Aces High Bulletin Board
General Forums => The O' Club => Topic started by: _Schadenfreude_ on July 01, 2004, 03:51:26 AM
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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
You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly
Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain
You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud
You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins
How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do
Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul
And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead
Copyright © 1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
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Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.
Alfred Tennyson
(http://www.chriscollingwood.com/images/dhm1185.jpg)
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Argonne Forest, at midnight
A sapper's song from the World War, 1915
Otto Dix
Argonne Forest, at midnight,
A sapper atands on guard.
A star shines high up in the sky,
bringing greetings from a distant homeland.
And with a spade in his hand,
He waits forward in the sap-trench.
He thinks with longing on his love,
Wondering if he will ever see her again.
The artillery roars like thunder,
While we wait in front of the infantry,
With shells crashing all around.
The Frenchies want to take our position.
Should the enemy threaten us even more,
We Germans fear him no more.
And should he be so strong,
He will not take our position.
The storm breaks! The mortar crashes!
The sapper begins his advance.
Forward to the enemy trenches,
There he pulls the pin on a grenade.
The infantry stand in wait,
Until the hand grenade explodes.
Then forward with the assault against the enemy,
And with a shout, break into their position.
Argonne Forest, Argonne Forest,
Soon thou willt be a quiet cemetary.
In thy cool earth rests
much gallant soldiers' blood.
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When I am sad and weary,
When I think all hope has gone,
When I walk along High Holborn
I think of you with nothing on
Adrian Mitchell b. 1932. "Celia Celia," epigram on an 1834 statue by Sir Richard Westmacott topping the column on Carlton House Tower, London.
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There once was a man from nantucket
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Qui desiderat pacem
Praeparet bellum.
(Let him who desires peace, prepare for war)
Vegetius (4th-5th Century A.D.)
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Originally posted by Furball
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.
Alfred Tennyson
(http://www.chriscollingwood.com/images/dhm1185.jpg)
(http://www.ironmaiden.com.ua/ua_ru/Singls/s83-2.jpg)
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The Send-off
Down the close, darkening lanes they sang their way
To the siding-shed,
And lined the train with faces grimly gay.
Their breasts were stuck all white with wreath and spray
As men's are, dead.
Dull porters watched them, and a casual tramp
Stood staring hard,
Sorry to miss them from the upland camp.
Then, unmoved, signals nodded, and a lamp
Winked to the guard.
So secretly, like wrongs hushed-up, they went.
They were not ours:
We never heard to which front these were sent.
Nor there if they yet mock what women meant
Who gave them flowers.
Shall they return to beatings of great bells
In wild trainloads?
A few, a few, too few for drums and yells,
May creep back, silent, to still village wells
Up half-known roads.
Wilfred Owen
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Men of Harlech, march to glory, victory is hov'ring o're ye,
Bright-eyed freedom stands before ye, hear ye not her call?
At your sloth she seems to wonder, rend the sluggish bonds asunder,
Let the warcry's deafluff'ning thunder ev'ry foe appal.
Echoes loudly waking hill and valley shaking:
Till the sound spreads wide around, the Saxon's courage breaking:
Your foes on ev'ry side assailing, forward press with heart unfailing,
Till invaders learn with quailing, Cambria ne'er can yield.
Thou who noble Cambria wrongest know that freedom's cause is strongest
Freedom's courage lasts the longest, ending but with death!
Freedom countless hosts can scatter, freedom stoutest mail can shatter,
Freedom thickest walls can batter, fate is in her breath.
See they now are flying! Dead are heaped with dying!
Over might hath triumphed right, our land to foes denying:
Upon their soil we never sought them, love of conquest hither brought them,
But this lesson, we have taught them, "Cambria ne'er can yield."
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Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.
Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.
Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'.
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.
Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.
The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.
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All Is Vanity
The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem.
Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.
What profit hath a man of all his labor which he taketh under the sun?
One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever.
The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place where he arose.
The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits.
All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full: unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again.
All things are full of labor; man cannot utter it: the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.
The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.
Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us.
There is no remembrance of former things; neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after.
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If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
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Iron, you left out the part the Byrds made famous!
(Ecclesiastes was one of my fav's back in the old, old days. Still is, I guess.)
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Schade, times didn't change much.
