We sail tonight for Singapore..

The Weight

I pulled into Nazareth, I was feelin' about half past dead;
I just need some place where I can lay my head.
"Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"
He just grinned and shook my hand, and "No!", was all he said.

...and Paul Hindenburg was dazed and confused as his Zeppelin came tumbling down after the levee had broken

Poor Tom sat on his porch reading Moby Dick eating a Tangerine with some Custard Pie as his Living Loving Maid (She is however, Just a Woman) Rambled On how Tom had put ketchup all over her Kashmir dress left over from his Hot Dog. "Since I’ve Been Loving You," she said In The Light of their porch, "Those Ten Years Gone can’t bring back All My Love." Dazed and Confused, Tom tried to understand this Communication Breakdown.


"Hey, Hey What Can I Do? Nobody’s Fault but Mine, I suppose," he said, reflecting upon the Good Times, Bad Times. "But I Can’t Quit You Baby. I’ve got a Whole Lotta Love for you, not even The Ocean could contain How Many More Times I’d love you."

"What about that puddle Down by The Seaside? The Song Remains the Same with you," Darlene said. "Living alone with you up on this Black Mountain Side, I sometimes think of Going To California, Over the Hills and Far Away…"

"But you’re a Black Country Woman!" Tom argued "Don’t go and be a Heartbreaker, my love for you reaches the Ozone, Baby. I’d stop The Battle of Evermore In My Time of Dying For Your Life!"

"Look at my dress!" Darlene pointed Out on the Tiles. "My clothes are Wearing and Tearing! The D’yer Mak’er brand doesn’t even take the stains out! I’m Sick Again of you treating me like some Black Dog, like The Rover our Friends have down in Bron Yr-Aur."

"Bron Yr-Aur!?" Tom Stomped. "I’d rather take the Stairway to Heaven than the South Bound Saurez to that Gallows Pole of a place. I’m always Trampled Under Foot by Walter’s Walk, the bastard!"

"I hope you prepared Tea for One, because In The Evening, Babe I’m Gonna Leave You."

Tom laughed. "Girl, You Shook Me for a sec! Thank You for putting some Misty Mountain Hop in my old Dancing Days! C’mon, lets Rock and Roll to The Wanton Song! We’re Gonna Grove tonight!"

"I’m not in the mood for The Crunge anymore," Darlene said coldly. "Go ahead and play The Rain Song and dance like some Fool in the Rain. I can just as easily do the Carouselambra over at Bonzo’s Montreux, or Boogie With Stu! I’m tired of your childish Candy Store Rock attitude. Your Time Is Gonna Come when you realize What Is and What Should Never Be. When The Levee Breaks, I’m off to the Houses of the Holy, find me some real men!"

"You’ve got the Hots On For Nowhere! No way I’m Gonna Crawl all the way to Royal Orleans to drag you back! We’ve got no spare money, not even No Quarter!"

"Lucky I’m taking the Night Flight then, simple and cheap, a lot like you! You never could Bring It On Home, no cash, no love."

"You honestly think they’re gonna welcome you? Have a huge Celebration Day and play the Immigrant Song for you all day long? Those fools play Four Sticks in their spare time like children when they’re not ogling women! You know that!"

"Than That’s The Way it is then. At least I’ll get some attention finally."

"But Darlene,"

"Don’t be desperate! Don’t go and pull some desperate Achilles Last Stand to try and win something back. We’re done. Hats off To Roy Harper for truly understanding a woman’s needs."

With that, Darlene packed her things that night and left Poor Tom that night. She walked towards the airport humming the Traveling Riverside Blues.

"Baby Come On Home!!" Poor Tom yelled out.

......The Lemon Song.

http://www.ultimate-guitar.com/columns/fiction/led_zeppelin_coincidences.html

Üpriski omapärane ettevõtmine.

.

"...a vast radiant beach and cooled jeweled moon

Couples naked race down by it's quiet side

And we laugh like soft, mad children

Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy

The music and voices are all around us."

Jim Morrison

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted - nevermore!

by the great Edgar Allan Poe.