An Explanation
'I never yet exactly could determine
Just how it is that the judicial ermine
Is kept so safely from predacious vermin.'
'It is not so, my friend: though in a garret
'Tis kept in camphor, and you often air it,
The vermin will get into it and wear it.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Each Creature Within Nature
From the great whales of the ocean to the garden snail in his shell
Each creature within Nature does serve it's purpose well
And the creatures we dismiss as vermin are not vermin at all
They contribute to Nature in some way though their contribution may seem small
What can be said of Nature that has not been said before
She is the one immortal she will live forever more
Many of her creatures gone to extinction but new life forms she create
The one the artists and the writers feel inspired to celebrate
The one who lives by her own law and does things in her own way
From our every walk in Nature we learn every day
'Tis not out of a sense of joy that the male bird sings his song
But to warn neighbour males of his own kind that this patch to him belong
The creatures us humans dismiss as vermin not so in Nature's eyes
And Nature's ways are far more complex than we even realize.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Batchelors Song
Like a Dog with a bottle, fast ti'd to his tail,
Like Vermin in a trap, or a Thief in a Jail,
Or like a Tory in a Bog,
Or an Ape with a Clog:
Such is the man, who when he might go free,
Does his liberty loose,
For a Matrimony noose,
And sels himself into Captivity;
The Dog he do's howl, when his bottle do's jog,
The Vermin, the Theif, and the Tory in vain
Of the trap, of the Jail, of the Quagmire complain.
But welfare poor Pug! for he playes with his Clog;
And tho' he would be rid on't rather than his life,
Yet he lugg's it, and he hug's it, as a man does his wife.
poem by Thomas Flatman
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The Rape of the Trap. A Ballad
'Twas in a land of learning,
The Muse's favourite city,
Such pranks of late
Were play'd by a rat,
As-tempt one to be witty.
All in a college study,
Where books were in great plenty;
This rat would devour
More sense in an hour,
Than I could write-in twenty.
Corporeal food, 'tis granted,
Serves vermin less refined,
Sir But this, a rat of taste,
All other rats surpass'd,
And he prey'd on the food of the mind, Sir.
His breakfast, half the morning
He constantly attended;
And when the bell rung
For evening song,
His dinner scarce was ended!
He spared not even heroics,
On which we poets pride us,
And would make no more
Of King Arthurs, by the score,
Than-all the world beside does.
In books of geography
He made the maps to flutter;
A river or a sea
Was to him a dish of tea;
And a kingdom, bread and butter.
But if some mawkish potion
Might chance to overdose him,
To check its rage,
He took a page
Of logic-to compose him-
A Trap, in haste and anger,
Was brought, you need not doubt on't,
And, such was the gin,
Were a lion once got in,
He could not, I think, get out on't.
With cheese, not books, 'twas baited;
The fact-I'll not belie it-
Since none-I tell you that-
Whether scholar or rat,
Minds books when he has other diet.
But more of Trap and bait, Sir,
Why should I sing, or either?
Since the rat, who knew the sleight,
Came in the dead of night,
And dragg'd them away together.
Both Trap and bait were vanish'd
Through a fracture in the flooring;
Which though so trim
It now may seem
Had then-a dozen or more in.
Then answer this, ye sages!
Nor deem I mean to wrong ye,
Had the rat, which thus did seize on
The Trap, less claim to reason,
Than many a skull among ye?
Dan Prior's mice, I own it,
Were vermin of condition;
But this rat, who merely learn'd
What rats alone concern'd,
Was the greater politician.
That England's topsyturvy
Is clear from these mishaps, Sir;
Since Traps, we may determine,
Will no longer take our vermin,
But vermin take our Traps, Sir.
Let sophs, by rats infested,
Then trust in cats to catch them,
Lest they grow as learn'd as we
In our studies ; where, d' ye see,
No mortal sits to watch them.
Good luck betide our captains,
Good luck betide our cats, Sir,
And grant that the one
May quell the Spanish Don,
And the other destroy our rats, Sir.
poem by William Shenstone
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Mary Ellen
It's mighty quiet in the house
Since Mary Ellen quit me cold;
I've swept the hearth and fed the mouse
That's getting fat and overbold.
I've bought a pig's foot for the pot
And soon I'll set the fire alight;
Then I may eat or I may not,
Depends upon my appetite.
