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Beast Of Codden Moor
fear rides the beast of codden moor
the men are hunting the beast of
codden moor
it run, s as fast as legs will carry
it, s breath steam, s on air so crisp
it, s heart beats a tempo of it, s own
faster faster faster faster faster
you beast of codden moor
but men ride horse, s fast as wind
to catch a beast on codden moor
that falls and tumbles through the snow
upon codden moor
it raises a head of strengh and beauty
a horn of bone lies within the head
of a beast of codden moor
death comes quick as spears stab down
as swords swish as they find virgin flesh
on this beast of codden moor
poem by Graham Russell
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Hope The Hornblower
'Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
Sluggards, awake, and front the morn!
Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
The sun's on meadow and mill.
Follow me, hearts that love the chase;
Follow me, feet that keep the pace:
Stirrup to stirrup we ride, we ride,
We ride by moor and hill.'
Huntsman, huntsman, whither away?
What is the quarry afoot to-day?
Huntsman, huntsman, whither away,
And what the game ye kill?
Is it the deer, that men may dine?
Is it the wolf that tears the kine?
What is the race ye ride, ye ride,
Ye ride by moor and hill?
'Ask not yet till the day be dead
What is the game that's forward fled,
Ask not yet till the day be dead
The game we follow still.
An echo it may be, floating past;
A shadow it may be, fading fast:
Shadow or echo, we ride, we ride,
We ride by moor and hill'
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Suffer Little Children
Over the moor, take me to the moor
Dig a shallow grave
And i'll lay me down
Over the moor, take me to the moor
Dig a shallow grave
And i'll lay me down
Lesley-anne, with your pretty white beads
Oh john, you'll never be a man
You'll never see your home again
Oh manchester, so much to answer for
Edward, see those alluring lights ?
Tonight will be your very last night
A woman said : "i know my son is dead
I'll never rest my hands on his sacred head"
Hindley wakes and hindley says :
Hindley wakes, hindley wakes, hindley wakes, and says :
"oh, wherever he has gone, i have gone"
But fresh lilaced moorland fields
Cannot hide the stolid stench of death
But fresh lilaced moorland fields
Cannot hide the stolid stench of death
Hindley wakes and says :
Hindley wakes, hindley wakes, hindley wakes, and says :
"oh, whatever he has done, i have done"
But this is no easy ride
For a child cries :
"find me ... find me, nothing more
We are on a sullen misty moor
We may be dead and we may be gone
But we will be, we will be, we will be, right by your side
Until the day you die
This is no easy ride
We will haunt you when you laugh
Yes, you could say we're a team
You might sleep
You might sleep
You might sleep
But you will never dream !
Oh, you might sleep
But you will never dream !
You might sleep
But you will never dream !
Oh manchester, so much to answer for
Oh manchester, so much to answer for
Oh, find me, find me !
Find me !
I'll haunt you when you laugh
Oh, i'll haunt you when you laugh
You might sleep
But you will ...
Oh ...
Over the moors, i'm on the moors
Oh, over the moors
Oh, the child is on the moors
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moor has done his duty, the Moor may go.
Interfaith Debate
God is dead.
God is great.
My God is great.
Your God is dead.
Your God is great.
My God is dead.
Who made the Sun?
My God.
Your God.
Great God.
So, one God?
‘Not two’
So why are we fighting?
Oh it’s politics.
Then leave God out of it?
My God – no…
He’s on our side
He’s not on your side
Shall we start again?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Je Lance Un Appel (French Lyrics)
Je plaide non coupable pour l'insolence
Que tu me reproches en cas d'urgence
Je plaide non coupable pour la distance
Qui s'installe quand je me fais violence
Apprends me lire pour comprendre mes raisons
Notre avenir n'est plus qu'une douce illusion
[Chorus:]
Et je lance un appel
Pour sauver l'essentiel
Et je lance un appel
Pour sauver l'essentiel
Je plaide non coupable pour mes silences
C'est sans doute mon systme de dfense
Apprends me dire ce qui te fait tant souffrir
A ragir pour attiser le dsir
[Chorus:]
Et je lance un appel
Pour sauver l'essentiel
Et je lance un appel
Pour sauver l'essentiel
Je lance un appel
Pour un corps corps sans duel
Je plaide coupable pour mon indulgence
Envers tous mes dlits d'insouciance
Je plaide coupable pour mes errances
Et envers toi ma ngligence
[Chorus:]
Et je lance un appel
Pour sauver l'essentiel
Et je lance un appel
Pour sauver l'essentiel
song performed by by Kate Ryan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The lance never blunted the pen, nor the pen the lance.
