“The President is merely the most important among a large number of public servants. He should be supported or opposed exactly to the degree which is warranted by his good conduct or bad conduct, his efficiency or inefficiency in rendering loyal, able, and disinterested service to the Nation as a whole. Therefore it is absolutely necessary that there should be full liberty to tell the truth about his acts, and this means that it is exactly necessary to blame him when he does wrong as to praise him when he does right. Any other attitude in an American citizen is both base and servile. To announce that there must be no criticism of the President, or that we are to stand by the President, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public. Nothing but the truth should be spoken about him or any one else. But it is even more important to tell the truth, pleasant or unpleasant, about him than about any one else.” – Theodore Roosevelt, 26th US President (1858-1919)
Thank you to Jim Adams, who hosts Song Lyric Sunday and gives us the chance to share lots of familiar, and some not so familiar, songs.
If you fancy sharing one of your favourite songs you can find out how to participate, and also listen to all the great entries, here.
Sting, the lead singer of the The Police, attended St Cuthbert’s Grammar School in Newcastle upon Tyne. As a young man he visited nightclubs, such as Club A’Gogo, to see all the groups he could, including Cream and Manfred Mann, who influenced his music. After working as a bus conductor, a building labourer and a tax officer, he attended Northern Counties College of Education (now Northumbria University) from 1971 to 1974 and qualified as a teacher. He taught at St Paul’s First School in Cramlington for two years.
At night he performed jazz with The Phoenix Jazzmen, Newcastle Big Band, and Last Exit. It was whilst playing with the Phoenix Jazzmen, wearing a black and yellow hooped sweater, that he gained the name Sting.
He no doubt experienced situations, whilst teaching, that mirror the words in the song. It must be incredibly difficult for all young teachers to manage situations in schools where the hormones of youth are working overtime. The reference to Nabokov, at the end of the song, refers to the novel he was most famous for, Lolita!
Without further ado here is Don’t Stand So Close To Me. I hope you enjoy it!
Don’t Stand So Close to Me
Young teacher the subject
Of schoolgirl fantasy
She wants him so badly
Knows what she wants to be
Inside her there’s no room
This girl’s an open page
Book marking she’s so close now
This girl is half his age
Don’t stand so close to me
Her friends are so jealous
You know how bad girls get
Sometimes it’s not so easy
To be the teacher’s pet
So bad it makes him cry
Wet bus stop, she’s waiting
His car is warm and dry
Don’t stand so close to me
Loose talk in the classroom
To hurt they try and try
Strong words in the staffroom
The accusations fly
It’s no use
He sees her
He starts to shake and cough
Just like the old man in
That book by Nabakov
Don’t stand so close to me
Songwriters: Gordon Sumner
Don’t Stand So Close to Me lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Sometimes, just sometimes, I forget that I am a compassionate and caring gentleman. This afternoon was just such an occasion.
Would it be awful if I were to say
I cannot be bothered to see you today
I really don’t care that your leg has dropped off
And couldn’t care less you’ve developed a cough
You breed just like rabbits, producing more louts
Your lifestyle’s renowned by all hereabouts
You’re on your seventh partner in only four years
I can only surmise it’ll all end in tears
Please don’t come to me to try to explain
I really don’t wish to hear you complain
It’s hardly surprising the neighbours all glare
Please don’t come to me, I really don’t care!
It’s time again, for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge, to write a story, inspired by her picture prompt, in 280 characters or fewer.
Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution.
Check out all the fabulously creative entries here and, if you’ve never had a go, why not try a story of your own? You may surprise yourself!
Photo by Moritz 320 at Pixabay.com
My mind was a complete blank for this prompt. Not unusual for my mind to be blank, but I can normally dream up some weird linked tale. Well, not this week, so I let my mind run a little bit wilder and came up with this little poem which is, I hasten to add, entirely a figment of my weird imagination. HONESTLY! Also, it fails miserably to come within the correct count.
All is ready, what a lark
hands unsteady, oh it’s dark
tripod mounted, camera fixed
film all counted, cocktails mixed
off with tops and let’s get snapping
I love swaps but not the slapping
All gone home, the films are printed
all alone I stared and squinted
Some may say I’m sad and lonely
Come and join us, ah, if only!
A lesson for us all, at any age!
Remember. A bad mood is never an excuse to use cruel words. Never. Moods pass, but cruel words wound the soul. Just sayin’ unknown
Quokkas twice in a day has to be some sort of record.
Apart from that, this is really lovely, and well worth a look at the original too. There are some nice people around, and you don’t have to look far to find them!
Recently Sunny Skyz posted a collection of the most wholesome tweets of 2018. I’m recycling a few of my favorites here. See them all here.
It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.
Photo by fotoerich at Pixabay.com
Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.
Those new contraceptive tablets were great.
The instructions were really clear.
I just had to make a sheath out of the intestine of a goat and stretch it over my organ, before ravishing all the handmaidens I desired.
I didn’t have an organ, or a piano, so I stretched it over my lyre!
I’ll take the peace of mind every time!
but mud is not always a bad thing!
They have no need of our help
So do not tell me
These haggard faces could belong to you or me
Should life have dealt a different hand
We need to see them for who they really are
Chancers and scroungers
Layabouts and loungers
With bombs up their sleeves
Cut-throats and thieves
They are not
We should make them
Go back to where they came from
Share our food
Share our homes
Share our countries
Instead let us
Build a wall to keep them out
It is not okay to say
These are people just like us
A place should only belong to those who are born there
Do not be so stupid to think that
The world can be looked at another way
(now read from bottom to top)
– Brian Bilston
This poem is taken from You Took the Last Bus Home, a collection of Brian Bilston’s poetry published by Unbound in October 2016