The CD is dedicated to our dog Nell, who passed away last year.
quote by Julia Barr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nell and John
When Nell, given o'er by the doctor, was dying,
And John at the chimney stood decently crying,
'Tis in vain said the woman to make such ado,
For to our long home we must all of us go.
True, Nell, replied John; but what yet is the worst
For us that remain, the best always go first;
Remember, dear wife, that I said so last year,
When you lost your white heifer, and I my brown mare.
poem by Matthew Prior
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Devoutly Thankful Lover
So Nell was married yesterday! -
Let's fill a bumper mellow,
And drain it to old Hymen's sway -
And to the lucky fellow.
Time was when 1 was 'gone' on her:
When each day I'd discover
Fresh charms to make my pulses stir,
And-fool-like-act the lover.
Her eyes were bright as stars at night,
Her lips were like to coral,
And Nell was, in her lover's sight,
As beautiful as moral.
But now with joy we drink his health,
Whom Nell did most prefer,
And wish him lots of luck and wealth
Who's lately married her.
I loved - for Nell was fair and tall,
And sweet as fragrant clover -
But now I love her most of all
Because - she threw me over.
poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
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7th February 2012
I was a year older on Tuesday,7th February 2012;
And, you were a year older on the same day!
Day, ray, say, tray, bray, bay, pray, play, May, way, away;
But this poem is dedicated to you my friend.
Date, mate, late, rate, hate, bate, gate, crate, pate, sate, state;
For, the occasion also reminded me of your love!
Year, ear, hear, sear, tear, wear, bear, dear, fear, gear, spear;
And like the ways of life around us! !
But, this poem is dedicated to you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Dedicated
Dedicated to those
Who fought and survived
Dedicated to those
Who fought and died
Dedicated to those
Simple men with
A great dream of peace
Dedicated to those
Families who cried
At their loved ones funeral
Dedicated to those
Who supported our troops
From beginning to end
I dedicate this to you
And hope that you'll continue
With what you do
I dedicate this to you...
poem by Janelle Morehart
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The Bird of Paradise
Here comes Kate Summers, who, for gold,
Takes any man to bed:
"You knew my friend, Nell Barnes," she said;
"You knew Nell Barnes -- she's dead.
"Nell Barnes was bad on all you men,
Unclean, a thief as well;
Yet all my life I have not found
A better friend than Nell.
"So I sat at her side at last,
For hours, till she was dead;
And yet she had no sense at all
Of any word I said.
"For all her cry but came to this --
'Not for the world! Take care:
Don't touch that bird of paradise,
Perched on the bed-post there!'
"I asked her would she like some grapes,
Som damsons ripe and sweet;
A custard made with new-laid eggs,
Or tender fowl to eat.
"I promised I would follow her,
To see her in her grave;
And buy a wreath with borrowed pence,
If nothing I could save.
"Yet still her cry but came to this --
'Not for the world! Take care:
Don't touch that bird of paradise,
Perched on the bed-post there!' "
poem by William Henry Davies
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A-Shelling Peas
Now, all the world is green and bright
Outside the latticed pane;
The fields are decked with gold and white,
And Spring has come again.
But though the world be fair without,
With flow'rs and waving trees,
'Tis pleasanter to be about
Where Nell's a-shelling peas.
Her eyes are blue as cloudless skies,
And dimples deck her cheeks;
Whilst soft lights loiter in her eyes
Whene'er she smiles or speaks.
So all the sunlit morning-tide
I dally at mine ease,
To loaf at slender Nelly's side
When Nell's a-shelling peas.
This bard, who sits a-watching Nell,
With fingers white and slim,
Owns up that, as she breaks each shell,
She also "breaks up" him;
And could devoutly drop upon
Submissive, bended knees
To worship Nell with apron on -
A saint a-shelling peas.
The tucked-up muslin sleeves disclose
Her round arms white and bare -
'Tis only "shelling peas" that shows
Those dainty dimples there.
