written at the Herzl Camp

"A drunken man got mad at him / Because he barked in joy / He beat him and he's dying here today / Will you call the doctor please / And tell him if he comes right now / He'll save my precious doggy here he lay / Then he left the fluffy head / But his little dog was dead / Just a shiver and he slowly passed away."


*This extract comes from a poem called Little Buddy, and is controversial. Allegedly written at the Herzl camp there are claims it might be originated by someone else by the name of Hank Snow.

I know what is going to happen.
I can feel it guiding me.
But as soon as a word is uttered,
I fall off course and
my intuition shattered.

What can I do to focus my energy?
What can I do to focus my strength?
How do I keep these stray thoughts from roamin' free?

People make patterns, patterns make people.
I know this because of patterns. Patterns.

When people give me love,
I think that is all I need,
But I should see the pattern
and know that love isn't always free.

I have paid off my dues
and now my love is free.
Why is it then, that this isn't
the love I need.