He that eats the king's geese shall be choked with the feathers.
Related quotes
Geese are plucked as long as they have any feathers.
The men o' the east are pykin their geese, and sendin' their feathers here-awa there-awa.
Emotional Food Chain
Anger eats Balanced
Balanced eats Confusion
Confusion eats Delight
Delight eats Exasperation
Exasperation eats Forgiveness
Forgiveness eats Grief
Grief eats Humor
Humor eats Isolation
Isolation eats Joy
Joy eats Knottiness
Knottiness eats Love
Love eats Moodiness
Moodiness eats Nicety
Nicety eats Outrage
Outrage eats Peace
Peace eats Quick-temperament
Quick-temperament eats Righteousness
Righteousness eats Stupidity
Stupidity eats Trust
Trust eats Unhappiness
Unhappiness eats Vitality
Vitality eats Weariness
Weariness eats X-citement
X-citement eats Yawn
Yawn eats Zest
Zest eats Anger
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
He who eats a partridge in his youth will only be left with feathers in his old age.
Feathers!
feathers on me
again and again
first to fly and now to earth rest
enable me to get ready
and carried me through you
anywhere there are feathers
like you said!
in me in you!
a very strange and intoxicating feeling
afterwards, that you traced my body
maybe i have gasp, of some lack of air!
in high feather, full feathers
you will be writhing with ecstacy
Very pleasurable for me
I feel extremely good
you make me a path a invisible way
eagle feathers very powerful
sound bird feathers very delicate
for tight places or open places
make his sound so soft
Ah! My God! ! !
give me the name of that medicine!
Feathers on me!
Feathers on you!
poem by Mirna Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Krishna's Meal
Kanha eats in Yasoda's lap.
some he eats, some he drops,
as the ladies of Nandgaon watch,
some he eats and some he puts
in Nanda's mouth,
this joy is beyound recount.
some he eats, some gives to gopas,
butter in his hands, curd in doniyas.
The joy of Yasoda
the three worlds cannot account.
the meal is over, Kanha washes,
for Sur the left-overs count.
poem by Sant Surdas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rust eats iron
Rust eats iron.
Separation from wife
eats husband
Contempt by kith and kins
And serving evil master
Eats body by burning silently
Corroding heart and soul body
from within.
Rust eats iron.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Teardrop
Liz fraser
(love)love is a verb
Love is a doing word
Feathers on my breath
Gentle impulsion
Shakes me makes me lighter
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
In the night of matter
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
Water is my eye
Most faithful my love
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire of a confession
Feathers on my breath
Most faithful my love
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
Stumbling a little (x2)
song performed by by Massive Attack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
There are no golden geese. There are only fat geese eating the food that could nourish more athletic opportunities for women.
quote by Donna A. Lopiano
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
In painting feathers, you want to create the look of feathers, but if you try to paint all the feathers, you have nothing but disaster.
quote by John O'Neill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Noisy Geese
As the pink dawn rose
Over the mud flats
A serenity unmached
The glassy surface
Becoming a mirrior
For the rising hills
Its solitary wavering
From the noisy conversation
Broken down silence
By the 'Geese'
Waking from the
Roosting night
Ruffled feathers
Setting flight.
poem by Howard Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Geese Park
Geese Park,
Resting Place,
In Accra;
And, the President of Ghana,
John Evans Atta Mills was laid to rest.
Geese, peacocks, pigeons, doves and docks!
In a clean envirinment to pay their respect;
But, with a big pond around under tight security.
Face out of sand,
Words out of mind,
Works out of hands;
With mourners dressed in Red and Black! !
And, his resting place was at the Geese Park.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
He who eats the king's cow lean, pays for it fat.
Sefronia - The King's Chain
i couldn't buy you with a hundred cattle
but you hike in shells and feathers
up the african beach,
i am king here, tied to this hut by the king's chain
my power's like a tree and green taboo to me
the chameleon lies in your dusty fingers,
and blue flies circle your head like stars;
jump into me now, I must not see the water,
let me sip weakness from your dark nipples
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
He who eats of the king's goose will void a feather forty years after.
Murtle The Fat Turtle
There once was a Turtle
Her name was Murtle
She got so fat
Couldn’t wear a hat
So now, she wears a girdle.
She’s not only fat; she’s round
Eats candy by the pound
Choked on a candy stick
Got sick and threw a fit
And now, she can’t make a sound.
