The Quidnunckis
How vain are mortal man's endeavours?
(Said, at dame Elleot's, master Travers)
Good Orleans dead! in truth 'tis hard:
Oh! may all statesmen die prepar'd!
I do foresee (and for foreseeing
He equals any man in being)
The army ne'er can be disbanded.
--I with the king was safely landed.
Ah friends! great changes threat the land!
All France and England at a stand!
There's Meroweis--mark! strange work!
And there's the Czar, and there's the Turk--
The Pope--An India-merchant by
Cut short the speech with this reply:
All at a stand? you see great changes?
Ah, sir! you never saw the Ganges:
There dwells the nation of Quidnunckis
(So Monomotapa calls monkeys
On either bank from bough to bough,
They meet and chat (as we may now):
Whispers go round, they grin, they shrug,
They bow, they snarl, they scratch, they hug;
And, just as chance or whim provoke them,
They either bite their friends, or stroke them.
There have I seen some active prig,
To show his parts, bestride a twig:
Lord! how the chatt'ring tribe admire!
Not that he's wiser, but he's higher:
All long to try the vent'rous thing,
(For power is but to have one's swing).
From side to side he springs, he spurns,
And bangs his foes and friends by turns.
Thus as in giddy freaks he bounces,
Crack goes the twig, and in he flounces!
Down the swift stream the wretch is borne;
Never, ah never, to return!
Zounds! what a fall had our dear brother!
Morbleu! cries one; and damme, t'other.
The nation gives a general screech;
None cocks his tail, none claws his breech;
Each trembles for the public weal,
And for a while forgets to steal.
Awhile all eyes intent and steady
Pursue him whirling down the eddy:
But, out of mind when out of view,
Some other mounts the twig anew;
And business on each monkey shore
Runs the same track it ran before.
Related quotes
Drive In Saturday
(uh uh aaah) let me put my arms around your head
(dom du aaah) gee, its hot, lets go to bed
Dont forget to turn on the light
Dont laugh babe, itll be alright
(dom du aaah) pour me out another phone
(dom du aaah) Ill ring and see if your friends are home
Perhaps the strange ones in the dome
Can lend us a book we can read up alone
And try to get it on like once before
When people stared in jaggers eyes and scored
Like the video films we saw
His name was always buddy (got got du aaah aah aah)
And hed shrug and ask to stay
Shed sigh like twig the wonder kid (got got du aaah)
And turn her face away
Shes uncertain if she likes him (got got du aaah aah aah)
But she knows she really loves him
Its a crash course for the ravers (got got du aaah)
Its a drive-in saturday
Jung the foreman prayed at work (dom du aaah)
Neither hands nor limbs would burst
Its hard enough to keep formation with this fall out saturation
(bah dom bah) cursing at the astronette
(dom du aaah) who stands in steel by his cabinet
Hes crashing out with sylvian
The bureau supply for ageing men
With snorting head he gazes to the shore
Once had raised a sea that raged no more
Like the video films we saw
His name was always buddy (got got du aaah aah aah)
And hed shrug and ask to stay
Shed sigh like twig the wonder kid (got got du aaah)
And turn her face away
Shes uncertain if she likes him (got got du aaah aah aah)
But she knows she really loves him
Its a crash course for the ravers (got got du aaah)
Its a drive-in saturday
His name was always buddy (got got du aaah aah aah)
And hed shrug and ask to stay
Shed sigh like twig the wonder kid (got got du aaah)
And turn her face away
Shes uncertain if she likes him (got got du aaah aah aah)
But she knows she really loves him
Its a crash course for the ravers (got got du aaah)
Its a drive-in saturday, yeah, yeah
(drive-in saturday)
(its a drive-in saturday)
(its a drive-in saturday)
Drive in saturday
(its a drive-in saturday)
Its a, its a, its a drive in saturday
(its a drive-in saturday)
Its a, its a, its a, yes sir, yes sir, yes sir, yes sir, yes sir, yes sir
(its a drive-in saturday)
Dom du du du, dom du du du
(its a drive-in saturday)
Dom du du da, dom du du da
? ? ?
