Roger Casement
THEY have hanged Roger Casement to the tolling
of a bell,
Ochone, och, ochone, ochone!
And their Smiths, and their Murrays, and their Cecils say it's well,
Ochone, och, ochone, ochone!
But there are outcast peoples to lift that
spirit high,
Flayed men and breastless women who laboured
fearfully,
And they will lift him, lift him, for the eyes
of God to see,
And it's well, after all, Roger Casement!
They've ta'en his strangled body from the gallows to the pit,
Ochone, och, ochone, ochone!
And the flame that eats into it, the quicklime, brought to it,
Ochone, och, ochone, ochone!
To waste that noble stature, the grave and brightening face,
In which courtesy and kindliness had eminence of place,
But they they'll die to dust which the wind will take a-pace,
While 'twas yours to die to fire, Roger Casement!
poem by Padraic Colum
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A Rann Of Exile
NOR right, nor left, nor any road I see a comrade face,
Nor word to lift the heart in me I hear in any place;
They leave me, who pass by me, to my loneliness and
care,
Without a house to draw my step nor a fire that I might share!
Ochone, before our people knew the scatt'ring of the
dearth,
Before they saw potatoes rot and melt black in the earth,
I might have stood in Connacht, on the top of Cruchmaelinn,
And all around me I would see the hundreds of my
kin.
poem by Padraic Colum
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The Rune-Master
ARCH-SCHOLAR they'll call you,
Kuno Mayer,
Who know the word
Behind the word
The men of learning . . .
But who will tell them
Of the blackbird
That your heart held?
On an old thorn-tree
By an ancient rath
You heard him sing,
And with runes you charmed him
Till he stayed with you,
Giving clear song.
He sang o'er all
That Maravaun
Told King Guire;
And he told you how
Bran heard the singing
Of a lovely woman
And sailed for Faerie;
And of how slain princes
Kept tryst with women
Loved beyond
The pain of death,
In days when still
The boat of Mananaun
Bore towards Eirinn!
Arch-scholar they'll call you
Nay, Rune-master!
You read in texts
Not words only,
But runes of old time;
And when you spoke them
A curlew cried
Over grass-waste Tara,
And a cuckoo called
From the height of Cashel,
And an eagle flew
From Emain Macha!
Ochone, ochone!
That we'll see no more
In the Eastern or
The Western World
Your great head over
The lectern bending,
Nor hear your lore
By a pleasant fireside.
But the runes you've read
Have given us more
Than the sword might win us:
May kind saints of Eirinn
Be beside you
Where birds on the Living
Tree sing the Hours!
poem by Padraic Colum
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Kate O'Belashanny
Seek up and down, both fair and brown,
We've purty lasses many, O;
But brown or fair, one girl most rare,
The Flow'r o' Belashanny, O.
As straight is she as poplar-tree
(Tho' not as aisy shaken, O,)
And walks so proud among the crowd,
For queen she might be taken, O.
From top to toe, where'er you go,
The loveliest girl of any, O,-
Ochone! your mind I find unkind,
Sweet Kate o' Belashanny, O!
One summer day the banks were gay,
The Erne in sunshine glancin' there,
The big cascade its music play'd
And set the salmon dancin' there.
Along the green my Joy was seen;
Some goddess bright I thought her there;
The fishes, too, swam close, to view
Her image in the water there.
From top to toe, where'er you go,
The loveliest girl of any, O,-
Ochone! your mind I find unkind,
Sweet Kate o' Belashanny, O!
My dear, give ear!-the river's near,
And if you think I'm shammin' now,
To end my grief I'll seek relief
Among the trout and salmon, now;
For shrimps and sharks to make their marks,
And other watery vermin there;
Unless a mermaid saves my life,-
My wife, and me her merman there.
From top to toe, where'er you go,
The loveliest girl of any, O,-
Mavrone! your mind I find unkind,
Sweet Kate o' Belashanny, O!
'Tis all in vain that I complain;
No use to coax or chide her there;
As far away from me as Spain,
Although I stand beside her there.
O cruel Kate! since that's my fate,
I'll look for love no more in you;
The seagull's screech as soon would reach
Your heart, as me implorin' you.
Tho' fair you are, and rare you are,
The loveliest flow'r of any, O,-
Too proud and high,-good-bye, say I,
To Kate o' Belashanny, O!
poem by William Allingham
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Dickie Macphalion
I went to the mill, but the miller was gone,
I sat me down, and cried ochone!
To think on the days that are past and gone,
Of Dickie Macphalion that's slain.
Shoo, shoo, shoolaroo,
To think on the days that are past and gone,
Of Dickie Macphalion that's slain.
I sold my rock, I sold my reel,
And sae hae I my spinning wheel,
And a' to buy a cap of steel
For Dickie Macphalion that's slain!
Shoo, shoo, shoolaroo,
And a' to buy a cap of steel
For Dickie Macphalion that's slain.
poem by Andrew Lang
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A Valentine
YE are twa laddies unco gleg,
An' blithe an' bonnie:
As licht o' heel as Anster's Meg;--
Gin ye'd a lassie's favor beg,
I' faith she couldna stir a peg
Ance lookin' on ye!
He's a douce wiselike callant--Jim:
Of wit aye ready.
