Atkins
Yonder's the man with his life in his hand,
Legs on the march for whatever the land,
Or to the slaughter, or to the maiming,
Getting the dole of a dog for pay.
Laurels he clasps in the words 'duty done,'
England his heart under every sun:-
Exquisite humour! that gives him a naming
Base to the ear as an ass's bray.
poem by George Meredith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Trafalgar Day
LAURELS, bring laurels, sheaves on sheaves,
Till England's boughs are bare of leaves!
Soon comes the flower more rare, more dear
Than any laurel this year weaves--
The Aloe of the hundredth year
Since from the smoke of Trafalgar
He passed to where the heroes are,
Nelson, who passed and yet is here,
Whose dust is fire beneath our feet,
Whose memory mans our fleet.
Laurels, bring laurels, since they hold
His England's tears in each green fold,
His England's joy, his England's pride,
His England's glories manifold.
Yet what was Victory since he died?
And what was Death since he lives yet,
Above a Nation's worship set,
Above her heroes glorified?--
Nelson, who made our flag a star
To lead where Victories are!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
March On Comrades, March On
Yonder in the East, our comrades are shouting,
Yonder in the East, our comrades are fighting,
Yonder in the East, our fate they are carving,
March on comrades, march on.
From the East, slogan is echoing,
Scrap automation, allow us due living,
It is bare minimum, is it much asking?
March on comrades, march on.
Make haste comrades, lest we be late,
The fight may be over and seal our fate,
Spurn the enemy with due hate,
March on comrades, march on.
The posterity will curse us if we linger,
Firmly in unison let us march thither,
Smother all those who our progress hinder,
March on comrades, march on.
Let us herald The New Era in,
Whence no one shall trade in empty sermons,
When khadi capped traders shall be banished,
When doing and not talking shall be the criterion,
March on comrades, march on.
What if we perish in the process,
We shall have lived with a purpose,
We shall have met an honoured death,
Our goal so humble, our cause is just;
March on comrades, march on.
Come Away
(g.bowser/j.jupp)
Published by chappell & co., ltd. - capac
As I walk along the lonely streets
I cant talk to the people that I meet
I see them come, and I see them go
I see them smile, and say hello
Come with me and take my hand
Ooh, fly away to another land, oh yes we will
Come with me and take my hand
Well fly away to another land
Come over here little girl
And Ill show you another world
Where we can be free to do as we want
Live our lives as we please, and say what we like, oh
Come with me and take my hand, ooh
Well fly away to another land
Come with me and take my hand, oh
And fly away to another land
Theres so many things that remain to be done
And no one has thought of a way to begin
So follow me into my life
Come with me and take my hand (and take...)
Fly away to another land (fly away to another land)
Come with me and take my hand (ooh)
Fly away to another land (fly away to another land)
Come with me and take my hand (take my hand)
Fly away to another land (oh yes we will)
Come with me and take my hand (and take my hand, take my hand)
Fly away to another land (yeah)
Come with me and take my hand
Fly away to another land
Come with me and take my hand
Fly away to another land
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Little Maggie
1. oh, where is little maggie
Over yonder she stands,
Rifle on her shoulder,
Six-shooter in her hand.
2. how can I ever stand it,
Just to see them two blue eyes,
Shinin like some diamonds,
Like some diamonds in the sky.
3. rather be in some lonely hollow
Where the sun dont ever shine,
Than to see you be another mans darling,
And to know that youll never be mine.
4. well, its march me away to the station
With my suitcase in my hand,
Yes, march me away to the station,
Im off to some far-distant land.
5. sometimes I have a nickel,
And sometimes I have a dime,
Sometimes I have ten dollars,
Just to pay for little maggies wine.
6. pretty flowers are made for blooming,
Pretty stars are made to shine,
Pretty girls are made for boys love,
Little maggie was made for mine.
7. well, yonder stands little maggie
With a dram glass in her hand,
Shes a drinkin down her troubles
Over courtin some other man.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Men Who Man Our Batteries
The men who man our batteries,
The men who serve our guns,
They need not honeyed flatteries,
For they are Britain's sons!
