En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Revolution At Market-Hill

From distant regions Fortune sends
An odd triumvirate of friends;
Where Phoebus pays a scanty stipend,
Where never yet a codling ripen'd:
Hither the frantic goddess draws
Three sufferers in a ruin'd cause:
By faction banish'd, here unite,
A Dean, a Spaniard, and a Knight;
Unite, but on conditions cruel;
The Dean and Spaniard find it too well,
Condemn'd to live in service hard;
On either side his honour's guard:
The Dean to guard his honour's back,
Must build a castle at Drumlack;
The Spaniard, sore against his will,
Must raise a fort at Market-Hill.
And thus the pair of humble gentry
At north and south are posted sentry;
While in his lordly castle fixt,
The knight triumphant reigns betwixt:
And, what the wretches most resent,
To be his slaves, must pay him rent;
Attend him daily as their chief,
Decant his wine, and carve his beef.
O Fortune! 'tis a scandal for thee
To smile on those who are least worthy:
Weigh but the merits of the three,
His slaves have ten times more than he.
Proud baronet of Nova Scotia!
The Dean and Spaniard must reproach ye:
Of their two fames the world enough rings:
Where are thy services and sufferings?
What if for nothing once you kiss'd,
Against the grain, a monarch's fist?
What if, among the courtly tribe,
You lost a place and saved a bribe?
And then in surly mood came here,
To fifteen hundred pounds a-year,
And fierce against the Whigs harangu'd?
You never ventured to be hang'd.
How dare you treat your betters thus?
Are you to be compared with us?
Come, Spaniard, let us from our farms
Call forth our cottagers to arms:
Our forces let us both unite,
Attack the foe at left and right;
From Market-Hill's exalted head,
Full northward let your troops be led;
While I from Drapier's-Mount descend,
And to the south my squadrons bend.
New-River Walk, with friendly shade,
Shall keep my host in ambuscade;
While you, from where the basin stands,
Shall scale the rampart with your bands.
Nor need we doubt the fort to win;
I hold intelligence within.
True, Lady Anne no danger fears,
Brave as the Upton fan she wears;
Then, lest upon our first attack
Her valiant arm should force us back,
And we of all our hopes deprived;
I have a stratagem contrived.
By these embroider'd high-heel shoes
She shall be caught as in a noose:
So well contriv'd her toes to pinch,
She'll not have power to stir an inch:
These gaudy shoes must Hannah place
Direct before her lady's face;
The shoes put on, our faithful portress
Admits us in, to storm the fortress,
While tortured madam bound remains,
Like Montezume, in golden chains;
Or like a cat with walnuts shod,
Stumbling at every step she trod.
Sly hunters thus, in Borneo's isle,
To catch a monkey by a wile,
The mimic animal amuse;
They place before him gloves and shoes;
Which, when the brute puts awkward on:
All his agility is gone;
In vain to frisk or climb he tries;
The huntsmen seize the grinning prize.
But let us on our first assault
Secure the larder and the vault;
The valiant Dennis, you must fix on,
And I'll engage with Peggy Dixon:
Then, if we once can seize the key
And chest that keeps my lady's tea,
They must surrender at discretion!
And, soon as we have gain'd possession,
We'll act as other conquerors do,
Divide the realm between us two;
Then, (let me see,) we'll make the knight
Our clerk, for he can read and write.
But must not think, I tell him that,
Like Lorimer to wear his hat;
Yet, when we dine without a friend,
We'll place him at the lower end.
Madam, whose skill does all in dress lie,
May serve to wait on Mrs. Leslie;
But, lest it might not be so proper
That her own maid should over-top her,
To mortify the creature more,
We'll take her heels five inches lower.
For Hannah, when we have no need of her,
'Twill be our interest to get rid of her;
And when we execute our plot,
'Tis best to hang her on the spot;
As all your politicians wise,
Dispatch the rogues by whom they rise.

poem by Jonathan Swift
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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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I too, have got shoes

Have you seen shoes on children here
No shoes for other children
No shoes for your children
My uncle said to my dad

I lost my shoes—small shoes
from then on
My feet crushed the thorns
from then on

The city was taken from me
But not me from the city
from then on

Many years later my shoe remover died
And I got back my shoes
Bigger shoes—for crushing thorns
from then on

