Christmas At The Round Table
The great King Arthur made a royal feast,
And held his Royal Christmas at Carlisle,
And thither came the vassals, most and least,
From every corner of the British Isle;
And all were entertained, both man and beast,
According to their rank, in proper style;
The steeds were fed and littered in the stable,
The ladies and the knights sat down to table.
The bill of fare (as you may well suppose)
Was suited to those plentiful old times,
Before our modern luxuries arose,
With truffles, and ragouts, and various crimes;
And, therefore, from the original in prose
I shall arrange the catalogue in rhymes:
They served up salmon, venison and wild boars
By hundreds, and by dozens, and by scores.
Hogsheads of honey, kilderkins of mustard,
Muttons, and fatted beeves, and bacon swine;
Herons and bitterns, peacocks, swan, and bustard,
Teal, mallard, pigeons, widgeons, and, in fine.
Plum-puddings, pancakes, apple-pies, and custard,
And therewithal they drank good Gascon wine,
With mead, and ale, and cider of our own;
For porter, punch, and negus were not known.
All sorts of people there were seen together,
All sorts of characters, all sorts of dresses;
The fool with fox's tail and peacock feather,
Pilgrims, and penitents, and grave burgesses;
The country people with their coats of leather,
Vintners and victuallers with cans and messes,
Grooms, archers, varlets, falconers, and yeomen,
Damsels, and waiting-maids, and waiting-women.
poem by John Hookham Frere
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Related quotes
A Model For The Laureate
ON thrones from China to Peru
All sorts of kings have sat
That men and women of all sorts
proclaimed both good and great;
And what's the odds if such as these
For reason of the State
Should keep their lovers waiting,
Keep their lovers waiting?
Some boast of beggar-kings and kings
Of rascals black and white
That rule because a strong right arm
Puts all men in a fright,
And drunk or sober live at ease
Where none gainsay their right,
And keep their lovers waiting,
Keep their lovers waiting.
The Muse is mute when public men
Applaud a modern throne:
Those cheers that can be bought or sold,
That office fools have run,
That waxen seal, that signature.
For things like these what decent man
Would keep his lover waiting,
Keep his lover waiting?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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I was able to work out all sorts of attitudes to style and event and character, all of which affected the way I came to think about my own writing. I believe that all good writers are original.
quote by Margaret Mahy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You may use different sorts of sentences and illustrations before different sorts of audiences, but you don't -- if you are wise -- talk down to any audience.
quote by Norman Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These sorts of things can happen, identities can be switched, the emotional implications are something that he has not been trained to feel. His whole life has been about separating himself from these sorts of actions.
quote by Atom Egoyan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Leather Bottel
Now God alone that made all things,
Heaven and earth and all that's in,
The ships that in the seas do swim
To keep out foes from coming in,
Then every one does what he can,
All for the good and use of man:
And I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
Now what d'ye say to cans of wood?
Faith, they're naught, they cannot be good;
For when a man for beer doth send,
To have them fill'd he doth intend;
The bearer stumbles by the way
And on the ground the beer doth lay;
Then doth the man begin to ban,
And swears 'twas long o' the wooden can;
But had it been in a leather bottel
It had not been so, for all had been well,
And safe therein it would remain
Until the man got up again:
And I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell,
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
What do you say to glasses fine?
Faith, they shall have no praise of mine;
For when a man's at table set
And by him several sorts of meat,
The one loves flesh, the other fish,
Then with your hand remove a dish,
Touch but the glass upon the brim,
The glass is broke, and naught left in,
The table-cloth though ne'er so fine
Is soil'd with beer, or ale, or wine,
And doubtless for so small abuse
A servant may his service lose:
But I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell,
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
What say you to the handled pot?
No praise of mine shall be its lot;
For when a man and wife's at strife,
As many have been in their life,
They lay their hands upon it both
And break the same although they're loth;
But woe to them shall bear the guilt,
Between them both the liquor's spilt,
For which they shall answer another day,
Casting so vainly their liquor away;
But if it had been leather-bottel'd,
One might have tugg'd, the other have held,
Both might have tugg'd till their hearts should break,
No harm the leather bottel could take:
Then I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell,
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
What say you to flagons of silver fine?
