnight shift, midnight shift
Midnight shift, midnight shift
Midnight shift, midnight shift

song performed by Donna Summer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Statue Got Me High

The statue got me high
The statue got me high
The monument of granite sent a beam into my eye
The statue made me die
The statue made me die
It took my hand it killed me and it turned me to the sky
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And though I once preferred a human beings company
They pale before the monolith that towers over me
The statue got me high
The statue got me high
The truth is where the sculptors chisel chipped away the lie
The statue made me fry
The statue made me fry
My coat contained a furnace where there used to be a guy
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And as the screaming fire engine siren filled the air
The evidence had vanished from my charred and smoking chair
And what they found was just a statue
Standing where the statue got me high
And what they found was just a statue
Standing where the statue got me high
And now it is your turn
(your turn to hear the stone and then your turn to burn)
The stone it calls to you
(you cant refuse to do the things it tells you to)
And as the screaming fire engine siren fills the air
The evidence will vanish from your charred and smoking chair
And what they found was just a statue
Standing where the statue got me high
And what theyll find is just a statue
Standing where the statue got you high

song performed by They Might Be Giants
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Pharsalia - Book V: The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm

Thus had the smiles of Fortune and her frowns
Brought either chief to Macedonian shores
Still equal to his foe. From cooler skies
Sank Atlas' daughters down, and Haemus' slopes
Were white with winter, and the day drew nigh
Devoted to the god who leads the months,
And marking with new names the book of Rome,
When came the Fathers from their distant posts
By both the Consuls to Epirus called
Ere yet the year was dead: a foreign land
Obscure received the magistrates of Rome,
And heard their high debate. No warlike camp
This; for the Consul's and the Praetor's axe
Proclaimed the Senate-house; and Magnus sat
One among many, and the state was all.

When all were silent, from his lofty seat
Thus Lentulus began, while stern and sad
The Fathers listened: 'If your hearts still beat
With Latian blood, and if within your breasts
Still lives your fathers' vigour, look not now
On this strange land that holds us, nor enquire
Your distance from the captured city: yours
This proud assembly, yours the high command
In all that comes. Be this your first decree,
Whose truth all peoples and all kings confess;
Be this the Senate. Let the frozen wain
Demand your presence, or the torrid zone
Wherein the day and night with equal tread
For ever march; still follows in your steps
The central power of Imperial Rome.
When flamed the Capitol with fires of Gaul
When Veii held Camillus, there with him
Was Rome, nor ever though it changed its clime
Your order lost its rights. In Caesar's hands
Are sorrowing houses and deserted homes,
Laws silent for a space, and forums closed
In public fast. His Senate-house beholds
Those Fathers only whom from Rome it drove,
While Rome was full. Of that high order all
Not here, are exiles. Ignorant of war,
Its crimes and bloodshed, through long years of peace,
Ye fled its outburst: now in session all
Are here assembled. See ye how the gods
Weigh down Italia's loss by all the world
Thrown in the other scale? Illyria's wave
Rolls deep upon our foes: in Libyan wastes
Is fallen their Curio, the weightier part
Of Caesar's senate! Lift your standards, then,
Spur on your fates and prove your hopes to heaven.

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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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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The Legend Of St. Sophia Of Kioff

I.

[The Poet describes the city and spelling of Kiow, Kioff, or Kiova.]

A thousand years ago, or more,
A city filled with burghers stout,
And girt with ramparts round about,
Stood on the rocky Dnieper shore.
In armor bright, by day and night,
The sentries they paced to and fro.
Well guarded and walled was this town, and called
By different names, I'd have you to know;
For if you looks in the g'ography books,
In those dictionaries the name it varies,
And they write it off Kieff or Kioff, Kiova or Kiow.

II.

[Its buildings, public works, and ordinances, religious and civil.]

Thus guarded without by wall and redoubt,
Kiova within was a place of renown,
With more advantages than in those dark ages
Were commonly known to belong to a town.
There were places and squares, and each year four fairs,
And regular aldermen and regular lord-mayors;
And streets, and alleys, and a bishop's palace;
And a church with clocks for the orthodox—
With clocks and with spires, as religion desires;
And beadles to whip the bad little boys
Over their poor little corduroys,
In service-time, when they DIDN'T make a noise;
And a chapter and dean, and a cathedral-green
With ancient trees, underneath whose shades
Wandered nice young nursery-maids.

[The poet shows how a certain priest dwelt at Kioff, a godly
clergyman, and one that preached rare good sermons.]

