Beef also was difficult to be procured and exceedingly poor; the price nearly sixpence farthing per pound.
quote by William Bligh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
We Got The Beef
Had ourselves a little barbeque
Corn on the cob and mashed potatoes too
Joe got the fritos, ernie got the stew
So what did you bring
We got the beef
We got the beef
We got the beef
Yeah, we got it
(we got the beef)
Now, everybody get on your feet (we got the beef)
Grab a hunk of ? ? ? beef (we got the beef)
Chuck daddy (we got the beef)
Now, ground round by the pound
We got the beef (we got the beef)
We got the beef (we got the beef, we got the beef)
We got the beef (we got the beef, we got the)
We got the beef
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Safe And Sound
My name is Nunty Cormorant
And my finance is sound,
I lend you Englishmen hot air
At one and three the pound.
I lend you Englishmen hot air
And I get all the beef
While you stalwart sheep of freedom
Are on the poor relief.
Wot oh! my buxom hearties,
What ain't got work no more
And don't know what bug is a-bitin'
To keep your feelin's sore,
There is blokes in automobiles
And their necks sunk into fur
That keep on gettin' usury
To make 'em cosier.
I read these fellers puts it
Most tidily away
And then lends out their printed slips
To keep the wolf away
From the vaults and combination
Safes in Thread and Needle street.
I wouldn't 'ave the needle
If I had more grub to eat.
Oh the needle is your portion,
My sufferin' fellow men,
Till the King shall take the notion
To own his coin again.
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waxies Dargle
[the pogues version]
------------------------------------
Says my aul wan to your aul wan
Will ye go to the waxies dargle?
Says your aul wan to my aul wan,
I havent got a farthing.
I went up to monto town
To see uncle mcardle
But he wouldnt give me a half a crown
For to go to the waxies dargle.
What will ya have? !
Ill have a pint!
Ill have a pint with you, sir!
And if one of ya doesnt order soon
Well be chucked out of the boozer!
Says my aul wan to your aul wan
Will ye go to the galway races?
Says your aul wan to my aul wan,
Ill hawk me aul mans braces.
I went up to capel street
To the jewish moneylenders
But he wouldnt give me a couple of bob
For the aul mans red suspenders.
Chorus
Says my aul wan to your aul wan
We got no beef or mutton
If we went up to monto town
We might get a drink for nuttin
Heres a nice piece of advice
I got from an aul fishmonger:
When food is scarce and you see the hearse
Youll know you have died of hunger.
Chorus x2
[waxies dargle]
------------------------------------------
Says my aul wan to your aul wan
Will ye come to the waxies dargle?
Says your aul wan to my aul wan,
Sure I havent got a farthing.
Ive just been down to monto town
To see uncle mcardle
But he didnt have half a crown
For to go to the waxies dargle.
What are ye having, will ye have a pint?
Yes, Ill have a pint with you, sir,
And if one of us doesnt order soon
Well be thrown out of the boozer.
Says my aul wan to your aul wan
Will ye come to the galway races?
Says your aul wan to my aul wan,
With the price of my aul lads braces.
I went down to capel street
To the jew man moneylenders
But they wouldnt give me a couple of bob on
My aul lads suspenders.
Chorus
Says my aul wan to your aul wan
We have no beef or mutton
But if we go down to monto town
We might get a drink for nuttin
Heres a piece of good advice
I got from an aul fishmonger:
When food is scarce and you see the hearse
Youll know you have died of hunger.
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beef is beef, you know. Beef comes, so Beef is real.
quote by Obie Trice
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is seldom very hard to do one's duty when one knows what it is, but it is often exceedingly difficult to find this out.
quote by Samuel Butler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coffee and the poor economies of the world.
