Men do not change
Though they may try
And when they fail
They sometimes cry,
But they never change.
An equation came to me,
While sitting firmly on the fence-
The higher the education
The lower the common sense.
In vain I search but I search on,
Along life`s lonely corridor,
Seeking, seeking ever seeking,
Yet knowing not for what I`m searching,
But eagerly await each morrow,
Praying it will end this sorrow,
This sorrow I try so hard to hide
The tears that will not be denied,
The past is past, the joy, the pain,
I cannot live the past again,
But through the bitter mist must I
the ballad of Running Bare
The ballad of Running Bare
By the shores of Ichy Coomi,
By the mighty deep sea water,
In a wigwam warm and roomy,
With the big chief`s lovely daughter,
Lived the Indian champion streaker,
The best in Delaware
And they changed his name from Running Deer,
And they called him Running Bare.
So fleet of foot was Running Bare,
That arrows outward he had shot `em
And run forward with such swiftness
That the arrow had pierced his bottom.
Indian braves in village talkum,
“Running Bare him plenty dumb,
Indian must be heapum stupid,
Shoot own arrows up own bum”.
Big chief`s darghter very lovely,
Not too fat and not too skinny,
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