songs

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly. 'Tis the season to be jolly. Don we now our gay apparel. Troll the ancient yuletide carol."

"'Twas in the moon of winter-time When all the birds had fled, That mighty Gitchi Manitou Sent angel choirs instead"

"If you're happy and you know it stomp your feet"

"If you're happy and you know it clap your hands"

"If you're happy and you know it shout "Hooray!""

"...Ever smilin' ever gentle on my mind"

"I still might run in silence, tears of joy might stain my face And the summer sun might burn me 'til I'm blind But not to where I cannot see you walkin' on the backroads By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind"

"Though the wheat fields and the clotheslines And the junkyards and the highways come between us And some other woman's cryin' to her mother 'Cause she turned, and I was gone"

"And it's knowin' I'm not shackled By forgotten words and bonds And the ink stains that are dried upon some line That keeps you in the backroads By the rivers of my memory It keeps you ever gentle on my mind"

"It's knowin' that your door is always open And your path is free to walk That makes me tend to leave my sleepin' bag Rolled up and stashed behind your couch"

"Hey there, Georgy girl Dreamin' of the someone you could be Life is a reality You can't always run away.Don't be so scared of changing And rearranging yourself It's time for jumping down from the shelf A little bit."

"Hey there, Georgy girl There's another Georgy deep inside Bring out all the love you hide And, oh, what a change there'd be The world would see A new Georgy girl."

"Hey there, Georgy girl Swingin' down the street so fancy-free Nobody you meet could ever see The loneliness there Inside you."

"I'm just a po journ'en stranger Pass'en through dis world o' woe There is no sickness, no toil, no danger In dat fair land to where I go I'm goin de'r to see my Father And all my loved ones who' gone on I'm just goin over Jordan I'm just goin over home."

"I am a poor wayfaring stranger While traveling through this land of woe. There'll be no sickness, toil or danger in that bright land to which i'll go. Going there to meet my savior... going there to no more to roam. I'm only going over Jordan I'm just going over home I know dark clouds will gather around me But i'll be home in a little while... I know His sweet love will surround me, and He will walk with me each mile."

"This song has been around for over 200 hundred years blessing millions of Americans in both the secular and the religious world. It is difficult if not impossible to pinpoint the exact origin of this North American folk song... Some historians saying that they can trace this song to the 1780s while others trace to the early 1800s... Some people think that is a reworked Negro spiritual... this song...one of the most loved gospel folk songs in America."

"I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger Traveling through this world of woe And there's no sickness, no toil, no danger In that fair land to which I go I'm going there to see my mother I'm going there no more to roam"

"Dolly Parton in Dolly Parton Heartsongs: Live from Home (September 1994)"

"I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger Traveling through this world below And there's no sickness, no toil, no danger In that fair land to which I go I'm going there to see my Father And all my loved ones who've gone on I'm just going over Jordan I'm just going over home."

"Yes I have spoken on Gandhi ji’s Vaishnav Jan bhajan at many places. In fact, I used to deliver hour-long speeches describing why Gandhi ji loved this bhajan. If we think carefully and dwell on each word of this song, composed 500 years ago, we will find that everything said in it is still relevant, especially for our public life. He speaks against corruption and importance of personal integrity. In short, it is a manifesto for public life and morality. So, I worked around the words and would say: ... "A people’s representative is one who feels the pain of others; one who removes the sorrows of others and yet does not let a trace of pride or arrogance come into his heart." This used to be part of my worker development programmes. I used to analyse each line of this bhajan and explain why Gandhi ji promoted these values in public life; it contains all the wisdom you need for public life. It is a great misfortune for our country that this bhajan is played only on October 2 at Rajghat. It should have become an instrument of inculcating moral values. Gandhi ji liked this bhajan because Gandhi’s DNA and the elements of this geet match each other. I hold it up as a model of conduct for our party and RSS workers. In the RSS, there is an old tradition of remembering this bhajan every morning. Their pratah smaran (morning remembrance) starts with Gandhi ji’s name."

"This body is but a guest of four days, a house made of dirt. On this earth your mark is made, a symbol of your good work."

