Related quotes
Dry bread is better with love than a fat capon with fear.
To him who gives you a capon you may spare a leg and a wing.
The shock of unemployment becomes a pathology in its own right.
quote by Robert Farrar Capon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A capon eight months old is fit for a king's table.
Intoxicating
Scents infused with rosemary
Sweet desired capon.
haiku by Christine A Kysely (27 January 2011)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Older women are like aging strudels - the crust may not be so lovely, but the filling has come at last into its own.
quote by Robert Farrar Capon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At the root of many a woman's failure to become a great cook lies her failure to develop a workmanlike regard for knives.
quote by Robert Farrar Capon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give us this day our daily taste. Restore to us soups that spoons will not sink in and sauces which are never the same twice. Raise up among us stews with more gravy than we have bread to blot it with Give us pasta with a hundred fillings.
quote by Robert Farrar Capon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The gift.
My cousin was out in the jungle
for ten long years or more.
He bought me a snake for christmas
that slithered on the floor.
It ate the cat at sunset
it had disappeared and gone.
the budgie by christmas eve and the capon.
It grew and grew in the months that passed
winter, spring, and fall.
It ate my couson this christmas
the best gift of all.
poem by Roy Storey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Friar’s Song
Some love the matin-chimes, which tell
The hour of prayer to sinner:
But better far's the mid-day bell,
Which speaks the hour of dinner;
For when I see a smoking fish,
Or capon drown'd in gravy,
Or noble haunch on silver dish,
Full glad I sing my ave.
My pulpit is an alehouse bench,
Whereon I sit so jolly;
A smiling rosy country wench
My saint and patron holy.
I kiss her cheek so red and sleek,
I press her ringlets wavy,
And in her willing ear I speak
A most religious ave.
And if I'm blind, yet heaven is kind,
And holy saints forgiving;
For sure he leads a right good life
Who thus admires good living.
Above, they say, our flesh is air,
Our blood celestial ichor:
Oh, grant! mid all the changes there,
They may not change our liquor!
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh, For a Bowl of Fat Canary
Oh, for a bowl of fat Canary,
Rich Palermo, sparkling Sherry,
Some nectar else, from Juno's dairy;
Oh, these draughts would make us merry!
Oh, for a wench (I deal in faces,
And in other daintier things);
Tickled am I with her embraces,
Fine dancing in such fairy rings.
Oh, for a plump fat leg of mutton,
Veal, lamb, capon, pig, and coney;
None is happy but a glutton,
None an ass but who want money.
Wines indeed and girls are good,
But brave victuals feast the blood;
For wenches, wine, and lusty cheer,
Jove would leap down to surfeit here.
The Dead Host's Welcome
It is late and cold; stir up the fire;
Sit close, and draw the table nigher;
Be merry, and drink wine that's old,
A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold:
Your beds of wanton down the best,
Where you shall tumble to your rest;
I could wish you wenches too,
But I am dead, and cannot do.
Call for the best the house may ring,
Sack, white, and claret, let them bring,
And drink apace, while breath you have;
You'll find but cold drink in the grave:
Plover, partridge, for your dinner,
And a capon for the sinner,
You shall find ready when you're up,
And your horse shall have his sup:
Welcome, welcome, shall fly round,
And I shall smile, though under ground.
poem by John Fletcher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fiddler In The North
Amang the trees, where humming bees,
At buds and flowers were hinging, O,
Auld Caledon drew out her drone,
And to her pipe was singing, O:
'Twas Pibroch, Sang, Strathspeys, and Reels,
She dirl'd them aff fu' clearly, O:
When there cam' a yell o' foreign squeels,
That dang her tapsalteerie, O.
Their capon craws an' queer "ha, ha's,"
They made our lugs grow eerie, O;
The hungry bike did scrape and fyke,
Till we were wae and weary, O:
But a royal ghaist, wha ance was cas'd,
A prisoner, aughteen year awa',
He fir'd a Fiddler in the North,
That dang them tapsalteerie, O.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song
Gran.
O For a Bowle of fatt Canary,
Rich Palermo, sparkling Sherry,
Some Nectar else, from Iuno's Daiery,
O these draughts would make vs merry.
Psyllus.
O for a wench, (I deale in faces,
And in other dayntier things,)
Tickled am I with her Embraces,
Fine dancing in such Fairy Ringes.
Manes.
O for a plump fat leg of Mutton,
Veale, Lambe, Capon, Pigge, & Conney,
None is happy but a Glutton,
None an Asse but who wants money.
Chor.
Wines (indeed,) & Girles are good,
But braue victuals feast the bloud,
For wenches, wine, and Lusty cheere,
Ioue would leape down to surfet heere.
Her...
I can never get my mind off her,
I wonder if she'd mind if i'd,
make her my own,
and never let her go,
hug her tight,
treat her right,
act all polite,
take her on a date,
make sure i'm never late,
kiss her on her lips,
talk about our kids,
Make her feel like princess,
living in a castle,
hope that is not too much hassle,
But i am so blessed,
hope i can be the best,
hold you tight,
have your BR3A$t,
on my chest,
pass the test,
NOW YOUR MINE!
sorry for word spamming: (
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
poem by Jordan Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bitter Blow of Love
Love! you dealt a bitter blow –
You lay me cross the mortal plains,
Bedewed, bedimmed amongst a show
Of tearful clouds: eternal rains
To weep at my enduring foe
Of harsh reality – searing pains of
Destiny: dependable propensity
To fool myself repeatedly
That I could ever triumph over love!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow
Love love love love love love love love love love
Bitter blow of love, oh love
Love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
Love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Love Love
Love is not
Love...
Love is sex...!
Love is not
Love
Love is money...!
Love is not
Love....
Love is dream...!
Love is not
Love
Love is states...!
Love is not
Love
Love is sin....!
Love is not
Love
Love is funney...!
Love is not
Love
Love is religion...!
Love is not
Love
Love is nation...!
Love is not
Love
Love is black....!
Love is not
Love
Love is white...!
What is this....! ?
This is a list of love's
But..nothing....!
Love is a love
Upper the earth
And under the sky
For any thing with
EVERY thing for love love love
Making each one with love
Love love love...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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