After A While A Place to Stand At Last All I Really Need to Know Baby, It's Cold Outside Bare Necessities The Boxer The Bear, The Fire and The Snow Breathe

Brown Eyed Girl Chapter 24 Circle Cohen, Leonard on Poetry Come Sail Away Corey's Coming Crazy Love The Cremation of Sam McGee Cry (if you want to)

After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and sharing a life and you learn that love doesn't mean possession and company doesn't mean security and loneliness is universal.

And you learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open with the grace of a woman not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build your hope on today as the future has a way of falling apart in mid-flight because tomorrow's ground can be too uncertain for plans yet each step taken in a new direction creates a path toward the promise of a brighter dawn.

And you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much so you plant your own garden and nourish your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that love, true love, always has joys and sorrows, seem ever present, yet is never quite the same, becoming more than love and less than love, so difficult to define.

And you learn that through it all you really can endure, that you really are strong, that you do have value and you learn and grow, with every goodbye you learn.

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If you have ever gone through a toll booth, you know that your relationship to the person in the booth is not the most intimate you'll ever have. It is one of life's frequent nonencounters: You hand over some money; you might get change; you drive off.

Late one morning in 1984, headed for lunch in San Francisco, I drove toward a booth. I heard loud music. It sounded like a party. I looked around. No other cars with their windows open. No sound trucks. I looked at the toll booth. Inside it, the man was dancing.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm having a party," he said.

"What about the rest of the people?" I looked at the other toll booths.

He said, "What do those look like to you?" He pointed down the row of toll booths.

"They look like...toll booths. What do they look like to you?"

He said, "Vertical coffins. At 8:30 every morning, live people get in. Then they die for eight hours. At 4:30, like Lazarus from the dead, they reemerge and go home. For eight hours, brain is on hold, dead on the job. Going through the motions."

I was amazed. This guy had developed a philosophy, a mythology about his job. Sixteen people dead on the job, and the seventeenth, in precisely the same situation, figures out a way to live. I could not help asking the next question: "Why is it different for you? You're having a good time."

He looked at me. "I knew you were going to ask that. I don't understand why anybody would think my job is boring. I have a corner office, glass on all sides. I can see the Golden Gate, San Francisco, and the Berkeley hills. Half the Western world vacations here...and I just stroll in every day and practice dancing."

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1. Share everything.
2. Play fair.
3. Don't hit people.
4. Put things back where you found them.
5. Clean up your own mess.
6. Don't take things that aren't yours.
7. Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
8. Wash your hands before you eat.
9. Flush.
10. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
11. Live a balanced life--learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
12. Take a nap every afternoon.
13. When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.
14. Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
15. Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup--they all die. So do we.
16. And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned--the biggest word of all--LOOK.

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At last my love has come along.
My lonely days are over and life is like a song.
At last the skies above are blue.
My heart was wrapped in clover
the night I looked at you.
I found a dream that I can speak to.
A dream that I can call my own.
I found a thrill to press my cheek to.
A thrill that I’ve never never known.
You smiled and then the spell was cast.
And here we are in heaven
for you are mine at last.

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I really can't stay (but, baby, it's cold outside).
I've got to go 'way (but, baby, it's cold outside).
This evening has been (Been hoping that you'd drop in) so very nice (I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice).
My mother will start to worry (beautiful words you're humming),
and father will be pacing the floor (listen to the fireplace roar).
So really I'd better scurry (beautiful, please don't hurry)
……well, maybe just a half a drink more (put some records on while I pour).
The neighbors might think (but, baby, it's bad out there)
……say, what's in this drink? (no cabs to be had out there).
I wish I knew how (your eyes are like starlight now) to break the spell (I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell).
I ought to say no, no, no sir (mind if I move in closer?).
At least I'm gonna say that I tried (what's the sense of hurtin' my pride?).
I really can't stay (Oh, baby, don't hold out).
Ah but it's cold outside (baby, it's cold outside).
I simply must go (but, baby, it's cold outside).
The answer is no (but, baby, it's cold outside).
The welcome has been (how lucky that you dropped in) so nice and warm (look out that window at that storm).
My sister will be suspicious (Gosh, your lips look delicious),
my brother will be there at the door (waves upon a tropical shore).
My maiden aunt's mind is vicious (gosh, your lips are delicious).
Well, maybe just a cigarette more (never such a blizzard before).
I got to get home (but, baby, you'd freeze out there).
Say, lend me a coat (it's up to your knees out there).
You've really been grand (I'm thrilled when you touch my hand).
Why don't you see (how can you do this thing to me?).
There's bound to be talk tomorrow (think of my lifelong sorrow),
at least there will be plenty implied (if you caught pneumonia and died).
I really can't stay (get over that hold-out). Ah, but it's cold outside (ah, but it's cold outside)
……Where could you be going, when the wind is blowing, and it's cold outside?
Baby it's cold, cold outside.

