Mac O'Macorkity
Plaze, Biddy! plaze have yez got soom cold vittles?
Yer dooar's badly 'tinded to; sure'n' I rang twoice.
Doon't faitch me sthale bread; fill me baskits and kittles
With soomthing what's aitable-- soomthing what's noice.
One of our boorders is jist about lavin';
Of roast bafe and sich loike he can't git his fill.
But fruitcake is what me poor mither is cravin',
And there's our great fattin' pig squailin' for swill,--
There's our great fattin' pig squailin' for swill.
Some people manage to get through the world!
The Mac-O'Macorkities probably will;
Yet they have their trials, and they have their troubles--
Do hear that "great fattin' pig squailin' for swill!"
Come Biddy! come now, yer Missus is able
To sind soomthing better than lavin's and scraps;
We boordin'-house kapers must sit a foine table,
Or ilse we moight jist as well pack up our traps.
Faith! and we had to git mate from the butcher,
And he had the impernance to sind in his bill!
As if we'd spind cash that's laid up for the future,
While there's our great fattin' pig squailin' for swill,--
There's our great fattin' pig squailin' for swill.
Hush, Biddy, hush! git ye done with yer blarney;
An old Oi'rish family ours is, ye know.
Along the hoighway forninst Castle Killarney
We rode in our donkey vans ages ago.
Bad loock it is, with the loikes of us livin'
On soup-bones and praties--no chickens to kill,
No turkey at all--not since Thanksgivin',
And there's our great fattin' pig squailin' for swill,--
There's our great fattin' pig squailin' for swill.
Say, Biddy, say! wud ye kape dinner waitin'?
Today is the Barrelbung-makers' parade;
Me fayther is one, and it's him ye're belatin';
Be jabers! it's twilve o'clock now, I'm afraid.
Off on the stroike is he, thinkin' its risky
In such toimes as thase to kape at the mill;
He's nadin' tibbacky, he's noigh out o' whisky,
And there's out great fattin' pig squailin' for swill,--
There's our great fattin' pig squailin' for swill.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
If I had to choose between putting a saloon or a liberal church on a corner, I'd choose the saloon every time. People who drink up the pay check in the saloon are less likely to become Pharisees, thinking that they don't need the Great Physician, than those who weekly swill the soporific doctrine of man's goodness.
quote by Jay Edward Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Forget who is your Father
God is Great
He created you and me so ladies and gentleman
he is the only person to praise and pray
Cause some of us we pray Alan people you pray him
who is him God is the one who created us
so guys help me to Thank him every time i'm sick i call him cause
he is the hiller the killer of diseases in the world
Help me to sing.
How great is our God sing with me how great is our God
all we sing is how great is our God age to age praise his
Great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great great great great great
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD..
Thank you Help me pliz.
poem by Ruvimbo Daisy Matsika
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Advertising is the rattling of a stick inside a swill bucket.
quote by George Orwell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Headliner And The Breadliner
Moko, the Educated Ape is here,
The pet of vaudeville, so the posters say,
And every night the gaping people pay
To see him in his panoply appear;
To see him pad his paunch with dainty cheer,
Puff his perfecto, swill champagne, and sway
Just like a gentleman, yet all in play,
Then bow himself off stage with brutish leer.
And as to-night, with noble knowledge crammed,
I 'mid this human compost take my place,
I, once a poet, now so dead and damned,
The woeful tears half freezing on my face:
"O God!" I cry, "let me but take his shape,
Moko's, the Blest, the Educated Ape."
poem by Robert William Service
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Could the Professionals Drink and Waltz?
The cops conducted a lounge-bar raid
and caught hold of a swigging IT maid.
An inspector owned that place
and so the girl had a face
to go, dance and on the floor be laid.