Since Mary Ellen left me lone
I haven't earned a bloody bob.
I sit and sigh, and mope and moan,
And bellyache I quit my job.
My money's mostly gone,--I think
I ought to save it up for food . . .
But no, I'll blow it in for drink,
Then do a bunk for good.
I watch my mouse his whiskers preen;
He watches me with wicked glee.
Today--oh God! It's years sixteen
Since Mary Ellen wed with me.
Oh how the dear girl hated vermin!
She left rat poison on the shelf . . .
Friend Mouse, your doom I new determine
Then--how about myself?
poem by Robert William Service
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Touch but a cobweb in Westminster Hall, and the old spider of the law is out upon you with all his vermin at his heels.
If human beings were shown what they're really like, they'd either kill one another as vermin, or hang themselves.
quote by Aldous Huxley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Worlds Biggest Rat
World’s Biggest Rat.
A moonlit evening, behind a supermarket in Denmark, a guard
spotted a very big rat and he got his dog to kill it. The biggest
rat in the world so big it couldn’t live in the sewer, it makes
you proud to be Danish. With so much food around in streets
and in supermarket’s bin, could easily feed the poor. But there
is no poor people in Denmark! Vermin is a problem, one can’t
put them on a lorry and send them to another country.
There was a picture of the rat in the papers, a conceited guard,
we didn’t his dog though, held it aloft like trophy. It turned to
be a mother rat when it was dissected at the lab, eight baby rats
waiting to be born. More and more, long tailed rodents are
roaming streets, emptying bins and eating our babies in their
cots. One wonders if they are listening to the ancient prophecy: ”
One day vermin shall live in the sunlight side by side with man.”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Monks, mice, rats, vermin, seldom sunder without harming.
I wonder how so insupportable a thing as a bookseller was ever permitted to grow up in the Commonwealth. Many of our modern booksellers are but needless excrements, or rather vermin.
quote by George Wither
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No attempt at ethical or social seduction can eradicate from my heart a deep burning hatred for the Tory Party. So far as I am concerned they are lower than vermin.
quote by Aneurin Bevan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The cynic is one who never sees a good quality in a man, and never fails to see a bad one. He is a human owl, vigilant in darkness, and blind to light, mousing for vermin, and never seeing noble game.
quote by Henry Ward Beecher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Life Form
Every life form that lives on this Planet serves Nature in some sort of a way
And no life form in truth is vermin despite what some do think or say
Each life form is there for some purpose whatever that purpose may be
For the worth of each individual species ask one with more knowledge of Nature than me
In a World of over six billion people the pressure on Nature's life forms is great
Pollution and destruction of habitat of many life forms have sealed the fate
Removal of trees for development, pollution of air, sea and land
It surely is at our own peril if Nature we don't try to understand
For human pollution of the environment the price for us all huge to pay
More water-ways are being polluted more trees are removed every day
When we disrespect our natural environment disrespect for ourselves we do show
With a huge rise in carbon emissions so little of Nature we know
Every life form that lives on the Planet serves Nature in some sort of a way
And no life form in truth is vermin despite what some do think or say.
poem by Francis Duggan
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No amount of cajolery, and no attempts at ethical or social seduction, can eradicate from my heart a deep burning hatred for the Tory Party. So far as I am concerned they are lower than vermin.
quote by Aneurin Bevan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Is It Silent This Ocean Of Souls?
The circle is turning its seventh wheel
And reality is breaking at its boundaries
Small worlds are colliding once more
Upon the tapestry unfolding
And we are to set our sails for new horizons
We are to set sail in search of a home we have never known.
Where are the birds of morning’s song?
Why is it silent this ocean of souls?
I shall ask the elders….
Allow your heart to smile
Allow your friends to sing
And dance, go dance just for a while
And know the love you bring.
Her eyes they shone a diamond mile
Below the moon a lamplight flickering between island clouds
I asked her to dance just for a while
And then I lost her in the crowd.
Moralities rotten, inhibition forgotten,
The dance is led, wild and fed upon the souls of the dead still dreaming.
Where are we now to turn?
Where now for us to run?
Now that they burn our books
And chase the innocent down
Vermin flesh torn by vermin hounds
The purple journey leads my soul
Through the void to make me whole
The purple journey bends my mind
It leaves me lost and hard to find.
