Set a beggar on horseback, and he don't trot, but gallops.
Related quotes
Some Trot Out From...
Some trot out from...
Bad relationships they're feeling.
Some trot out from...
Hints of misery.
And some trot out from...
The ones who disappoint them daily,
Bringing every ache and pain.
And everything that happens to them,
They wish you the same.
Taking up your time and patience,
Leaving nothing gained.
And wanting everything around them to remain the same.
Some trot out from...
Bad relationships they're feeling.
Some trot out from...
Hints of misery.
And some trot out from...
The ones who disappoint them daily,
Bringing every ache and pain.
And everything that happens to them,
They wish you the same.
Taking up your time and patience,
Leaving nothing gained.
And wanting everything around them to remain the same.
Some trot out from...
To take a lap around the corner.
Some trot out from...
To get away from those who moan.
Some trot out from...
Those who stay inside to grieve,
Everyday and every night...
And,
This is guaranteed.
Some trot out from...
With a speed to get away.
Some trot out from...
Those bleeding on their sleeves.
And some trot out from...
Those who love to live in ruts.
But they wont get off their butts,
To leave.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Great Day
Hurrah for revolution and more cannon-shot!
A beggar upon horseback lashes a beggar on foot.
Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again!
The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Set a beggar on horseback, and he'll ride to the devil.
Set a beggar on horseback, and he'll outride the devil.
Set a beggar on horseback, and he 'll out ride the Devil.
Put a beggar on horseback and he'll ride to hell.
The Spaewife
OH, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.
An’ siller, that ’s sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Hoo a’things come to be whaur we find them when we try,
The lasses in their claes an’ the fishes in the sea.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why lads are a’ to sell an’lasses a’ to buy;
An’ naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Gin death’s as shure to men as killin’ is to kye,
Why God has filled the yearth sae fu’ o’ tasty things to pree.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
The reason o’ the cause an’ the wherefore o’ the why,
Wi’ mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beggar To Beggar Cried
'TIME to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And make my soul before my pate is bare.-
'And get a comfortable wife and house
To rid me of the devil in my shoes,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And the worse devil that is between my thighs.'
And though I'd marry with a comely lass,
She need not be too comely -- let it pass,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'But there's a devil in a looking-glass.'
'Nor should she be too rich, because the rich
Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And cannot have a humorous happy speech.'
'And there I'll grow respected at my ease,
And hear amid the garden's nightly peace.'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Light Farewell
You bid unwilling farewell so light,
Your smiles rushes this golden day;
Memory gallops in, in every sight.
You painted the clouds in whitish bright
as you faded through a silvery ray;
You bid unwilling farewell so light.
Soon winds will whisper in ivory night,
gentle rains will echo your laughter in a way
memory gallops in, in every sight.
Red must the roses be, but they turned white
on that day you choose in our hearts to stay;
You bid unwilling farewell so light.
You dwell here where the dawn takes its flight,
in the morning where sunrise burns to play
and - memory gallops in, in every sight.
The world fancied but then turns right;
The day you painted rainbows and smiled away
you bid unwilling farewell so light;
Then... (memory gallops in, in every sight)
poem by Roland Jr Jamito
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trot mother, trot father, how should the foal amble?
The march of love
Love marches are not alike.
Who ambles to love withal?
With widows that lack sanction.
Who doeth love trot withal?
With youths that lack fear.
Who gallops it withal?
With paramours that lack patience.
Who stay love still withal?
With the old that lack response.
09.07.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hot To Trot
She had a shake like a belly dancer
and a body like a tiger tiger (uh huh, uh huh)
She was looking at me
Now you know that I ain't no dancer
But there's gotta be a way to meet her
So I just walked up to her and said
Are you hot to trot?
