Little Bit of Sympathy

The light is strong and the man is weak
And the world walks in between . . .
So rise above on the wings of love
See and let yourself be seen
See and let yourself be seen

So fill your cup and drink it on up
For tomorrow never comes.
If you wield the rod, answer to your God
But me I’ll be up and gone
I’ll be up and gone, gone / I’ll be up and a gone

If the sea was glass and the land all gone
Would you still be a friend to me ?
When my time has passed, is it too much to ask
For a little bit of sympathy . . .

Just a little bit of sympathy, Lord
A little bit of sympathy
A little bit of sympathy Lord yeah

Little bit of sympathy  . . . Little bit of sympathy
A little bit of sympathy . . . A little bit of sympathy

A little bit of sympathy

 

Little Bit of Sympathy Lyrics 1974  as written by Robin Trower
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management

 

Don’t Mess w/Sheba

The men of Nineveh shall rise in judgment with this generation, and shall condemn it:
because they repented at the preaching of Jonas; and, behold, a greater than Jonas is here.
The queen of the south shall rise up in the judgment with this generation,and shall condemn it:
for she came from the uttermost parts of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon;
and, behold, a greater than Solomon is here.
Matthew 12:41,42

It’s Sunday again for you cloistered patricians
aloof from the madness, the magic and myth;
who trust in your wisdom, investments, physicians
unready to answer forthwith:

Why bother with worship—in church or the zoo—
why weaken the links with a dull set of tools ?
you ask yourself over your high-end Tarrazu,
bemused at the fables of fools.

You’ve bartered salvation for New York Times articles,
sipping on bitterness (shade-grown organic).
You settle for molecules, atoms and particles
unfairly-traded, satanic—

while you celebrate emptiness, general futility
musing on nothingness, sure of specifics
ensconced in your kitchen of pampered gentility
flirting with atheist physics.

Those simple plebeians:  you’d love to enlighten them
help them, like you, to become a free-thinker
but you remain tasteful, for boldness might frighten them
reeling in fairy tales: hook, line and sinker.

Yet somebody, somewhere has uttered your sentence
(though you abhor judgement, let’s read it again).
Sheba and Nineveh, versed in repentance
await you—not whether but when.

The darkness is brewing unholy filtration;
the wine of the harlot approaches the rim;
your guilt is augmenting in slow percolation;
you shrug it all off on a whim.

The souls of Assyria rise from your paper
they watch in amazement, prepare your abyss.
Your coffee now brims a more sulfurous vapor;
oh sinner —there’s something amiss:

The crypts of Marib and the tombs of the Axumites
shudder and groan while you’re reading the Times…
(immune to the words that some Christarded  poet writes
mixing psychosis with rhymes.)

Royal Sheba will chastise your erudite unbelief,
smug self-importance and cynical talk.
Then she’ll sigh with immense Ethiopian grief
and her Highness Queen Bilqis will balk—

It is Sunday in Babylon.  What if your sunlight ends…
why are there mobs in the streets of the nation?
Shall you have breakfast ? —or calculate dividends…
what would you pay for salvation?

The Origin Of Evil: An Elegy

Royall Tyler (1757-1826)

Of man’s first disobedience and the Fruit
Of that FORBIDDEN TREE, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our woe:
Sing heavenly muse!
           MILTON.
EVA.    Fructus ipse est pulcher sane visu:
           Nescio an sit ita dulcis gustatu;
          Veruntamen experiar. VAH. QUAM DULCIS EST!!!
         DIALOGI SACRI SABESTIANI CASTALIONIS.
Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay;
And if in death still lovely, lovelier there;
Far lovelier! Pity swells the tide of love,
And will not the severe excuse a sigh?
Scorn the proud man who is asham’d to weep.
                    YOUNG’S NIGHT THOUGHTS.

Proem

Ranting topers, midnight rovers,
Cease to roar your fleshy lays;
Melancholy, moping lovers,
No more your lapsed ladies praise.