They go, when Duty speeds them,
Wherever bullets fly;
Wherever England needs them,
When Duty bids, they die.
The men who man our strongholds,
Or march to yonder field
Where Valour against Wrong holds
A realm that scorns to yield,
From Chiltern Hills or Grampians
May pour their living tide,
But all are England's champions
And all are England's pride.
And, lo! how the abhorrence
Of sceptred crime can join
The Thames and the St. Lawrence,
The Liffey and the Boyne.
For England need but ask aid
Where'er her branches grow,
And like a leaping cascade
It thunders on the foe.
Our cheery sailors, lapt in
The maiden sea's light sleep,
From commodore and captain
To all who man the deep,
They hear around their bed nought
But echoes of their fame,
And well they man the Dreadnought
Who dread not aught but shame.
And whether calmly harboured,
Or when the rocking State
Lurches to port and starboard,
They sail the seas of Fate;
With everlasting laughter
They luff to wind and rain,
Aforetime and hereafter
The men who man the main.
The men who man Great Britain,
And fight for royal George,
On battle's anvil smitten
Leap mightier from the forge:
Like oaks in Orkney's rough spring
They flourish torn and blown,
For all are Honour's offspring
And all are England's own.
The men who man this nation,
And sow her fame abroad,
They ask not acclamation,
They need not England's laud;
And when too late it finds them,
And falls on lifeless ears,
Where yon red tempest blinds them
They need but England's tears.
Yet, while the storm grows vaster
Around them and above,
In triumph or disaster
They shall not lack our love --
They who to Glory's fanning
This streamer have unfurled,
The men whose joy is manning,
The men who man the world!
poem by William Watson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ripoff
I don't wanna be no traitor to the cause
But England is a luxury - not many can afford
There's people going under - it's getting out of hand
Whatever happened to our - our green and pleasant land?
It turned into a wilderness; it turned into a third world country
Most people ain't getting what they pay for
Some people gettin' more than they should be
I know, I know - I'm an alien - but what are you gonna do
I wanna live in England - but it gets to you
It gets to you, it gets to you, it gets to you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
What do you do when you find out?
Where do you go if you leave?
There's no place like home - that's what they say
And that's what you always believed
Someday you might win the Lottery
Someday you might win the Pools
But that's all you've got - that's all you've got
- to live for, to live for
That's all you've got - that's all you've got -
to live for, to live for (yeah)
To be or not to be - that's the question
Oh what's it gonna be?
I'd love to live in England - but it gets to me
it gets to me, it gets to me, yeah it gets to me
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
Oh I really don't know why - England wants to rip off
England wants to rip off , England wants to rip o
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Because Today
I have to play my role
But my heart is full of dole
I don't know what to do
For things are right now blue
I wish I can explain
Why always I get pain
That fills my heart and soul
With grief and so much dole
For life cannot run smooth
And nothing can today soothe
The pain and agony's sleep
That is all running deep
Because today my life's pole
Is full of grief and dole.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What is Life
Life is everywhere that you look,
Some people might say that life sucks,
While other people might say life is beautiful,
And is full of surprises, that are waiting to be discovered,
Life is whatever you think it may be,
Life is in you now and it shall forever always stay,
Life is the wind howling at you sideways,
Life is the winter, summer, spring, and fall,
Life is sad and life is lonely,
Life can be evil and Life is blunt,
Life is a true friend that never lies to you,
Life is all about you and how you treat it,
Life is what you make of it,
If you criticize life, then your criticizing yourself,
Its all up to you on whether you like it, or hate it,
I am life, you are life, we are life,
Life loves me and I love life back,
Life is you, so be careful on how you describe it,
Don’t base life off of what others say,
But base life off, of what you think it is,
Your words are stronger then others opinions,
So take those words and put them to use,
I am life, you are life, we are life!
poem by Dallas Hammond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pro Rege Nostro
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice again
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England: --
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease,
Were the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song of your bugles blown, England --
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Have I Done For You
What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
'England, my own!