I cat walked in them
And went to bed in them
from then on

I got the city back
Even when I stayed there
from then on

Believe me I too have got shoes
And I slip my feet in them
But not for sleep anymore
Yes I too have got shoes

Other children wear shoes
My children wear shoes
Wear shoes why not
Why not why not why not why not

Shoes in the cot
Shoes to school
Shoes to the market
Shoes to the office
Why not wear shoes

poem by Moses Kainwo
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Hors-d’oeuvre

Long ago and far away
lived a knight not so bold
and he often considered
how he would rescue a damsel in distress.
Not being bold or handsome to
the knight wondered what he should do.

Then came a day
when his lady fair was kidnapped
and the knight was perplexed
at what he should do.
Mounting his steed he galloped
to the castle where she was held.

The walls of the castle
seem to stretch to the sky.
How was he to save her
and rescue her virtue from these wicked men?
He could not scale this fortress
and breech its stone walls,

From within the walls he heard
groans and wails ring out.
The thoughts of them
stealing her virtue
made his voice ring out.
“Open the gates and let me in.”

The gates duly opened
and the knight with sword in hand
quickly rode his steed in.
There was his lady fair
being ravished by several men.
“Leave ye lady fair alone.”

The knight was taken back
as his lady fair’s voice
echoed in his ears.
“Be gone you silly knight,
can’t you see this lady
wants to have some fun.”

6-7 September 2010

poem by David Harris
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(Growing Pains) Red Shoes Blues

This is a song which should be chanted! (Based on a childhood memory)
............................................. ................................................. ..............

Red shoes,
she wanted...
red shoes...

they had to be red she said,
they had to be red...

no way she could explain
when she was only three...
no way that she could dance
through her three-year-old day
without

red shoes...
red shoes...
she got the red shoes blues.

She wanted
stiletto heels...
stiletto heels...
stilet-tos...
stilet-tos...
she was fifteen
and there wasn’t any way
that she was going to dance
through her teenage day
without stilet...tos...
with those...
pointy toes...
she got the winkle-picker blues.

She wanted... high boots...
she wanted... ankle boots...
she wanted stamp-your-face
Bob Marten bovver boots...
she wanted... slippers
as wide as... kippers...
she wanted sandals
with wedge heels,
flip-flops and pumps...
she walks into a shoe-shop and everybody jumps...
And now she’s forty
it isn’t naughty...
to try ‘em, to buy ‘em,
not to walk on by ‘em...

But nothing ever beat those
red shoes...
red shoes...
the red shoes...
dancing through the day until you’re dead shoes...

red shoes...
red shoes....
she got the red shoes blues.

poem by Janice Windle
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On The Day Mrs Modfig's Husband Died

On the day
Mrs Modfig's husband died

she was being rogered
by a Spaniard

she'd met
in Santa Fe

staring at
the off white ceiling

with a
I'm being

well taken care of
feeling

and didn't give
her husband

a second thought
thinking him

back home
working hard

sipping the sherry
smoking the cigar

feet up
watching TV

maybe seeing
that slut from the store

as he had before
no she was content

having this Spaniard
giving her the works

making the night
feeling young again

hoping for more sunshine
far away

from the rain
and her husband

and his moans and groans
and his occasional

rogerings
in their safe

and boring bed
and later

at the funeral
in her black hat

and dress and coat
and matching gloves

she shed
the crocodile tears

remembering
other loves.

poem by Terry Collett
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Put Yourself In My Shoes

Your mind is made up you wont even try
You didnt even cry this time
You say that we could never see eye to eye
And one of us just must be blind
We have our differences
Were still the same
See what we want to see
But you take a second look
And maybe things wouldnt seem the same
If you could see what you mean to me
Put yourself in my shoes
Walk a mile for me
Ill put myself in your shoes
Maybe then wed see
That if you put yourself in my shoes
Youd have some sympathy
And if I could only put myself in your shoes
Id walk right back to me
Youre gonna keep walkin and youre gonna pass me by
You say you dont even care
But I could always recognize a real good-bye
And I know your hearts not there
Weve had our differences
Were still the same
Hear what we want to hear
Now Im head over heels in the lost and found
Its a cryin shame
I thought we made the perfect pair
Put yourself in my shoes
Walk a while walk that mile for me
Ill put myself in your shoes
Maybe then wed see
That if you put yourself in my shoes
Youd have some sympathy
And if I could only put myself in your shoes
Id walk right back to me
Id walk right back to me
Id walk right back to me