No longer can she have candy
Which makes her extremely angy,
She's so hungry, her tummy sings,
Will wait to see, what tomorrow brings
She hopes to be fine and dandy.
poem by Mimie Durand
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grandmas Feather Bed
This song appears on twelve albums, and was first released on the back home again album. it has been released on the greatest hits vol 2, favourites, changes, the country roads collection and ro
Ountain holiday albums. live versions also appear on the an evening with john denver, live in london, country classics, the very best of john denver (2 cd), the john denver collection - rocky mo
N high and live at the sydney opera house albums.
When I was a little bitty boy
Just up off-a floor
We used to go down to grandmas house
Every monthend or so
Wed chicken pie and country ham
n homemade butter on the bread
But the best darn thing about grandmas house
Was her great big feather bed
It was nine feet high and six feet wide
Soft as a downy chick
It was made from the feathers of forty-leven geese
Took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick
Itd hold eight kids n four hound dogs
And a piggy we stole from the shed
We didnt get much sleep but we had a lot of fun
On grandmas feather bed
After the supper wed sit around the fire
The old folksd spit and chew
Pa would talk about the farm and the war
And my grannd sing a ballad or two
Id sit and listen and watch the fire
Till the cobwebs filled my head
Next thing Id know Id wake up in the morning
In the middle of the old feather bed
It was nine feet high and six feet wide
Soft as a downy chick
It was made from the feathers of forty-leven geese
Took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick
Itd hold eight kids n four hound dogs
And a piggy we stole from the shed
We didnt get much sleep but we had a lot of fun
On grandmas feather bed
Well I love my ma, I love my pa
Love granny and grandpa too
Been fishing with my uncle, I rassled with my cousin
I even kissed aunt lou
But if ever had to make a choice
I guess it ought to be said
That Id trade them all plus the gal down the road
For grandmas feather bed
It was nine feet high and six feet wide
Soft as a downy chick
It was made from the feathers of forty-leven geese
Took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick
Itd hold eight kids n four hound dogs
And a piggy we stole from the shed
We didnt get much sleep but we had a lot of fun
On grandmas feather bed
Words and music by jim connor
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Irish Guards
1918
We're not so old in the Army List,
But we're not so young at our trade,
For we had the honour at Fontenoy
Of meeting the Guards' Brigade.
'Twas Lally, Dillon, Bulkeley, Clare,
And Lee that led us then,
And after a hundred and seventy years
We're fighting for France again!
Old Days! The wild geese are flighting,
Head to fhe sform as they faced if before !
For where there are Irish there's bound to be fighting,
And when there's no fighting, it's Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
The fashion's all for khaki now,
But once through France we went
Full-dressed in scarlet Army cloth,
The English-left at Ghent.
They're fighting on our side to-day
But, before they changed their clothes,
The half of Europe knew our fame,
As all of Ireland knows!
Old Days! The wild geese are flying,
Head to the sform as they faced it before!
For where there are Irish there's memory undying,
And when we forget, it is Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
From Barry Wood to Gouzeaucourt,
From Boyne to Pilkem Ridge,
The ancient days come back no more
Than water under the bridge.
But the bridge it stands and the water runs
As red as yesterday,
And the Irish move to the sound of the guns
Like salmon to the sea.
Old Days! The wild geese are ranging,
Head to fhe storm as they faced it before!
For where there are Irish their hearts are unchanging,
And when they are changed, it is Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
We're not so old in the Army List,
But we're not so new in the ring,
For we carried our packs with Marshal Saxe
When Louis was our King.
But Douglas Haig's our Marshal now
And we're King George's men,
And after one hundred and seventy years
We're fighting for France again!
Ah, France! And did we stand by you,
When life was made splendid with gifts and rewards?
Ah, France! And will we deny you
In the hour of your agony, Mother of Swords?
Old Days! The wild geese are flighing,
Head to the storm as they faced it before!
For where there are Irish there's loving and fighting
And when we stop either, it's Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love Is Winged For Two
Love is winged for two,
In the worst he weathers,
When their hearts are tied;
But if they divide,
O too true!
Cracks a globe, and feathers, feathers,
Feathers all the ground bestrew.
I was breast of morning sea,
Rosy plume on forest dun,
I the laugh in rainy fleeces,
While with me
She made one.
Now must we pick up our pieces,
For that then so winged were we.
poem by George Meredith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!