Robert Fleming Gourley
There came to Oxford Robert Gourley,
In his old ago his health was poorly ;
He was a relic of the past,
In his dotage sinking fast,
Yet he was erect and tall,
Like noble ruined castle wall.
In early times they did him impeach
For demanding right of speech,
Now Oxford he wished to represent
In Canadian Parliament ;
But him the riding did not honor,
But elected Doctor Connor.
poem by James McIntyre
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Oxford Town
Oxford town, oxford town
Evrybodys got their heads bowed down
The sun dont shine above the ground
Aint a-goin down to oxford town
He went down to oxford town
Guns and clubs followed him down
All because his face was brown
Better get away from oxford town
Oxford town around the bend
He come in to the door, he couldnt get in
All because of the color of his skin
What do you think about that, my frien?
Me and my gal, my gals son
We got met with a tear gas bomb
I dont even know why we come
Goin back where we come from
Oxford town in the afternoon
Evrybody singin a sorrowful tune
Two men died neath the mississippi moon
Somebody better investigate soon
Oxford town, oxford town
Evrybodys got their heads bowed down
The sun dont shine above the ground
Aint a-goin down to oxford town
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Have Not Been To Oxford Town
Baby grace is the victim
She was 14 years of age
And the wheels are turning, turning
For the finger points at me
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Toll the bell
Pay the private eye
Alls well
20th century dies
And the prison priests are decent
My attorney seems sincere
I fear my days are numbered
Lord get me out of here
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Toll the bell
Pay the private eye
Alls well
20th century dies
This is your shadow on my wall
This is my flesh and blood
This is what I couldve been
And the wheels are turning and turning
As the 20th century dies
If I had not ripped the fabric
If time had not stood still
If I had not met ramona
If Id only paid my bill
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Toll the bell
Pay the private eye
Alls well
20th century dies
And the wheels are turning and turning
As the 20th century dies
This is my bunk with two sheets
This is my food though foul
This is what I could have been
Toll the bell
Pay the private eye
Alls well
20th century dies
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Doctor Robert
Ring my friend, i said you call doctor robert
Day or night he'll be there any time at all, doctor robert
Doctor robert, you're a new and better man,
He helps you to understand
He does everything he can, doctor robert
If you're down he'll pick you up, doctor robert
Take a drink from his special cup, doctor robert
Doctor robert, he's a man you must believe,
Helping everyone in need
No one can succeed like doctor robert
Well, well, well, you're feeling fine
Well, well, well, he'll make you ... doctor robert
My friend works for the national health, doctor robert
Don't pay money just to see yourself with doctor robert
Doctor robert, you're a new and better man,
He helps you to understand
He does everything he can, doctor robert
Well, well, well, you're feeling fine
Well, well, well, he'll make you ... doctor robert
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I broke down while at Oxford, was rejected by a record number of medical tribunals during the War, and finally got permission to leave Oxford and do civilian work till the War ended.
quote by Leonard Alfred George Strong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My advantage as a woman and a human being has been in having a mother who believed strongly in women's education. She was an early undergraduate at Oxford, and her own mother was a doctor.
quote by Antonia Fraser
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oxford is Oxford: not a mere receptacle for youth, like Cambridge. Perhaps it wants its inmates to love it rather than to love one another.
quote by E.M. Forster
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Anecdote For Fathers
By the late W. W. (of H.M. Inland Revenue Service).
And is it so? Can Folly stalk
And aim her unrespecting darts
In shades where grave Professors walk
And Bachelors of Arts?
I have a boy, not six years old,
A sprite of birth and lineage high:
His birth I did myself behold,
His caste is in his eye.
And oh! his limbs are full of grace,
His boyish beauty past compare:
His mother's joy to wash his face,
And mine to brush his hair!
One morn we strolled on our short walk,
With four goloshes on our shoes,
And held the customary talk
That parents love to use.
(And oft I turn it into verse,
And write it down upon a page,
Which, being sold, supplies my purse
And ministers to age.)
So as we paced the curving High,
To view the sights of Oxford town
We raised our feet (like Nelly Bly),
And then we put them down.
'Now, little Edward, answer me'—
I said, and clutched him by the gown—
'At Cambridge would you rather be,
Or here in Oxford town?'
My boy replied with tiny frown
(He'd been a year at Cavendish),
'I'd rather dwell in Oxford town,
If I could have my wish.'
'Now, little Edward, say why so;
My little Edward, tell me why.'
'Well, really, Pa, I hardly know.'