Why, faith, they shall have no praise of mine;
For when a lord for sack doth send,
To have them fill'd he doth intend,
The man with the flagon runs away
And never is seen after that day;
The lord then begins to swear and ban
For having lost both flagon and man;
But had it been either by page or groom
With a leather bottel it had come home:
And I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell,
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
And when this bottel is grown old
And that it will no longer hold,
Out o' the side you may cut a clout
To mend your shoes when they're worn out;
Then hang the rest up on a pin,
'Twill serve to put odd trifles in,
As rings, and awls, and candles' ends,
For young beginners have such things:
And I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Pancakes and With Baked Salmon
I do have this 'thing'
For my own homemade pancakes.
And with baked salmon!
What a treat to eat.
You are not going to get any that I make!
But here is the recipe.
You can do it just like me.
First beat an egg in a mixing bowl,
Add a tablespoon of baking powder.
A third teaspoon of salt
A full teaspoon of sugar.
And about a third cup of vegetable oil.
Beat that all together.
Now you want to add the flour.
About a cup...maybe more...
If you're serving more than two people.
I choose to use evaporated milk.
At least a cup.
Whip all this stuff up.
Heat that frying pan or griddle.
Medium to hot.
Add some olive oil if you got it.
Vegetable oil will do.
With a slice of butter added too!
OH! I almost forgot the salmon!
I use salmon steaks.
Preheat the oven 350 degrees.
After rinsing the salmon...
Rub with apple vinegar.
Salt and pepper if you please.
Lay on tin foil since this is what I use.
Add butter and a bit of oil!
Enclosed that salmon within the foil.
Baked twenty minutes.
That's all it takes!
ENJOY!
Use syrup on the pancakes.
Perhaps a little Vadalia Onion Dressing,
On the salmon.
And if you don't like this...
You definitely will love,
My brown sugar/mustard roasted chicken.
But I'm not sharing that right now!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The postdoc explained to me how to distinguish different sorts of particles on the basis of the amounts of energy they deposited in various sorts of detectors, spark chambers, calorimeters, what have you.
quote by Eric Allin Cornell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mindweaver
Hello,
Oh, hi!
How are you?
Mm, Im fine.
Whats up?
Umm-umm, no, no, its alright.
Er, yeah, go ahead, Im listening.
Umm-umm, hah-hah, yeah, umm...
Umm-umm,
Umm-umm.
He was a mindweaver, always on the phone,
Telling me all sorts of hurt of his own.
Although his voice was sweet to me,
I wondered if we could ever be.
He was a mindbeater, always on the phone,
Telling me all sorts of what I did wrong.
Although his voice was sweet to me,
I wondered if we could ever be.
He was a mindbender, always on the phone,
Telling me all sorts of dreams he has sewn.
Although his voice was sweet to me,
I wondered if we could ever be.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mindweaver
Hello,
Oh, hi!
How are you?
Mm, Im fine.
Whats up?
Umm-umm, no, no, its alright.
Er, yeah, go ahead, Im listening.
Umm-umm, hah-hah, yeah, umm...
Umm-umm,
Umm-umm.
He was a mindweaver, always on the phone,
Telling me all sorts of hurt of his own.
Although his voice was sweet to me,
I wondered if we could ever be.
He was a mindbeater, always on the phone,
Telling me all sorts of what I did wrong.
Although his voice was sweet to me,
I wondered if we could ever be.
He was a mindbender, always on the phone,
Telling me all sorts of dreams he has sewn.