"Matona, mia cara, Mi follere canzon, Cantar sotto finestra, Lantze bon compagnon. Don don don, diri diri, don don don don.Ti prego m'ascoltare, che mi cantar de bon, E mi ti foller bene, come greco e capon. Don don don, diri diri, don don don don."

"Jo began to hum, thinking the words in her head. Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Brother John, Brother John? Morning bells are ringing. Morning bells are ringing. Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong. She stopped, hoping for a response that didn’t come. Oh, God, please let him answer. Let his little heart be strong. She tried again. Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Brother John, Brother John? Now she heard the resonance of another voice, but it wasn’t Stevie’s. It was Grace, who hummed with Jo, Morning bells are ringing, morning bells are ringing. Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong. The two women paused. Once again, only a terrible, silent waiting filled the cabin. Then she heard a smaller voice humming. Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Brother John, Brother John? It was Scott. Grace joined him, and Jo’s voice became a part of the music, too. Morning bells are ringing. Morning bells are ringing. Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong. To hum was liberating, to fill the cabin with the nearest thing to talk they could achieve. They went through the round once again, Jo praying that she would hear Stevie. But at the end, he was still silent. A moment passed. Then a high little hum, like an echo of the round’s final line, reached her—Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong—and her heart leaped. Stevie was with her, and he knew she was with him. It was so small a triumph, yet she found herself overwhelmed and weeping. She began the round again, and four voices joined in a sound Jo believed the angels would have envied."

"File:Frère_Jacques.svg"

"Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night; Methought it did relieve my passion much, More than light airs and recollected terms Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times: Come, but one verse."

"Song opens a window to the secret places of the soul."

"I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good. I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose. Bound to lose. No good to nobody. No good for nothing. Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim too ugly or too this or too that. Songs that run you down or poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or hard traveling. … I am out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood. I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work. And the songs that I sing are made up for the most part by all sorts of folks just about like you. I could hire out to the other side, the big money side, and get several dollars every week just to quit singing my own kind of songs and to sing the kind that knock you down still farther and the ones that poke fun at you even more and the ones that make you think you've not any sense at all. But I decided a long time ago that I'd starve to death before I'd sing any such songs as that. The radio waves and your movies and your jukeboxes and your songbooks are already loaded down and running over with such no good songs as that anyhow."

"I deeply felt that song should make One universal link, Uniting, for each other’s sake, All those who feel and think."

"Listen to that song, and learn it! Half my kingdom would I give, As I live, If by such songs you would earn it!"

"I want no more than to speak simply to be granted that grace. Because we've loaded our songs with so much music that they're slowly sinking and we've decorated our art so much that its features have been eaten away by gold and it's time to say our few words because tomorrow our soul sets sail. ...I think so much these days about the great river, that symbol which moves forward among herbs and greenery and beasts that graze and drink, and men who sow and harvest, great tombs even and small habitations of the dead. That current which goes its way and which is not so different from the blood of men..."

"So tell me, am I wrong for trying to communicate through a song?"

"And heaven had wanted one immortal song."

"The best days of the church have always been its singing days."

"Sing a song of sixpence."

"It is best of all trades, to make songs, and the second best to sing them."

"My songs has been my messages that I tried to scatter across the back sides and along the steps of the fire escapes and on the window sills and through the dark halls."

"Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought."

"A careless song, with a little nonsense in it now and then, does not mis-become a monarch."

"Bring the good old bugle, boys! we'll sing another song— Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along— Sing it as we used to sing it, fifty thousand strong, While we were marching through Georgia."

"Cantilenam eandem canis."

"Knitting and withal singing, and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work."

"Songs consecrate to truth and liberty."

"Because the gift of Song was chiefly lent, To give consoling music for the joys We lack, and not for those which we possess."

"Cicala to cicala is dear, and ant to ant, and hawks to hawks, but to me the muse and song."

"They sang of love and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory; Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang "Annie Laurie.""

"Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings in tears, and skim away."

"Ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'être dit, on le chante."

"[M]aybe you will learn this when I'm gone: My song will carry on."

"What is not worth saying sounds very well when it is sung."

"Builders, raise the ceiling high, Raise the dome into the sky, Hear the wedding song! For the happy groom is near, Tall as Mars, and statelier, Hear the wedding song!"