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freaks On This Side
Freaks on this side, the freaks on this side {x8}
When u cant find the reason 4 the smoke
Theres probably water in the fire
When everything u know aint enough 2 float your boat
And ure lookin 4 somethin thatll take u higher
Chorus:
U got 2 get down (freaks on this side, the freaks on this side)
2 a brand new sound (freaks on this side, the freaks on this side)
In the water ull drown (freaks on this side, the freaks on this
Side)
But the lost is found (freaks on this side, the freaks on this side)
Come on, baby
When confusion tries 2 tear your world apart
And the demons fight 4 power
Thats the time u got 2 listen 2 your heart
No one knows the final hour
Chorus
When u see an illusion everywhere u look
When u know the process of creation
When u understand everything in every book
Congratulations - ure in the new power generation!
(freaks on this side, the freaks on this side) {x4}
The freaks on this side! {x3}
When everybody calls the truth by a different name
And the indifference between us still remains
God is love, love is God - simple and plain
Party in this way, theres so much more 2 gain
(freaks on this side, the freaks on this side) {repeat 2 end}
(get on down, down, down, down, down)
Freaks on this side
We drownin (get on down, down, down, down, down)
Yeah, yeah
U got 2 get down
(u got 2 get down) {x2}
Its new power generation
And ure groovin 2 another jam of the year
Think it aint when it is
And we be drownin
Glug, glug like a mug
Looka here - freak on this side
The freaks on this side
Looka here - on this side
On this side
The freaks on u got it on this side
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hands All Round
First pledge our Queen this solemn night,
Then drink to England, every guest;
That man’s the best Cosmopolite
Who loves his native country best.
May freedom’s oak for ever live
With stronger life from day to day;
That man’s the true Conservative
Who lops the moulder’d branch away.
Hands all round!
God the traitor’s hope confound!
To this great cause of Freedom drink, my friends,
And the great name of England, round and round.
To all the loyal hearts who long
To keep our English Empire whole!
To all our noble sons, the strong
New England of the Southern Pole!
To England under Indian skies,
To those dark millions of her realm!
To Canada whom we love and prize,
Whatever statesman hold the helm.
Hands all round!
God the traitor’s hope confound!
To this great name of England drink, my friends,
And all her glorious empire, round and round.
To all our statesmen so they be
True leaders of the land’s desire!
To both our Houses, may they see
Beyond the borough and the shire!
We sail’d wherever ship could sail,
We founded many a mighty state;
Pray God our greatness may not fail
Thro’ craven fears of being great.
Hands all round!
God the traitor’s hope confound!
To this great cause of Freedom drink my friends,
And the great name of England, round and round.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Without hesitation
Friends are those who comes to help without hesitation
But warrants some answers to the questions
What if you are pushed to darkness?
With so much uneasiness on face
Yet know yourself well
So there is no need to tell
Forget and forgive is later part
But to avoid it from start is great art
Think well about having friends
Who can stand and understand till end
You will have many among the crowd
But how many may stand with you and feel proud
Give all the respect and love they demand
Put them on mat if they fail and need remand
That can be on both the ways
When you or they are drifting away]
May lead you safely to the shore
And earn the sympathy more
Don’t hesitate to admire and adore
As they are dear and need support therefore
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Painters
In the cave with a long-ago flare
a woman stands, her arms up. Red twig, black twig, brown twig.
A wall of leaping darkness over her.
The men are out hunting in the early light
But here in this flicker, one or two men, painting
and a woman among them.