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Written by: Terry Gilkyson
Performed by: Phil Harris [Baloo], Bruce Reitherman [Mowgli]

Chorus:
Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
Old Mother Nature's recipes
That brings the bare necessities of life

Wherever I wander, wherever I roam
I couldn't be fonder of my big home
The bees are buzzin' in the tree
To make some honey just for me
When you look under the rocks and plants
And take a glance at the fancy ants
Then maybe try a few

The bare necessities of life will come to you
They'll come to you!

Chorus

Now when you pick a pawpaw
Or a prickly pear
And you prick a raw paw
Next time beware
Don't pick the prickly pear by the paw
When you pick a pear
Try to use the claw
But you don't need to use the claw
When you pick a pear of the big pawpaw
Have I given you a clue ?

The bare necessities of life will come to you
They'll come to you!

So just try and relax, yeah cool it
Fall apart in my backyard
'Cause let me tell you something little britches
If you act like that bee acts, uh uh
You're working too hard

And don't spend your time lookin' around
For something you want that can't be found
When you find out you can live without it
And go along not thinkin' about it
I'll tell you something true

The bare necessities of life will come to you

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I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told.
I have squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises.
All lies and jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear,
And disregards the rest, (hmmmm....mmmm......mmm)

When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy.
In the company of strangers.....
In the quiet of the railway station, runnin' scared.
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go.
Looking for the places only they would know.

(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(Li la li... li la la la li la li la la la li...)

Asking only workman's wages, I come looking for a job, but I get no offers.....
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue.
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome,
I took some comfort there. (li la la, la, la la)

Now the years are rolling by me, they are rockin' even me.
I am older than I once was, and younger than I'll be, that's not unusual.
No it isn't strange, after changes upon changes, we are more or less the same.
After changes we are more or less the same.........

(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(Li la li... li la la la li la li la la la li...)

And I'm laying out my winter clothes, wishing I was gone, goin' home,
Where the New York City winters aren't bleedin' me, leadin' me to go home.

In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade.
And he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down or cut him,
'Til he cried out in his anger and his shame,
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains.
Yes, he still remains........................

(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(Li la li...la la la la li la li)
(La la la la li... li la la la li la li)

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"I live in fear of the snow," said the bear.
"Whenever it's here, be sure I'll be there.
Oh, the pain and the cold,
When one's bearish and old.
I live in fear of the snow."

"I live in fear of the fire," said the snow.
"Whenever it comes then it's time I must go.
With its yellow lick flames
Leaping higher and higher,
I live in fear of the fire."

"I live in fear of the river," said the fire.
"It can drown all my flames anytime it desires,
And the thought of the wet
Makes me sputter and shiver.
I live in fear of the river."

"I live in fear of the bear," said the river.
"It can lap me right up, don't you know?"
While a mile away
You can hear the bear say,
"I live in fear of the snow."

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Breathe, breathe in the air
Don't be afraid to care
Leave but don't leave me
Look around and chose your own ground
For long you live and high you fly
And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry
And all you touch and all you see
Is all your life will ever be

Run, run rabbit run
Dig that hole, forget the sun,
And when at last the work is done
Don't sit down it's time to start another one
For long you live and high you fly
But only if you ride the tide
And balanced on the biggest wave
You race toward an early grave.