Respect the sweat of human,
Irrespective of color, creed and religion,
One third of tap water is used to brew the coffee,
Procured two to five dollars per kilo in whole sale,
Starbucks sell two pound a cup in the stalls in UK,
Have spacious restaurants in our regions
converting UK pounds to our pitiful denomination,
Americana, Cappuccino, Mocha and Espresso,
Fancy name attached with degree of roasting,
Fermentation, with milk, without milk and bubbles,
Come to our countries, freshly roasted filter coffee,
Available on the road sides for five rupees a cup,
Cup size of less than 50 ml, just to moisten the throat,
Even the Cups of developed nations, fivefold our size,
Still it is only 25 rupees, equivalent to fifty cents,
We are the poor people; give us the fair price,
Coffee is the third liquid, after petroleum, on the market,
Out of one kilo coffee powder,100 cups can be brewed,
R&D, Oil rigs, Oil platforms, expensive engineers and workmen,
Billions of dollar investment, still one liter petrol costs 140 pence,
What have you invested in our poor countries,
To drink the sweat of our plantation coolies so cheap?
How are we obligated to sell our produce,
So cheap for you to increase the value and sell?
WE are fools and our politicians are your tools,
To puncture our hearts to do the batter trade.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of the Squatter
The Commissioner bet me a pony—I won,
So he cut off exactly two-thirds of my run;
For he said I was making a fortune too fast,
And profit gained slower the longer would last.
He remarked, as devouring my mutton he sat,
That I suffered my sheep to grow sadly too fat;
That they wasted waste land, did prerogative brown,
And rebelliously nibbled the droits of the Crown;
That the creek that divided my station in two
Showed that Nature designed that two fees should be due.
Mr. Riddle assured me’t was paid but for show,
But he kept it and spent it, that ’s all that I know.
The commissioner fined me because I forgot
To return an old ewe that was ill of the rot,
And a poor wry-necked lamb that we kept for a pet;
And he said it was treason such things to forget.
The commissioner pounded my cattle because
They had mumbled the scrub with their famishing jaws
On the part of the run he had taken away,
And he sold them by auction the costs to defray.
The border police they were out all the day
To look for some thieves who had ransacked my dray;
But the thieves they continued in quiet and peace,
For they ’d robbed it themselves, had the border police!
When the white thieves had left me the black thieves appeared,
My shepherds they waddied, my cattle they speared;
But from fear of my license I said not a word,
For I knew it was gone if the Government heard.
The commissioner’s bosom with anger was filled
Against me because my poor shepherd was killed;
So he straight took away the last third of my run,
And got it transferred to the name of his son.
The son had from Cambridge been lately expelled,
And his license for preaching most justly withheld!
But this is no cause, the commissioner says,
Why he should not be fit for my license to graze.
The cattle, that had not been sold at the pound,
He took with the run at five shillings all round,
And the sheep the blacks left me at sixpence a head,—
A very good price, the commissioner said.
The Governor told me I justly was served,
That commissioners never from duty had swerved;
But that if I’d a fancy for any more land
For one pound an acre he ’d plenty on hand.
I ’m not very proud! I can dig in a bog,
Feed pigs, or for firewood can split up a log,
Clean shoes, riddle cinders, or help to boil down—
Anything that you please, but graze lands of the Crown!
poem by Robert Lowe Sherbrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He that has lost a wife and sixpence has lost sixpence.
Song Of The Squatter
The Commissioner bet me a pony—I won;
So he cut off exactly two-thirds of my run;
For he said I was making a fortune too fast,
And profit gained slower the longer would last.
He remarked as devouring my mutton he sat,
That I suffered my sheep to grow sadly too fat;
That they wasted waste land, did prerogative brown,
And rebelliously nibbled the droits of the Crown;
That the creek that divided my station in two
Showed that Nature designed that two fees should be due.
Mr. Riddle assured me 'twas paid but for show;
But he kept it and spent it; that's all that I know.
The Commissioner fined me because I forgot
To return an old ewe that was ill of the rot,
And a poor wry-necked lamb that we kept for a pet;
And he said it was treason such things to forget.
