You cannot make a good hunting-horn of a pig's tail.
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The Forest Greeting
GOOD hunting! — aye, good hunting,
Wherever the forests call;
But ever a heart beats hot with fear,
And what of the birds that fall?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
Wherever the north winds blow;
But what of the stag that calls for his mate?
And what of the wounded doe?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
And ah! we are bold and strong;
But our triumph call through the forest hall
Is a brother's funeral song.
For we are brothers ever,
Panther and bird and bear;
Man and the weakest that fear his face,
Born to the nest or lair.
Yes, brothers, and who shall judge us?
Hunters and game are we;
But who gave the right for me to smite?
Who boasts when he smiteth me?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
And dim is the forest track;
But the sportsman Death comes striding on:
Brothers, the way is black.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Oh! Oh! Oh!
God prosper long our noble king,
Our life and safeties all!
A woeful hunting once there did
To drive the deer with hound and horn
The child may rue that is unborn
The hunting of that day!
Oh! Oh! Oh!
poem by C.D. Xiang
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The Hunters Of Men
HAVE ye heard of our hunting, o'er mountain and glen,
Through cane-brake and forest, — the hunting of men?
The lords of our land to this hunting have gone,
As the fox-hunter follows the sound of the horn;
Hark! the cheer and the hallo! the crack of the whip,
And the yell of the hound as he fastens his grip!
All blithe are our hunters, and noble their match,
Though hundreds are caught, there are millions to catch.
So speed to their hunting, o'er mountain and glen,
Through cane-brake and forest, — the hunting of men!
Gay luck to our hunters! how nobly they ride
In the glow of their zeal, and the strength of their pride!
The priest with his cassock flung back on the wind,
Just screening the politic statesman behind;
The saint and the sinner, with cursing and prayer,
The drunk and the sober, ride merrily there.
And woman, kind woman, wife, widow, and maid,
For the good of the hunted, is lending her aid:
Her foot's in the stirrup, her hand on the rein,
How blithely she rides to the hunting of men!
Oh, goodly and grand is our hunting to see,
In this 'land of the brave and this home of the free.'
Priest, warrior, and statesman, from Georgia to Maine,
All mounting the saddle, all grasping the rein;
Right merrily hunting the black man, whose sin
Is the curl of his hair and the hue of his skin!
Woe, now, to the hunted who turns him at bay!
Will our hunters be turned from their purpose and prey?
Will their hearts fail within them? their nerves tremble, when
All roughly they ride to the hunting of men?
Ho! alms for our hunters! all weary and faint,
Wax the curse of the sinner and prayer of the saint.
The horn is wound faintly, the echoes are still,
Over cane-brake and river, and forest and hill.
Haste, alms for our hunters! the hunted once more
Have turned from their flight with their backs to the shore:
What right have they here in the home of the white,
Shadowed o'er by our banner of Freedom and Right?
Ho! alms for the hunters! or never again
Will they ride in their pomp to the hunting of men!
Alms, alms for our hunters! why will ye delay,
When their pride and their glory are melting away?
The parson has turned; for, on charge of his own,
Who goeth a warfare, or hunting, alone?
The politic statesman looks back with a sigh,
There is doubt in his heart, there is fear in his eye.
Oh, haste, lest that doubting and fear shall prevail,
And the head of his steed take the place of the tail.
Oh, haste, ere he leave us! for who will ride then,
For pleasure or gain, to the hunting of men?
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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It is ill to make a bowing horn of a tods tail.
Otter Hunting In Ribblesdale
Through yon little planting, by yonder streamside,
Where Ribble's sweet waters flow softly and wide,
While the dew's on the meadows it's up and away,
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.
0 hear the glad music of horn and of hound;
0 hear how they welcome in day with the sound:
0 hear how the valley is loud with the strain
And the woodlands give answer with echo again.
Come rise up full soon, come rise up and go,
The mist's on the hill and the river runs low:
While the dew's on the meadows it's up and away
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.
Now Ribble, sun-chequered, slides joyfully down
Which late thro' the bridges roared foaming and brown:
Now hot lies the scent, and the morning is still, &mdash
Hark for'ard, good hounds, to a view and a kill!
A health to good fellowship fill we now high,
You true-hearted sportsmen afar and anigh,
Here's many a good chase when the morning is grey,
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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No sound.
Come flow the willow
come beckon the call.
The owl is hunting
no sound at all.
The fox is hunting
out on the fen.
Long before day break
he be a sleep in his den.
Come herald the day break
the horn and the hounds.