Home, home again
I like to be there when I can
When I come in cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells.

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Hey where did we go, days when the rain came.
Down in the hollow, playin' a new game.
Laughin' and a runnin' , hey hey, skippin' and a jumpin'
in the misty mornin' fog with our hearts a thumpin' at you,
The Brown-Eyed Girl
You're my Brown-Eyed Girl

Now what ever happened, Tuesday is so slow,
Goin' down the old man river, with a transistor radio
standin' in the sunlight laughin'
hidin' behind a rainbow wall
Slippin' and a slidin', all along the waterfall with you,
the Brown-Eyed Girl
You're my Brown-Eyed Girl.

Do you remember when, ah we used to sing

Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
la dee dah

So hard to find my way, now that I'm all on my own
I saw you just the other day, my how you had grown,
Cast my memory back there Lord
Sometimes I'm overcome thinkin' bout,
makin love in the green grass, behind the stadium with you.
the Brown-Eyed Girl
You, my Brown-Eyed Girl.

Do you remember when, ah we used to sing

Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
la dee dah

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A movement is accomplished in six stages
And the seventh brings return.
The seven is the number of the young light
It forms when darkness is increased by one.
Change returns success
Going and coming without error.
Action brings good fortune.
Sunset.

The time is with the month of winter solstice
When the change is due to come.
Thunder in the other course of heaven.
Things cannot be destroyed once and for all.
Change returns success
Going and coming without error.
Action brings good fortune.
Sunset, sunrise.

A movement is accomplished in six stages
And the seventh brings return.
The seven is the number of the young light
It forms when darkness is increased by one.
Change returns success
Going and coming without error.
Action brings good fortune.
Sunset, sunrise.

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All my life's a circle;
Sunrise and sundown;
Moon rolls thru the nighttime;
Till the daybreak comes around.

All my life's a circle;
But I can't tell you why;
Season's spinning round again;
The years keep rollin' by.

It seems like I've been here before;
I can't remember when;
But I have this funny feeling;
That we'll all be together again.
No straight lines make up my life;
And all my roads have bends;
There's no clear-cut beginnings;
And so far no dead-ends.

Chorus:
I found you a thousand times;
I guess you done the same;
But then we lose each other;
It's like a children's game;

As I find you here again;
A thought runs through my mind;
Our love is like a circle;
Let's go 'round one more time.

Chorus

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"The honey of poetry is all over the place. It is in the writing of the National Geographic, when an idea is absolutely clear and beautiful; it's in movies; it's all over because the taste of significance is that which we call poetry, when something resonates with a particular kind of significance. We may not call it poetry but we've experienced poetry."
-- Leonard Cohen

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I'm sailing away
Set an open course for the virgin sea
For I've got to be free
Free to face the life that's ahead of me

On board I'm the captain
So climb aboard
We'll search for tomorrow
On every shore
And I'll try, oh Lord, I'll try
To carry on

I look to the sea
Reflections in the waves spark my memory
Some happy, some sad
I think of childhood friends
And the dreams we had

We lived happily forever
So the story goes
But somehow we missed out
On the pot of gold
But we'll try best that we can to carry on

A gathering of angels appeared above our heads
They sang to us this song of hope and this is what they said

Come sail away
Come sail away
Come sail away with me

I thought that they were angels
But to my surprise
We climbed aboard their starship
And headed for the skies

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Old John Joseph was a man with two first names
They left him in the railroad yard when they took away the trains
Only one run a week comes on roaring down that line
So all he's got to worry 'bout is time.

I come by in the evening to hear 'bout where he's been
He says - Come on sit down Kid, where shall I begin?
He starts telling me the stories of the glories of his past
But he always saves the story of his Corey for the last.

And he says - My Corey's coming. No more sad stories coming
My midnight-moonlight-morning-glory's coming aren't you girl?
And like I told you, when she holds you
She enfolds you in her world.

I was quite surprised to find out all the places that he knew
And so I asked the townfolk if his stories were true
They said - Old John was born here, he's lived here all his life
He's never had a woman, let alone a wife.