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-a-ring-ding,
The bells they made a merry merry ring,
From the tall tall steeple; and all the people
(Except the Jews) came and filled the pews—
Poles, Russians and Germans,
To hear the sermons
Which HYACINTH preached godly to those Germans and Poles,
For the safety of their souls.

[...] Read more

poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Statue Got Me High

The statue got me high
The statue got me high
A monument of granite sent a beam into my eye
The statue made me die
The statue made me die
It took my hand it killed me and it threw me to the sky
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And though I once preferred a human being's company
they pale before the monolith that towers over me
The statue got me high
The statue got me high
The truth is where the sculptor's chisel chipped away the lie
The statue made me fry
The statue made me fry
My coat contained a furnace where there used to be a guy
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And as the screaming fire engine siren filled the air
the evidence had vanished from my charred and smoking chair
and what they found was just a statue
standing where the statue got me high
And now it is your turn
(your turn to hear the stone and then your turn to burn)
The stone it calls to you
(you can't refuse to do the things it tells you to)
And as the screaming fire engine siren fills the air
the evidence will vanish from your charred and smoking chair
and what they found was just a statue
standing where the statue got me high
and what they'll find is just a statue
standing where the statue got you high

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Liberty

(if you wanna stay with me, at your liberty
If you wanna be with me, at your liberty)
-
(ahh, ohh, do-doo)
Ill tell you something,
To let you understand the way I feel, just what you mean to me
Thank you for fine times, we nearly made it all -
The way we know, it wasnt meant to be.
You say we feel the same, there aint no blame.. to decide
But if a little time, could change your mind, Ill be here..
And you can call me (if you wanna stay with me) at your liberty.
You can hold me (if you wanna be with me) at your liberty.
(do you, do you)
Do you remember, how lovers right for summers - even nights,
Would never seem to end,
And as december, comes stirring with that finger of desire
To feel it once again
You worry bout youre friends, what if they find whats going on?
But if you want to try to make it come alive, Ill be here..
And you can call me (you wanna stay with me) at your liberty.
You can hold me (you wanna be with me) at your liberty.
And you can call me (you wanna stay with me) at your liberty.
And you can touch me girl (you wanna run to me) at your liberty.
Help me out!
I live in doubt
Sort me out, yeaaaahhhhhhh....
-
Dont make it every night, dont wanna be the love of your life
So if you are inclined to spend a little time, Ill be here..
And you can call me (if you wanna stay with me) at your liberty.
You can hold me (if you wanna be with me) at your liberty.
And you can call me (if you wanna stay with me) at your liberty.
And you can touch me girl (if you wanna run to me) at your liberty.
Touch me girl, (if you wanna stay with me) at your liberty.
Help me out, (if you wanna be with me) at your liberty.
Sort me out, (if you wanna run to me), at your liberty.
Or you can set me free (if you wanna run to me), at your liberty.
(if you wanna stay with me, at your liberty).
(if you wanna be with me, at your liberty).
(if you wanna stay with me, at your liberty).
(if you wanna run to me, at your liberty).
At your liberty...

song performed by Duran Duran
Added by Lucian Velea
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Your Southern Can Is Mine

Lookie here momma let me explain ya this
If ya wanna get crooked ill even give ya my fist
Ya might read from revelation back to genesis
Ya keep forgetten your southern can belongs to me
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine in the mornin
Your southern can belongs to me
Ya might go uptown have me arrested, put in jail
Some hotshots got money gonna pull my bail
Soon as i get out, hit the ground
Your southern can is worth a thousand, half a pound
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, talkin about it
Your southern can belongs to me
Ya might take it from the south, baby, hide it up north
Understand ya cant rule me and be my boss
Take it from the east and hide in the west
But when i get ya momma your canll see no rest
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, im screamin
Your southern can belongs to me
Now baby, ashes to ashes, sand to sand
When i hit ya momma then ya feel my hand
Give ya punch through that barbed wire fence
When i hit ya baby, ya know i make no sence
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, i know it
Your southern can belongs to me
Now look here woman, dont get hot
Im gettin me a brick outta my backyard
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, im takin about it
Your southern can belongs to me
Well if i catch you momma down in the heart of town
Im gonna grab me a brick and tear your can on down
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, i know it
Your southern can belongs to me
You maybe get bed sick, cause youre graveyard bound
Im gonna make you moan like a graveyard hound
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, im screamin
Your southern can belongs to me

song performed by White Stripes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Anything Is Possible

