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The Scots [A Dirge]
Black Scots and red Scots,
Red Scots and black;
I hae dealt wi’ the red Scot,
An’ dealt wi’ the black.
The Red Scot is angry
Among the sons o’ men—
He’ll pay you a bawbee,
An’ steal it back again.
Black Scots and red Scots,
Red Scots and black;
I hae dealt wi’ the red Scot,
An’ dealt wi’ the black.
The Black Scot is frien’ly—
A brither an’ a’—
He’ll pay you a bawbee,
An’ steal back twa.
The Ginger Scot o’ a’ Scots,
The warst shade o’ Scot,
For he’ll pay ye naething,
An’ tak’ a’ you’ve got.
Black Scots and red Scots,
Short Scots an’ lang,
Ginger Scots an’ bald Scots—
I dealt wi’ the gang.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mr. Fluffles
Mr. Fluffles, the pink chinchilla
No more biting, just stop it will ya?
I know you hate the fact that you're pink
But I can not help what it is that I think
I know you're just a vivid hallucination
And the fact that you're pink doesn't offer a lot of intimidation
But when your 40 brothers and sisters all sit there staring at me
I have to admit its kinda creepy
Mr. Fluffles, just so soft and fluffy
But when you get to biting you're just not cuddly
Why can't you just let me be
You're not Kato so why do ambush me
You just look so cute when you go to sleep
Curled up in a fuzzy ball, counting sheep
So now we go to sleep and let our problems float away
But I know you'll get to biting this next up coming day
Cause you're Mr. Fluffles, the pink chinchilla
You'd probably stop the biting if I colored you vanilla
But I just can't help it, why can't you see
Ow! Mr. Fluffles no more biting me
poem by Vasto Grom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What It Is They Do
Some folks enjoy doing things.
While other folks 'are' what they enjoy doing!
Some folks enjoy cooking.
And then there are cooks.
Some folks enjoy singing.
And then there are those who sing.
Some folks enjoy writing.
I know I do,
And I've been told I am a writer.
Some folks have no problem,
Producing what they do.
And others will say they don't have the time.
Although they waste it telling folks,
What it is they do...
And yet nothing of that,
Ever gets done!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Biting Bullets
Dont you wonder
Is anyone that strong
It takes me under
Believing what Im seeing
I get so tired of watching friends go down
The hungry tiger for all who never began
Biting bullets
Biting the clouds
Biting bullets
Biting the clouds
I saw the show
Shaking all the babies
Should I believe the parade of clever lies
Shadow of light in the shadow of death
There is no difference to all who never began
There was a time
There was a way to live
And its no secret
That it wont come back again
I lose myself like anybody else
But Im not so strong to make it in the end
I need some answers when the day comes crashing down
cause its all over when theres no one to be found
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kissing the Fang
Snake biting once biting dead
Snake biting twice biting life
Walking in the sorghum stalk
The oldest foe- the snake heard my feet
The snake raised the neck and hissed
As our eyes met at equilibrium
I stopped and drew my spear
The hateful send boiled to the brim
The brawl commenced I speared it back fatefully
The snake bitten my right feet fatefully
The biting bit me dead I fell down breathing not
The snake bitten my left feet again.
The biting bit me life I raised up breathing lively
The snake snaked away
The venom paralyzed me but
I giddily crawled after the snake
I gasped and kissed the snake fang
I spate the healing saliva in the snake wound
We departed in peace-indeed peace in death
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Sad Song
Living on borrowed times
Im in love with mary, queen of scots
Fourteen hundred ninety-three
And everythings like it should be
Im gonna stop wastin my time
Henry the fifth would have broken my arm
Sad song, sad song, doo, doo
Sad song, sad song
Living on borrowed times
Im in love with mary, queen of scots
Fourteen hundred ninety-three
And things are just like they ought to be
Primrose and kilts, primrose and spain
Forget me not, my queen of scots
Sad song, sad song, doo, doo
Sad song, sad song
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some folks rail against other folks, because other folks have what some folks would be glad of.
quote by Henry Fielding
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The meat-biting tooth is in the mouth; the man-biting tooth is in the soul.
A Red Slice Of Watery Red Melon
IN the room where we made love
an hour ago
i offer you a slice of my
red watermelon
i take a bite and i tell you
about its taste
sweet, as sweet as my love for you
you do not care
about the juice the redness the watery
freshness of my
red water melon
i am naked sitting on the floor
i am hungry and need some rest
i am talking unnecessarily wasting
my words about my red watermelon
you laugh
and you notice something flaccid
it is funny
and then you back to sleep
still dreaming
about something thick and hard and stiff
like a dog
with a bone in his mouth
still looking for a place
where to stay alone
and lick it
and rig its sharp teeth
biting, biting and biting still
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Staff Nurse:Old Style
The greater masters of the commonplace,
REMBRANDT and good SIR WALTER-only these
Could paint her all to you: experienced ease
And antique liveliness and ponderous grace;
The sweet old roses of her sunken face;
The depth and malice of her sly, grey eyes;
The broad Scots tongue that flatters, scolds, defies;
The thick Scots wit that fells you like a mace.
These thirty years has she been nursing here,
Some of them under SYME , her hero still.
Much is she worth, and even more is made of her.
Patients and students hold her very dear.
The doctors love her, tease her, use her skill.
They say 'The Chief' himself is half-afraid of her.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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The Perpetual Wooing
The dull world clamors at my feet
And asks my hand and helping sweet;
And wonders when the time shall be
I'll leave off dreaming dreams of thee.
It blames me coining soul and time
And sending minted bits of rhyme--
A-wooing of thee still.
