October, 2017

Sanna Vehviläinen

POSTED IN Stories October 11, 2017

Sanna Vehviläinen

…a selfie with my favourite writer :)!

Maria Magdalena Biela

I saw you dancing

POSTED IN Music October 11, 2017

I saw you dancing

I saw you dancing
And I’ll never be the same again for sure
I saw you dancing
Say Yaki-Da my love
I saw you dancing
And I’ll never be the same again for sure
I saw you dancing
Say Yaki-Da
I’m waiting for a change
To get to know you
To ask for a dance
Just look into my eyes
And I’ll take you to paradise
I saw you dancing
And I’ll never be the same again for sure
I saw you dancing
Say Yaki-Da my love
I saw you dancing
And I’ll never be the same again for sure
I saw you dancing
Say Yaki-Da
I’m falling, I’m falling
Cause life’s not easy for me
Please touch me like you do
To have you near me
To go where you go
Why waste a lot of time
My love is not a serious crime
I saw you dancing
And I’ll never be the same again for sure
I saw you dancing
Say Yaki-Da my love
I saw you dancing
And I’ll never be the same again for sure
I saw you dancing
Say Yaki-Da
I’m falling to pieces
Who do you think you are
Maybe I’ve gone too far
Maybe I’m in love with you
Don’t hurt me or treat me bad
Cause I will fight for what is mine
Say Yaki-Da
Cause life is meant for living
I saw you dancing
And I’ll never be the same again for sure
I saw you dancing
Say Yaki-Da my love
I saw you dancing
And I’ll never be the same again for sure
I saw you dancing
Say Yaki-Da.

Yaki-Da

October Birthday

POSTED IN AUTUMN October 8, 2017

Happy Birthday!!!

Friends

October’s fire

POSTED IN AUTUMN October 7, 2017

Oh Who Is That Young Sinner

Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists?
And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists?
And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air?
Oh they’re taking him to prison for the colour of his hair.

‘Tis a shame to human nature, such a head of hair as his;
In the good old time ’twas hanging for the colour that it is;
Though hanging isn’t bad enough and flaying would be fair
For the nameless and abominable colour of his hair.

Oh a deal of pains he’s taken and a pretty price he’s paid
To hide his poll or dye it of a mentionable shade;
But they’ve pulled the beggar’s hat off for the world to see and stare,
And they’re haling him to justice for the colour of his hair.

Now ’tis oakum for his fingers and the treadmill for his feet
And the quarry-gang on Portland in the cold and in the heat,
And between his spells of labour in the time he has to spare
He can curse the God that made him for the colour of his hair.
A.E. Housman