Anything is possible
If you put your mind to it
Anything is possible
Just put your mind to it
Anything is possible
If you put your mind to it
Anything....
Is possible
Verse 1:
Thought I couldnt slow him down
Long enough to look my way
Thought he was out of my league
Wouldnt give me time of day
Thought he was like all the rest
Love her, leave her, no remorse
But I guess that I misjudged
And this thing just ran its course
He taught me
Chorus:
Anything is possible
If you put your mind to it
Anything is possible...
Just put your mind to it
Anything is possible
If you put your mind to it
Anything is possible
Break it down now.....
No matter what it is, its possible
Say, anything is possible
(anything...) no matter what it is, its possible
Say, anything is possible
(anything...) no matter what it is, its possible
Say, anything is possible
(anything...) no matter what it is, its possible
Say, anything is possible
Verse 2:
Much to my surprise I felt
A warm, not cold vibe
When he looked in my eyes
(oh yeah, its possible)
His bad boy front not charm
Was his disguise
Oh whoa whoa
(let me tell ya)
He read so much into me
Listened so attentively
He liked me, I rest my case
Wasnt just a pretty face
Bridge:
If you set your mind

[...] Read more

song performed by Debbie Gibson
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What Part Of Life Are You Living

What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.

And what part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.

What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.

And what part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.

What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you willing to live.

What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you willing to live.

What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.

What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you willing to live.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life is a drive by.
And...
What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Bushman's Song

I’M travellin’ down the Castlereagh, and I’m a station hand,
I’m handy with the ropin’ pole, I’m handy with the brand,
And I can ride a rowdy colt, or swing the axe all day,
But there’s no demand for a station-hand along the Castlereagh. +

So it’s shift, boys, shift, for there isn’t the slightest doubt
That we’ve got to make a shift to the stations further out,
With the pack-horse runnin’ after, for he follows like a dog,
We must strike across the country at the old jig-jog.

This old black horse I’m riding—if you’ll notice what’s his brand,
He wears the crooked R, you see—none better in the land.
He takes a lot of beatin’, and the other day we tried,
For a bit of a joke, with a racing bloke, for twenty pounds a side.

It was shift, boys, shift, for there wasn’t the slightest doubt
That I had to make him shift, for the money was nearly out;
But he cantered home a winner, with the other one at the flog—
He’s a red-hot sort to pick up with his old jig-jog.

I asked a cove for shearin’ once along the Marthaguy:
“We shear non-union here,” says he. “I call it scab,” says I.
I looked along the shearin’ floor before I turned to go—
There were eight or ten dashed Chinamen a-shearin’ in a row.

It was shift, boys, shift, for there wasn’t the slightest doubt
It was time to make a shift with the leprosy about.
So I saddled up my horses, and I whistled to my dog,
And I left his scabby station at the old jig-jog.

I went to Illawarra, where my brother’s got a farm,
He has to ask his landlord’s leave before he lifts his arm;
The landlord owns the country side—man, woman, dog, and cat,
They haven’t the cheek to dare to speak without they touch their hat.

It was shift, boys, shift, for there wasn’t the slightest doubt
Their little landlord god and I would soon have fallen out;
Was I to touch my hat to him?—was I his bloomin’ dog?
So I makes for up the country at the old jig-jog.

But it’s time that I was movin’, I’ve a mighty way to go
Till I drink artesian water from a thousand feet below;
Till I meet the overlanders with the cattle comin’ down,
And I’ll work a while till I make a pile, then have a spree in town.

So, it’s shift, boys, shift, for there isn’t the slightest doubt
We’ve got to make a shift to the stations further out;
The pack-horse runs behind us, for he follows like a dog,
And we cross a lot of country at the old jig-jog.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Pharsalia - Book VIII: Death Of Pompeius

Now through Alcides' pass and Tempe's groves
Pompeius, aiming for Haemonian glens
And forests lone, urged on his wearied steed
Scarce heeding now the spur; by devious tracks
Seeking to veil the footsteps of his flight:
The rustle of the foliage, and the noise
Of following comrades filled his anxious soul
With terrors, as he fancied at his side
Some ambushed enemy. Fallen from the height
Of former fortunes, still the chieftain knew
His life not worthless; mindful of the fates:
And 'gainst the price he set on Caesar's head,
He measures Caesar's value of his own.

Yet, as he rode, the features of the chief
Made known his ruin. Many as they sought
The camp Pharsalian, ere yet was spread
News of the battle, met the chief, amazed,
And wondered at the whirl of human things:
Nor held disaster sure, though Magnus' self
Told of his ruin. Every witness seen
Brought peril on his flight: 'twere better far
Safe in a name obscure, through all the world
To wander; but his ancient fame forbad.