It stirs within the forest night
It stirs within the nightmare
It stirs within the burning light
It stirs within all we share.
poem by David Lacey
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The Year Of The Rat
A Chinese friend informed me that
This is the astrological year of the rat
Though an animal lover I’ve always been
A year full of rats will cause me chagrin
A pup or a kitten would be more to my taste
Their barks and their mews I’d more easily face
With our two legged rats we seem to prefer
We’ve vermin enough, I think you’ll concur
If we skip over this rat laden calendar year
I don’t believe it would cause too many a tear
But tearful or not, I think we should heed it
That a year full of rats is really not needed
poem by Stanley Cooper
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Scuttle, Scuttle, Little Roach
SCUTTLE, scuttle, little roach—
How you run when I approach:
Up above the pantry shelf,
Hastening to secrete yourself.
Most adventurous of vermin,
How I wish I could determine
How you spend your hours of ease,
Perhaps reclining on the cheese.
Cook has gone, and all is dark—
Then the kitchen is your park:
In the garbage heap that she leaves
Do you browse among the tea leaves?
How delightful to suspect
All the places you have trekked:
Does your long antenna whisk its
Gentle tip across the biscuits?
Do you linger, little soul,
Drowsing in our sugar bowl?
Or, abandonment most utter,
Shake a shimmy on the butter?
Do you chant your simple tunes
Swimming in the baby's prunes?
Then, when dawn comes, do you slink
Homeward to the kitchen sink?
Timid roach, why be so shy?
We are brothers, thou and I.
In the midnight, like yourself,
I explore the pantry shelf!
poem by Christopher Morley
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The Cat of Cats
I am the cat of cats. I am
The everlasting cat!
Cunning, and old, and sleek as jam,
The everlasting cat!
I hunt vermin in the night-
The everlasting cat!
For I see best without the light-
The everlasting cat!
poem by William Brighty Rands
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Aspromonte
So you think he is defeated, O ye comfortably seated,
And that Victory is meted in your loaded huckster's scales?
O ye fools! though justice tarry, yet by heaven broad and starry,
Right, howe'er it may miscarry, ere the end arrive, prevails.
And you think a wounded hero may hereafter count as zero,
And that every desperate Nero rules the cities which he burns;
That a wild steed caught and snaffled means a nation wholly baffled,
And its future may be raffled in your diplomatic urns!
Well, then, know we would not barter this our never flinching martyr
For the very largest charter we could coax from ``Right Divine,''
That his blood upon your ermine only makes us more determine
To exterminate the vermin who have baulked his grand design.
Dolts! upon successful traitor vengeance groweth only greater,
Not one whit less sure, the later the account may be delayed,
And will one day have its grip on every decorated fripon,
Though he loudly laugh and lip on, whilst the world is plunged in shade.
And I pray ye, O ye people! trust in palace nor in steeple!
If you sow ill you will reap ill, to your misery and scorn;
In your generation wiser, know that vows of priest and kaiser
Only supple cheats and lies are, to be broken swift as sworn.
But have faith that Time the Scourger will be even with the perjure,
When shall greener be the verdure upon Aspromonte's slope,
When the populations fitted to be wholly manumitted,
Shall be trampled nor outwitted, or by Emperor or Pope.
And no longer forced to tremble, or whilst cursing to dissemble,
Shall free Italy assemble, 'neath a new and grander dome;
Grander far than that of Peter, wherein Liberty shall seat her,
By his martyrdom completer who first struck for ``Death or Rome!''
poem by Alfred Austin
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Delivery On Demand
Oh you newly delivered mother
The way you feel now, you wonder why bother
The cuddles and the squirming demanded yet more licking
Cleaning to keep away the vermin
Tiny, blind helpless souls you nursed to weaning
Have disappeared one by one
Fluffy, cuddly, black and tan
Not something you'd understand
Worth a ransom, you produced on cue
You can't comprehend why they were taken from you
Fitful whining behind forlorn eyes
You're not to know if they live or died
Loving strokes from your master
You're not to know what he was after
Unbounded love from you, man's best friend
Defender of his offspring, guardian of his home
Slobbering kisser of his hand
You back down on command
You soon to be pregnant Boxer bitch
You'll keep a baby one day...
But you don't know which.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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