Old earth owns many sights to see
That captivate and please; -
The most bewitching sight for me
Is Nell a-shelling peas.
poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
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When You Least Expect It
Knock-kneed Nell had stories to tell
About all the sights she'd seen.
That sexy sway began her day....
Thinking how things could have been.
'I'll not condone a herringbone
For the price you want to pay!
Be off down the alley, old fool!
But, one man decided to stay.
Nell clawed like a cat, hissed, and spat.
The man stood his ground, and laughed.
'We'll take this to the marriage vows!
Clean my house, and cook my food!
In the marriage bed you can sass! '
poem by Elysabeth Faslund
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Maude Clare
Out of the church she followed them
With a lofty step and mien:
His bride was like a village maid,
Maude Clare was like a queen.
“Son Thomas, ” his lady mother said,
With smiles, almost with tears:
“May Nell and you but live as true
As we have done for years;
“Your father thirty years ago
Had just your tale to tell;
But he was not so pale as you,
Nor I so pale as Nell.”
My lord was pale with inward strife,
And Nell was pale with pride;
My lord gazed long on pale Maude Clare
Or ever he kissed the bride.
“Lo, I have brought my gift, my lord,
Have brought my gift, ” she said:
To bless the hearth, to bless the board,
To bless the marriage-bed.
“Here’s my half of the golden chain
You wore about your neck,
That day we waded ankle-deep
For lilies in the beck:
“Here’s my half of the faded leaves
We plucked from the budding bough,
With feet amongst the lily leaves, -
The lilies are budding now.”
He strove to match her scorn with scorn,
He faltered in his place:
“Lady, ” he said, - “Maude Clare, ” he said, -
“Maude Clare, ” – and hid his face.
She turn’d to Nell: “My Lady Nell,
I have a gift for you;
Though, were it fruit, the blooms were gone,
Or, were it flowers, the dew.
“Take my share of a fickle heart,
Mine of a paltry love:
Take it or leave it as you will,
I wash my hands thereof.”
“And what you leave, ” said Nell, “I’ll take,
And what you spurn, I’ll wear;
For he’s my lord for better and worse,
And him I love Maude Clare.
“Yea, though you’re taller by the head,
More wise and much more fair:
I’ll love him till he loves me best,
Me best of all Maude Clare.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Another Year
Another year has passed.
Things are finally looking up at last.
I'm twenty-five and still alive.
Suprisingly I feel alright.
Holding my loved ones near and tight.
The one I hold dearest gives me light.
Through all my life I knew it right.
Long days have passed since I came last.
Many happy days here in this cast.
A loving family with freinds present and in the past.
Most of them I still love, they're a smash.
Although from time to time we clash.
A faithful journey with falls a plenty.
They can't beat me because God has kept me.
I'll keep fighting to find my meaning.
Another year I know I'm dear.
To all of those who gave me cheer.
Some things are close with who I've chose.
The deals at hand to have and close.
When another year has passed.
I know that she'll be mine at last.
So I thank you all it's been a blast.
We'll celebrate all the years that pass.
poem by Michael McParland
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September Quandary
Thirty days does have September,
But there's one thing I don't remember.
What happened to those eight other months?
I know I must appear a dunce, but…
All this time couldn't pass me by I don't believe,
While I celebrated last year's New Year's Eve.
Then before I could make it to New Year's Day,
Exactly 243 days of this year have passed away.
Never again will this calendar inhibit my sight.
People and experiences will be focused delight.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Dedicated Follower Of Fashion
They seek him here, they seek him there,
His clothes are loud, but never square.
It will make or break him so hes got to buy the best,
cause hes a dedicated follower of fashion.
And when he does his little rounds,
round the boutiques of london town,
Eagerly pursuing all the latest fads and trends,
cause hes a dedicated follower of fashion.
Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
He thinks he is a flower to be looked at,
And when he pulls his frilly nylon panties right up tight,
He feels a dedicated follower of fashion.
Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
Theres one thing that he loves and that is flattery.
One week hes in polka-dots, the next week he is in stripes.
cause hes a dedicated follower of fashion.
They seek him here, they seek him there,
In regent street and leicester square.
Everywhere the carnabetian army marches on,
Each one an dedicated follower of fashion.
Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
His world is built round discoteques and parties.
This pleasure-seeking individual always looks his best
cause hes a dedicated follower of fashion.
Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
He flits from shop to shop just like a butterfly.
In matters of the cloth he is as fickle as can be,
cause hes a dedicated follower of fashion.
Hes a dedicated follower of fashion.
Hes a dedicated follower of fashion.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Nell
GLEAMING through the silent church-yard,
Winter sunlight seemed to shed
Golden shadows like soft blessings
O'er a quiet little bed,
Where a pale face lay unheeding
Tender tears that o'er it fell;
No sorrow now could touch the heart
Of gentle little Nell.
Ah, with what silent patient strength
The frail form lying there
Had borne its heavy load of grief,
Of loneliness and care.
Now, earthly burdens were laid down,
And on the meek young face
There shone a holier loveliness
Than childhood's simple grace.
Beset with sorrow, pain and fear,
Tempted by want and sin,
With none to guide or counsel her
But the brave child-heart within.
Strong in her fearless, faithful love,
Devoted to the last,
Unfaltering through gloom and gleam
The little wanderer passed.
Hand in hand they journeyed on
Through pathways strange and wild,
The gray-haired, feeble, sin-bowed man
Led by the noble child.
So through the world's dark ways she passed,
Till o'er the church-yard sod,
To the quiet spot where they found rest,
Those little feet had trod.
To that last resting-place on earth
Kind voices bid her come,
There her long wanderings found an end,
And weary Nell a home.
A home whose light and joy she was,
Though on her spirit lay
A solemn sense of coming change,
That deepened day by day.
There in the church-yard, tenderly,
Through quiet summer hours,
Above the poor neglected graves
She planted fragrant flowers.
The dim aisles of the ruined church
Echoed the child's light tread,
And flickering sunbeams thro' the leaves
Shone on her as she read.
And here where a holy silence dwelt,
And golden shadows fell,
When Death's mild face had looked on her,
They laid dear happy Nell.
Long had she wandered o'er the earth,
One hand to the old man given,
By the other angels led her on
Up a sunlit path to Heaven.
Oh! 'patient, loving, noble Nell,'
Like light from sunset skies,
The beauty of thy sinless life
Upon the dark world lies.
On thy sad story, gentle child,
Dim eyes will often dwell,
And loving hearts will cherish long
The memory of Nell.
poem by Louisa May Alcott
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A Faithful Witness
To the firstborn of Yahseph,
Of all that is created;
To the secondborn of Yahseph,
Do set set your mind on Mount Zion;
For His name is His glory and,
Of the economic well-being.
Of the year of the rat,
Of the year of the dog,
Of the year of the cow,
Of the year of the bull,
Of the year of the sheep,
Of the year of the dragon,
Of the year of the snake,
Of the year of the pig,
Of the year of the goat,
Of the year of the lizard,
Of the year of the crocodile,
Of the year of the elephant,
Of the year of the scorpion,
Of the year of the turtle,
Of the year of the fish,
Of the year of the earth,
Of the year of the wind,
Of the year of the fire,
Of the year of the water,
And of the year of the bush!
Like the firstborns of slaves.