The Commissioner pounded my cattle because
They had mumbled the scrub with their famishing jaws
On the part of the run he had taken away;
And he sold them by auction the costs to defray.
The Border Police they were out all the day
To look for some thieves who had ransacked my dray;
But the thieves they continued in quiet and peace,
For they'd robbed it themselves—had the Border Police!
When the white thieves had left me the black thieves appeared,
My shepherds they waddied, my cattle they speared;
But for fear of my licence I said not a word,
For I knew it was gone if the Government heard.
The Commissioner's bosom with anger was filled
Against me because my poor shepherd was killed;
So he straight took away the last third of my run,
And got it transferred to the name of his son.
The son had from Cambridge been lately expelled,
And his licence for preaching most justly withheld!
But this is no cause, the Commissioner says,
Why he should not be fit for a licence to graze.
The cattle that had not been sold at the pound
He took with the run at five shillings all round;
And the sheep the blacks left me at sixpence a head
"A very good price," the Commissioner said.
The Governor told me I justly was served,
That Commissioners never from duty had swerved;
But that if I'd a fancy for any more land
For one pound an acre he'd plenty on hand.
I'm not very proud! I can dig in a bog,
Feed pigs or for firewood can split up a log,
Clean shoes, riddle cinders, or help to boil down
Or whatever you please, but graze lands of the Crown.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bright Sunny Day
If you wake up in the morning light
Something doesn't seem
or know is right
Lay back and let your feeling show
Come on and let the people know
Oh, that's the price that you pay
Oh, that's the price that you pay.
Just ?? money
Your baby ??
??
Now come on boys,??
Oh, that's the price that you pay
Oh, that's the price that you pay.
Oh, that's the price that you pay
Oh, that's the price that you pay.
Bad news is just an excuse
Get down and
let yourself keep loose
Go on and live for tomorrow
So much spent today in sorrow
Oh, that's the price that you pay
Oh, that's the price that you pay.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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my Stalker Has Returned
...Got my stalker back, YEP, its true...
...Under a new and fancy pen name...-
...He thinks that hes ' cute and clever'
...And that he'll get no blame;
...He knows pretty much 'our set up'-
...Speaks of the wall of veneer...-
...That would be the dividing wall...-..
...Between the eye and here;
...Mentioned The Spider! ! !
...Mentioned The Attic! ! !
...Now we are here to tell you all...-
...That Our Stalker Is Back-
...Delivering 'His Static'! ! !
...Clever handle these days...
...Goes by a Monster Metal Name-
...Believe that it is 'Something DragonHearted'
...Turning it all over to you-its now 'YOUR' game;
************************************* ****************************************
A British Song***
Written in 1941
By Elton Box
And Desmond Cox
...Sixpence
...I've got sixpence
...Jolly, jolly sixpence
...I've got sixpence to last me all of my life
... I've got Twopence to spend
...And Twopence to lend
...And Twopence to send home to my wife-poor wife;
********************************************* *********************************
From: The Attic Of My Heart (MY HOME LITERALLY)
Last in my series: Madness
Dedicated to: Mr. F. Bilbo of Quality, Christian Bowen, Michael, aka Andy aka, Ismael, Basil R. Sir William (Who put him up to the write,) , and all of the rest of you. It is out of our hands as of this evening at 10: 30 P.M. Central time. October 26,2009
THE AUTHORITIES WILL HANDLE THIS.
To Mr.DragonHearted: YOU DO KNOW THE LAYOUT WELL(or should we say, The manic who put you up to writing that poem knows our layout well...Motely Crue and all.)
THE only ones who understood your poem...
Were the people involved in this investigation! ! !
Cannot wait for our day in court with YOU!
And or the: 'Malicious Hate filled Manic person' who put
You up to writing that particular poem and continues
To write his own under a different name...my husbands first name.