Great living animals grow on the stone walls,
their pelts, their eyes, their sex, their hearts,
and the cave-painters touch them with life, red, brown, black,
a woman among them, painting.
poem by Muriel Rukeyser
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As Though You Have Known It Forever
there is no such thing as done
everything is always unfinished
you think a bud dies, it does not
you think that the twig that you cut
remains cut
like a dead end of the road
that is always not the case
you think that the body of the man that we buried
is all that is,
that is not the real case
a story shall be borne it gives a bud and a twig another start
a poem is written it marks a new understanding
and the grain of sand becomes another planet
a drift wood becomes another one's dream of a bridge
it is not just the seed it is also the covering
not just the ring that you see but another one's marriage
a view can be immortalized in a painting
or even when the painting rots itself all colors cracking
there is always something that remains unsaid
it is
what is always unfinished
the one that we know but which we never uttered
the one we uttered but which we start to doubt and not really know
oh it is like a wheel of a bicycle
like the ring that you keep on wearing
like a hemisphere that you have traveled
over and over
as though you have known
it forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When love is dead
You cut a twig
The leaves wilt
And then you say
Love is dead
I plant the twig
And bury the leaves
I dream of flowers
I wait for days
A bud springs
Then love is alive
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too Much Monkey Business
Running to and fro,
Hard working at the mill,
Never failed at the mill,
There come a rotten bill.
Aw too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
For me to be involved again.
Salesman talking to me,
Trying to run me up a creek,
Says you can buy it, go on try it,
You can pay me next week.
Aw too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
For me to be involved again.
Blonde hair, good-looking,
Trying to get me hooked and married
Get a home, settle down by the book.
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
For me to be involved again.
Been to yokohama, baby,
Fighting in the war,
Army bunk, army chow,
Army clothes, army car.
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
For me to be involved again.
Same thing every day,
Getting up, going to school.
No need for me complaining,
My objection's overruled.
Aw too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
For me to be involved again.
Working in the filling station,
Too many tasks,
Wipe the windows, check the oil,
Check the tires, dollar gas?
Aw too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
Don't want you by the race,
Get away and leave me.
[original has one more verse:
Pay-phone, something's wrong,
Dime gone, will mail.
Oughta sue the operator
For telling me a tale.
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
For me to be involved with you
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tracks That Lie By India
Now this is not a dismal song, like some I’ve sung of late,
When I’ve been brooding all day long about my muddled fate;
For though I’ve had a rocky time I’ll never quite forget,
And though I never was so deep in trouble and in debt,
And though I never was so poor nor in a fix so tight—
The tracks that run by India are shining in my sight.
The roads that run by India, and all the ports of call—
I’m going back to London first to raise the wherewithal.
I’ll call at Suez and Port Said as I am going past
(I was too worried to take notes when I was that way last),
At Naples and at Genoa, and, if I get the chance,
Who knows but I might run across the pleasant land of France.
The track that runs by India goes up the hot Red Sea—
The other side of Africa is far too dull for me.
(I fear that I have missed a chance I’ll never get again
To see the land of chivalry and bide awhile in Spain.)
I’ll graft a year in London, and if fortune smiles on me
I’ll take the track to India by France and Italy.
’Tis sweet to court some foreign girl with eyes of lustrous glow,
Who does not know my language and whose language I don’t know;
To loll on gently-rolling decks beneath the softening skies,
While she sits knitting opposite, and make love with our eyes—
The glance that says far more than words, the old half-mystic smile—
The track that runs by India will wait for me awhile.
The tracks that run by India to China and Japan,
The tracks where all the rovers go—the tracks that call a Man!
I’m wearied of the formal lands of parson and of priest,
Of dollars and of fashions, and I’m drifting towards the East;
I’m tired of cant and cackle, and of sordid jobbery—
The mystery of the East hath cast its glamour over me.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Gigantic daughter of the West,
Gigantic daughter of the West,
We drink to thee across the flood,
We know thee most, we love thee best,
For art thou not of British blood?
Should war's mad blast again be blown,
Permit not thou the tyrant powers
To fight thy mother here alone,
But let thy broadsides roar with ours.
Hands all round!
God the tyrant's cause confound!
To our great kinsmen of the West, my friends,
And the great name of England, round and round.
'O rise, our strong Atlantic sons,
When war against our freedom springs!
O speak to Europe through your guns!
They can be understood by kings.
You must not mix our Queen with those
That wish to keep their people fools;
Our freedom's foemen are her foes,
She comprehends the race she rules.
