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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Terence, This is Stupid Stuff</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Terence, this is stupid stuff! <br>You eat your victuals fast enough; <br>There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, <br>To see the rate you drink your beer. <br>But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, <br>It gives a chap the belly-ache! <br>The cow, the old cow, she is dead; <br>It sleeps well, the horned head... <br>We poor lads, 'tis our turn now <br>To hear such tunes as killed the cow! <br>Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme <br>Your friends to death before their time <br>Moping melancholy mad! <br>Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad!&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, <br>There's brisker pipes than poetry. <br>Say, for what were hop-yards meant, <br>Or why was Burton built on Trent? <br>Oh many a peer of England brews <br>Livelier liquor than the Muse, <br>And malt does more than Milton can <br>To justify God's ways to man. <br>Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink <br>For fellows whom it hurts to think: <br>Look into the pewter pot <br>To see the world as the world's not. <br>And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: <br>The mischief is that 'twill not last. <br>Oh I have been to Ludlow fair <br>And left my necktie God knows where, <br>And carried half way home, or near, <br>Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: <br>Then the world seemed none so bad, <br>And I myself a sterling lad; <br>And down in lovely muck I've lain, <br>Happy till I woke again. <br>Then I saw the morning sky: <br>Heigho, the tale was all a lie; <br>The world, it was the old world yet, <br>I was I, my things were wet, <br>And nothing now remained to do <br>But begin the game anew. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Therefore, since the world has still <br>Much good, but much less good than ill, <br>And while the sun and moon endure <br>Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, <br>I'd face it as a wise man would, <br>And train for ill and not for good. <br>'Tis true, the stuff I bring for sale <br>Is not so brisk a brew as ale: <br>Out of a stem that scored the hand <br>I wrung it in a weary land. <br>But take it: if the smack is sour, <br>The better for the embittered hour; <br>It should do good to heart and head <br>When your soul is in my soul's stead; <br>And I will friend you, if I may, <br>In the dark and cloudy day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was a king reigned in the East: <br>There, when kings will sit to feast, <br>They get their fill before they think <br>With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. <br>He gathered all the springs to birth <br>From the many-venomed earth; <br>First a little, thence to more, <br>He sampled all her killing store; <br>And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, <br>Sate the king when healths went round. <br>They put arsenic in his meat <br>And stared aghast to watch him eat; <br>They poured strychnine in his cup <br>And shook to see him drink it up: <br>They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: <br>Them it was their poison hurt. <br>--I tell the tale that I heard told. <br>Mithridates, he died old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Edward+Housman">Alfred Edward Housman</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341570" data-title="Terence, This is Stupid Stuff de Alfred Edward Housman" data-description="&quot;Terence, this is stupid stuff! 
You eat your victuals fast enough; 
There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, 
To see the rate you drink your beer. 
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, 
It gives a chap the belly-ache! 
The cow, the old cow, ..."></div>
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