**************************************** **************************************
Tha nk you everyone who helped with this!
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Neglect Of Homer
Could Homer come himself, distressed and poor
And tune his harp at Rhedicina's door,
The rich old vixen would exclaim, (I fear,)
'Begone! no tramper gets a farthing here.'
poem by William Cowper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Price That You Pay
If you wake up in the morning light
Something doesnt seem or know is right
Lay back and let your feeling show
Come on and let the people know
Oh, thats the price that you pay
Oh, thats the price that you pay.
Just ____________________ money
Your baby _______________________
________________________________
Now come on boys, ________________
Oh, thats the price that you pay
Oh, thats the price that you pay.
Oh, thats the price that you pay
Oh, thats the price that you pay.
Bad news is just an excuse
Get down and let yourself keep loose
Go on and live for tomorrow
So much spent today in sorrow
Oh, thats the price that you pay
Oh, thats the price that you pay.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4. Shopping and Chopping
Have you got pigs liver?
Said a lady in my shop
No I said politely
But I have a nice pork chop
Could I have some kidney?
With a half a pound of steak
To make a lovely gravy
With the pie she was to bake
The scales shows two and sixpence
Three bob a little more
She didn’t want the piece of steak
I’d just dropped on the floor
I parcelled up her purchase
And placed it with her shopping
Put the money in the till
Then went back to my chopping
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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The layman always means, when he says "reality" that he is speaking of something self-evidently known; whereas to me it seems the most important and exceedingly difficult task of our time is to work on the construction of a new idea of reality.
quote by Wolfgang Pauli
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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What's so difficult...
What's so difficult,
About the word,
No.
What's so difficult,
About our,
Relationship.
What's so difficult,
About,
Us.
What's so difficult,
About the words,
Stay away.
What's so difficult,
About,
Don't talk to me.
What's so difficult...
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The course of the flight up and down was exceedingly erratic, partly due to the irregularity of the air, and partly to lack of experience in handling this machine. The control of the front rudder was difficult on account of its being balanced too near the center.
quote by Orville Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Supertight
They call me Mister Supertight,
As if I'm somewhat mean!
But I'll buy if the price is right,
In fact, it's then I'm keen!
I love a bargain now and then,
I think that's quite sublime...
Like Mister Scrooge and skinflint men,
Why should I waste my time?
I visit stores, I shop around,
I go online as well...
And, oh, the savings that I've found!
The stories I could tell!
I save those coupon vouchers, too,
Five pound, ten pound and more!
Like frugal folks, I'll Google through
And find discounts galore!
My Bank account can testify
The savings that I've made!
Like me, research before you buy,
Then haggle unafraid!
Half price may be the best you'll get,
Like two-for-one steal deals...
If cashback sites are your best bet,
Then think of how that feels...
They call me Mister Supertight,
As if I'm somewhat mad!
Yet overpaying's not that bright,
I don't like being had!
Thank God, I'm full of Christmas cheer!
Paid too much? You're to blame!
I've saved a fortune year-by-year...
And you can do the same!
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Friend
There are lots and lots of people who are always asking things,
Like Dates and Pounds-and-ounces and the names of funny Kings,
And the answer's always Sixpence or A Hundred Inches Long.
And I know they'll think me silly if I get the answer wrong.
So Pooh and I go whispering, and Pooh looks very bright,
And says, 'Well, I say sixpence, but I don't suppose I'm right.'
And then it doesn't matter what the answer ought to be,
'Cos if he's right, I'm Right, and if he's wrong, it isn't Me.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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A Missed Attention Given
It becomes exceedingly difficult,
With an increasing suspicion...
To trust or believe in someone hiding,
From behind ever changing masks.
Where is the credibility?
Or the prospects of it existing?
People like this anticipate a patience given.
With yet another declaration of an emergency exclaimed,
When in actuality...
A missed attention given to them is wished,
With a dropping of everything to cater to their whims...
Again!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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