Marcus Tullius Tiro (died c. 4 BC) was first a slave, then a freedman of Cicero. He is frequently mentioned in Cicero's letters. After Cicero's death he published his former master's collected works. He also wrote a considerable number of books himself, and possibly invented an early form of shorthand.
The date of Tiro's birth is uncertain. Jerome dates it to 103 BC, which would make him only a little younger than Cicero. However, he was probably born considerably later than that: Cicero refers to him as an "excellent young man" (adulescentem probum) in 50 BC.
It is possible that Tiro was born a slave in Cicero's household in Arpinum and came with his family to Rome. However we do not know for sure that he was a verna (homegrown slave). Cicero refers to Tiro frequently in his letters. His duties included taking dictation, deciphering Cicero's handwriting and managing his table, as well as his garden and financial affairs. Cicero remarks on how useful he is to him in his work and studies.
Tiro may refer to:
I got a friend named Whiskey Sam
He was my boonierat buddy for a year in Nam
He said is my country just a little off track
Took 'em twenty-five years to welcome me back
But, it's better than not coming back at all
Many a good man I saw fall
And even now, every time I dream
I hear the men and the monkeys in the jungle scream
Drive on, it don't mean nothin'
My children love me , but they don't understand
And I got a woman who knows her man
Drive on, don't mean nothin', drive on
I remember one night, Tex and me
Rappelled in on a hot L.Z
We had our 16's on rock and roll
But, with all that fire, I was scared and cold
We were crazy, we were wild
And I have seen the tiger smile
I spit in a bamboo viper's face
And I'd be dead , but by God's grace
Drive on, it don't mean nothin'
My children love me , but they don't understand
And I got a woman who knows her man
Drive on, don't mean nothin', drive on
It was a real slow walk in a real sad rain
And nobody tried to be John Wayne
I came home, but Tex did not
And I can't talk about the hit he got
I got a little limp now when I walk
Got a little tremolo when I talk
But my letter read from Whiskey Sam
You're a walkin' talkin' miracle from Vietnam
Drive on, it don't mean nothin'
My children love me , but they don't understand
And I got a woman who knows her man