'Life is good, and joy runs high
'Between English earth and sky:
'Death is death; but we shall die
'To the Song on your bugles blown,
'England -
'To the stars on your bugles blown!
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Vicar Of Bray
In good King Charles's golden days,
When loyalty no harm meant;
A furious High-Church man I was,
And so I gain'd preferment.
Unto my flock I daily preach'd,
Kings are by God appointed,
And damn'd are those who dare resist,
Or touch the Lord's anointed.
And this is law, I will maintain
Unto my dying day, sir,
That whatsoever king shall reign,
I will be Vicar of Bray, sir!
When Royal James possess'd the crown,
And popery grew in fashion;
The penal law I houted down,
And read the declaration:
The Church of Rome, I found would fit,
Full well my constitution,
And I had been a Jesuit,
But for the Revolution.
And this is law, I will maintain
Unto my dying day, sir,
That whatsoer king shall reign,
I will be Vicar of Bray, sir!
When William our deliverer came,
To heal the nation's grievance,
I turned the cat in pan again,
And swore to him allegiance:
Old principles I did revoke,
Set conscience at a distance,
Passive obedience is a joke,
A jest is non-resistance.
And this is law, I will maintain
Unto my dying day, sir,
That whatsoer king shall reign,
I will be Vicar of Bray, sir!
When glorious Anne became our queen
The Church of England's glory,
Another face of things was seen,
And I became a Tory:
Occasional conformists base,
I damn'd, and moderation,
And thought the Church in danger was,
From such prevarication.
And this is law, I will maintain
Unto my dying day, sir,
That whatsoer king shall reign,
I will be Vicar of Bray, sir!
When George in pudding time came o'er,
And moderate men looked big, sir,
My principles I chang'd once more,
And so became a Whig, sir:
And thus preferment I procur'd,
From our faith's great defender,
And almost every day abjur'd
The Pope, and the Pretender.
And this is law, I will maintain
Unto my dying day, sir,
That whatsoer king shall reign,
I will be Vicar of Bray, sir!
The illustrious House of Hanover,
And Protestant succession,
To these I lustily will swear,
Whilst they can keep possession:
For in my faith, and loyalty,
I never once will falter,
George, my lawful king shall be,
Except the times should alter.
And this is law, I will maintain
Unto my dying day, sir,
That whatsoer king shall reign,
I will be Vicar of Bray, sir!
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Land of Fairy Tales
Together they wandered hand in hand
Across the beauty of the land
Until they saw the golden sand
From England's hills and vales.
And there together they would lie
unnoticed by the passer-by
Whispering love, sweet and shy
Just like in fairy tales.
And sometimes in the evening hue
They'd sail the sea of silvery blue,
In those days when love was true
On England's shores and dales.
Before their eyes, a magic sight
As North East stars lit up the night
On a coast of sheer delight
Oh 'Land of fairy tales'.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Man who Keeps his Head
THERE'S a man who fights for England, and
he'll keep her still atop,
He will guard her from dishonour in the market
and the shop,
He will save her homes from terror on the fields of
Daily Bread,
He's the man who sticks to business, he's the man
who keeps his head.
Let the foe who strikes at England hear her wheels
of commerce turn,
Let the ships that war with England see her factory
furnace burn;
For the foe most fears the cannon, and his heart
most quails with dread
When behind the man in khaki is the man who
keeps his head.
Brand him traitor and assassin who with miser's
coward mood
Has his gold locked up in secret and his larders
stored with food,
Who has cast adrift his workers, who lies sweating
in his bed,
And who snarls to hear the laughter of the man
Who keeps his head.
Let the poor man teach the rich man, for the poor
man's constant strife
Is from day to day to seek work, day by day to war
with life,
And the poor man's home hangs ever by a frail and
brittle thread,
And the poor man's often hungry, but the poor
man keeps his head.