Hands all round!
God the tyrant's cause confound!
To our dear kinsmen of the West, my friends,
And the great cause of Freedom, round and round.'
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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In Big Brothers Eyes
In big Brother's eyes a great success in life
Yet he finds great pleasure in beating his wife
But such bad behaviour to little amount
They judge you far better by your bank account.
In Big Brother's eyes she is quite okay
Though the girls who work hard for her she underpay
That's not seen as cheating good business they say
Or getting rich quick in an underhand way.
He lives in the leafy suburb at a posh address
And Big Brother looks on him as a huge success
But every day of his life he lives with a lie
Narcotic addicted teenagers because of him die.
In Big Brother's eyes he is one to admire
And others to greater things he does inspire
Society stamps him with the approval seal
Though from others by stealth of deception he steal.
The bank manager he welcomes you with a smile
You've made your first million through deception and guile
You are a big hero in Big Brother's eyes
But lets face it Big Brother is not very wise.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Girl
By a cliff a golden cloud once lingered;
On his breast it slept…
From the swing, from the garden, helter-skelter,
A twig runs up to the glass.
Enormous, close, with a drop of emerald
At the tip of the cluster cast.
The garden is clouded, lost in confusion,
In staggering, teeming fuss.
The dear one, as big as the garden, a sister
By nature-a second glass!
But then this twig is brought in a tumbler
And put by the looking-glass;
Which wonders:-Who is it that blurs my vision,
From the dull, from the prison-class?
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Shut Out
The door was shut. I looked between
Its iron bars; and saw it lie,
My garden, mine, beneath the sky,
Pied with all flowers bedewed and green:
From bough to bough the song-birds crossed,
From flower to flower the moths and bees;
With all its nests and stately trees
It had been mine, and it was lost.
A shadowless spirit kept the gate,
Blank and unchanging like the grave.
I peering through said: 'Let me have
Some buds to cheer my outcast state.'
He answered not. 'Or give me, then,
But one small twig from shrub or tree;
And bid my home remember me
Until I come to it again.'
The spirit was silent; but he took
Mortar and stone to build a wall;
He left no loophole great or small
Through which my straining eyes might look:
So now I sit here quite alone
Blinded with tears; nor grieve for that,
For nought is left worth looking at
Since my delightful land is gone.
A violet bed is budding near,
Wherein a lark has made her nest:
And good they are, but not the best;
And dear they are, but not so dear.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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On The Death Of Mr. Fox
The following iiliberal impromptu appeared in a morning papaer:
'Our nation's foes lament on Fox's death,
But bless the hour when PITT resign'd his breath:
These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue,
We give the palm where Justice points its due.'
To which the author of these pieces sent the following reply :
Oh factious viper! whose envenom'd tooth
Would mangle still the dead, perverting truth;
What though our 'nation's foes' lament the fate
With generous' feeling, of the good and great'
Shall dastard tongues essay to blast the name
Of him whose meed exists in endless fame?
When PITT expired in plenitude of power,
Though Ilisuccess obscured his dying hour,
Pity her dewy wings before him spread,
For noble spirits 'war not with the dead:'
His friends, in tears, a last sad requiem gave,
As all his errors slumber'd in the grave;
He sunk, an Atlas bending 'neath the weight
Of cares o'erwhelmlng our conflicting state:
When, lo! a Hercules in FOX appear'd
Who for a time the ruin'd fabric rear'd:
He, too, is fall'n, who Britain's loss supplied,
With him our fast reviving hopes have died;
Not one great people only raise his urn,
All Europe's far-extended regions mourn.
'These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue,
To give the palm where Justice points its due;'
Yet let not canker'd Calumny assail,
Or round our statesman wind her gloomy veil.
FOX o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep,
Whose dear remains in honour'd marble sleep;
For whom, at last, e'en hostile nations groan,
While friends and foes alike his talents own;
FOX shall in Britain's future annals shine,
Nor e'en to PITT the patriot's palm resign;
Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred mask,
For PITT, and PITT alone, has dared to ask.