song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Suede Shoes

(carl perkins)
Well, its one for the money, two for the show
Three to get ready and its go man go
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-huh honey, lay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my shoes
Dont you step on my blue suede shoes
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my blue suede shoes
You can burn my house, steal my car
And drink my liquor out of my fruit jar
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my shoes
Dont step on my blue suede shoes
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my blue suede shoes
Well, its down on beale street late one night
A woman got mad and started a fight
Split my chin and bust my nose
Tore out the back of my best suit of clothes
I said, knock me down, step in my face
Slander my name all over the place
Do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my shoes
Dont step on my blue suede shoes
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my blue suede shoes

song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lavender Hill

I want to walk eternity,
In through the land of make believe.
And watch the clouds roll over me,
And let the sun shine down on me.
The only place that I wanna be,
Lavender hill for me.
Wish I could live on sugar and milk,
Then I could live on lavender hill.
Then I could raise my head to the sky,
And let the sun saturate me with love.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill,
Everybody loves lavender hill.
Even the bird that sits in the tree,
Seems to sing sweet melodies.
Even the breeze is whispering,
Lavender hill for me.
While people eat their biscuits with tea,
They dream of daffodils that sway in the breeze.
And every sunday afternoon,
Tidy ladies shine their shoes.
And every little lady dreams,
Lavender memories.
Lavender hill for me.
Lavender hill for me.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Suede Shoes

Recorded live at the varsity stadium, toronto, 13 september 1969
-hello! a-good evening!
Ah!
Okay?
Okay, were just gonna do numbers that we know, you know, cause weve never played together before.
Okay.
Well, its a one for the money, two for the show,
Three to get ready, now go, cat, go!
Dont you step on my blue suede shoes.
Well, you can do anything
But lay off them blue suede shoes.
Well, you can knock me down, step in my face,
Slander my name all over the place;
Do anything that you wanna do,
But, aw-aw, honey, lay off them shoes.
Dont you step on my blue suede shoes.
Well, you can do anything
But lay off them blue suede shoes.
Well, you can burn my house, steal my car,
Drink my liquor from the old fruit jar.
Do anything that you wanna do,
But, aw-aw, honey, lay off them shoes.
Dont you step on my blue suede shoes.
Well, you can do anything
But lay off them blue suede shoes.
Well, hey!
Well, its blue, blue, blue suede shoes,
Hey, blue, blue, blue suede shoes,
Hey, blue, blue, blue suede shoes,
Hey, blue, blue, blue suede shoes.
Well, you can do anything
But lay off my blue suede shoes.
-thank you!

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Suede Shoes

Recorded live at the varsity stadium, toronto, 13 september 1969
-hello! a-good evening!
Ah!
Okay?
Okay, were just gonna do numbers that we know, you know, cause weve never played together before.
Okay.
Well, its a one for the money, two for the show,
Three to get ready, now go, cat, go!
Dont you step on my blue suede shoes.
Well, you can do anything
But lay off them blue suede shoes.
Well, you can knock me down, step in my face,
Slander my name all over the place;
Do anything that you wanna do,
But, aw-aw, honey, lay off them shoes.
Dont you step on my blue suede shoes.
Well, you can do anything
But lay off them blue suede shoes.
Well, you can burn my house, steal my car,
Drink my liquor from the old fruit jar.
Do anything that you wanna do,
But, aw-aw, honey, lay off them shoes.
Dont you step on my blue suede shoes.
Well, you can do anything
But lay off them blue suede shoes.
Well, hey!
Well, its blue, blue, blue suede shoes,
Hey, blue, blue, blue suede shoes,
Hey, blue, blue, blue suede shoes,
Hey, blue, blue, blue suede shoes.
Well, you can do anything
But lay off my blue suede shoes.
-thank you!

