Dean Swift At Sir Arthur Acheson’s In The North Of Ireland
The Dean would visit Market-Hill,
Our invitation was but slight;
I said—'Why let him, if he will:'
And so I bade Sir Arthur write.
His manners would not let him wait,
Lest we should think ourselves neglected,
And so we see him at our gate
Three days before he was expected,
After a week, a month, a quarter,
And day succeeding after day,
Says not a word of his departure,
Though not a soul would have him stay.
I've said enough to make him blush,
Methinks, or else the devil's in't;
But he cares not for it a rush,
Nor for my life will take the hint.
But you, my dear, may let him know,
In civil language, if he stays,
How deep and foul the roads may grow,
And that he may command the chaise.
Or you may say—'My wife intends,
Though I should be exceeding proud,
This winter to invite some friends,
And, sir, I know you hate a crowd.'
Or, 'Mr. Dean—I should with joy
Beg you would here continue still,
But we must go to Aghnecloy;
Or Mr. Moore will take it ill.'
The house accounts are daily rising;
So much his stay doth swell the bills:
My dearest life, it is surprising,
How much he eats, how much he swills.
His brace of puppies how they stuff!
And they must have three meals a-day,
Yet never think they get enough;
His horses too eat all our hay.
O! if I could, how I would maul
His tallow face and wainscot paws,
His beetle brows, and eyes of wall,
And make him soon give up the cause!
Must I be every moment chid
With Skinnybonia, Snipe, and Lean?
O! that I could but once be rid
Of this insulting tyrant Dean!
poem by Jonathan Swift
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Lady Acheson Weary Of The Dean
The Dean would visit Market-hill;
Our invitation was but slight;
I said—why—Let him if he will,
And so I bid Sir Arthur write.
His manners would not let him wait,
Lest we should think ourselves neglected,
And so we saw him at our gate
Three days before he was expected.
After a week, a month, a quarter,
And day succeeding after day,
Says not a word of his departure
Though not a soul would have him stay.
I’ve said enough to make him blush
Methinks, or else the Devil’s in’t,
But he cares not for it a rush,
Nor for my life will take the hint.
But you, My Life, must let him know,
In civil language, if he stays
How deep and foul the roads may grow,
And that he may command the chaise.
Or you may say—my wife intends,
Though I should be exceeding proud,
This winter to invite some friends,
And Sir, I know you hate a crowd.
Or, Mr. Dean—I should with joy
Beg you would here continue still,
But we must go to Aghnaclay,
Or Mr. Moor will take it ill.
The house accounts are daily rising
So much his stay does swell the bills;
My dearest Life, it is surprising
How much he eats, how much he swills.
His brace of puppies how they stuff,
And they must have three meals a day,
Yet never think they get enough;
His horses too eat all our hay.
Oh! if I could, how I would maul
His tallow face and wainscot paws,
His beetle-brows and eyes of wall,
And make him soon give up the cause.
May I be every moment chid
With Skinny, Honey, Snip, and Lean,
Oh! that I could but once be rid
Of that insulting tyrant Dean.
poem by Jonathan Swift
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Mr. James Dean
All the king's horses
Wouldn't make me believe
Even when the walls come crashing down
You still can never be
A rebel without a cause
A rebel to the first degree
Why don't you stop trying so hard?
Cause there's no men, man enough to be
Another James Dean
You're nothing like him
So don't call me friend
Cause you're nothing like me
Even when the world stops turning
There will never be another James Dean
You'll never be James Dean
All the faces you're making
Save it for the scene
And All the people you're faking
Why was it only me?
I saw right into your eyes
And you're just not so deep
I've had too many cries
Mr. Prince Charming
Sorry, you could never be
Cause you're nothing like him
So don't call me friend
Cause you're nothing like me
Even when the world stops turning, the world stops turning
Now you move to the next town
Next set, next girl, have fun baby
I'm taking back my world
Here we are face to face
Same energy, you and me
Don't wanna be enemies
Here we are face to face
Same energy, you and me
Don't wanna be enemies
Here we are face to face
Same energy, you and me
Don't wanna be enemies
Here we are face to face
Same energy, you and me
Don't wanna be enemies
Here we are face to face
Same energy, you and me
Don't wanna be enemies
song performed by by Hilary Duff
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If you have to pay the bills, and you write something you're not proud of, use a pen-name for that.
quote by Dean Koontz
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Stella At Wood Park, A House Of Charles Ford, Esq., Near Dublin
Don Carlos, in a merry spight,
Did Stella to his house invite:
He entertain'd her half a year
With generous wines and costly cheer.
