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When I wake up, well I know i'm gonna be,
I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next you
When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you
If I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you
And if I haver up, Yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you
But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door
When I'm working, yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you
And when the money, comes in for the work I do
I'll pass almost every penny on to you
When I come home(When I come home), well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you
And if I grow-old,(When I grow-old) well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you
But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door
da da da (da da da)
da da da (da da da)
Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da
da da da (da da da)
da da da (da da da)
Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da
When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you
And when I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream
I'm gonna Dream about the time when I'm with you
When I go out(When I go out), well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you
And when I come home(When I come home), yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you
I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you
But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door
da da da (da da da)
da da da (da da da)
Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da
da da da (da da da)
da da da (da da da)
Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da
da da da (da da da)
da da da (da da da)
Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da
da da da (da da da)
da da da (da da da)
Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da
And I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles
To fall down at your door
Now I'm a union man
Amazed at what I am
I say what I think
That the company stinks
Yes I'm a union man.
When we meet in the local hall
I'll be voting with them all
With a hell of a shout
It's out brothers out
And the rise of the factory's fall.
Oh you don't get me I'm part of the union
You don't get me I'm part of the union
You don't get me I'm part of the union
Till the day I die, till the day I die.
As a union man I'm wise
To the lies of the company spies
And I don't get fooled
By the factory rules
'Cause I always read between the lines.
And I always get my way
If I strike for higher pay
When I show my card
To the Scotland Yard
This what I say.
Oh you don't get me I'm part of the union
You don't get me I'm part of the union
You don't get me I'm part of the union
Till the day I die, till the day I die.
Before the union did appear
My life was half as clear
Now I've got the power
To the working hour
And every other day of the year.
So though I'm a working man
I can ruin the government's plan
Though I'm not too hard
The sight of my card
Makes me some kind of superman.
Oh you don't get me I'm part of the union
You don't get me I'm part of the union
You don't get me I'm part of the union
Till the day I die, till the day I die.
They beat him all day, and the next. Nothing doing.
They beat him 'round the D, banged his head on the table.
"Say just one sentence! Just one word!"
They showed him his passport, foreign visas,
books and secret documents from the lining of his suitcase,
but then when they showed him his English tommy gun
he said, "take away the tablecloth, I'm going to throw up."
That's all he said. He was black and blue.
They took him to Majdanek, locked him behind the wire.
At night he cut the wire, escaped right under the sentries' eyes.
What use is glory if this memory dies?
Badanie
Witkowi Piatkowskienu
Bili dzien, bili drugi, nie idzie,
bili przez cala dobe. Tak wi kolko - przez tydzien.
,,Mow, mow - krzyczeli - przeciez wiemy wszytko!
Snamy twoj pseudonim! I twoje nazwisko!"
Pokazywali dowod, tlukli o stol glowaj:
,,Powiedz choc jedno zdanie! Chociaz jedno slowo!"
Pokazywali paszport, zagraniczne wizy,
ksizki, tajne instrukcje wyprute z walizy,
ksiazki, tajne instrukcje wyprute z walizy,
az gdy mu pokazali angielski Tumigan,
rzekl: "Wezcie obrus ze stolu. Zaraz bede rzygal."
I wiecej nie rzekl nic, cialo mial sine.
Zawiezli na Majdanek i zamkneli w drucie.
Przecial druty, na oczach warty noca uciekl.
Coz jest slawa, jezeli taka slawa ginie?
(-- pgs. 36-37)
Quote:
Friends
All my friends,
damn it,
knew how to live in the damp cells
of Pawiak.
All my friends,
the fools,
refused blindfolds
at the post.
All my friends,
the asses,
already have grass
on their graves.
All my friends,
all mad ...
Write the poem, hold the tears.
Nothing more.
Przyjaciele
Wszyscy moi przyjaciele,
mac taka,
syc umieli w mokrej celi
Pawiaka.
Wszyscy moi przyjaciele,
ze glupi,
ocz nie dali sobie wiazac
pod slupem.