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reds

Red dress, red shoes,
A dancing moonlight reflecting from you
A diamond laced necklace, so cheap but expensive
Shining on through,
knowing a charged up essence of you jeweled
Will never escape the memory of you

Red dress, red shoes,
Ripples in the still breeze
Tracing the woods following footsteps made of you

Red dress red shoes,
I remember clearly the day I met you,
The beauty of you, red dress red shoes

Cold day, warm night
That red dress red shoes first entered my sight
Like a demon or devil, delving deeply to my heart, you entered my blood stream
With an evil curderling scream of art,

The ripping then began to start

This lady of red dress and red shoes
Enters the mind
Red dress, red shoes
Trapped in time
its true

poem by Daniel Richards
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A Prayer

LADY, in thy proud eyes
There is a weary look,
As if the spirit we know through them
Were daunted with rebuke
To think that the heart of man henceforth
Is read like a read book.
Lady, in thy lifted face
The solitude is sore;
The true solitude follows the crowd.
Will it be less or more
When the words have been spoken to thee
Which my heart is seeking for?
Lady, canst thou not guess
The words which my thoughts seek?
Perhaps thou deem'st them well to spurn
And better not to speak.
Oh thou must know my love is strong,
Hearing my voice so weak.
Lady, ah go not thus:
Lady, give ear again:
Lady, oh learn from me that yet
There may one thing remain
Which stands not in the knowledge thou hast
And in thy lore of men.
Lady, the darkness lasteth long
Ere the dawn touch the skies;
Many are the leagues of wilderness
Till ye come where the green lies;
Nay often betwixt doubt and doubt
Death whispers and makes wise.
Lady, has not my thought
Dared much? For I would be
The ending of darkness and the dawn
Of a new day to thee,
And thine oasis, and thy place of rest,
And thy time of peace, lady.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Magic At My House

In the closet there is a pair of shoes

The stay in the box kind of shoes.

The gray leather open toed high heeled shoes.

The fancy night on the town shoes.

The make you taller shoes.

The makeup wearing time shoes.

The too big but a perfect fit shoes.

The magic make you grown up shoes.

In the jewelry box there is a necklace.

The aquamarine and pearl and gold necklace.

The this is older than you or I necklace.

The shiny rainbow making necklace.

The color and feel of the ocean necklace.

The mother’s mother necklace.

The too nice for any day necklace.

The magic make you an elegant lady necklace.

In the bathroom there is a bag.

The painting for ladies bag.

The filled with vials and potions bag.

The put your face on bag.

The make your lips redder bag.

The give you doe eyes bag.

The not in public until your 16 bag.

The magic make you look beautiful bag.

In the bed there is a woman.

The wears the magic shoes woman.

The keeps the magic necklace woman.

The use the magic bag woman.

The lets me put on the shoes woman.

The tells me the story of the necklace woman.

The wipes off the magic of the bag woman.

The magic I want to be just like her woman.

poem by Gabrielle Shutt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Upon Nothing

Nothing, thou elder brother even to shade,
That hadst a being ere the world was made,
And (well fixed) art alone of ending not afraid.
Ere time and place were, time and place were not,
When primitive Nothing Something straight begot,
Then all proceeded from the great united--What?
Something, the general attribute of all,
Severed from thee, its sole original,
Into thy boundless self must undistinguished fall.
Yet Something did thy mighty power command,
And from thy fruitful emptiness's hand,
Snatched men, beasts, birds, fire, air, and land.
Matter, the wickedest offspring of thy race,
By Form assisted, flew from thy embrace,
And rebel Light obscured thy reverend dusky face.
With Form and Matter, Time and Place did join,
Body, thy foe, with these did leagues combine
To spoil thy peaceful realm, and ruin all thy line.
But turncoat Time assists the foe in vain,
And, bribed by thee, assists thy short-lived reign,
And to thy hungry womb drives back thy slaves again.
Though mysteries are barred from laic eyes,
And the Divine alone with warrant pries
Into thy bosom, where thy truth in private lies,
Yet this of thee the wise may freely say,
Thou from the virtuous nothing takest away,
And to be part of thee the wicked wisely pray.
Great Negative, how vainly would the wise
Inquire, define, distinguish, teach, devise?
Didst thou not stand to point their dull philosophies.
Is, or is not, the two great ends of Fate,
And true or false, the subject of debate,
That perfects, or destroys, the vast designs of Fate,
When they have racked the politician's breast,
Within thy bosom most securely rest,
And, when reduced to thee, are least unsafe and best.
But Nothing, why does Something still permit
That sacred monarchs should at council sit
With persons highly thought at best for nothing fit?
Whist weighty Something modestly abstains
From princes' coffers, and from statesmen's brains,
And Nothing there like stately Nothing reigns,
Nothing, who dwellest with fools in grave disguise,
For whom they reverend shapes and forms devise,
Lawn sleeves, and furs, and gowns, when they like thee look wise.
French truth, Dutch prowess, British policy,
Hibernian learning, Scotch civility,
Spaniard's dispatch, Dane's wit are mainly seen in thee.
The great man's gratitude to his best friend,
King's promises, whore's vows, towards thee they bend,
Flow swiftly to thee, and in thee never end.

