Oh, throw down your plow and hoe, Rest not to lock your homes.
And while you’re at it, be careful you don’t fall and break a hip making your way up the arena stairs.
It’s been a while, after all…
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Recent Comments
- In The Mailbox: 02.28.23 (Afternoon Edition) : The Other McCain on Hey, longtime pw readers…
- In The Mailbox: 12.23.22 : The Other McCain on Patrick J. Carroll truly IS a sad, embittered psychopath
- Danger on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
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Robert Plant seems to be morphing into Tiny Tim with each passing day. I always thought John Paul Jones didn’t get enough props. Jimmy Page sounded pretty good with the Black Crowes a few years ago.
I always liked how Zep would stick their fingers in the eye of Rolling Stone magazine back in the day because Rolling Stone would universally pan them for not Saying Something in their music and not being part of The Movement, instead following a brutish manager in Peter Grant looking for any and all ways for the band to score piles of cash.
Stonehenge!
But though it’s course may change sometimes
It has always reached the sea…
Twas in the darkest depths of Mordor
I met a girl so fair
but a Liberal.. an evil one..
Crept up and slipped away with her..
away with her…
Her, her, yeah..
Aint nothin I can do, no…
Guess I’ll keep on
Ramblin..
“It’s been a while, after all…”
It’s been a long time since I rock & rolled,
been a long time since I did the stroll…
“throw down your plow and hoe”
Shouldn’t that be “throw down your hoe and plow?”
Heh. Throw down. Plow. Ho.
“I do know my Bible, sir. On the night of their betrothal, the wife shall open to the man as the furrow to the plow. He shall work in her again and again, ‘til she bring him to his full. And rest him then upon the sweat of her breast.”
“Whoa. Good Bible.”