The hips of romance,
The faithful witness will not lie;
The same day,
The same night,
Of the love shared at where no oxen are;
And the crib was very clean.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The obligatory annual festive write
The obligatory annual festive write
~
Another year has passed
That time has come again
To raise a glass in cheer and to pen
The obligatory Christmas poem
~
New friends have come and been welcomed
Old friends kept and loved
Now to find the time to gather
Share in stories of the year passed
The laughter and the songs
The memories in photographs
They still mean so much
~
And so the stories to come
Those nights which await
When we will laugh and sing
Cry be there for each other
To every month which lays ahead
Together we will face them
And capture in pictures and stories
A new year to remember
~
To every friend a hearty cheer
To all a happy new year
In this season of good will
Let us smile and find peace
Let us rejoice and love
And once more a poem to say
Happy Christmas everyone
Have a happy new year
xxx
poem by Matthew Holloway
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I miss you so
I miss you so much.
As the morning rises.
And the day comes to a close.
The pain of missing you never ceases.
When I think of you my face creases.
All I can say is I miss you so.
Life hasn't been the same,
since you webt away.
And my tears still stay.
And my heart aches for you every day.
I breath in your smell.
Oh how I wish you were here.
All I know now is that I miss you so.
You are the brightest star at night.
And your smile is in the sun.
As I remeber the fun.
I miss you so much.
I dont think my heart will ever mend.
Dedicated to my gran who passed away almost a year ago.
Love you and miss you gran
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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The New-Year Babe
Two together, Babe and Year,
At the midnight chime,
Through the darkness drifted here
To the coast of Time.
Two together, Babe and Year,
Over night and day,
Crossed the desert Winter drear
To the land of May.
On together, Babe and Year
Swift to Summer passed.
'Rest a moment, Brother dear,'
Said the Babe at last.
'Nay, but onward,' answered Year,
'We must farther go,
Through the Vale of Autumn sere
To the Mount of Snow.'
Toiling upward, Babe and Year
Climbed the frozen height.
'We may rest together here,
Brother Babe,-Good-night!'
Then together Babe and Year
Slept; but ere the dawn,
Vanishing, I know not where,
Brother Year was gone!
poem by John Bannister Tabb
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Sonnet - 'Tis Christmas-time Again
'Tis Christmas-time again this year for me;
I wish it brings me joy and much more cheer;
0 Jesus Lord, please bless my family;
The ones I love, both far and near and dear.
This year has had its joys and woes, bygone;
Some days of despair, heart cannot describe;
And some had died while others had been born;
To lucky few, I do still now prescribe!
But anyway, the year had been better,
Than all the previous ones that had passed by;
Lesser to man and more to God, debtor;
I am, but God's my Friend and Guide so nigh.
Perhaps, the New-Year brings more surprises,
Including the skyrocketing prices!
poem by John Celes
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Funky New Year
Went to a party just last night
Wanted to bring the year in right
Woke up this morning I don't know how
Last night I was a happy man, but the way I feel right now
It's gonna be a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Ooo, Ahh, got to be a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Can't remember when I ever felt worse
Nothing matters and everything hurts
They were passin' round the bottle, made me feel brand new
Trouble with the new man he wants a hit too, hit me
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
oooooo, it's a FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Lord, mmm, FUNKY NEW YEAR
Nurse I'm worse FUNKY NEW YEAR
I got to perk up a little FUNKY NEW YEAR
My hair hurts FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
A party baby
Never again FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Who's shoes are these FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
Party hardy baby FUNKY NEW YEAR
FUNKY NEW YEAR
What year is this anyway?
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cry
Don't you cry
My little girl,
Mummy
Loves you,
You are my
Sweet pearl.
(dedicated to my 7 year old daughter)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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A Year Later
Freshman year, cool September morn',
A day which brings despair.
Two warriors standing proud and tall,
Struck down by eagles of the enemy.
What once was there, there was no more.
No more warriors, but heroes are what we have.
Men and women, burdened by grief,
Rise like the Phoenix out of the ashes.
A year later...
Sophomore year, a cool September morn',
A year of pain and suffering gone by.
Two warriors, passed into ghostly passages,
Still live on, as clouds in the sky.
poem by Christine Elm
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