Too long had great Pompeius from the height
Of human greatness, envied of mankind,
Looked on all others; nor for him henceforth
Could life be lowly. The honours of his youth
Too early thrust upon him, and the deeds
Which brought him triumph in the Sullan days,
His conquering navy and the Pontic war,
Made heavier now the burden of defeat,
And crushed his pondering soul. So length of days
Drags down the haughty spirit, and life prolonged
When power has perished. Fortune's latest hour,
Be the last hour of life! Nor let the wretch
Live on disgraced by memories of fame!
But for the boon of death, who'd dare the sea
Of prosperous chance?

Upon the ocean marge
By red Peneus blushing from the fray,
Borne in a sloop, to lightest wind and wave
Scarce equal, he, whose countless oars yet smote
Upon Coreyra's isle and Leucas point,
Lord of Cilicia and Liburnian lands,
Crept trembling to the sea. He bids them steer
For the sequestered shores of Lesbos isle;
For there wert thou, sharer of all his griefs,

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Added by Poetry Lover
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Southern Comfort

(eric carmen)
Recorded by the quick
Epic 10516 / 1969
Northern lovins mean, so cold and weary
You know, I got to go down south to get love right
And the way they love down south
You know it makes my blood run hot
I need some southern comfort, hey, hey, hey
Gimme some of your southern comfort, hey, hey, hey
Well Ive had my fill of gold I trade for women
Now I need some southern hospitality
And the way they love down south,
You know it makes my blood run hot
I need some southern comfort, hey, hey, hey
Gimme some of your southern comfort, hey, hey, hey
So if you wanna keep me satisfied
You gotta give me some southern comfort tonight
Well Ive had my fill of gold I trade for women
No, I need some southern hospitality
And the way they love down south,
You know it makes my blood run hot
I need some southern comfort, hey, hey, hey
Gimme some of your southern comfort, hey, hey, hey
And the way they love down south,
You know it makes my blood run hot
Gimme some of your southern comfort, hey, hey, hey
Gimme some of your southern comfort, hey, hey, hey
Some southern comfort, hey, hey, hey
(oh, you know I want it baby)
Gimme some of your southern comfort, hey, hey, hey

song performed by Eric Carmen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Southern Gul

Hmm...
Yeah, show you right
Come on
Shing a ling shing, shing a ling shong
Shing a ling shing, shing a ling shong
Shing a ling shing, shing a ling shong
Twing twing dign ding dong
I'm from the South
I'm a Southern Girl
Home of the burning church
Don't know much about the world
Home of the pocket stones
Home of the booty songs
Home of the fingerwave that lasts
All night long
Home of the On & On
Home of the dominoes
Home of the two piece and a pepper
Home of the teeth is gold
Home of the Never Miss
Home of the platinum hits
I'm a Southern Girl
(Southern Girl)
Countryfied
Everything I eat is fried
Got a Southern drawl
I'm so country, y'all
Well that's way down South
Yeah it's way down low
Check my Southern-fried style
And my Southern flow
(Southern Girl)
Countryfied
I like my Tofu fried
Got about a hundred friends
That ain't caught on the trends
Don't know about the Internet
Don't know about the radio
Don't know about the television
All I know is 'bout my flow
My kin folks snet me out
To make money for the house
Hooked up with my boy, Rahzel
I sure hope the record sell
(Southern Girl)
Southern Girl, and I'll rock your world
Fly as a bumble bee (Buzz)
Can't nobody f*** with me
I'm a Southern Girl
From way down South

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song performed by Erykah Badu
Added by Lucian Velea
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A poem, on the rising glory of America

LEANDER.
No more of Memphis and her mighty kings,
Or Alexandria, where the Ptolomies.
Taught golden commerce to unfurl her falls,
And bid fair science smile: No more of Greece
Where learning next her early visit paid,
And spread her glories to illume the world,
No more of Athens, where she flourished,
And saw her sons of mighty genius rise
Smooth flowing Plato, Socrates and him
Who with resistless eloquence reviv'd
The Spir't of Liberty, and shook the thrones
Of Macedon and Persia's haughty king.
No more of Rome enlighten'd by her beams,
Fresh kindling there the fire of eloquence,
And poesy divine; imperial Rome!
Whose wide dominion reach'd o'er half the globe;
Whose eagle flew o'er Ganges to the East,
And in the West far to the British isles.
No more of Britain, and her kings renown'd,
Edward's and Henry's thunderbolts of war;
Her chiefs victorious o'er the Gallic foe;
Illustrious senators, immortal bards,
And wise philosophers, of these no more.
A Theme more new, tho' not less noble claims
Our ev'ry thought on this auspicious day
The rising glory of this western world,
Where now the dawning light of science spreads
Her orient ray, and wakes the muse's song;
Where freedom holds her sacred standard high,
And commerce rolls her golden tides profuse
Of elegance and ev'ry joy of life.

