The Lord had a job for me, but I had so much to do,
I said, "You get somebody else--or wait till I get through."
I don't know how the Lord came out, but He seemed to get along:
But I felt kinda sneakin' like, 'cause I know'd I done Him wrong.
One day I needed the Lord--Needed Him myself--needed Him right
away,
And He never answered me at all, but I could hear Him say
Down in my accusin' heart, "Nigger, I'se got too much to do,
You get somebody else or wait till I get through."
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When Adam dalfe and Eve spane
So spire if thou may spede,
Where was then the pride read more
When Adam dalfe and Eve spane
So spire if thou may spede,
Where was then the pride of man,
That nowe merres his mede?
People intoxicate themselves with work so they won't see how they really are.
People intoxicate themselves with work so they won't see how they really are.
Keep doing some kind of work, that the devil may always find you
employed.
[Lat., Facito aliquid operis, read more
Keep doing some kind of work, that the devil may always find you
employed.
[Lat., Facito aliquid operis, ut semper te diabolus inveniat
occupatum.]
"Men work together," I told him from the heart,
"Whether they work together or apart."
"Men work together," I told him from the heart,
"Whether they work together or apart."
Plough deep while sluggards sleep.
Plough deep while sluggards sleep.
When Adam dolve, and Eve span,
Who was then the gentleman?
When Adam dolve, and Eve span,
Who was then the gentleman?
May you - Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, dance like no-one is read more
May you - Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, dance like no-one is watching, screw like it's being filmed, and drink like a true Irishman
By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out read more
By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out sight,
Producing what? A pair of slippers, sir,
To put on when you're weary--or a stool
To tumble over and vex you . . . curse that stool!
Or else at best, a cushion where you lean
And sleep, and dream of something we are not,
But would be for your sake. Alas, alas!
This hurts most, this . . . that, after all, we are paid
The worth of our work, perhaps.
I put all my genius into my life; I put only my talent into my works.
I put all my genius into my life; I put only my talent into my works.