And very soon you'll find out as you check around
That no one named Corey's ever lived in this town
So I chided the old man 'bout the truth that I had heard
He smiled and said - Reality is only just a word.

I came by one evening but he did not hear my shout
I looked in the window and saw the fire was out
When he would not wake up I forced in the door
And found that Old John Joseph would tell stories no more.

The scene at the graveyard, three of us were there
Me and the gravedigger heard the parson's prayer
He said - We need not grieve for this man,
For we know that God cares!

They put the cold dirt over him and left me on my own
And when at last I looked up I saw I was not alone
So I said - If you're a relative, he had a peaceful end.
She said - My name is Corey - you can say I'm just a friend.

Corey's coming, no more sad stories coming
My midnight-moonlight-morning-glory's coming aren't you girl?
And like I told you, when she holds you
She enfolds you in her world.

So that's the old man's story, I'm glad you came tonight
A busted down old railroad yard sure makes a lonely sight
You may wonder why a young man would work out here alone
Well the job pays enough to keep some flesh on my bones.

And I confess I get to missing the old man a bit
And there's one other reason I guess I should admit -

Can't you see my Corey's coming, no more sad stories coming
My midnight-moonlight-morning-glory's coming aren't you girl?
And like he told me, when she holds me
She enfolds me in her world.

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I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles
And the heavens open every time she smiles
And when I come to her that's where I belong
Yet I'm running to her like a river's song

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love
She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down
And when I come to her when the sun goes down
Take away my trouble, take away my grief
Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love
She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

Yes I need her in the daytime
Yes I need her in the night
Yes I want to throw my arms around her
Kiss her hug her kiss her hug her tight

And when I'm returning from so far away
She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day
Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me feel whole
Yes it makes me mellow down in to my soul

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love
She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

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There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows. He was always cold but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell; Though he'd often say in his homely way that he'd sooner live in Hell. On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail. Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail. If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see, It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee. And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow, And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe, He turned to me, and "Cap", says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess; And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request." Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan, "It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone Yet 'taint being dead-it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains; So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains. A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail; And we started on at the streak of dawn but God! he looked ghastly pale. He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee; And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee. There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given; It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say. "You may tax your brawn and brains, But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate these last remains".

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code, In the days to come, though my lips were dumb in my heart how I cursed that load! In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring, Howled out their woes to the homeless snows- Oh God, how I loathed the thing! And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow; And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low. The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in; And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin. Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay; It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the Alice May, And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum; Then "Here", said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum"! Some planks I tore from the cabin floor and I lit the boiler fire; Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher; The flames just soared, and the furnace roared such a blaze you seldom see, And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee. Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so; And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow, It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why; And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky. I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear; But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near; I was sick with dread, but I bravely said, "I'll just take a peep inside. I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked". Then the door I opened wide. And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar; And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said, "Please close that door. It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm- Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm". There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee

For more Poems by Robert W. Service visit his home page at http://www.ude.net/service/service.html

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cry if you want to
I won't tell you not to
I won't try to cheer you up
I'll just be here if you want me

It's no use in keeping a stiff upper lip
you can weep, you can sleep, you can loosen your grip
you can frown you can drown and go down with the ship
you can cry if you want to

don't ever apologize venting your pain
it's something to me you don't need to explain
I don't need to know why, I don't think it's insane
you can cry if you want to

the windows are closed, the neighbors aren't home
if it's better with me than to do it alone
I'll draw all the curtains and unplug the phone
you can cry if you want to

you can stare at the ceiling and tear at your hair
swallow your feelings and stagger and swear
you can shove things and throw things and I wouldn't care
you can cry if you want to

I won't make fun of you, I won't tell anyone
I won't analyze what you do or you should have done
I won't advise you to go and have fun
you can cry if you want to

well it's empty and ugly and terribly sad
I can't feel what you feel but I know it feels bad
I know that it's real and it makes you so mad
you can cry ...

cry if you want to
I won't tell you not to
I won't try to cheer you up
I'll just be here if you want me
to be
near you

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