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A Poem: To The Memory of Mrs. Oldfield

Oldfield's no more!-And can the Muse forbear,
O'er Oldfield's Grave to shed a grateful Tear?
Shall she, the Glory of the British Stage,
Pride of her Sex, and Wonder of the Age;
Shall she, who living charm'd th'admiring Throng,
Die undistinguish'd, and not claim a Song?
No. Feeble as it is, I'll boldly raise
My willing Voice to celebrate her Praise,
And with her Name immortalize my Lays.

Had but my Muse her Art to touch the Soul,
Charm ev'ry Sense, and ev'ry Pow'r controul.
I'd paint her as she was-the Form divine,
Where ev'ry lovely Grace united shine;
A Mein, majestick as the Wife of Jove,
An Air, as winning as the Queen of Love;
In every Feature rival Charms should rise,
And Cupid hold his Empire in her Eyes.

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poem by Richard Savage
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Leave Wit You (I Think I Wanna)

[intro:]
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
[verse 1:]
lookin' familiar, i don't know,
have i seen you somewhere before,
kill the small talk let's hit the floor, (are you ready)
to do something you aint done before,
i'll work it 'til you can't take no more,
i think i'm the girl you came here for, (if you can't get it)
[hook:]
i like it
what your doin'
how your movin'
so keep it comin' boy put it on me
[chorus:]
i think i wanna leave wit you do you wanna leave wit me
tell me what you wanna do boy
oh-oh-oh
i think i wanna leave wit you do you wanna leave wit me tell me what you wanna do boy

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song performed by 3LW
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Satyre Against Mankind

Were I - who to my cost already am
One of those strange, prodigious creatures, man -
A spirit free to choose for my own share
What sort of flesh and blood I pleased to wear,
I'd be a dog, a monkey, or a bear,
Or anything but that vain animal,
Who is so proud of being rational.

His senses are too gross; and he'll contrive
A sixth, to contradict the other five;
And before certain instinct will prefer
Reason, which fifty times for one does err.
Reason, an ignis fatuus of the mind,
Which leaving light of nature, sense, behind,
Pathless and dangerous wand'ring ways it takes,
Through Error's fenny bogs and thorny brakes;
Whilst the misguided follower climbs with pain
Mountains of whimseys, heaped in his own brain;
Stumbling from thought to thought, falls headlong down,
Into Doubt's boundless sea where, like to drown,

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poem by Lord John Wilmot
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The Borough. Letter XV: Inhabitants Of The Alms-House. Clelia

WE had a sprightly nymph--in every town
Are some such sprights, who wander up and down;
She had her useful arts, and could contrive,
In Time's despite, to stay at twenty-five; -
'Here will I rest; move on, thou lying year,
This is mine age, and I will rest me here.'
Arch was her look, and she had pleasant ways
Your good opinion of her heart to raise;
Her speech was lively, and with ease express'd,
And well she judged the tempers she address'd:
If some soft stripling had her keenness felt,
She knew the way to make his anger melt;
Wit was allow'd her, though but few could bring
Direct example of a witty thing;
'Twas that gay, pleasant, smart, engaging speech,
Her beaux admired, and just within their reach;
Not indiscreet, perhaps, but yet more free
Than prudish nymphs allow their wit to be.
Novels and plays, with poems old and new,
Were all the books our nymph attended to;

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poem by George Crabbe
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Quarterbackin'

[E-40]
The definition of quarterbackin'
[Scratched]
the quarterback..
[Verse 1 - Malice]
Tell the cops don't read into it
Them days of slangin' yay been finished, them days have been done ended
So far gone them days that I'm offended
Snitches can't speak my name till they get winded
Can't you tell there's been a switch made?
Now fellas decide that they wanna run and tell like in the fifth grade
But I'm too gone, young'n be clear
Even when you see me, I am not really there
And I ain't play fair wit' my eye on the enemy
Huggin' the block just me and my mini-me
Did it and lived it, grinded here
Cops fillin' wit' my projects find it yeah
Not only was I in the game, I was gifted in it
Served food to the fiends and we called 'em dinners
Put the raw wit' the fake out, mixed it in it

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song performed by E-40
Added by Lucian Velea
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B.K. Style