An inch in a sword, or a palm in a lance, is a great advantage.
The Old and the New
Mars! Mars!
Thy clashing sword was keen
And glittering with stars.
Thine armour sheen
Shone to the terrored sky,
And o’er the bodies of thy foes
With open blows
Didst step to victory.
War! War!
They hidden horrors sound
And echo from afar.
Upon the ground
Thou liest now in fear
To wait the cunning chance
To thrust thy lance,
And hurl thy poisoned spear.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Fractured
Eric Roberts, Jake Busey, Lauren Mae Shafer, Jordan Trovillion, Tamer Alwerfalli, Rose Anne Nepa, Lance Kawas
by Lance Kawas from Fractured (2014)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A finger's length in a sword, and a palm in a lance, are a great advantage.
Some people have greatness thrust upon them. Very few have excellence thrust upon them.
quote by John W. Gardner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This is our lance. See, you're making me laugh about this now, because there have been a few jokes on the set about what they actually look like. But, see, I personally think they'd be a great toy. So... just batteries aren't included.
quote by Kevin Sorbo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Great men do not seek power; it thrust upon them.
What medicines do not heal, the lance will; what the lance does not heal, fire will.
quote by Hippocrates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To R A A
Was it not a great end?
Wrote your Philip, with a story
Of a great deed, a great death--
Not foreseeing his own glory
And his budding laurel-wreath--
In the last words he should send.
Philip's followed Alan's lead.
They are gone into the night
With the great heroes of old,
With the stars, the stars they are bright;
They are warm; they are not cold.
They live: they are not dead.
But the silence aches. O friend
In the darkness, cold and stricken,
For anodyne, antidote,
Tell your dead heart, that it quicken,
The last words that Philip wrote:
'Was it not a great end ?' A great end!
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Wife
Living, I had no might
To make you hear,
Now, in the inmost night,
I am so near
No whisper, falling light,
Divides us, dear.
Living, I had no claim
On your great hours.
Now the thin candle-flame,
The closing flowers,
Wed summer with my name, --
And these are ours.
Your shadow on the dust,
Strength, and a cry,
Delight, despair, mistrust, --
All these am I.
Dawn, and the far hills thrust
To a far sky.
Living, I had no skill
To stay your tread,
Now all that was my will
Silence has said.
We are one for good and ill
Since I am dead.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
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All Dead, All Dead
Memories, my memories
How long can you stay
To haunt my days
She came without a farthing
A babe without a name
So much ado about nothing
Is what shed try to say
So much ado my lover
So many games we played
Through every fleeted summer
Through every precious day
All dead all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on
All dead all dead
And alone Im spared
My sweeter half instead
All dead
And gone
All dead...
All dead all dead
At the rainbows end
And still I hear her own sweet song
All dead all dead
Take me back again
You know my little friends
All dead
And gone
All dead and gone
Her ways are always with me
I wander all the while
But please you must forgive me
I am old but still a child
All dead all dead
But I should not grieve
In time it comes to everyone
All dead all dead
But in hope I breathe
Of course I dont believe
Youre dead
And gone
All dead
And gone
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wilderness
I came too late to the hills: they were swept bare
Winters before I was born of song and story,
Of spell or speech with power of oracle or invocation,
The great ash long dead by a roofless house, its branches rotten,
The voice of the crows an inarticulate cry,
And from the wells and springs the holy water ebbed away.
A child I ran in the wind on a withered moor
Crying out after those great presences who were not there,
Long lost in the forgetfulness of the forgotten.
Only the archaic forms themselves could tell!
In sacred speech of hoodie on gray stone, or hawk in air,
Of Eden where the lonely rowan bends over the dark pool.
Yet I have glimpsed the bright mountain behind the mountain,
Knowledge under the leaves, tasted the bitter berries red,
Drunk water cold and clear from an inexhaustible hidden fountain.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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