Don Carlos made her chief director,
That she might o'er the servants hector.
In half a week the dame grew nice,
Got all things at the highest price:
Now at the table head she sits,
Presented with the nicest bits:
She look'd on partridges with scorn,
Except they tasted of the corn:
A haunch of ven'son made her sweat,
Unless it had the right fumette.
Don Carlos earnestly would beg,
'Dear Madam, try this pigeon's leg;'
Was happy, when he could prevail
To make her only touch a quail.
Through candle-light she view'd the wine,
To see that ev'ry glass was fine.
At last, grown prouder than the devil
With feeding high, and treatment civil,
Don Carlos now began to find
His malice work as he design'd.
The winter sky began to frown:
Poor Stella must pack off to town;
From purling streams and fountains bubbling,
To Liffey's stinking tide in Dublin:
From wholesome exercise and air
To sossing in an easy-chair:
From stomach sharp, and hearty feeding,
To piddle like a lady breeding:
From ruling there the household singly.
To be directed here by Dingley:
From every day a lordly banquet,
To half a joint, and God be thank it:
From every meal Pontac in plenty,
To half a pint one day in twenty:
From Ford attending at her call,
To visits of Archdeacon Wall:
From Ford, who thinks of nothing mean,
To the poor doings of the Dean:
From growing richer with good cheer,
To running out by starving here.
But now arrives the dismal day;
She must return to Ormond Quay.
The coachman stopt; she look'd, and swore
The rascal had mistook the door:
At coming in, you saw her stoop;
The entry brush'd against her hoop:
Each moment rising in her airs,
She curst the narrow winding stairs:
Began a thousand faults to spy;
The ceiling hardly six feet high;
The smutty wainscot full of cracks:
And half the chairs with broken backs:
Her quarter's out at Lady-day;
She vows she will no longer stay
In lodgings like a poor Grisette,
While there are houses to be let.
Howe'er, to keep her spirits up,
She sent for company to sup:
When all the while you might remark,
She strove in vain to ape Wood Park.
Two bottles call'd for, (half her store,
The cupboard could contain but four
A supper worthy of herself,
Five nothings in five plates of delf.
Thus for a week the farce went on;
When, all her country savings gone,
She fell into her former scene,
Small beer, a herring, and the Dean.
Thus far in jest: though now, I fear,
You think my jesting too severe;
But poets, when a hint is new,
Regard not whether false or true:
Yet raillery gives no offence,
Where truth has not the least pretence;
Nor can be more securely placed
Than on a nymph of Stella's taste.
I must confess your wine and vittle
I was too hard upon a little:
Your table neat, your linen fine;
And, though in miniature, you shine:
Yet, when you sigh to leave Wood Park,
The scene, the welcome, and the spark,
To languish in this odious town,
And pull your haughty stomach down,
We think you quite mistake the case,
The virtue lies not in the place:
For though my raillery were true,
A cottage is Wood Park with you.
poem by Jonathan Swift
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Dean Keen
When Lichtenwalner was the dean
Oft around him someone was seen,
Who,though a generation younger,
Had obviously planned ahead longer,
For he failed not him to imitate
With his pipe, his gesture and his gait,
And ask the questions whose answers
Were the dean's ego enhancers.
Today that someone is the dean
Oft next to the president seen,
And no doubt in a generation
He would reach his next destination.
poem by Boghos L. Artinian
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The Grand Question Debated: Whether Hamilton’s Bawn Should Be Turned Into A Barrack Or Malt-House
Thus spoke to my lady the knight full of care,
'Let me have your advice in a weighty affair.
This Hamilton's bawn, while it sticks in my hand
I lose by the house what I get by the land;
But how to dispose of it to the best bidder,
For a barrack or malt-house, we now must consider.