'Remarkable!' said I:
'For Cambridge has her 'King's Parade,'
And much the more becoming gown;
Why should you slight her so,' I said,
'Compared with Oxford town?'
At this my boy hung down his head,
While sterner grew the parent's eye;
And six-and-thirty times I said,
'Come, Edward, tell me why?'
For I loved Cambridge (where they deal—
How strange!—in butter by the yard);
And so, with every third appeal,
I hit him rather hard.
Twelve times I struck, as may be seen
(For three times twelve is thirty-six),
When in a shop the Magazine
His tearful sight did fix.
He saw it plain, it made him smile,
And thus to me he made reply:—
'At Oxford there's a Crocodile;
And that's the reason why.'
Oh, Mr. Editor! my heart
For deeper lore would seldom yearn,
Could I believe the hundredth part
Of what from you I learn.
poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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Cherry Cola
With you hand out the window,
sipping on Cherry Cola.
Man, I despise you.
Your beating on the dashboard,
flashing off your black tatoo,
Man, i idolize you.
There you are puffing away on your white king ciggarettes,
rolling down your window and spitting at the car beside you.
Im riding in a car,
with a canadian rockstar,
kiddo, do you want one puff?
do you want another sip?
Your 32 and wasted,
and i'm still trying to astound you.
cause I'm riding in a car,
with a canadian rockstar.
Theres cuts and scars on your arms,
in pretty little patterns.
your staring in the review mirrow,
And i'm blushing in your smoke.
It's way past my bed time, & mom thinks im home,
But stuff it man,
Im riding in a car,
with one screwed canadian rockstar.
poem by elena Velinsky
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Gentlemen, you are now about to embark on a course of studies which will occupy you for two years. Together, they form a noble adventure. But I would like to remind you of an important point. Nothing that you will learn in the course of your studies will be of the slightest possible use to you in after life, save only this, that if you work hard and intelligently you should be able to detect when a man is talking rot, and that, in my view, is the main, if not the sole, purpose of education.
John Alexander Smith in Speech to Oxford University students (1914)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empire State Human
Since I was very young I realised
I never wanted to be human size
So I avoid the crowds and traffic jams
They just remind me of how small I am
Because of this longing in my heart
Im going to start the growing up
Im going to grow now and never stop
Think like a mountain, grow to the top
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
With concentration
My size increased
And now Im fourteen stories high
At least!!
Empire state human
Just a bored kid
Ill go to egypt to be
A pyramid
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Brick by brick
Stone by stone
Growing till hes fully grown
Brick by brick
Stone by stone
Growing till hes fully grown
Fetch more water
Fetch more sand
Biggest person in the land
Fetch more water
Fetch more sand
Biggest person in the land
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Oxford manner is, alas, indefinable; I was going to say indefensible.
quote by Robert Baldwin Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baloo Loo For Jenny
Sing baloo loo for Jenny
And where is she gone?
Away to spy her mother's land,
Riding all alone.
To the rich towns of Scotland,
The woods and the streams,
High upon a Spanish horse
Saddled for her dreams.
By Oxford and by Chester,
To Berwick-on-the-Tweed,
Then once across the borderland
She shall find no need.
A loaf for her at Stirling,
A scone at Carlisle,
Honeyed cakes at Edinbro'--
That shall make her smile.
At Aberdeen clear cider,
Mead for her at Nairn,
A cup of wine at John o' Groats--
That shall please my bairn.
Sing baloo loo for Jenny,
Mother will be fain
To see her little truant child
Riding home again.
poem by Robert Graves
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I was at my best at a little past forty, when I was a professor at Oxford.
quote by Godfrey Harold Hardy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Allowed This Disappointment
Hmmm,
Let's see!
If I am disappointed.
And you say,
You are disappointed.
And here we are listening,
To them express their disappointment.
Who allowed this disappointment,
To get 'this' disappointing?
'That's a good question!
Maybe those we elected to represent us,
Misunderstood it was not our disappointment...
We elected them to represent.
But instead...
To find solutions for the reasons 'why',
We were disappointed in the first place.'
You may have a point.
None of us really agreed to be freed of disappointment.
And we keep electing those to represent,
The best of our disappointments.
And this has never been what any of us wanted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fast rode the knight
Fast rode the knight
With spurs, hot and reeking,
Ever waving an eager sword,
"To save my lady!"
Fast rode the knight,
And leaped from saddle to war.
Men of steel flickered and gleamed
Like riot of silver lights,
And the gold of the knight's good banner
Still waved on a castle wall.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
A horse,
Blowing, staggering, bloody thing,
Forgotten at foot of castle wall.