poem by Lord John Wilmot
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blue Suede Shoes

(words & music by carl perkins)
Well, its one for the money,
Two for the show,
Three to get ready,
Now go, cat, go.
But dont you step on my blue suede shoes.
You can do anything but lay off of my blue suede shoes.
Well, you can knock me down,
Step in my face,
Slander my name
All over the place.
Do anything that you want to do, but uh-uh,
Honey, lay off of my shoes
Dont you step on my blue suede shoes.
You can do anything but lay off of my blue suede shoes.
You can burn my house,
Steal my car,
Drink my liquor
From an old fruitjar.
Do anything that you want to do, but uh-uh,
Honey, lay off of my shoes
Dont you step on my blue suede shoes.
You can do anything but lay off of my blue suede shoes.

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Baffled Knight, Or Lady's Policy

There was a knight was drunk with wine,
A riding along the way, sir;
And there he met with a lady fine,
Among the cocks of hay, sir.

'Shall you and I, O lady faire,
Among the grass lye down-a,
And I will have a special care
Of rumpling of your gown-a?'

'Upon the grass there is a dewe
Will spoil my damask gown, sir;
My gowne and kirtle they are newe,
And cost me many a crowne, sir.'

'I have a cloak of scarlet red,
Upon the ground I'll throwe it;
Then, lady faire, come, lay thy head;
We'll play, and none shall knowe it.'

'O yonder stands my steed so free
Among the cocks of hay, sir;
And if the pinner should chance to see,
He'll take my steed away, sir.'

'Upon my finger I have a ring,
It's made of finest gold-a,
And, lady, it thy steed shall bring
Out of the pinner's fold-a.'

'O go with me to my father's hall;
Fair chambers there are three, sir;
And you shall have the best of all,
And I'll your chamberlaine bee, sir.'

He mounted himself on his steed so tall,
And her on her dapple gray, sir;
And there they rode to her father's hall,
Fast pricking along the way, sir.

To her father's hall they arrived strait;
'Twas moated round about-a;
She slipt herself within the gate,
And lockt the knight without-a.

'Here is a silver penny to spend,
And take it for your pain, sir;
And two of my father's men I'll send
To wait on you back again, sir.'

He from his scabbard drew his brand,
And wiped it upon his sleeve-a:
'And cursed,' he said, 'be every man
That will a maid believe-a!'

She drew a bodkin from her haire,
And whip'd it pon her gown-a:
'And curs'd be every maiden faire
That will with men lye down-a!

'A herb there is, that lowly grows,
And some do call it rue, sir;
The smallest dunghill cock that crows
Would make a capon of you, sir.

'A flower there is, that shineth bright,
Some call it mary-gold-a;
He that wold not when he might,
He shall not when he wold-a.'

The knight was riding another day,
With cloak and hat and feather,
He met again with that lady gay,
Who was angling in the river.

'Now, lady faire, I've met with you,
You shall no more escape me;
Remember, how not long agoe
You falsely did intrap me.'

The lady blushed scarlet red,
And trembled at the stranger:
'How shall I guard my maidenhead
From this approaching danger?'

He from his saddle down did light,
In all his riche attyer,
And cryed, 'As I am a noble knight,
I do thy charms admyer.'