'First, let me suppose I make it a malt-house,
Here I have computed the profit will fall t'us:
There's nine hundred pounds for labour and grain,
I increase it to twelve, so three hundred remain;
A handsome addition for wine and good cheer,
Three dishes a-day, and three hogsheads a-year;
With a dozen large vessels my vault shall be stored;
No little scrub joint shall come on my board;
And you and the Dean no more shall combine
To stint me at night to one bottle of wine;
Nor shall I, for his humour, permit you to purloin
A stone and a quarter of beef from my sir-loin.
If I make it a barrack, the crown is my tenant;
My dear, I have ponder'd again and again on't:
In poundage and drawbacks I lose half my rent,
Whatever they give me, I must be content,
Or join with the court in every debate;
And rather than that, I would lose my estate.'
Thus ended the knight; thus began his meek wife:
'It must, and it shall be a barrack, my life.
I'm grown a mere mopus; no company comes
But a rabble of tenants, and rusty dull rums.
With parsons what lady can keep herself clean?
I'm all over daub'd when I sit by the Dean.
But if you will give us a barrack, my dear,
The captain I'm sure will always come here;
I then shall not value his deanship a straw,
For the captain, I warrant, will keep him in awe;
Or, should he pretend to be brisk and alert,
Will tell him that chaplains should not be so pert;
That men of his coat should be minding their prayers,
And not among ladies to give themselves airs.'
Thus argued my lady, but argued in vain;
The knight his opinion resolved to maintain.
But Hannah, who listen'd to all that was past,
And could not endure so vulgar a taste,
As soon as her ladyship call'd to be dress'd,
Cried, 'Madam, why surely my master's possess'd,
Sir Arthur the maltster! how fine it will sound!
I'd rather the bawn were sunk under ground.
But, madam, I guess'd there would never come good,
When I saw him so often with Darby and Wood.
And now my dream's out; for I was a-dream'd
That I saw a huge rat—O dear, how I scream'd!
And after, methought, I had lost my new shoes;
And Molly, she said, I should hear some ill news.
'Dear Madam, had you but the spirit to tease,
You might have a barrack whenever you please:
And, madam, I always believed you so stout,
That for twenty denials you would not give out.
If I had a husband like him, I purtest,
Till he gave me my will, I would give him no rest;
And, rather than come in the same pair of sheets
With such a cross man, I would lie in the streets:
But, madam, I beg you, contrive and invent,
And worry him out, till he gives his consent.
Dear madam, whene'er of a barrack I think,
An I were to be hang'd, I can't sleep a wink:
For if a new crotchet comes into my brain,
I can't get it out, though I'd never so fain.
I fancy already a barrack contrived
At Hamilton's bawn, and the troop is arrived;
Of this to be sure, Sir Arthur has warning,
And waits on the captain betimes the next morning.
'Now see, when they meet, how their honours behave;
'Noble captain, your servant'—'Sir Arthur, your slave;
You honour me much'—'The honour is mine.'—
''Twas a sad rainy night'—'But the morning is fine.'—
'Pray, how does my lady?'—'My wife's at your service.'—
'I think I have seen her picture by Jervas.'—
'Good-morrow, good captain'—'I'll wait on you down'—
'You shan't stir a foot'—'You'll think me a clown.'—
'For all the world, captain, not half an inch farther'—
'You must be obey'd—Your servant, Sir Arthur!
My humble respects to my lady unknown.'—
'I hope you will use my house as your own.''
'Go bring me my smock, and leave off your prate,
Thou hast certainly gotten a cup in thy pate.'
'Pray, madam, be quiet: what was it I said?
You had like to have put it quite out of my head.
Next day to be sure, the captain will come,
At the head of his troop, with trumpet and drum.
Now, madam, observe how he marches in state:
The man with the kettle-drum enters the gate:
Dub, dub, adub, dub. The trumpeters follow.
Tantara, tantara; while all the boys holla.
See now comes the captain all daub'd with gold lace:
O la! the sweet gentleman! look in his face;
And see how he rides like a lord of the land,
With the fine flaming sword that he holds in his hand;
And his horse, the dear creter, it prances and rears;
With ribbons in knots at its tail and its ears:
At last comes the troop, by word of command,
Drawn up in our court; when the captain cries, STAND!