Faith of a Nation
An Unchanging Truth that truly changes some,
This is the work of The Spirit, sent by The Son.
The Father, The Son, and The Spirit are three,
And when we see Them as One, we are truly set free.
Free from the path of sin, as unbelievers we had trod,
Freed only through The Grace of an Unchanging God.
Once as a Christian, for we believed in His Name,
Our person and our lives will never be the same,
We strive to be different in what we might do or say,
However, some who have believed have fallen away.
As a Body in this Nation, we have truly been deceived,
And worse yet, by a peoples who do not even believe.
They say God Bless America and United we stand,
But, they fail to see the sin throughout our troubled land.
We are not truly United and divided we will fall,
For as a Nation our eyes are not on The Lord at all!
As a Nation we speak of our power and strength from within,
While we embrace and endorse all kinds of wicked sin.
Although we have Bibles, how much have we learned?
For even The Lord asked 'Will I find Faith when I return? '
(Copyright © 07/2002)
Parting
O tell me, friends, while yet we part,
And heart can yet be heard of heart,
O tell me then, for what is it
Our early plan of life we quit;
From all our old intentions range,
And why does all so wholly change?
O tell me, friends, while yet we part!
O tell me, friends, while yet we part,
The rays that from the centre start
Within the orb of one warm sun,
Unless I err, have once begun,
Why is it thus they still diverge?
And whither tends the course they urge?
O tell me, friends, while yet we part!
O tell me, friends, while yet ye hear,
May it not be, some coming year,
These ancient paths that here divide
Shall yet again run side by side,
And you from there, and I from here,
All on a sudden reappear?
O tell me, friends, while yet ye hear!
O tell me, friends, ye hardly hear,
And if indeed ye did, I fear
Ye would not say, ye would not speak,
Are you so strong, am I so weak,
And yet, how much so e’er I yearn,
Can I not follow, nor you turn?
O tell me, friends, ye hardly hear!
O tell me, friends, ere words are o’er,
There’s something in me sad and sore
Repines, and underneath my eyes
I feel a somewhat that would rise,
O tell me, O my friends, and you,
Do you feel nothing like it too?
O tell me, friends, ere words are o’er!
O tell me, friends that are no more,
Do you, too, think ere it is o’er
Old times shall yet come round as erst,
And we be friends, as we were first?
Or do you judge that all is vain,
Except that rule that none complain?
O tell me, friends that are no more!
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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No My Friends No!
Hail foes to oppression, and lovers of freedom!
Your day has arrived, and your power you know:-
This host of timeservers, I'm sure we don't need them,
And we'll never support them! O! no, my friends, no!
Their dodges and shuffles, their threats and persuasions,
Their schemes and devices so petty and low,
Has made us determine on all such occasions,
That we'll never support them; O! no, my friends, no!
The victory they've lost, after all their endeavours,
To prop up their system, though now 'tis laid low:-
We were not to be Gallied ^, young Portland for ever!
We would not surrender! O! no, my friends, no!
They may try all they can with their creatures and flunkeys:-
We'll shout in derision at them as we go:-
We care not for N.T. * nor his poor abject monkeys;
And will not support them; O! no, my friends, no!
Success to our Guardian, our rights he's protected;
While his ex Reverence Sandy $ has never done so;
Being the tool of his Party, our claims he's rejected;
And shall we support him? O! no, my friends, no!
'Tag rag and bobtail' as the 'Herald' may term us;
It's place among journals has always been low:-
Poor driveling rag, let it never concern us;
Neither let us be Byass'd +. O! no, my friends, no!
Poor plate licking dog, let him follow his master,
With fawning and wagging his tail to and fro;
Through his growl or his bark we but go ahead faster;
Then let us not blame him; O! no, my friends, no!
O, let's not forget this tenth day of September;
When they thought to o'erawe us, but it was 'no go';
We stood firm to our colors and secured our own Member;
And shall we repent it? O! no, my friends, no!
Send the news far and wide by every conveyance;
Let them know right and left that we've struck the death blow,
To the clique who kept all real good in abeyance;
But no Moore shall oppress us, O! no, my friends, no!