Although his voice was sweet to me,
I wondered if we could ever be.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Men Who Abuse Women
Men who abuse women a blight on mankind
And though aggressive males are not hard to find
Most males to the female sex respect only pay
And kind things of women only ever do say
Most abusive males were victims of abuse
Though for bad behaviour that should not be an excuse
Men who abuse women i would like to think rare
Though all sorts of strange sorts in the big World out there
They bring on themselves and the male gender shame
They are toxic people for want of a better name
To abuse another human being is a punishable crime
And all males who beat women in prison should serve time
And though aggressive males are not that hard to find
Not all males are abusive to woman kind.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Crimes Of The Mind
Bigger than man walking on the moon
Coming to a theatre near you soon
This is what Im living for
You get a little bit
And you want a little more
Everything is fine
Crimes of the mind
I drink a little wine
Crimes of the mind
Heres to modern times
Crimes of the mind
Every dog will have its day
And all these dogs just want to play
You will reap what you sow
But the real truth we will never know
Everything is fine
Crimes of the mind
I drink a little wine
Crimes of the mind
Heres to modern times
Crimes of the mind
Rolling in the grime
Crimes of the mind
Digging for a dime
Crimes of the mind
Blind leading the blind
Crimes of the mind
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man never legislates, but destinies and accidents, happening in all sorts of ways, legislate in all sorts of ways.
Ladies In Waiting
So you been to the market
And the meat looks good tonight
And the ladies in waiting
Will show you what its all about
Their selection is inviting
They sure look hot tonight
And the ladies in waiting
Will show you what its all about
And so you move on down the line
All the ladies are lookin fine, so fine
Ladies in waiting, ladies in waiting, ladies in waiting
So you move on down the line
All the ladies are lookin fine
Their selection is inviting
They sure look hot tonight
And the ladies in waiting
Will show you what its all about
And so you move on down the line
All the ladies are lookin fine, so fine
Ladies in waiting, ladies in waiting, ladies in waiting
Ladies in waiting, ladies in waiting, ladies in waiting
Ladies in waiting, ladies in waiting, ladies in waiting
Ladies in waiting
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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5. Merry Old England
Shining armour tunics bright
A table large and round
Swords pointing to its centre
Where Arthur’s knights be found
Each had pledged allegiance
That will never be forgot
To uphold the rights of justice
In this place called Camelot
Each fought in many battles
You’d often hear them call
We fight in the name of King Arthur
For right and with justice for all
Tyrants they had vanquished
Dragons had been slain
Damsels in their ivory towers
Saved time and time again
At last the knights disbanded
All battles had been won
Back to merry old England
Where King Arthur’s job was done
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Its Christmas time
Its almost Christmas
People buying plenty of presents
People preparing puddings and pork
The countdown is on
Corks are sealed on Christmas drinks
Many parents wrapping presents
The Choir singing Christmas Carols
Countdown to corks popping Christmas pudding and people cracking up
Perfect plump pudding made to perfection coming on the plate
Excited playful children
Ready for the crazy crackers
Christmas carols flowing through our cheerful ears
There's pork, there's plump pudding, there's presents, pancakes and Christmas joy in our souls
poem by Alyssia Innocent
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Wild animals are just as confused as people are now. You've got toxins in the water, oil, sewage, all sorts of things.
quote by Jack Hannah
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Apple Seed
Spring is here
love it so dear.
Being an apple seed,
and doing my good deed.
Keeping the doctor away,
for many years this tree will stay.
Just waiting for picking time
and watching workers as they climb.
Seed to apple so sweet
working so hard what a feat.
Apple cider to apple pie,
selling apples for people to buy.
Being an apple seed
and doing my good deed.
Being picked off this tree
from this place I will flee.
wrote 4-30-07
When I Walked Into
the waiting room
at the dentist’s
there was only one seat open…
i took it,
grabbed a copy of Newsweek
and tried to hide my face.
but,
before i even
opened the magazine
this guy on my right
starts talking:
“…used to play guitar once…
years ago,
when i was a kid.
i was pretty good at it, too! ”
knowing it was useless,
i put down the magazine
and turned toward him.
he was
an ordinary kind of guy…
maybe 50.
“it was a great way
to pick up women.
i met all sorts of women
when i was playing guitar.
that’s how i met my wife.”
just then they called my name
and i stood up.
he reached for my magazine
and said:
“yep, it’s been years
since i played guitar.
now i play
second fiddle.”
poem by John Yamrus
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The Ballad of Bouillabaisse
A street there is in Paris famous,
For which no rhyme our language yields,
Rue Neuve de petits Champs its name is -
The New Street of the Little Fields;
And there's an inn, not rich and splendid,
But still in comfortable case;
The which in youth I oft attended,
To eat a bowl of Bouillabaisse.