Your ladyship lifts up the sash to be seen,
For sure I had dizen'd you out like a queen.
The captain, to show he is proud of the favour,
Looks up to your window, and cocks up his beaver;
(His beaver is cock'd: pray, madam, mark that,
For a captain of horse never takes off his hat,
Because he has never a hand that is idle,
For the right holds the sword, and the left holds the bridle
Then flourishes thrice his sword in the air,
As a compliment due to a lady so fair;
(How I tremble to think of the blood it has spilt!)
Then he lowers down the point, and kisses the hilt.
Your ladyship smiles, and thus you begin:
'Pray, captain, be pleased to alight and walk in.'
The captain salutes you with congee profound,
And your ladyship curtseys half way to the ground.
'Kit, run to your master, and bid him come to us;
I'm sure he'll be proud of the honour you do us;
And, captain, you'll do us the favour to stay,
And take a short dinner here with us to-day:
You're heartily welcome; but as for good cheer,
You come in the very worst time of the year;
If I had expected so worthy a guest—'
'Lord, madam! your ladyship sure is in jest;
You banter me, madam; the kingdom must grant—'
'You officers, captain, are so complaisant!''—
'Hist, hussey, I think I hear somebody coming '—
'No madam: 'tis only Sir Arthur a-humming.
To shorten my tale, (for I hate a long story,)
The captain at dinner appears in his glory;
The dean and the doctor have humbled their pride,
For the captain's entreated to sit by your side;
And, because he's their betters, you carve for him first;
The parsons for envy are ready to burst.
The servants, amazed, are scarce ever able
To keep off their eyes, as they wait at the table;
And Molly and I have thrust in our nose,
To peep at the captain in all his fine clo'es.
Dear madam, be sure he's a fine spoken man,
Do but hear on the clergy how glib his tongue ran;
And, 'madam,' says he, 'if such dinners you give,
You'll ne'er want for parsons as long as you live.
I ne'er knew a parson without a good nose;
But the devil's as welcome, wherever he goes:
G—d d—n me! they bid us reform and repent,
But, z—s! by their looks, they never keep Lent:
Mister curate, for all your grave looks, I'm afraid
You cast a sheep's eye on her ladyship's maid:
I wish she would lend you her pretty white hand
In mending your cassock, and smoothing your band:
(For the Dean was so shabby, and look'd like a ninny,
That the captain supposed he was curate to Jinny.)
'Whenever you see a cassock and gown,
A hundred to one but it covers a clown.
Observe how a parson comes into a room;
G—d d—n me, he hobbles as bad as my groom;
A scholard, when just from his college broke loose,
Can hardly tell how to cry bo to a goose;
Your Noveds, and Bluturks, and Omurs, and stuff
By G—, they don't signify this pinch of snuff.
To give a young gentleman right education,
The army's the only good school in the nation:
My schoolmaster call'd me a dunce and a fool,
But at cuffs I was always the cock of the school;
I never could take to my book for the blood o' me,
And the puppy confess'd he expected no good o' me.
He caught me one morning coquetting his wife,
But he maul'd me, I ne'er was so maul'd in my life:
So I took to the road, and, what's very odd,
The first man I robb'd was a parson, by G—.
Now, madam, you'll think it a strange thing to say,
But the sight of a book makes me sick to this day.
'Never since I was born did I hear so much wit,
And, madam, I laugh'd till I thought I should split.
So then you look'd scornful, and snift at the Dean,
As who should say, 'Now, am I skinny and lean?'
But he durst not so much as once open his lips,
And the doctor was plaguily down in the hips.'
Thus merciless Hannah ran on in her talk,
Till she heard the Dean call, 'Will your ladyship walk?'
Her ladyship answers, 'I'm just coming down:'
Then, turning to Hannah, and forcing a frown,
Although it was plain in her heart she was glad,
Cried, 'Hussey, why sure the wench is gone mad!
How could these chimeras get into your brains!—
Come hither and take this old gown for your pains.