Praise Him by whom Princes and Kings hold their stations;
Who as Judge of the earth does exalt and bring low:
Who is ruler supreme over people and nations;
May we never forsake Him, O! no, my friends, no!
Long life to our Member! May blessings surround him,
In every direction, where e'er he may go,
And those of his foes who would wish to confound him;
May they never be able; O! no, my friends, no!
poem by William Gay
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Monkey Man
Great monkey man has gone the distance,
The lucky ones going to get it.
Loving life now,
Living on top of.
Lucky ones always get it all.
Oh, Im hungry,
Dont wanna die like a little dog.
Gonna take what I can get,
Im the monkey man,
With the great, great monkey plan.
Its crazy, crazy, little man,
Youve got yourself entangled.
Oh, love to lie to myself,
To say everything is fine now.
We got to keep it up,
Or fall behind.
I got to keep it up,
Or lose the edge we found faster.
Ill build higher, still higher,
I dig deeper down,
Til its down in the ground.
Its found, used up and then thrown out.
Crazy, crazy little man,
What do you think youre doing here?
Big, beautiful world just for us,
Good use we must put it to.
Any way I can think to use it up,
What will I tell my grandsons grandsons?
I could weave a fairy tale,
On a great bible-thumping scale.
When he stands empy hands,
On his empty land,
Thats what happened here.
Great, great monkey man.
Where did you think grey was the color of this?
You think I dont know quite what to say?
But Im worried for myself in this.
Im hungry,
Dont wanna die like a little dog.
Well, I eat what I can get,
From the monkey man.
Great, great monkey man.
Great, great monkey plan.
Crazy,crazy man,
You get yourself turned in a pickle.
Crazy, crazy monkey man,
Who is the one in the middle?
Take a walk,
Cross the ice,
Melts too quickly for us to reach the other side.
Its cold in here,
But the sun shines bright.
Oh, it warms this up well,
Oh, the tide is rising higher.
Look, its strange,
Floating by.
Looks just like the ones,
That flow out and ride, oh, I will.
Golden age,
These golden times,
Our golden days seem to have us,
Hypnotized or blind, well.
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beyond
It seemeth such a little way to me
Across to that strange country – the Beyond;
And yet, not strange, for it has grown to be
The home of those whom I am so fond,
They make it seem familiar and most dear,
As journeying friends bring distant regions near.
So close it lies, that when my sight is clear
I think I almost see the gleaming strand.
I know I feel those who have gone from here
Come near enough sometimes, to touch my hand.
I often think, but for our veiled eyes,
We should find heaven right round about us lies.
I cannot make it seem a day to dread,
When from this dear earth I shall journey out
To that still dear country of the dead,
And join the lost ones, so long dreamed about.
I love this world, yet shall I love to go
And meet the friends who wait for me, I know.
I never stand above a bier and see
The seal of death set on some well-loved face
But that I think ‘One more to welcome me,
When I shall cross the intervening space
Between this land and that one “over there”;
One more to make the strange Beyond seem fair.’
And so for me there is no sting to death,
And so the grave has lost its victory.
It is but crossing – with a bated breath,
And white, set face – a little strip of sea,
To find the loved ones waiting on the shore,
More beautiful, more precious than before.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Now And Then
In the beginning of it all there was the land
And the sea and she sky
Then into the middle of it all there came man
To live on the land.
And then a great nation
Put into operation an evolutionary plan
Now mighty corporations and politicians rule the land
Wish I could remember when
We were more innocent
Than all of those violent bitter men.
The world was much younger then
But we were much wiser then.
Before we were full of discontent.
It's too bad the simple ways came sadly to an end
I guess that's the difference between now and then.
In the beginning of it all there was the land.
We were much younger then
But we were much wiser then
We never questioned why or when
One day we'll be born again
Our lovers and friends will remain
To live in a world without suffering and pain
And I can see a day when enemies are friends.
And there'll be no distance between now and then.
In the beginning of it all there was the Land.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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