A horse
Dead at foot of castle wall.
poem by Stephen Crane
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The So Called Honorable
For to cling to power or for need of power on most policies they disagree
Between the Government and their Opposition there's does not seem much difference to me
Those out of power verbally attack those in power that is how it's been for years
Who wins or loses the Election should not be cause for joy or tears.
Who is in or out of power I for one do not care
That they do not bring change to my life for the good I am all too aware
Democracy is the best form of Government by many we are told
But the workings of Parliament has not changed from the long gone days of old.
Of the praises of Democratically Elected Governments many feel happy to sing
But in Parliament that Parliamentarians obliged to vote with their own parties does not seem a democratic thing
And that the Party or Parties elected by the majority of the voters makes decisions for everyone
Is hardly true democracy when all is said and done.
The hierarchy refer to Parliamentarins as the honorable a title he or she for life does keep
But such a title for most Politicians makes the word honor seem cheap
Like dysfunctional adolescents in Parliament every day
Supposed to be honorable men and women behave in a most immature way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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English Names on Canadian Thames
England hath given us the names
To adorn Canadian Thames,
And charms to them she hath lent,
In Oxford, Middlesex and Kent.
She Essex kisseth in her mouth,
And Scottish names, one north, one south ;
And London now she justly claims
She's capital of vale of Thames,
And her strong castellated tower .
Doth on the river frowning lower ;
And Chatham is the river's port,
There slaves for freedom did resort,
And they did industrious toil
And now many own the soil.
Stratford, now, shall be our theme,
On Avon, tributary stream,
And its clear waters it doth launch
Into the Thames, northern branch.
Near that substantial stone town,
St. Mary's, with mills of renown.
Some imagine the Thames is too insignificant a stream
to be sung in verse.' Distance lends enchantment to
the view. and they fancy the old Scottish rivers are
more worthy of song ; but many of them are polluted of
late years with vile odors from factories ; and, as the
county of Oxford is agreeably diversified with hills
and dales, the clear, sparkling stream, flowing over a
pebbly bottom, is indeed 'a thing of beauty and a joy forever.'
poem by James McIntyre
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For Mel (villanelle)
The one who should have lived has gone so fast.
The old ones, in their dotage, linger on –
they, with no future, live only in the past.
And we who can but sit, dumb and aghast,
scarcely believe that while the sun still shone
the one who should have lived has gone so fast.
Six decades older, surviving to their last
few days or years, together but alone,
they, with no future, live only in the past.
At least she kept on living to the last,
but should have had a future. She has none.
The one who should have lived has gone so fast,
and they, for whom so many years have passed,
are unaware that one they loved is gone.
They, with no future, live only in the past,
mark time until the final trumpet blast,
and never know the respite they have won.
The one who should have lived has gone so fast.
They, with no future, live only in the past.
poem by Paul Hansford
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Laziness
Let laureates sing with rapturous swing
Of the wonder and glory of work;
Let pulpiteers preach and with passion impeach
The indolent wretches who shirk.
No doubt they are right: in the stress of the fight
It's the slackers who go to the wall;
So though it's my shame I perversely proclaim
It's fine to do nothing at all.
It's fine to recline on the flat of one's spine,
With never a thought in one's head:
It's lovely to le staring up at the sky
When others are earning their bread.
It's great to feel one with the soil and the sun,
Drowned deep in the grasses so tall;
Oh it's noble to sweat, pounds and dollars to get,
But - it's grand to do nothing at all.
So sing to the praise of the fellows who laze
Instead of lambasting the soil;
The vagabonds gay who lounge by the way,
Conscientious objectors to toil.
But lest you should think, by this spatter of ink,
The Muses still hold me in thrall,
I'll round out my rhyme, and (until the next time)
Work like hell - doing nothing at all.
poem by Robert William Service
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Doctor Doctor
Doctor doctor, please
Oh, the mess Im in
Doctor doctor, please,
Oh the mess Im in
She walked up to me
And really stole my heart
And then she started
To take my body apart
*livin, lovin, Im on the run
Far away from you
Livin, lovin, Im on the run
So far away from you
Doctor doctor, please
Oh, Im goin fast
Doctor doctor, please,
Oh, Im goin fast
Its only just a moment,
Shes turnin paranoid
Thats not a situation for a nervous boy
Doctor doctor, please
Oh, the mess Im in
Doctor doctor, please,
Oh, the mess Im in
But you look so angry
As I crawled across your floor
Shes got the strain,
And I cant take any more
*repeat
*repeat
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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