But the Dean, if this secret should come to his ears,
Will never have done with his gibes and his jeers:
For your life, not a word of the matter I charge ye:
Give me but a barrack, a fig for the clergy.'
We give the world to understand,
Our thriving Dean has purchased land;
A purchase which will bring him clear
Above his rent four pounds a-year;
Provided to improve the ground,
He will but add two hundred pound;
And from his endless hoarded store,
To build a house, five hundred more.
Sir Arthur, too, shall have his will,
And call the mansion Drapier's-Hill;
That, when a nation, long enslaved,
Forgets by whom it once was saved;
When none the Drapier's praise shall sing,
His signs aloft no longer swing,
His medals and his prints forgotten,
And all his handkerchiefs are rotten,
His famous letters made waste paper,
This hill may keep the name of Drapier;
In spite of envy, flourish still,
And Drapier's vie with Cooper's-Hill.
poem by Jonathan Swift
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When I played Dean Martin, he was dead when we made the movie but there would have been nothing better than to spend a week with Dean Martin if I could have.
quote by Joe Mantegna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've seen so many people in this business that made a fortune. They get old and broke and can't make any money. I tell you something... no one's going to play a benefit for Jimmy Dean.
quote by Jimmy Dean
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I Wanna Take Forever Tonight
(eric carmen/dean pitchford)
Feel your breath
On my shoulder
And I know we couldnt get any closer
I dont wanna act up
I just wanna make love
As we move
Into the night
I get crazy
Thinking how its gonna be with you baby
I dont wanna play rough
Ive been giving you enough
Whoa baby, baby, baby
I wanna take forever tonight
Wanna stay in this moment forever
Im gonna give you all the love that Ive got
You know, I wanna take forever tonight
Fill you up, fill you up with my love
When we close the door
All I need is in your eyes
Whoa, whoa
I wanna take forever tonight
Touch my lips
Im on fire
Youre the only one Ill ever desire
Turn the lights down low
Make the world go slow
When Im holding you
Tonight
Its so easy
Nothing moves me like you do when you tease me
And to rush would be a crime
I just wanna stop time
With you baby, baby
I wanna take forever tonight
Wanna stay in this moment forever
Im gonna give you all the love that Ive got
You know, I wanna take forever tonight
Fill you up, fill you up with my love
When we close the door
All I need is in your eyes
Whoa,whoa
I wanna take forever
And when I lay beside you
I wanna see what drives you out of your mind
Ooh, baby
I wanna tantalize you
Take all of my time with you
Whoa baby, baby, baby
I wanna take forever tonight
Wanna stay in this moment forever
Im gonna give you all the love that Ive got
You know, I wanna take forever tonight
Wanna stay in this moment forever
I wanna take forever tonight
Fill you up, fill you up with my love
Give you all the love that Ive got
Oh, I wanna take forever tonight
Gonna stay in this moment forever
I wanna take forever tonight
Fill you up, fill you up with my love
Give you all the love that Ive got
Oh, I wanna take forever tonight
song performed by by Eric Carmen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some people can stay longer in an hour than others can in a week.
quote by William Dean Howells
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When people ask me if Dean Martin drank, let me put it this way. If Dracula bit Dean in the neck, he'd get a Bloody Mary.
quote by Red Buttons
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To Die Alone
To Die Alone
Sometimes I sit and wander,
While other times I walk and ponder
As I realize; the situation that I am in.
I have a wife whom doesn't love me,
And a job that wont set me free
While they both, just get under my skin.
I have bills coming to the door
And the house is always at a roar
And no one cares the times I am there.
When I am asleep, I cannot sleep
And I am told a man cannot weep
As for me, does anyone truly care.
So here I am with my face in my hand
My life I cannot truly understand
So here I am again, always all by myself.
I cannot fight a fight, I cannot win
As I know it will cause hate and so much sin
So I Live in my own, man made Hell.
I am nervous now though this life
And what can I say, but I lost my pride
So here I am, a man without a soul.
I always stay quite as a mouse
Apologies is all that comes from my mouth
My life is full of sadness and its woe.
Now my dreaming, is what I do best
And when I can I hide or I can rest
I seem to hate, today and even tomorrow.