The fox is dead
the owl makes
no sound.
poem by Roy Storey
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Hernani
Cistercians might crack their sides
With laughter, and exemption get,
At sight of heroes clasping brides,
And hearing--O the horn! the horn!
The horn of their obstructive debt!
But quit the stage, that note applies
For sermons cosmopolitan,
Hernani. Have we filched our prize,
Forgetting . . .? O the horn! the horn!
The horn of the Old Gentleman!
poem by George Meredith
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Beloved Son
The legs of Africa are,
The legs of a struggle;
The hands of Africa are,
The hands of hope;
The eyes of Africa are,
The eyes of a cry;
The head of Africa is,
The head of the unborn;
The tail of African is,
The tail of a mission;
The horn of Africa is,
The horn of pirates;
The face of Africa is,
The face of love;
Like a message to my beloved son.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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If you Risk to fall for a Trap
Hunting Shadow
Leave me alone
I am free as a widow
Hunting Shadow
Find yourself
I am only a meadow
Hunting Shadow
Hurried passed by,
as Good-bye she heard, from the window…
(Aug.13 -2007)
poem by Florida Angel
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Tiger By The Tail
What a shock it was so surprising
You looked so small and frail
I didnt know what to do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
People said that you must be joking
You let emotions run away with you
I realized a little too late
I bit off more than I could chew
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
At times life can be so enlightening
But it can turn on you
Lately it gets so complicated i
I dont know what the tiger will do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Slit in the Tail
I’M GLAD that the Bushmen can’t see me now
A-doing it tall in the town;
I’ve an inch-brimmed hat on my sun-burnt brow—
And my collar jumps up and down.
I’m wearing a vest that would charm a snake,
And a tie like a lost soul’s wail;
And I’m dressed in a coat of the latest make,
With a little slit in the tail:
With a little slit in the tail of it,
With a little slit in the tail.
My pants alone are a thing of joy,
And they’re built to show my bends,
With a crease behind and a crease before,
And a little curl in the ends.
I carry my nose-rag in my cuff,
And the lot should get me gaol—
I paid five guineas for my rig-out,
And one for the slit in the tail:
For the little slit in the tail of it,
For the little slit in the tail.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Hunting High And Low
Typed by [email protected]
Hunting High and Low:
Here I am
And within the reach of my hand
She's sound asleep
And she's sweeter now
Than the wildest dream
Could have seen her
And I watch her slipping away
But I know I'll be
Hunting high and low
Ah there's no end
To the lengths I'll go to
Hunting high and low
Ah there's no end
To the lengths I'll go
To find her again
Upon this my dreams are depending
Through the dark
I sense the pounding of her heart
Next to mine
She's the sweetest love
I could find
So I guess I'll be
Hunting high and low
Ah, there's no end
To lengths I'll go to
High and low
Ah, do you know what it means
To love you
I'm hunting high and low
And now she's telling me
She's got to go away
I'll always be hunting high and low
Only for you (And now she's telling me)
Watch me tearing myself to pieces
Hunting high and low
Ah, there's no end
To lengths I'll go to
For you I'll be hunting high and low
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Action Man In Motown Suit
Let's stay a while and watch him
He's moving into action man
He's looking good but maybe
He's in the wrong direction man
But he wanna get a little, get a little
Every night, get a little, get a little
Something for his appetite
Everybody needs to have a recreation
Everybody needs a little comfort for the soul
You'll never make it in a motown suit
No way to fake it man they're not your roots
No, you'll never make it in a motown suit
You can't be a drummer without rhythm
Can't blow your horn if you ain't blue
Some folks they just ain't got it in 'em
Tell me boy now does that sound like you
He's cruising with the singles
Down the margarita bar
He's boring to distraction
Pushing words and talking stars
(What's your sign)
He's gotta take a little, take a little
On the side, make a little, make a little
Something for his appetite
Everybody needs a little lubrication
Someone with imagination got to break the ice
You'll never make it in a motown suit
No way to fake it man they're not your roots
No, you'll never make it in a motown suit
You can't be a lover without rhythm
Don't blow your horn if you ain't true
No point in playing Valentino
He's a sham and brother so are you
You can't be a drummer without rhythm
Can't blow your horn if you ain't blue
Some folks they just ain't got it in 'em
Tell me boy now does that sound like you
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hunters Lullaby
Your fathers gone a-hunting
Hes deep in the forest so wild
And he cannot take his wife with him
He cannot take his child
Your fathers gone a-hunting
In the quicksand and the clay