When the ships come back from slaughter, and the
troops march home from war;
When the havoc strewn behind us threats the road
that lies before,
Every hero shall be welcomed, every orphan shall
be fed,
By the man who stuck to business, by the man who
kept his head.
poem by Harold Begbie from Poems of the Great War
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
The Lion Symbol
Dedicated to the United Kingdom The lion symbol of England is of its strength;
It is blessed with good friends, and life's length.
The lion has many friends;
Most sociable adorable grins. Its voice is heard among the land,
For every lion, and every man's grand.
The symbol of England to this day.
We respect her strength in every way. Our mother land we do adore,
She became our foreign shore.
So remember to ask God for strength;
Good life blessed with quality,
And not just length. A life filled with love remembering the peace dove.
Asking God to help us all.
Bless England, and America's call,
The Lion, and England's strength.
American treaty blessed with length.
poem by Iris Caudle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
‘To the Slaughter-house’- A Cattle-song!
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we cows all go;
We gave men milk and butter, ghee;
They want our beef now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we oxen go;
We tilled their lands and milled oil-seeds;
They want our hide now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we sheep all go;
We grazed their meadows, eating grass;
They want our mutton now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we cattle go;
We served mankind as God said so;
Selfish men want our flesh now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we animals go;
Jostled, huddled, unfed, crowded;
Men want our lives now;
This is our last ride, we all know;
We’ve no other go.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-20-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The war effects me less than it ought. I can do no service to anybody by agitating for news or making dole over the slaughter.
quote by Wilfred Owen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Way Down Yonder In New Orleans
Way down yonder in new orleans
In the land of the dreamy scenes
Theres a garden of eden...you know what I mean
Creole babies with flashin eyes
Softly whisper their tender sighs
Then stop....wont you give your lady fair...a little smile
Stop..ya bet your life youll linger there...a little while
Weve got heaven right here on earth
With those beautiful queens
Way down yonder in new...orleans
(instrumental break)
Youre gonna find heaven right here on earth
With all them beautiful queens
Way down yonder in new or.....
I goin down yonder to new orleans
Its way down yonder in new orleans
song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Heart To Heart
(Emmylouy HarrisPaul Kennerley)
Heart to heart we'll hold together
Hand in hand we'll find a way
Oh, the storms of life may blind us
But with the loving vows that bind us
Heart to heart hand in hand we'll stay
Side by side forever and always
Day by day till our lives are done
This sweet love is ours to treasure
Far beyond all time and measure
Side by side day by day as one
The years connot take what's between you and me
We'll stand her together for the whole world to see
Heart to heart there'll be no other
Hand in hand for our love is true
Oh, the words that we have spoken
Will be a promise never broken
Heart to heart hand in hand with you
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Smoker
I billowed calmly as a cloud
Upon a course for acid rain,
When in the fog of smoking crowd,
My lungs collapsed in searing pain.
Full of soot and black with tar,
I coughed in vain for chest to clear;
At least my lungs had got this far
Despite my years of toxic air.
But Smokers' Lounge was home to me,
Where fellow addicts puff with joy:
Our pipes in hand, all friends are we,
‘Let's fine cigars now share, my boy! '
‘So gasp away! ' my motto cries,
‘And light another cigarette
Before a further smoker dies,
Which happens often - you can bet! '
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life
life life life life life life life life life
life life life life
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Is Your Land
This is your land
Its the way it was planned
Sky to the sea, something to see
Old ancient town, to the old people ground
I wanna know, something to go
This is your land, laid out in your hand
This is your land
Wherever I go, way down here I know
This is your land
Oh churches and steeples, big city people
I wanna know something to hold
Walk down the track, to the old railroad track
I wanna leave something to see
This is your land, laid out in your hand
This is your land
Wherever I go, way down here I know
This is your land
Money cant buy me
Money cant buy me
Ive got time
Time is on my side
You dont know what youve got till the whole things gone
The days are dark and the road is long
And when you walk away, the hope is gone
Tell me what is right, and what is wrong
Is this the way it was planned
This is your land, take it in your hand
This is your land
Wherever I go, way down here I know
This is your land, take it in your hand
This is your land
Wherever I go, way down here I know
This is your land
Words and music : simple minds reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!