Fix your thoughts on heavenly treasure,
Let Virtue now with Wit combine;
Purge your hearts from sensual pleasure,
With Religion mix your wine.

Let each lovely Miss and Madam,
Quit the dear joys of carnal sense,
Weep the fall of Eve and Adam,
From their first state of Innocence.

An ELEGY

In the first stillness of the even,
When blushing day began to close,
In the blissful bowers of Eden,
Our chaste Grand Parents sought repose.

No pair to act love’s glowing passion,
So fit, in these late days, are seen;
Since girls’ shapes are spoil’d by fashion,
And man’s nerves unstrung by sin.

Eve, the fairest child of nature,
In naked beauty stood reveal’d,
Exposing every limb and feature,
Save those her jetty locks conceal’d.

Light and wanton curl’d her tresses
Where each sprouting lock should grow,
Her bosom, heaving for caresses,
Seem’d blushing berries cast on snow.

Adam, got by lusty nature,
Form’d to delight a woman’s eyes,
Stood confest in manly stature,
The first of men in shape and size!

As Eve cast her arms so slender,
His brawny chest to fondly stroke;
She seem’d an ivy tendril tender
Sporting round a sturdy oak.

Innocent of nuptial blisses,
Unknown to him the balm of life;
With unmeaning, wild caresses,
Adam teaz’d his virgin wife.

As her arm Eve held him hard in,
And toy’d him with her roving hand,
In the middle of Love’s Garden,
She saw the Tree of Knowledge stand.

Stately grew the tree forbidden,
Rich curling tendrils grac’d its root;
In its airy pods, half hidden,
Hung the luscious, tempting fruit.

With Love’s coyest leer she view’d it,
Then touched it with her glowing hand;
Did just touch, but not renew’d it,
Restrain’d by the divine command.

At her guilty touch the tree seem’d
Against the blue arch’d sky to knock;
With nervous vigour every branch beam’d,
And swell’d the sturdy solid stock.

Softly sigh’d the rib-form’d beauty,
‘How love does new desires produce?
This pendant fruit o’ercomes my duty,
I pant to suck its balmy juice.

‘Why was this tall tree forbidden,
So sweet and pleasant to my eyes,
Food so fit for hungry women,
Much desir’d to make me wise?’

With sweet blandishment so civil
She finger’d soft its velvet pods;
‘Let us now know good from evil,
Dear Adam, let us be like Gods.’

With burning cheeks and eyes of fire,
Raving and raging for the bliss,
Blushing and panting with desire,
She glu’d her glowing lips to his.

‘Threaten’d death will soon o’ertake me,
If this forbidden tree I pluck,
But life itself will soon forsake me,
Unless its cordial juice I suck.’

Her soft hand then half embrac’d it,
Her heaving breasts to his inclin’d,
She op’d her coral lips to taste it,
But first she peel’d its russet rind.

In her lips she scarcely put it,
And nibbl’d ’till its sweets she found,
Then like eager glutton took it,
And, gorg’d with bliss, sunk on the ground.

At that hour, through all creation,
Rode Love sublime in triumph then,
Earth, Sea, Air, gave gratulation,
And all their offspring joy’d like them.

Fish that sported in the Gihon,
Soaring Eagles, cooing Doves,
Leopard, Panther, Wolf and Lion,
Reptile and Insect joy’d their loves.

Love’s fierce fire seiz’d e’en the posies,
Which deck’d the gay enammell’d mead,
Amorous pinks and wanton roses,
Dissolv’d in love, all shed their seed!

Eve, transported beyond measure,
Stretch’d in every vital part;
Fainting with excess of pleasure,
For mighty knowledge rift her heart.

But when its nectar’d juice she tasted,
Dissolving Eve could only sigh;
‘I feel-I feel, my life is wasted,
This hour I eat, and now I die.’

But when she saw the tree so lofty,
Sapless and shrunk in size so small;
Pointing she whisper’d Adam softly:
‘See! there is DEATH! and there’s the FALL!

       FINIS

                                                     Oh Fruit divine!
Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet THUS cropt.
        MILTON.