And a woman cannot follow him
Although she knows the way
Your fathers gone a-hunting
Through the silver and the glass
Where only greed can enter
But spirit, spirit cannot pass
Your fathers gone a-hunting
For the beast well never cannot bind
And he leaves a baby sleeping
And his blessings all behind
Your fathers gone a-hunting
And hes lost his lucky charm
And hes lost the guardian heart
That keeps the hunter from the harm
Your fathers gone a-hunting
He asked me to say goodbye
And he warned me not to stop him
I wouldnt, I wouldnt even try
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hunting High & Low
Here I am
And within the reach of my hands
Shes sound asleep and shes sweeter now
Than thewildest dream could have seen her
And I watch her slipping away
Though I know Ill be hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the the lengths Ill go to
Hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the the lengths Ill go to
To find her again
Upon this my dreams are depending
Through the dark
I sense the pounding of her heart
Next to mine
Shes the sweetest love I could find
So I guess Ill be hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the lengths Ill go to
High and low
High
Do you know what it means to love you
Im hunting high and low
And now shes telling me shes got to go away
Ill always be hunting high and low
Hungry for you
Watch me tearing myself to pieces
Hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the lengths Ill go to
Oh! for you Ill be hunting high and low
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild F*#$ing Manners
hunting a tiger
big sharp teeth
man-eater
these hunters
big egos, big guns
hunting for survival
need fur and meat to survive
hunting wild game
wild f*#$ing manners
saw lioness and her cubs
on f*#$ing youtube
wild animals is to game theory
as man is to war
primitive yet perfect in movements
stop hunting these majestic creatures
they echo the intelligence we lack
in a far away land called our sub-conscience
only to find our only way to organized life
we're just animals on a hunting ground
poem by Inner Projection
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In My Time Of Dying
Written by: r. johnson (jones/page/bonham/plant)
In my time of dying, want nobody to mourn
All I want for you to do is take my body home
Well, well, well, so I can die easy (x2)
Jesus, gonna make up my dyin bed.
Meet me, jesus, meet me. meet me in the middle of the air
If my wings should fail me, lord. please meet me with another pair
Well, well, well, so I can die easy (x2)
Jesus, gonna make up.. somebody, somebody...
Jesus gonna make up... jesus gonna make you my dyin bed
Oh, saint peter, at the gates of heaven... wont you let me in
I never did no harm. I never did no wrong
Oh, gabriel, let me blow your horn. let me blow your horn
Oh, I never did, did no harm.
Ive only been this young once. I never thought Id do anybody no wrong
No, not once.
Oh, I did somebody some good. somebody some good...
Oh, did somebody some good. I must have did somebody some good...
And I see them in the streets
And I see them in the field
And I hear them shouting under my feet
And I know its got to be real
Oh, lord, deliver me
All the wrong Ive done
You can deliver me, lord
I only wanted to have some fun.
Hear the angels marchin, hear the marchin, hear them marchin,
Hear them marchin, the marchin
Oh my jesus... (repeat)
Oh, dont you make it my dyin, dyin, dyin...
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fly Kite
kite fly
with out tail
on rounding
with a tail..
good flying..
kite fly with
air..
thred...
tail...
kite will bee
fly...?
i don't no
kite also don't
no
that is life
some thing
but nothing...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In My Time Of Dying
(bonham/jones/page/plant)
In my time of dying, want nobody to mourn
All I want for you to do is take my body home
Well, well, well, so I can die easy (x2)
Jesus, gonna make up my dyin bed.
Meet me, jesus, meet me. meet me in the middle of the air
If my wings should fail me, lord. please meet me with another pair
Well, well, well, so I can die easy (x2)
Jesus, gonna make up.. somebody, somebody...
Jesus gonna make up... jesus gonna make you my dyin bed
Oh, saint peter, at the gates of heaven... wont you let me in
I never did no harm. I never did no wrong
Oh, gabriel, let me blow your horn. let me blow your horn
Oh, I never did, did no harm.
Ive only been this young once. I never thought Id do anybody no wrong
No, not once.
Oh, I did somebody some good. somebody some good...
Oh, did somebody some good. I must have did somebody some good...
And I see them in the streets
And I see them in the field
And I hear them shouting under my feet
And I know its got to be real
Oh, lord, deliver me
All the wrong Ive done
You can deliver me, lord
I only wanted to have some fun.
Hear the angels marchin, hear the marchin, hear them marchin,
Hear them marchin, the marchin
Oh my jesus... (repeat)
Oh, dont you make it my dyin, dyin, dyin...
(studio chatter: thats gonna be the one, isnt it?
Come have a listen, then.
Oh yes, thank you.)
song performed by by Led Zeppelin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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