So when I say my prayers at night
I will always pray for my soul and my wife
And I try to forget the rest of my sorrow.
But then I think the same old thought
After the many battles that I have fought
As I know someday peace will enter my home
But till that time I will sit and I will wait
As from that battle I cannot escape
Until then, I just hope to die alone.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Although charismatic, James Dean is no Harrison Ford. In the majority of his movies, sooner or later he got the crap beaten out of him.
quote by Dean Koontz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dean’s Answer
The nymph who wrote this in an amorous fit,
I cannot but envy the pride of her wit,
Which thus she will venture profusely to throw
On so mean a design, and a subject so low.
For mean's her design, and her subject as mean,
The first but a rebus, the last but a dean.
A dean's but a parson: and what is a rebus?
A thing never known to the Muses or Phoebus.
The corruption of verse; for, when all is done,
It is but a paraphrase made on a pun.
But a genius like hers no subject can stifle,
It shows and discovers itself through a trifle.
By reading this trifle, I quickly began
To find her a great wit, but the dean a small man.
Rich ladies will furnish their garrets with stuff,
Which others for mantuas would think fine enough:
So the wit that is lavishly thrown away here,
Might furnish a second-rate poet a year.
Thus much for the verse, we proceed to the next,
Where the nymph has entirely forsaken her text:
Her fine panegyrics are quite out of season:
And what she describes to be merit, is treason:
The changes which faction has made in the state,
Have put the dean's politics quite out of date:
Now no one regards what he utters with freedom,
And, should he write pamphlets, no great man would read 'em;
And, should want or desert stand in need of his aid,
This racer would prove but a dull founder'd jade.
poem by Jonathan Swift
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My Lady’s Lamantation And Complaint Against The Dean
Sure never did man see
A wretch like poor Nancy,
So teazed day and night
By a Dean and a Knight.
To punish my sins,
Sir Arthur begins,
And gives me a wipe,
With Skinny and Snipe:,
His malice is plain,
Hallooing the Dean.
The Dean never stops,
When he opens his chops;
I'm quite overrun
With rebus and pun.
Before he came here,
To spunge for good cheer,
I sat with delight,
From morning till night,
With two bony thumbs
Could rub my old gums,
Or scratching my nose
And jogging my toes;
But at present, forsooth,
I must not rub a tooth.
When my elbows he sees
Held up by my knees,
My arms, like two props,
Supporting my chops,
And just as I handle 'em
Moving all like a pendulum;
He trips up my props,
And down my chin drops
From my head to my heels,
Like a clock without wheels;
I sink in the spleen,
A useless machine.
If he had his will,
I should never sit still:
He comes with his whims
I must move my limbs;
I cannot be sweet
Without using my feet;
To lengthen my breath,
He tires me to death.
By the worst of all squires,
Thro' bogs and thro' briers,
Where a cow would be startled,
I'm in spite of my heart led;
And, say what I will,
Haul'd up every hill;
Till, daggled and tatter'd,
My spirits quite shatter'd,
I return home at night,
And fast, out of spite:
For I'd rather be dead,
Than it e'er should be said,
I was better for him,
In stomach or limb.
But now to my diet;
No eating in quiet,
He's still finding fault,
Too sour or too salt:
The wing of a chick
I hardly can pick:
But trash without measure
I swallow with pleasure.
Next, for his diversion,
He rails at my person.
What court breeding this is!
He takes me to pieces:
From shoulder to flank
I'm lean and am lank;
My nose, long and thin,
Grows down to my chin;
My chin will not stay,
But meets it halfway;
My fingers, prolix,
Are ten crooked sticks:
He swears my el—bows
Are two iron crows,
Or sharp pointed rocks,
And wear out my smocks:
To 'scape them, Sir Arthur
Is forced to lie farther,
Or his sides they would gore
Like the tusks of a boar.
Now changing the scene
But still to the Dean;
He loves to be bitter at
A lady illiterate;
If he sees her but once,
He'll swear she's a dunce;
Can tell by her looks
A hater of books;
Thro' each line of her face
Her folly can trace;
Which spoils every feature
Bestow'd her by nature;
But sense gives a grace
To the homeliest face:
Wise books and reflection
Will mend the complexion:
(A civil divine!