Wszyscy moi przyjaciele,
ze osly,
juz na grobach im zielen
wyrosla.
Wsyscy moi prozyjaaciele
szalency.
Wiersz napisac, lzy powstrzymac.
Nic wiecej.
... With what I hoped was a steady hand, I pushed half of my remaining chips on a nine; they instantly disappeared. So I passed on the shoe and tried to think. To pay off my debt, I would have to give up the flat where I was living, ask my mother to take care of my son, find a one-room apartment nearby and for the next two years work exclusively for the benefit of the taxman and the Clermont Club. I could say goodbye to holidays, car, outings, clothes and a carefree existence. It was a catastrophe. (N.B. Frankie had lost eighty thousand pounds!)
So catastrophic, I thought, that if I was going to lose two years of my life anyway, losing four would make no difference. I raised my hand rather idly and the alacritous valet was immediately at my side with the wretched little stack on his wretched tray. Once more I signed one of his wretched little chits and in a ringing voice asked to play banco next time round. I won. After that I played banco whenever I had the opportunity. I was gambling recklessly, as though there were no tomorrow, as they say, and - what a miracle! - it was all coming back again. ... After an hour had passed in this wanton way, I discreetly enquired of the silk-stockinged messenger how I now stood with the house. He went and spoke to the propiretor who, it seemed to me from what I could see out of the corner of my eye, was much quicker in his calculation, the result of which was brought back to me on another little note, which I unfolded without betraying any haste. I now owed only fifty pounds. ...
I stood up, suddenly weary, and cordially took my leave of everyone at the table, who responded just as cordially. I went to pay my fifty pounds to the cashier. The proprietor saw me out, accompanying me as far as the staircase descending to Annabel's - the same staircase I had climbed two hours earlier felling very lighthearted, and down which I had almost returned a pauper an hour later. (From Games of Chance, pgs. 32-34)
I tell them it's a matter of hours and look for Sophie. She's by Baker, the Committee Chairman this year. Always the Committee Chairman, he's the only one with such a streak of masochism. Sophie's by Baker and there's no sign of her Mr. Gillis.
There's another one makes the hip act up. Two or three times I've seen the man since he set up housekeeping with Sophie, and every time I'm in pain. Like an allergy, only bone-deep. It's not just he's CP from the word go - we all had our fling with the Party, and they have their point of view. But Gillis is the sort that didn't hop off of Joe Stalin's bandwagon till after it nose-dived into the sewer. The deal with Berlin wasn't enough for Gillis, or the Purges, no, nor any of the other tidbits that started coming out from reliable sources. Not till the Party announced officially that Joe was off the Sainted list did Gillis catch a whiff.
Maybe he's a good cook.
She lights up when she sees me. That smile, after all these years, that smile and my knees are water. She hasn't gone the Mother Jones route, Sophie, no shawls and spectacles, she's nobody's granny on the candy box. She's thin, a strong thin, not like Diamond, and her eyes, they still stop your breath from across the room. Always there was a such a crowd, such a crowd around Sophie. And always she made each one think he was at the head of the line.
"Leo, you came! I was afraid you'd be shy again." She hugs me, tells Baker I'm like a brother.
Sophie who always rallied us after a beating, who bound our wounds, who built our pride back up from shambles and never faltered a step. The iron she had! In Portland they're shaving her head, but no wig for Sophie, she wore it like a badge. And the fire! Toe-to-toe with a fat Biloxi deputy, head-to-head with a Hoboken wharf boss, starting a near-riot from her soapbox in Columbus Circle, but shaping it, turning it, stampeding all that anger and energy in the right direction.
Still the iron, still the fire, and still it's Leo you're like a brother. (-- pgs. 25-26)
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Selected Shorts from Symphony Space
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An uproarious live event featuring Linda Lavin reading Grace Paley's Christmas classic, The Loudest Voice, and Jerry Stiller, whose delivery of the Sayles title story is the stuff of comedy legend!
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