Society and the World

All business depends upon men fulfilling their responsibilities.

All compromise is based on give and take, but there can be no give and take on fundamentals. Any compromise on mere fundamentals is a surrender; for it is all give and no take.

A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave.

Hark! Hark! The dogs do bark, The beggars are coming to town; Some in rags, some in tags, And some in velvet gowns.

The farmer in the dell, the farmer in the dell, Heigho! the derry oh, the farmer in the dell.

Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye, Four and twenty blackbirds, Baked in a pie; When the pie was opened, The birds began to sing; Wasn’t that a dainty dish To set before a king? The king was in his countinghouse Counting out his money; The queen was in the parlor Eating bread and honey; The maid was in the garden Hanging out the clothes, Along came a blackbird, And snipped off her nose.

And hey Mr. Cop Ain’t got no birth certificate on me now

And hey Mr. Cop Ain’t got no birth certificate on me now

We’re leaving Babylon We’re going to our Father’s land.

A hungry mob is an angry mob.

Slave driver, the table is turn. Catch a fire so you can get burn.

Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes-Benz, My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.

I see my light come shining From the west unto the east Any day now, any day now I shall be released.

To live outside the law, you must be honest.

The pump don’t work ’Cause the vandals took the handles.

The pump don’t work ’Cause the vandals took the handles.

Take me for a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship, My senses have been stripped, My hands can’t feel to grip, My toes too numb to step Wait only for my boot heels to be wanderin’.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to.

While money doesn’t talk, it swears.

While money doesn’t talk, it swears.

But even the president of the United States Sometimes must have to stand naked.

Yonder stands your orphan with his gun Crying like a fire in the sun Look out, the saints are comin’ through And it’s all over now, Baby Blue.

When your rooster crows at the break of dawn Look out your window and I’ll be gone You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on Don’t think twice, it’s all right

Come you masters of war You that build all the guns You that build the death planes You that build the big bombs You that hide behind walls You that hide behind desks I just want you to know I can see through your masks