Yea, Its bout to get real hard for these niggas to move man
Somebody get these niggas some wheelchairs or somethin
Goin to war is still a scary issue
But in my hood they train to kill wit every pistol
Like they military issue
Guess you a star if you sell a million every disc two
Catch a gun case and bounce and still they'll barely frisk you
Cuz, I proved I move the retail
Make the smoothest grooves wit female
And I remove the rules on V12's
You aint never seen it move this smooth on sprewell's
I'm a hustler, you just a middle man to me
The way I pass the rock could make Jason Kidd a fan of me
Just cop one joint, I'm a one point somethin
Still I'll have you at gunpoint, with one joint dumpin
So watch what you say to them crackers
Ill put a couple G's on yer head like you play for the Packers
I'm rap's Labron James, I quickly see baskets
These scrubs wouldn't make it to the Mickey-D's classics
You got some sticky weed? Pass it

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song performed by Fabolous
Added by Lucian Velea
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Keep It Down

Hey whatcha know
Outside of the beastie boys show
Saw that kid that tried to get with me
He said by the way where ya been
Are you still wit that boyfriend
I said no way and he would grin
Wanna hook up but i thought again
Met him on the train one day
When I was wrapped in pain
He said I love you
In more ways than I ever heard
And before I got his name I thought that it might be ok
To use for service to take some pain away
I know guys that talk around town
Girls like me wanna keep it down
Dope boy freshen with all your clothes
Pop that girl if anything goes
Yeah beat boys want all the fame
Girls get hurt when you play that game
You weren't concerned with how I feel

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song performed by Kelis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Satyr

Were I (who to my cost already am
One of those strange prodigious Creatures Man)
A Spirit free, to choose for my own share,
What Case of Flesh, and Blood, I pleas'd to weare,
I'd be a Dog, a Monkey, or a Bear,
Or any thing but that vain Animal,
Who is so proud of being rational.
The senses are too gross, and he'll contrive
A Sixth, to contradict the other Five;
And before certain instinct, will preferr
Reason, which Fifty times for one does err.
Reason, an Ignis fatuus, in the Mind,
Which leaving light of Nature, sense behind;
Pathless and dang'rous wandring ways it takes,
Through errors Fenny -- Boggs, and Thorny Brakes;
Whilst the misguided follower, climbs with pain,
Mountains of Whimseys, heap'd in his own Brain:
Stumbling from thought to thought, falls headlong down,
Into doubts boundless Sea, where like to drown,
Books bear him up awhile, and make him try,

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poem by Lord John Wilmot
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Right In Two

Chorus: x2
I want it right now baby
I think I want to you much
And if you don't know what to do
Let me show you what to do wit it
Verse 1:
It was this chick named Latasha met her at the Cashab
She was no one doin a dance I'm like Latasha
Dis da wanna knocka I know it's kinda aqua
Yea I know I'm a balla but cho'll I kinda like ya
When I met her I was to high rollin a new ride
But she didn't give a damn about that cause I was to fly
Switchin lanes ova in a Range Rova got the name ova, change ova, then I came
ova
She got her own place on safe
Crome face hole lace she got new way taste
I'm like damn can't believe what you doin to me
Proceede to give me the weed to make my chest bleed
Oh please I know you done seen mo betta
Got cheese cheeda livin yo life swella

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song performed by Tool
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The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 04

' Cesseth!' seide the Kyng, ' I suffre yow no lenger.
Ye shul saughtne, forsothe, and serve me bothe.
Kis hire,' quod the Kyng, 'Conscience, I hote!'
' Nay, by Crist!' quod Conscience, ' congeye me rather!
But Reson rede me therto, rather wol I deye.'
'And I comaunde thee,' quod the Kyng to Conseience thanne,
'Rape thee to ryde, and Reson that thow fecche.
Comaunde hym that he come my counseil to here,
For he shal rule my reaume and rede me the beste
Mede and of mo othere, what man shal hire wedde,

And acounte with thee, Conscience, so me Crist helpe,
How thow lernest the peple, the lered and the lewed!'
'I am fayn of that foreward,' seide the freke thanne,
And ryt right to Reson and rouneth in his ere,
And seide hym as the Kyng seide, and sithen took his leve.
'I shal arraye me to ryde,' quod Reson,-reste thee a while,'
And called Caton his knave, curteis of speche,
And also Tomme Trewe-tonge-tel-me-no-tales
Ne lesynge-to-laughen-of-for-I-loved-hem-nevere.

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poem by William Langland
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