The surplus perks led them for alcohol to swill
but when rounded up for nuisance, their spines felt chill.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Going Home
Everyday the father longed to see
His lost son come back to the family
Looking out his heart would yearn
hoping each day his son would return
For the son had taken his inheritance
and left without a backward glance
To spend his great fortune having fun
was the intention of this youngest son
Wasting his time in riotous revelry
Living a life of sin and debauchery
Gained many friends through his wealth
Sang and danced and enjoyed himself
But then the time came to his dismay
when his money began to drain away
Then all his friends left him alone
To cope with life all on his own
Then a severe famine came his way
and he took a job to survive each day
Feeding the swine he wanted to fill
His empty stomach with the pig swill
Cold and miserable and full of dismay
He thought of his family so far away
'Here I am starving to death, ' he said
'Whilst my fathers servants still have bread'
So off he went this Prodigal Son
Famished, penniless and all alone
But the father saw him far away
and ran to meet him on the way
It brought to the father such delight
To see this great heart warming sight
For all the time the son had been away
The father looked out for him each day
'Father I've sinned and don't deserve
To be your son so I've come to serve
Forgive me and take me on I pray
To be your hired servant from this day'
'Kill the fatted calf and let us celebrate'
The father said because the news was great
'For my son has returned from the dead
Clothe him with the best robe, ' he said
But his brother could not understand
The reason why the party was so grand
'Father I've always been good, ' he said
'Why didn't you give me a party instead'
'Son all that I have belongs to you
You could have one when you wanted to
But this is my son who once was dead
and has now returned to me, ' he said
This wonderful parable that Jesus told
Speaks of a son returning to the fold
I too was just like that prodigal child
So lost and helpless and all beguiled
Then I went to the cross of the crucified
where Jesus greeted me arms opened wide
By His shed blood removed my disgrace
and held me in His loving embrace
Seeking Any Man to Slush
She wanted to give me a reason,
To sit in swill with her.
But I did not wish to deprive,
Any comfort she had sitting and sliding!
And besides...
I am not into pork.
Or anything alive that oinks!
I must have annoyed her!
She snorted her snout...
And I happily left!
Leaving her,
Seeking any man to slush...
In the mush she lusted!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Biddy's Cheeks Ye Roses Blow
In Biddy's Cheeks ye roses blow
In Cattys nose they rise
From Biddys lips soft accents flow
And streams from Catty's Eyes
The jet that Biddy's brows display
To Catty's teeth repairs
And Biddy's Lillies bleachd to grey
Appear in Catty's hairs
Yet all ye world sweet Biddy toast
neglected Catty lyes
While she deserves ye Bumper most
who most attracts our Eyes
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Brooding Grief
A yellow leaf from the darkness
Hops like a frog before me.
Why should I start and stand still?
I was watching the woman that bore me
Stretched in the brindled darkness
Of the sick-room, rigid with will
To die: and the quick leaf tore me
Back to this rainy swill
Of leaves and lamps and traffic mingled before me.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Out From The Woodwork
Out from the woodwork,
They have come to slur.
Hoping to stir up grudges...
And smear more sludge,
To antagonize those already angered.
On a campaign that remains negative.
To spew more swill,
From their burrowed crevices.
And they are given the attention sought.
To agonize those with an onslaught of their venom.
But they are the ones with their backs up against a wall.
Hoping a self praise,
Will erase their misdeeds...
From those too blind to see,
The sleaze from which they breed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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O Lord My God! - -Carl Boberg
O Lord my God!
When I in awesome wonder
consider all the worlds
Thy hands have made
I see the stars,
I hear the rolling thunder,
The power throughout the universe displayed
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
When through the woods and forest glades I wander
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
And hear the brook and feel the geltle breeze;
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
And when I think that God, His Son not sparing,
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in; -
That on the cross my burden gladly bearing,
He bled to take away my sin; -
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration
And there proclaim, My God, How great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
poem by Sangnam Nam
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Damp And Chilly
Damp seas damage me afterwards
For they plant chemicals
And sharp instruments mingle
Eaten are the monsters of the deep
By those mammoths of beauty
The beauties
Chilly seas are deranged beyond us
Disgusted by them, I swill the mouth
With distilled water
Innate abilities are desired
But roses shine when red and white
In the deep blue sea
poem by Naveed Akram
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Whip
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The fortune hunter
your uninterrupted lamp
has
torch light out the
parasite in their closet
like an erosion that called
the black pot of sacrifice of the perpetrator
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The fervent farmer
your crude instrument
has
uprooted the unwanted ornament
in the vineyard
like locus waiting the planter
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The lean steward
you never sleep nor slumber
in the quest of monitoring the
offender in the field like Nigeria
EFCC punching out the beautiful criminals
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The no nonsense headmaster
with this
masquerade Cain whipping
the deaf prefect in the school of moral
The whip that caution the senior wife
is at the top of the roof for
YOU
poem by Samuel Abimbola Aladetan
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Seaside At Winter
It's amazing to watch the frost's work.