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You were the girl that changed my world
You were the girl for me
You lit the fuse I stand accused
You were the first for me
But you turned me out baby
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
But you turned me on baby.
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
You were my thrills, you were my pills
You dropped a bomb on me
You turn me out,
you turn me on,
you turned me loose
Then you turned me wrong
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
But you turned me out baby
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
Just like Adam and Eve.
Said you'd set me free,
you took me to the sky
I'd never been so high
You were my pills, you were my thrills
You were my hope baby, you were my smoke
You dropped a bomb on me, hey baby
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
But you turned me out, baby
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
But you turned me on, baby
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
We were in motion, felt like lotion
You were the girl for me
You were the first explosion,
Turned out to be corrosion
You were the first for me.
But you turned me out, baby
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
I won't forget what you done to me, baby.
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
I, II, III won't forget it
I, II, III won't forget it
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
You dropped a bomb on me, baby
You dropped a bomb on me.
I, II, III won't forget it
I, II, III won't forget it
You turned me out, you turned me on
And then you dropped me to the ground
You dropped a bomb on me.
You turned me out, you turned me on
And then you dropped me to the ground
You dropped a bomb on me.
You turned me out, then you turned me on
You dropped a bomb on me
You dropped a bomb on me
You dropped a bomb on me
You dropped a bomb on me
You dropped a bomb
----GAP Band
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Originally posted by Toad
Iron, you left out the part the Byrds made famous!
(Ecclesiastes was one of my fav's back in the old, old days. Still is, I guess.)
I always like that one too. Here it is:
Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)
The Byrds
words adapted from the Book of Ecclesiastes by Pete Seeger
music by Pete Seeger
To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven
A time of war, a time of peace
A time of love, a time of hate
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing
To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time of peace, I swear it's not too late!
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Us and Them
Us and them
and after all we're only ordinary men
me and you
God only knows it's not what we would choose to do
forward he cried from the rear
and the front rank died
and the General sat, and the lines on the map
moved from side to side
Black and blue
and who knows which is which and who is who
up and down
and in the end it's only round and round and round
haven't you heard it's a battle of words
the poster bearer cried
listen, son, said the man with the gun
there's room for you inside
Down and out
it can't be helped but there's a lot of it about
with, without
and who'll deny it's what the fighting's all about
out of the way, it's a busy day
I've got things on my mind
for want of the price of tea and a slice
the old man died
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Listen children to a story that was written long ago
'bout a kingdom on a mountain and the valley folk below.
On the mountain was a treasure buried deep beneath a stone,
and the valley people swore they'd have it for their very own.
Go ahead and hate your neighbor, go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of heaven, justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowin' come the judgment day
on the bloody morning after one tin soldier rides away.
So the people of the valley sent a message up the hill
asking for the buried treasure, tons of gold for which they'd kill.
Came an answer from the kingdom: "With our brothers we will share
all the secrets of our mountain, all the riches buried there."
Go ahead and hate your neighbor, go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of heaven, justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowin' come the judgment day
on the bloody morning after one tin soldier rides away.
Now the valley cried with anger; mount your horses, draw your sword,
and they killed the mountain people, so they won their just reward.
Now they stood beside the treasure on the mountain, dark and red,
turned the stone and looked beneath it. "Peace on earth" was all it said.
Go ahead and hate your neighbor, go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of heaven, justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowin' come the judgment day
on the bloody morning after one tin soldier rides away.
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TO THE ANZACS
"Those heroes that shed their blood
and lost their lives;
You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country.
Therefore rest in peace.
There is no difference between the Johnnies
and the Mehemets to us where they lie side by side
here in this country of ours.
You, the mothers,
who sent their sons from far away countries,
wipe away your tears;
your sons are now lying in our bosom
and are at peace.
After having lost their lives on this land they have
become our sons as well."
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Originally posted by storch
There once was a man from nantucket
LOL!
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Here's a well known one:
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
John McCrae
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That was my second choice!
well done!
Ravs
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The Soldier
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
-Rupert Brooke
The Gunner's Dream
Floating down through the clouds
Memories come rushing up to meet me now.
In the space between the heavens
and in the corner of some foreigh field
I had a dream.
I had a dream.
Goodbye Max.
Goodbye Ma.