This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is -
A sort of soup, or broth, or brew,
Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes,
That Greenwich never could outdo;
Green herbs, red peppers, muscles, saffern,
Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace;
All these you eat at Terré's tavern,
In that one dish of Bouillabaisse.
Indeed, a rich and savory stew 'tis;
And true philosophers, methinks,
Who love all sorts of natural beauties,
Should love good victuals and good drinks.
And Cordelier or Benedictine
Might gladly, sure, his lot embrace,
Nor find a fast-day too afflicting,
Which served him up a Bouillabaisse.
I wonder if the house still there is?
Yes, here the lamp is as before;
The smiling, red-cheek'd écaillère is
Still opening oysters at the door.
Is Terré still alive and able?
I recollect his droll grimace;
He'd come and smile before your table,
And hoped you like your Bouillabaisse.
We enter; nothing's changed or older.
'How's Monsieur Terré, waiter, pray?'
The waiter stares and shrugs his shoulder -
'Monsieur is dead this many a day.'
'It is the lot of saint and sinner.
So honest Terré's run his race!'
'What will Monsieur require for dinner?'
'Say, do you still cook Bouillabaisse?'
'Oh, oui, Monsieur,' 's the waiter's answer;
'Quel vin Monsieur désire-t-il ?'
Tell me a good one.' 'That I can, sir;
The Chambertin with yellow seal.'
'So Terré's gone,' I say, and sink in
My old accustom'd corner-place;
'He's done with feasting and with drinking,
With Burgundy and Bouillabaisse.'
My old accustom'd corner here is-
The table still is in the nook;
Ah! vanished many a busy year is,
This well-known chair since last I took.
When first I saw ye, cari luoghi,
I'd scarce a beard upon my face,
And now a grizzled, grim old fogy,
I sit and wait for Bouillabaisse.
Where are you, old companions trusty
Of early days, here met to dine?
Come, waiter! quick, a flagon crusty -
I'll pledge them in the good old wine.
The kind old voices and old faces
My memory can quick retrace;
Around the board they take their places,
And share the wine and Bouillabaisse.
There's Jack has made a wondrous marriage;
There's laughing Tom is laughing yet;
There's brave Augustus drives his carriage;
There's poor old Fred in the Gazette;
On James's head the grass is growing:
Good Lord! the world has wagged apace
Since here we sat the Claret flowing,
And drank, and ate the Bouillabaisse.
Ah me! how quick the days are flitting!
I mind me of a time that's gone,
When here I'd sit, as now I'm sitting,
In this same place-but not alone.
A fair young form was nestled near me,
A dear, dear face looked fondly up,
And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me.
- There's no one now to share my cup.
. . . . . . . .
I drink it as the Fates ordain it.
Come, fill it, and have done with rhymes;
Fill up the lonely glass, and drain it
In memory of dear old times.
Welcome the wine, whate'er the seal is;
And sit you down and say your grace
With thankful heart, whate'er the meal is.
Here comes the smoking Bouillabaisse!
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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The Song of Right and Wrong
Feast on wine or fast on water
And your honour shall stand sure,
God Almighty's son and daughter
He the valiant, she the pure;
If an angel out of heaven
Brings you other things to drink,
Thank him for his kind attentions,
Go and pour them down the sink.
Tea is like the East he grows in,
A great yellow Mandarin
With urbanity of manner
And unconsciousness of sin;
All the women, like a harem,
At his pig-tail troop along;
And, like all the East he grows in,
He is Poison when he's strong.
Tea, although an Oriental,
Is a gentleman at least;
Cocoa is a cad and coward,
Cocoa is a vulgar beast,
Cocoa is a dull, disloyal,
Lying, crawling cad and clown,
And may very well be grateful
To the fool that takes him down.
As for all the windy waters,
They were rained like tempests down
When good drink had been dishonoured
By the tipplers of the town;
When red wine had brought red ruin
And the death-dance of our times,
Heaven sent us Soda Water
As a torment for our crimes.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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