It made the sea side a fairy tale.
The frost's quirk made the sea not for a sail.
The silence is all around.
For a while the time stands still.
The seagulls can't swill.
Like in the realm of Antarctica
Throughout the frost, snow and ice
I see the beauty of a paradise.
But! In the next few moments
The spring will come spelling the frost.
The nature's fulfillment will be the most.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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How Great Thou Art
O Lord my God
When I in awesome wonder
Consider all the worlds
They hands have made
I see the stars
I hear the rollin' thunder
Thy power throughout
The universe displayed.
Then sings my soul
My Savior God, to Thee,
How great Thou art
How great Thou art
Then sings my soul
My Savior God, to Thee
How great Thou art
How great Thou art!
When Christ shall come
With shouts of acclamation
And take me home
What joy shall fill my heart
Then I shall bow
In humble adoration
And there proclaim,
''My God, how great Thou art!''
Then sings my soul
My Savior God, to Thee,
How great Thou art
How great Thou art
Then sings my soul
My Savior God, to Thee
How great Thou art
How great Thou art!
How great Thou art
How great Thou art!...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Great Grandma
Great Grandma married Great Grandpa
poor Irish girl and poor Indian man
Great Grandma
used to get beat by Great Grandpa's mom
Great Great Grandma
because Great Great Grandma only spoke an Indian
language and not English.
She got hit by a train.
Lots of us Indians got hit by trains in one way
or another, but this was
literal and not metaphor.
poem by Smack Thompson
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Night Scene
Black windows frame dark
folded drapes; indifferent
stars peer through high arch.
Wine glass gleams. Fragrant
constellations, red dregs, swill
over empty stem.
Night trains blare, despairing
gates clang, steel wheels crease dark rails.
Night birds stir, dreaming.
poem by Steven Federle
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How Great
Like a mother mine was delighted she gave birth
It feels as great as we felt coming to live on earth
Great as we thought it was when joining school
Highly respectable as we perceived our graduation
with great love of money for love and infatuation
Much as we thought money made people great
Then the job made great impact on love perception
We were held higher by those thinking we were great
Our mind made us take a great pride in education
With little regards to the good great book we forgot
For great eloquence in language for communication
For great crowds of ladies and gentlemen we fought
The more lovers one has, the easier it was to feel great
How great was the lavish and satisfaction
How great the diversity and the depth we experienced
How great the comfort to feel the hardness and softness
How great on earth does it taste fornication?
How great when we fear not for our Godlessness
How great when we die is going to be our tribulation?
poem by Linus Kithinji Njeru
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Who Is Truly Great?
Great is one who humbles oneself;
Great is one who accomplishes without expectations;
Great is one who labors for others’ welfare;
Great is one who struggles for a noble cause;
Great is one who gives his life for his Maker’s sake;
Great is one who sacrifices his precious life for truth’s sake;
Great is one who takes the road least taken;
Great is one who climbs life’s steep hills;
Great is one who treads dangerous paths for mankind’s progress;
Great is one who risks his life unduly to save others’ lives;
Great is one who although born or made handicapped does extra-ordinary feats;
Great is one who scales heights of achievements rarely done by others;
Great is one who toils in sleep-hours too for mankind’s upliftment;
Great is one who racks his brain to find a cure for a crippling disease;
Great is one who shuns selfishness for the cause of his poorer brethren;
Great is one who dies so that others can live in peace;
Great is one who lives not for oneself but others;
Great is one who loves and forgives his worst foe;
Great is one who leads life in accordance with the Word of God!
(4-13-2007)
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whoever renders service to many puts himself in line for greatness--great wealth, great return, great satisfaction, great reputation, and great joy.