He took the lady by the hand,
Who seemlingly consented;
And would no more disputing stand:
She had a plot invented.

'Looke yonder, good Sir Knight, I pray,
Methinks I now discover,
A riding upon his dapple gray,
My former constant lover.'

On tip-toe peering stood the knight,
Fast by the river's brink-a;
The lady pusht with all her might:
'Sir Knight, now swim or sink-a.'

O'er head and ears he plunged in,
The bottom faire he sounded;
Then rising up, he cried amain,
'Help, helpe, or else I'm drownded!'

'Now, fare-you-well, Sir Knight, adieu!
You see what comes of fooling;
That is the fittest place for you;
Your courage wanted cooling.'

Ere many days, in her father's park,
Just at the close of eve-a
Again she met with her angry sparke;
Which made this lady grieve-a.

'False lady, here thou'rt in my powre,
And no one now can hear thee;
And thou shalt sorely rue the hour
That e'er thou dar'dst to jeer me.'

'I pray, Sir Knight, be not so warm
With a young silly maid-a;
I vow and swear I thought no harm:
'Twas a gentle jest I playd-a.'

'A gentle jest, in soothe,' he cryd,
'To tumble me in and leave me!
What if I had in the river dy'd? -
That fetch will not deceive me.

'Once more I'll pardon thee this day,
Tho' injur'd out of measure;
But then prepare without delay
To yield thee to my pleasure.'

'Well then, if I must grant your suit,
Yet think of your boots and spurs, sir:
Let me pull off both spur and boot,
Or else you cannot stir, sir.'

He set him down upon the grass
And begg'd her kind assistance;
'Now,' smiling thought this lovely lass,
'I'll make you keep your distance.'

Then pulling off his boots half-way:
'Sir Knight, now I'm your betters;
You shall not make of me your prey;
Sit there like a knave in fetters.'

The knight when she had served soe,
He fretted, fum'd, and grumbled;
For he could neither stand nor goe,
But like a cripple tumbled.

'Farewell, Sir Knight, the clock strikes ten,
Yet do not move nor stir, sir;
I'll send you my father's serving men
To pull of your boots and spurs, sir.

'This merry jest you must excuse,
You are but a stingless nettle;
You'd never have stood for boots and shoes,
Had you been a man of mettle.'

All night in grievous rage he lay,
Rolling upon the plain-a;
Next morning a shepherd past that way,
Who set him right again-a.

Then mounting upon his steed so tall,
By hill and dale he swore-a:
'I'll ride at once to her father's hall;
She shall escape no more-a.

'I'll take her father by the beard;
I'll challenge all her kindred;
Each dastard soul shall stand affeard;
My wrath shall no more be hindred.'

He rode unto her father's house,
Which every side was moated;
The lady heard his furious vows,
And all his vengeance noted.

Thought shee, 'Sir Knight, to quench your rage,
Once more I will endeavour;
This water shall your fury 'swage,
Or else it shall burn for ever.'

Then faining penitence and feare,
She did invite a parley:
'Sir Knight, if you'll forgive me heare,
Henceforth I'll love you dearly.

'My father he is now from home,
And I am all alone, sir;
Therefore a-cross the water come;
And I am all your own, sir.'

'False maid, thou canst no more deceive;
I scorn the treacherous bait-a;
If thou would'st have me thee believe,
Now open me the gate-a.'

'The bridge is drawn, the gate is barr'd;
My father he has the keys, sir;
But I have for my love prepar'd
A shorter way and easier.

'Over the moate I've laid a plank
Full seventeen feet in measure;
Then step a-cross to the other bank,
And there we'll take our pleasure.'

These words she had no sooner spoke
But strait he came tripping over:
The plank was saw'd, it snapping broke,
And sous'd the unhappy lover.

poem by Anonymous Olde English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Cutting Down The Thorn At Market-Hill

At Market-Hill, as well appears
By chronicle of ancient date,
There stood for many hundred years
A spacious thorn before the gate.

Hither came every village maid,
And on the boughs her garland hung,
And here, beneath the spreading shade,
Secure from satyrs sat and sung.

Sir Archibald, that valorous knight.
The lord of all the fruitful plain,
Would come to listen with delight,
For he was fond of rural strain.