I suppose, meaning mine!)
No lady who wants them,
Can ever be handsome.
I guess well enough
What he means by this stuff:
He haws and he hums,
At last out it comes:
What, madam? No walking,
No reading, nor talking?
You're now in your prime,
Make use of your time.
Consider, before
You come to threescore,
How the hussies will fleer
Where'er you appear;
'That silly old puss
Would fain be like us:
What a figure she made
In her tarnish'd brocade!'
And then he grows mild:
Come, be a good child:
If you are inclined
To polish your mind,
Be adored by the men
Till threescore and ten,
And kill with the spleen
The jades of sixteen;
I'll show you the way;
Read six hours a-day.
The wits will frequent ye,
And think you but twenty.
[To make you learn faster,
I'll be your schoolmaster
And leave you to choose
The books you peruse.]
Thus was I drawn in;
Forgive me my sin.
At breakfast he'll ask
An account of my task.
Put a word out of joint,
Or miss but a point,
He rages and frets,
His manners forgets;
And as I am serious,
Is very imperious.
No book for delight
Must come in my sight;
But, instead of new plays,
Dull Bacon's Essays,
And pore every day on
That nasty Pantheon.
If I be not a drudge,
Let all the world judge.
'Twere better be blind,
Than thus be confined.
But while in an ill tone,
I murder poor Milton,
The Dean you will swear,
Is at study or prayer.
He's all the day sauntering,
With labourers bantering,
Among his colleagues,
A parcel of Teagues,
Whom he brings in among us
And bribes with mundungus.
[He little believes
How they laugh in their sleeves.]
Hail, fellow, well met,
All dirty and wet:
Find out, if you can,
Who's master, who's man;
Who makes the best figure,
The Dean or the digger;
And which is the best
At cracking a jest.
[Now see how he sits
Perplexing his wits
In search of a motto
To fix on his grotto.]
How proudly he talks
Of zigzags and walks,
And all the day raves
Of cradles and caves;
And boasts of his feats,
His grottos and seats;
Shows all his gewgaws,
And gapes for applause;
A fine occupation
For one in his station!
A hole where a rabbit
Would scorn to inhabit,
Dug out in an hour;
He calls it a bower.
But, O! how we laugh,
To see a wild calf
Come, driven by heat,
And foul the green seat;
Or run helter-skelter,
To his arbour for shelter,
Where all goes to ruin
The Dean has been doing:
The girls of the village
Come flocking for pillage,
Pull down the fine briers
And thorns to make fires;
But yet are so kind
To leave something behind:
No more need be said on't,
I smell when I tread on't.
Dear friend, Doctor Jinny.
If I could but win ye,
Or Walmsley or Whaley,
To come hither daily,
Since fortune, my foe,
Will needs have it so,
That I'm, by her frowns,
Condemn'd to black gowns;
No squire to be found
The neighbourhood round;
(For, under the rose,
I would rather choose those)
If your wives will permit ye,
Come here out of pity,
To ease a poor lady,
And beg her a play-day.
So may you be seen
No more in the spleen;
May Walmsley give wine
Like a hearty divine!
May Whaley disgrace
Dull Daniel's whey-face!
And may your three spouses
Let you lie at friends' houses!
poem by Jonathan Swift
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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100 days as Medical College Dean (A)
A hundred days have gone off
With me as Dean – I laugh;
I love my every staff
My anger, I now quaff!
The work is tough and dreary;
But I am never weary;
And I can never hurry;
My life has become starry!
I don’t know where to I head;
I’m happy mostly instead;
But it was all from my God
This seems a blessing / rod.
I have no other go
Than labor for friend and foe;
The work is lovely, oh!
Unlike one with a hoe.
Taking charge as Dean,
Busy, I have been;
Work of God’s Hand unseen;
My life has turned serene!
October 13th day,
2008, I say;
I heard the news that may
Change my earthly way.
I’d prayed a lot to Al-
Mighty give me the new call;
My duty is to all;
No more will I ev’r fall!
Befitting was I, I asked?
