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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508432" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Longevity</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I watched one day a parrot grey - 'twas in a barber shop.<br>&quot;Cuckold!&quot; he cried, until I sighed: &quot;You feathered devil, stop!&quot;<br>Then balefully he looked at me, and slid along his perch,<br>With sneering eye that seemed to pry me very soul to search.<br>So fierce, so bold, so grim, so cold, so agate was his stare:<br>And then that bird I thought I heard this sentiment declare: -</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;As it appears, a hundred years a parrot may survive,<br>When you are gone I'll sit upon this perch and be alive.<br>In this same spot I'll drop my crot, and crack my sunflower seeds,<br>And cackle loud when in a shroud you rot beneath the weeds.<br>I'll carry on when carrion you lie beneath the yew;<br>With claw and beak my grub I'll seek when grubs are seeking you.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Foul fowl! said I, &quot;don't prophesy, I'll jolly well contrive<br>That when I rot in bone-yard lot you cease to be alive.&quot;<br>So I bespoke that barber bloke: &quot;Joe, here's a five pound note.<br>It's crisp and new, and yours if you will slice that parrot's throat.&quot;<br>&quot;In part,&quot; says he, &quot;I must agree, for poor I be in pelf,<br>With right good will I'll take your bill, but - cut his throat yourself.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So it occurred I took that bird to my ancestral hall,<br>And there he sat and sniggered at the portraits on the wall.<br>I sought to cut his wind-pipe but he gave me such a peck,<br>So cross was I, I swore I'd try to wring his blasted neck;<br>When shrill he cried: &quot;It's parrotcide what you propose to do;<br>For every time you make a rhyme you're just a parrot too.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Said I: &quot;It's true. I bow to you. Poor parrots are we all.&quot;<br>And now I sense with reverence the wisdom of his poll.<br>For every time I want a rhyme he seems to find the word;<br>In any doubt he helps me out - a most amazing bird.<br>This line that lies before your eyes he helped me to indite;<br>I sling the ink but often think it's he who ought to write.<br>It's he who should in mystic mood concoct poetic screeds,<br>And I who ought to drop my crot and crackle sunflower seeds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A parrot nears a hundred years (or so the legend goes),<br>So were I he this century I might see to its close.<br>Then I might swing within my ring while revolutions roar,<br>And watch a world to ruin hurled - and find it all a bore.<br>As upside-down I cling and clown, I might with parrot eyes<br>Blink blandly when excited men are moulding Paradise.<br>New Christs might die, while grimly I would croak and carry on,<br>Till gnarled and old I should behold the year TWO THOUSAND dawn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But what a fate! How I should hate upon my perch to sit,<br>And nothing do to make anew a world for angels fit.<br>No, better far, though feeble are my lyric notes and flat,<br>Be dead and done than anyone who lives a life like that.<br>Though critic-scarred a humble bard I feel I'd rather be,<br>Than flap and flit and shriek and spit through all a century.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So feathered friend, until the end you may divide my den,<br>And make a mess, which (more or less) I clean up now and then.<br>But I prefer the doom to share of dead and gone compeers,<br>Than parrot be, and live to see ten times a hundred years.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</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=508432" data-title="Longevity de Robert William Service" data-description="I watched one day a parrot grey - 'twas in a barber shop.
&quot;Cuckold!&quot; he cried, until I sighed: &quot;You feathered devil, stop!&quot;
Then balefully he looked at me, and slid along his perch,
With sneering eye that seemed to pry me very ..."></div>
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