(Sir Archibald, whose favourite name
Shall stand for ages on record,
By Scottish bards of highest fame,
Wise Hawthornden and Stirling's lord.)

But time with iron teeth, I ween,
Has canker'd all its branches round;
No fruit or blossom to be seen,
Its head reclining toward the ground.

This aged, sickly, sapless thorn,
Which must, alas! no longer stand,
Behold the cruel Dean in scorn
Cuts down with sacrilegious hand.

Dame Nature, when she saw the blow,
Astonish'd gave a dreadful shriek;
And mother Tellus trembled so,
She scarce recover'd in a week.

The Sylvan powers, with fear perplex'd,
In prudence and compassion sent
(For none could tell whose turn was next)
Sad omens of the dire event.

The magpie, lighting on the stock,
Stood chattering with incessant din:
And with her beak gave many a knock,
To rouse and warn the nymph within.

The owl foresaw, in pensive mood,
The ruin of her ancient seat;
And fled in haste, with all her brood,
To seek a more secure retreat.

Last trotted forth the gentle swine,
To ease her itch against the stump,
And dismally was heard to whine,
All as she scrubb'd her meazly rump.

The nymph who dwells in every tree,
(If all be true that poets chant,)
Condemn'd by Fate's supreme decree,
Must die with her expiring plant.

Thus, when the gentle Spina found
The thorn committed to her care,
Received its last and deadly wound,
She fled, and vanish'd into air.

But from the root a dismal groan
First issuing struck the murderer's ears:
And, in a shrill revengeful tone,
This prophecy he trembling hears:

'Thou chief contriver of my fall,
Relentless Dean, to mischief born;
My kindred oft thine hide shall gall,
Thy gown and cassock oft be torn.

'And thy confederate dame, who brags
That she condemn'd me to the fire,
Shall rend her petticoats to rags,
And wound her legs with every brier.

'Nor thou, Lord Arthur, shall escape;
To thee I often call'd in vain,
Against that assassin in crape;
Yet thou couldst tamely see me slain:

'Nor, when I felt the dreadful blow,
Or chid the Dean, or pinch'd thy spouse;
Since you could see me treated so,
(An old retainer to your house

'May that fell Dean, by whose command
Was form'd this Machiavelian plot,
Not leave a thistle on thy land;
Then who will own thee for a Scot?

'Pigs and fanatics, cows and teagues,
Through all my empire I foresee,
To tear thy hedges join in leagues,
Sworn to revenge my thorn and me.

'And thou, the wretch ordain'd by fate,
Neal Gahagan, Hibernian clown,
With hatchet blunter than thy pate,
To hack my hallow'd timber down;

'When thou, suspended high in air,
Diest on a more ignoble tree,
(For thou shall steal thy landlord's mare,)
Then, bloody caitiff! think on me.'

poem by Jonathan Swift
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drawing Crazy Patterns

Its like sleeping now
He got married in the rush
Abels only son was gone
He finds hard to adjust
Hes feeling younger now
Younger than he was before
He wishes he had changed his mind
Yeah old mistakes they seem so small
And if he had to be you
Then hed get out and do the things hes always wanted
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Some people push by
And everyone is cursing them
But he doesnt raise his hand
He broke his dreams and lost his friends
Hes asking questions now
Got caught in his confusion
He shakes his head and looks at me
Then he shouts out loud
If you had to be me
Would you get out and do the things you always wanted
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Its like sleeping now
When youre gazing at the floor
And on this late night
Its getting harder now harder now
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes

song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Drawing Crazy Patterns

Its like sleeping now
He got married in the rush
Abels only son was gone
He finds hard to adjust
Hes feeling younger now
Younger than he was before
He wishes he had changed his mind
Yeah old mistakes they seem so small
And if he had to be you
Then hed get out and do the things hes always wanted
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Some people push by
And everyone is cursing them
But he doesnt raise his hand
He broke his dreams and lost his friends
Hes asking questions now
Got caught in his confusion
He shakes his head and looks at me
Then he shouts out loud
If you had to be me
Would you get out and do the things you always wanted
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Its like sleeping now
When youre gazing at the floor
And on this late night
Its getting harder now harder now
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes

song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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