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Ok, kinda cheating here.. ish 8-[
Originally released in 1979, I believe this classic reached it’s peak in 1980 :PHaven’t seen you in quite a while
I was down the hold just killing time
Last time we met it was a low-lit room
We were as close together as a bride and a groom
We broke the bread
We drank the wine
Everybody having a good time
Except you
You were still talking about the end of the worldI took the money
I spiked your drink
You miss too much these days if you stop to think
You led me on with those innocent eyes
You know I love the element of surprise
In the garden I was playing the tart
I kissed your lips and broke your heart
You
You were acting like it was the end of the worldLove..
In my dreams I was drowning my sorrows
But my sorrows they’d learned to swim
Surrounding me
Going down on me
Spilling over the brim
Waves of regret
Waves of joy
I reached out to the one I tried to destroy
You
You said you’d wait..
Until the end of the worldFor those interested in the whole Libyan issue – together with the wider ramifications of recent events there – do have a gander at this if you can..
@cath 55 wrote:
i have posted this one before, but it was one i encountered whilst still at school, the english teacher used to put such feeling into the words, she would lower her voice and rise with the emotions
The poem, set in 18th century England, tells the story of a nameless highwayman who is in love with Bess, a landlord’s daughter.
the highwayman escapes an ambush when Bess sacrifices her life to warn him.
this poem for a very impressionable then 14 year old who didnt have the luxury then of the media nor was theatre readily available has stayed with me.
The Highwayman
Alfred Noyes
The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding–
Riding–riding–
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.He’d a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He’d a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle–
His rapier hilt a-twinkle–
His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter–
Bess, the landlord’s daughter–
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened–his face was white and peaked–
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter–
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter;
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I’m after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the sweet black waves of perfume came tumbling o’er his breast,
Then he kissed its waves in the moonlight
(O sweet black waves in the moonlight!),
And he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon.
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon over the purple moor,
The redcoat troops came marching–
Marching–marching–
King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side;
There was Death at every window,
And Hell at one dark window,
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest!
They had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
“Now keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say,
“Look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way.”She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!The tip of one finger touched it, she strove no more for the rest;
Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love’s refrain.Tlot tlot, tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear;
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding–
Riding–riding–
The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight–
Her musket shattered the moonlight–
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him–with her death.He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!
Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway,
Down like a dog in the highway,
And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.And still on a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy’s ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding–
Riding–riding–
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter–
Bess, the landlord’s daughter–
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.Alfred Noyes
A fine poem Cath.
Indeed so fine it was a source of inspiration for the video to this particular classic from the 80s..Snow-bound siren in the winter dawn
There’s a blizzard blowing in from off the river
It’s ten below out on these city streets
But the feeling in your heart is even colder
The sunrise screeching down the line
And the fogbanks running out of time
But you won’t be here when they creep in tomorrow
Oh no..You’re tired of dreaming someone else’s dreams
When they really don’t include you any longer
Miles from home you’re sliding down with each day
And you need a woman’s love to make you stronger
And lately you’ve been getting doubts
A voice inside keeps calling out
That someone else’s dreams don’t get you to nowhereSo shut the suitcase kiss the year goodbye
Don’t let nobody stop you at the doorway
And close the shutters on this empty room
Where these crazy dreams come crawling to devour you
And head on out across that line
Where she’s been waiting all this time
And tell her that you want her there foreverIt’s still two hours till this plane gets down
Can hardly bare to wait another minute
Your sweet loving babe is all that I need
And darlin’ it’s been building up inside of me
Tonight we’ll go and paint this town
We’re gonna drink champagne till we both fall down
And we’ll find some other crazy dream tomorrow