Shall I make answer? This it is:
I camp beneath thy galaxies
Of starry thoughts and shining deeds;
And, seeing new ones, I must needs
Arouse my speech to tell thee, dear,
Though thou art nearer, I am near--
A-wooing of thee still.
I feel thy heart-beat next mine own;
Its music hath a richer tone.
I rediscover in thine eyes
A balmier, dewier paradise.
I'm sure thou art a rarer girl--
And so I seek thee, finest pearl,
A-wooing of thee still.
With blood of roses on thy lips--
Canst doubt my trembling?--something slips
Between thy loveliness and me--
So commonplace, so fond of thee.
Ah, sweet, a kiss is waiting where
That last one stopped thy lover's prayer--
A-wooing of thee still.
When new light falls upon thy face
My gladdened soul discerns some trace
Of God, or angel, never seen
In other days of shade and sheen.
Ne'er may such rapture die, or less
Than joy like this my heart confess--
A-wooing of thee still.
Go thou, O soul of beauty, go
Fleet-footed toward the heavens aglow.
Mayhap, in following, thou shalt see
Me worthier of thy love and thee.
Thou wouldst not have me satisfied
Until thou lov'st me--none beside--
A-wooing of thee still.
This was a song of years ago--
Of spring! Now drifting flowers of snow
Bloom on the window-sills as white
As gray-beard looking through love's light
And holding blue-veined hands the while.
He finds her last--the sweetest smile--
A-wooing of her still.
poem by Eugene Field
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Once a sea-nymph loved a boy
ONCE a sea-nymph loved a boy:
He and she they loved so well.
'Oh the foamy billow's joy!
Oh the rippling in the sun!
Oh the round waves, one by one, Swaying, swaying, swaying, To and fro.
Oh my pearl and coral cell, And the long weeds playing,
While the surges come and go, Come and go!'
Boy and nymph were hand in hand:
He and she they had much love.
'Oh the green and ripening land!
Oh the lime-scent in the trees!
Oh the langour of the breeze,
Wooing, wooing, wooing, Light and low!
Oh the twilight in my grove, And the cushats cooing;
While the brook steals soft and slow, Soft and slow.'
Love, that heard them, laughed aloud, Took them to the side of him.
Was it land or leafy cloud?
Was it billowy cloud or sea? 'Twas the home that eyes, kissed dim,
Look on as they'd have it be.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Glee
watching my old blind dog
roll in the grass,
biting his tail.... with glee!
he's got it!
that's what we forget.
that's what we've lost...
no matter how old,
or what your health is,
or what's going on around you...
that sense of total abandon,
rolling in the grass
biting our tails...
with glee!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Song of the Edinburgh Academician
If ony here has got an ear,
He'd better tak’ a haud o’ me,
Or I'll begin, wi’ roarin’ din,
To cheer our old Academy.
Dear old Academy,
Queer old Academy,
A merry lot we were, I wot,
When at the old Academy.
There's some may think me crouse wi’ drink,
And some may think it mad o’ me,
But ither some will gladly come
And cheer our old Academy.
Some set their hopes on Kings and Popes,
But, o’ the sons of Adam, he
Was first, without the smallest doubt,
That built the first Academy.
Let Pedants seek for scraps of Greek,
Their lingo to Macadamize;
Gie me the sense, without pretence,
That comes o’ Scots Academies.
Let scholars all, both grit and small,
Of Learning mourn the sad demise;
That's as they think, but we will drink
Good luck to Scots Academies.
poem by James Clerk Maxwell
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Biting Those Lips
Why are you biting your lips?
'I am practicing.'
So you are learning to keep your mouth shut?
'I said I was 'practicing'.
And as far as keeping my mouth shut...
That is a learning process.
And I did say I was practicing.
I did not say I was learning anything...
Yet! '
Practice makes perfect,
You know?
'Who said anything about wanting to be perfect?
There are too many rehearsing that right now.
With questionable results I am sure will be delivered.
And I am practicing biting my lips,
In the event 'that' becomes a necessity.
And once that becomes discovered as one of my skills,
Well...
Only 'then' will I begin rehearsing perfection,
To overwhelm those disbelieving...
I have yet revealed another talent no one can deny.'
I see.
Well...
You keep biting those lips,
Okay?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Skipping With A Hopping Done Enjoyed
I learned very early,
In the playing of 'this' game...
That some people play,
Deciding who to pick...
For an inflicted customized pain.
These folks eventually...
Bring about their own detriment.
And shame to claim.
And all that is needed to witness this...
Is opened eyes observing.
And a biting of a lower lip!
Knowing that the taking of their nonsense,
Will one day pay dividends...
To the one who has gone through it!
And a skipping with a hopping done enjoyed,
Is not necessary to do in public although tempting.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Some Folks Lives Roll Easy
Words & music by paul simon
Some folks lives roll easy as a breeze
Drifting through a summer night
Heading for a sunny day
But most folks lives, oh they stumble
Lord they fall
Through no fault of their own
Most folks never catch their stars
And here I am, lord
Im knocking at your place of business
I know I aint got no business here
But you said if I ever got so low
I was busted,
You could be trusted
Some folks lives roll easy
Some folks lives
Never roll at all
Oh, they just fall
They just fall
Some folks lives
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scots Wha' Hae
Scots, wha' hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots wham Bruce has often led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to Victorie!
Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour,
See approach proud Edward's pow'r
Chains and slaverie!
Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland's King and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw?
Freeman stand, or freeman fa'?
Let him follow me!
By oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!
Lay the proud usurper low!
Tyrants fall in ev'ry foe!
Liberty's in ev'ry blow!
Let us do or die!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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