To God I prayed and prayed;
But fit, God me had made
With glory not to fade!
But in case, I was not,
To make me fit, God ought.
This was my only thought;
As God I fully sought!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-27-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stay
Please stay with me now
Dont you let me go
Ill make it somehow
I got to let you know
That Ill make it
Somehow, some way
Though I wait on the day
What Im doings got to pay
Someway, somehow
My baby, when he cries
Its cause somethings on his mind
This world is full of lies
You and me are one of a kind
The good lord will stand behind every step
We are blind to fate, thats life, thats life
Stay, stay, stay, stay (wont you please)
Stay, stay, stay, stay
It fits, but you cant make it work
Where theres pain, theres got to be hurt
And the green grass grows from the dirt
Yeah, thats a fact of life alright
The good lord stands behind every step
We are blind to fate, thats life, thats life
Stay, oh wont you please
Stay, stay (wont you)
Stay, stay, stay, stay
Stay, stay, stay, stay
Stay, stay (right here)
Stay, stay (dont you go, no no)
Stay, stay (oh no no)
Stay, stay (stay baby baby please stay)
Stay, stay (right here, right here, right here)
Stay, stay (I want you to stay right here)
Stay, stay (we can stay here, together, together yeah)
Stay, stay (dont listen to what people say)
Stay, stay (stay, stay, listen now yeah)
Stay, stay (stay, yeah yeah now)
song performed by by Erykah Badu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Last
Where are you--you whose loving breath
Alone can stay my soul from death?
The world's so wide, I seek it through,
Yet--dare I dream to win to you?
Perhaps your dear desired feet
Pass me in this grey muddy street.
Your face, it may be, has its shrine
In that dull house that's next to mine.
But I believe, O Life, O Fate,
That when I call on Death and wait
One moment at the unclosing gate
I shall turn back for one last gaze
Along the trampled, sordid ways,
And in the sunset see at last,
Just as the barred gate holds me fast,
Your face, your face, too late.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happy Friendship-Day,2009
Let friends in life be few but firm;
Let all those few be thick and great;
Let friendship good last for life-time,
And be a satisfying one!
Let friends be precious and worthwhile;
Let friendship grow and stay ev’r-green;
Let friends become true role-models,
And guide our life on earth nobly!
Let friends hold us spell-bound in life;
Let friends share joys and grief as well;
Let friendship’s sway make us better,
And give us moments to be proud!
Let friends be part of earthly lives;
Let friendship stay a boon, not bane;
Let friends be inseparable,
And be like angel guardians dear!
Let friendship fill the world with love,
And dispel gloom and solitude;
Let friends be more than siblings born,
And make our life on earth fruitful!
Let friendship glue a hearty bond;
Let friends bring godliness in life;
Let friendliness perfume the world,
And make our earthly lives worthwhile!
Let love turn foes to be like friends;
Let friends make earth a paradise;
Let friendliness rule hearts and minds,
And fix our gaze to God above!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 8-1-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come With Me
All you need
Is something Ill believe
Flashlights in the hall
But no call
Cause when my day is done
I find where I belong
Waiting on the curb
For you to come to carry on
It wont be long
Well turn around
I care enough to wake you up
To make us mine Ill make you shine
Stay the night
Stay all your life
Just come with me
Come with me
Wont you come with me
Come with me again
Come with me
(stay the night)
Wont you come with me
(stay all your life)
Come with me again
(just come with me)
Fell so high I broke my jaw
I couldnt talk to you
Went underground to play around its true
But I came back
To get you at that place so I could breathe
Its 3 a.m.
And Im up again
Answering the call of all
The flowers by the bed
Make me wish my head
Was lying and possessed by truth alone a certain home
A wooden gate, a rabbit hole
Well turn around it wont be long
Capture that place, wont it be fun
Come with me
(stay the night)
Wont you come with me
(stay all your life)
Come with me again
(just come with me)
Come with me
(stay the night)
Wont you come with me
(stay all your life)
Come with me again
(just come with me)
She means more to me
Than any living thing
Younger than the blush of spring she sings
(stay the night)
Wont you come with me
(stay all your life)
Come with me again
(just come with me)
song performed by by Zwan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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