After the serng slowly to the car
And the silver in her hair shines in the cold november air
You hear the tolling bell
And touch the silk in your lapel
And as the tear drops rise to meet the comfort of the band
You take her frail hand
And hold on to the dream.
A place to stay
"Oi! A real one ..."
Enough to eat
Somewhere old heroes shuffle safely down the street
Where you can speak out loud
About your doubts and fears
And whats more no-one ever disappears
You never hear their standard issue kicking in your door.
You can relax on both sides of the tracks
And maniacs don't blow holes in bandsmen by remote control
And everyone has recourse to the law
And no-one kills the children anymore.
And no one kills the children anymore.
Night after night
Going round and round my brain
His dream is driving me insane.
In the corner of some foreign field
The gunner sleeps tonight.
What's done is done.
We cannot just write off his final scene.
Take heed of his dream.
Take heed.
-Pink Floyd
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I Was Only 19 (A Walk in the Light Green) - lyrics by John Schuman
Mum and Dad and Denny saw the passing out parade at Puckapunyal, it was long march from cadets.
The Sixth Battalion was the next to tour and it was me who drew the card…
We did Canungra and Shoalwater before we left.
And Townsville lined the footpath as we marched down to the quay;
This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean;
And there's me in my slouch hat, with my SLR and greens…
God help me, I was only nineteen.
From Vung Tau riding Chinooks to the dust at Nui Dat,
I'd been in and out of choppers now for months.
But we made our tents a home, VB and pin-ups on the lockers,
and an Asian orange sunset through the scrub.
And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And night time's just a jungle dark and a barking M16?
And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen.
A four week operation, when each step could mean your last one on two legs:
it was a war within yourself.
But you wouldn't let your mates down 'til they had you dusted off,
so you closed your eyes and thought about something else.
Then someone yelled out "Contact"', and the bloke behind me swore.
We hooked in there for hours, then a God almighty roar;
Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon: -
God help me, he was going home in June.
I can still see Frankie, drinking tinnies in the Grand Hotel
on a thirty-six hour rec. leave in Vung Tau.
And I can still hear Frankie lying screaming in the jungle.
'Till the morphine came and killed the bloody row
And the Anzac legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears,
and stories that my father told me never seemed quite real
I caught some pieces in my back that I didn't even feel…
God help me, I was only nineteen.
And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet?
And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me,
I was only nineteen.
FOR THE FALLEN - Laurence Binyon
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children
England mourns for her dead across the sea,
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow,
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again,
They sit no more at familiar tables of home,
They have no lot in our labour of the daytime,
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires and hopes profound,
Felt as a wellspring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the night.
As the stars shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
Tronsky
-
Alan Seeger
Rendezvous
I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air--
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath--
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.
God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear . . .
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.
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An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above:
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love:
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
-
I am just an aging drummer boy, and in the wars I used to play
And I've called the tune to many a torture session
Now they say I am a war criminal and I'm fading away
Father, please hear my confession
I have legalized robbery, called it belief
I have run with the money, I have hid like a thief
Re-written history with armies and my crooks
Invented memories, I did burn all the books
And I can still hear his laughter
And I can still hear his song
The man's too big
The man's too strong
Well I tried to be meek
I have tried to be mild
But I spat like a woman
And sulked like a child
I have lived behind walls
That have made me alone
Striven for peace
Which I have never known
And I can still hear his laughter
And I can still hear his song
The man's too big
The man's too strong
Well the sun rose on the courtyard
And they all did hear him say
"You always was a Judas
But I got you anyway
You may have got your silver
But I swear upon my life
Your sister gave me diamonds
And I gave 'em to your wife
And I can still hear his laughter
And I can still hear his song
The man's too big
The man's too strong
Dire Straits
The Man's Too Strong
Dedicated to Sadaam and his first appearance in court.
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I don't want a pickle,
I just want to ride on my motorcycle.
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My band broke up because the Drummer wanted to be all political and I just wanted to have a good time.
I just never have given a flying **** what some punk band thinks about the world lol.
I guess I just don't see rock and rollers as the poets of our time, and when I do think about that idea, I cry. Now I'm depressed lol.
-Sik
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Si sta,
come d'autunno,
sugli alberi le foglie.
We are,
like in autumn,
the leaves on the trees.
Giuseppe Ungaretti, during WWI
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Ask not for whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.