ACASTO.
Since then Leander you attempt a strain
So new, so noble and so full of fame;
And since a friendly concourse centers here
America's own sons, begin O muse!
Now thro' the veil of ancient days review
The period fam'd when first Columbus touch'd
The shore so long unknown, thro' various toils,
Famine and death, the hero made his way,
Thro' oceans bestowing with eternal storms.
But why, thus hap'ly found, should we resume
The tale of Cortez, furious chief, ordain'd
With Indian blood to dye the sands, and choak
Fam'd Amazonia's stream with dead! Or why,
Once more revive the story old in fame,

[...] Read more

poem by Hugh Henry Brackenridge
Added by Poetry Lover
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I Got The Message

I got the message
I got the message and the message is clear
I really really really really wish you were here
It was written on the back of a carton dallumettes
It says I dont really miss you but I havent tried yet
I got the message & the message is proof
There really is a thing they call the rhythm of youth
It will pick you up and it will make you wiggle this way
Et cest facile a dire and its easy to say
Well its mine [they got this thing they call the rhythm of life]
Not yours [it says to settle down & get a dog and a wife]
Get down [and everybodys doing it all over the land]
On all fours [et oui je ne comprends pas oh yes I dont understand]
Its long [i got the message and the message is clear]
And hard [i really really really really wish you were here]
This road [it was written on the back of a carton dallumettes]
To mars [i dont really miss you but I havent tried yet]
Got a good thing, yeah, got you going
Everybodys moving, watch out its showing
I have done a good thing Ive got you dancing, everybodys happy
I have done a good thing, Ive got you moving, everybodys dancing
Theyre really grooving
I have done a good thing dont dansez moderne
Everybodys happy
I got the message and the message is clear
I really really really really wish you were here
It was written on the back of a carton dallumettes
It says I dont really miss you but I havent tried yet
I got the message & the message is proof
There really is a thing they call the rhythm of youth
It will pick you up and it will make you wiggle this way
Et cest facile a dire and its easy to say
Cest mon [they got this thing they call the rhythm of life]
Cest toi [it says to settle down & get a dog and a wife]
Cest nous [and everybodys doing it all over the land]
Cest cool [et oui je ne comprends pas oh yes I dont understand]
Cest long [i got the message and the message is clear]
Cest dur [i really really really really wish you were here]
Frappons [it was written on the back of a carton dallumettes]
Nos tetes contre les murs
Me, you, us cool, long, hard, hit our heads against the wall
[i dont really miss you but I havent tried yet]
I got a good thing yeah, got you going
Everybodys moving, its really showing
I have done a good thing Ive got you dancing, everybodys happy
I have done a good thing, Ive got you moving, everybodys dancing,
Its really groovy
I have done a good thing, dont dansez moderne
And everybodys happy
I got the message and the message is clear

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song performed by Men Without Hats
Added by Lucian Velea
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Southern Girls

Words and music by rick nielsen and tom petersson
Ive been north,
Ive been east to the california beach
Theres only one place I know where to find you
And all you southern girls got a way with your words
And you show it
You say hump and Ill jump
You say go and Ill know
Waste no time getting
So close to you
And youll never run way
When you find out why I wanted to find you
Ooh baby need some brand new shoes
Get out on the street
You got nothing to lose
You rock me and your crazy
And everyone says it, yeah yeah
Southern girls, you got nothing to lose
Southern girls, you got nothing to lose
Ive been up Ive been down
Ive been weak Ive been strong
But I never met someone like you
And youll never run away
When you find why I wanted to find you
You say hump and Ill jump
You say go and Ill know
Waste no time getting
So close to you
All you southern girls
Got a way with your words
And you show it
Ooh baby need some brand new shoes
Get out on the street
You got nothing to lose
You rock me and your crazy
And everyone says it, yeah yeah
Southern girls, you got nothing to lose
Southern girls, you got nothing to lose
You think this boy, he loves you
Southern girls
You make it hard oh, so hard
Ive been north, Ive been east to the california beach
Theres only one place I know where to find you
And all you southern girls got a way with your words
And you show it
Ooh baby need some brand new shoes
Get out on the street
You got nothing to lose
You rock me and your crazy
And everyone says it, yeah yeah

[...] Read more

song performed by Cheap Trick
Added by Lucian Velea
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