Well I knew I was looking cool
Pretty sharp like a razor razor (uh huh, uh huh)
She was smiling at me
So I said if you got the notion
We could take a little trip to the ocean
She said that'll be OK
'Cause I'm hot to trot
We were having a ball by the water
Talking about life and philosophizing (uh huh, uh huh)
She was really talking to me
She said I can't understand why you gotta hustle
Struttin' and posin' and flexin' muscle
So I said, well that's easy baby
I'm hot to trot
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Black Unicorn
The black Unicorn gallops towards me,
it's eyes are flaming orbs of hate,
it's hooves strike the ground as sparks fly out,
one pass by me,
it's breath is a stench of maggots,
it's horn glows bright red,
a second pass by me,
I stand my ground,
it shrieks are like a thousand lost souls,
as it turns it's gaze back upon me,
And then gallops straight towards me with head down,
I leap away just in time as it fads away into the mist.
poem by Walter C. Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer in the country
One smiles at me
from where she sits
with her hands on a cow’s tits
spraying milk in a bucket
with her blonde hair
bunched beneath a big straw hat,
a picture of unspoilt beauty and innocence
another whistles from horseback
while having a jolly ride
waving as she gallops by
an image of movement
caught under a blazing sun
and you my love are the only one
who gives me kisses,
plaster my cheeks with mulberry lips,
who rides bareback, unsaddled
sitting behind me
on my black stallion
clinging as if you are part of my body
and being a full grown woman,
with great beauty and the right curves,
acting like a tomboy,
a devil’s child,
pulling me down
in a field of Lucerne
with small blue flowers
tangled in your hair.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Nights at Rocky Bar
Trapping brumbies in the moonlight! those were nights of reckless fun,
'Way back on Campbell's country - on the Goory-bibil run,
When saddled up and ready qur impatient nags would stand
While we squatted in the gunyah with their bridle-reins in hand.
And presently the hoof-beats of the brumbies' trot would sound
As they rattled o'er the ridges of the mulga-timbered ground;
They'd be thirsty, for that stretching trot had brought them from afar,
And the only water for them was the hole at Rocky Bar.
We would hear the stallions whinny, and then the water splash -
That latter was our signal-through the deadwood with a crash
We were at them-you on joker, I on Harlequin, and Mick
Would be with us, just as eager as his jumper, Elsternwick.
Our stockwhips in the stilly night like rifle-shots would ring
When we beat them on the Bilbee Flat and slewed 'em to the wing;
And when we had 'em yarded, oh, the clatter and the din!
How they kicked and squealed and snorted when they found themselves barr'd in!
The nights the brumbies tried to break straight back the way they came
Proved Harlequin as nimble as we knew him to he game;
In those rushing, frantic scrambles 'twas his cleverness I thank
That I didn't get a smasher down that rotten basalt bank.
One old 'Merino' came out, and some boundary rider's moke
He was riding - it was his fault that the chestnut stallion broke -
He sung out: 'Never mind him; let the beggar go away!'
But you didn't stop to listen, jack, to what he had to say.
And ere you brought the big horse back you had a roughish ride,
The Lord knows how you,rnanaged, mate, that night to save your hide!
Though bar a stake of sandalwood you weren't a great deal hurt,
Though the gidya ripped your moleskins, and the mulga rent your shirt.
That big timber took some dodging, but our hacks were tried and true,
And while their heads were left alone would mostly get us through;
But never a horse, save Harlequin', at night, 'twas my belief
Could race among those Bilbee holes and yet not come to grief.
And then we'd jog away to camp two miles below the Bar,
Where we'd find a pipe of Nailrod and a nobbler in the jar.
Ah! though our lines of life since then have lain in diverse ways,
We don't forget those gallops of the brumby-running days.
poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be not a beggar
Avoid seeking aids
Unless in bare needs;
Avoid getting helps
Unless in dire needs.
Provide in equals
To those aids and helps.
You should not afford
To be a beggar.
Offer help and aids
That must not be baits;
Offer gifts and kinds
That should not be a debt.
Your pay out should not be
Less than your receipts.
You cannot afford to be a beggar,
You be not greedy
Which makes you ugly.
Then you aren’t shut
Doors by the dear ones.
You may remain poor
But not a beggar.
Being a beggar
Is worse than a slave.
18 09,2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Better Be a Beggar
A beggar is not a robber.
He’s not a swindler or a hoarder.
He is as he could not be they.
Being a beggar is not a shame.
(10.04.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beggar is better
A dependant is worse than a beggar,
Though both of them don’t get self respects,
In that he, unlike the beggar, would get
Humiliations from his known people.
01.12.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A beggar will always be a beggar even if they give him the whole world as a gift.