Cuts aff ane's sentence, 't ither's limb,
An' whiles he's daft and whiles he's grim,
But brains?--wha's got the like o'him
In's wee bit heidie?
Dear laddie wi' the curlin' hair,
Gentlest of ony:
That gies kind looks an' speeches fair
To dour auld wives as lassies rare,--
I ken a score o' lads an' mair,
But nane like Johnnie!
And gin ye learn the way to woo,
Hae sweethearts mony,
O laddie, never say ye loe
An' gie fause coin for siller true;
A lassie's sair heart's naething new,--
Mind o' that, Johnnie.
An' dinna change your luve sae fast
For ilk face bonnie,
Lest waefu' want track wilfu' waste,
And a' your youthfu' years lang past,
Ye get the crookit stick at last,
Ochone, puir Johnnie!
But callants baith, tak tent, and when
Bright e'en hae won ye,
Tak each your jo--and keep her--then
Be faithfu' as ye're fond, ye ken,
Or--gang your gate like honest men,
Young Jim and Johnnie.
Sae when auld Time his crookit claw
Sall lay upon ye,
When, Jim, your feet that dance sae braw
Are no the lightest in the ha',
An' a' your curly haffets fa',
My winsome Johnnie,--
May each his ain warm ingle view,
Cosie as ony:
A gudewife sonsie, leal and true,
O' bonnie dochters not a few,
An' lads--sic lads as ye're the noo--
Dear Jim and Johnnie!
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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The Ghost Of Roger Casement
O WHAT has made that sudden noise?
What on the threshold stands?
It never crossed the sea because
John Bull and the sea are friends;
But this is not the old sea
Nor this the old seashore.
What gave that roar of mockery,
That roar in the sea's roar?
The ghost of Roger Casement
Is beating on the door.
John Bull has stood for Parliament,
A dog must have his day,
The country thinks no end of him,
For he knows how to say,
At a beanfeast or a banquet,
That all must hang their trust
Upon the British Empire,
Upon the Church of Christ.
The ghost of Roger Casement
Is beating on the door.
John Bull has gone to India
And all must pay him heed,
For histories are there to prove
That none of another breed
Has had a like inheritance,
Or sucked such milk as he,
And there's no luck about a house
If it lack honesty.
The ghost of Roger Casement
Is beating on the door.
I poked about a village church
And found his family tomb
And copied out what I could read
In that religious gloom;
Found many a famous man there;
But fame and virtue rot.
Draw round, beloved and bitter men,
Draw round and raise a shout;
The ghost of Roger Casement
Is beating on the door.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Soap
[soppy romantic music plays in the background]
Roger : skylar montgomery?
Montgomery : what do you want from me roger?
Roger : I know it was you all along messing around with my dear veronica!
Montgomery : wait a minute, you hold hold it right there. me and that woman
Love each other.
Roger : love? what do you know of love?
Montgomery : we were destined to be together. I met her on the beach...!
Roger :are you out to destroy me?
Montgomery : no roger. thats not what I want to do.
Roger : I love her! and were going to be together.
Montgomery : never!
song performed by by Eminem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Good Friend Roger
Roger belongs to the chosen few
Who are far more accomplished than me or you,
While we are uncertain, they know what to do
Should they be feeling lonely or anxious or blue.
Roger's a winner, he knows where to go
And who to take with him to the latest show,
If he offers you a drink it's rude to say 'No' -
There's no doubt about it, Roger's a pro.
Some women are smitten by the look in his eyes
And fall for the man with the perfect disguise;
I was like them myself, taken in by his lies -
I didn't want to be someone Roger would despise.
He's no time for weakness, our immaculate friend,
There aren't many people Roger can't bend
To follow his instructions right to the end
Whatever the dictates of conscience pretend.
So, if you're like me, you may get a surprise
When you're down on your luck with tears in your eyes,
Suddenly Roger won't answer the phone,
Your hero will vanish and leave you alone.
Roger's no time for negative things,
The responsibilities that friendship brings,
He thinks complications are an awful bore
So please don't come running and knock on his door.
While you're swallowing pills washed down with some gin
Roger's just longing for the fun to begin,
He's throwing a party on his fabulous yacht,
Did you think he would ring you? Perhaps he forgot.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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There was an Old Man at a casement,
Who held up his hands in amazement;
When they said, 'Sir, you'll fall!'
He replied, 'Not at all!'
That incipient Old Man at a casement.
quote by by Edward Lear
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This Twilight Garden
I lift my lips from kissing you
To kiss the sky
Cloud soft and blue
And slow the sun melts down
Into your golden words for me
I lift my hands from touching you
To touch the wind that whispers through
This twilight garden
Turns into a world
Where dreams are real
No-one will ever take your place
I am lost in you
No-one will ever take your place
So in love with you
I lift my eyes from watching you
To watch the star rise shine onto
Your dreaming face and dreaming smile
You're dreaming worlds
For me
I lift my lips from kissing you
And kiss the sky wide deepest blue
And slow the moon swims up
Into your golden words
For me
No-one will ever take your place
I am lost in you
No-one will ever take your place
So in love with you
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lift Me Up
I dont need your answered prayers
Or the chains your lover wears
I dont need your rings of gold
Or the secrets that you hold
Lift me up, darling
Lift me up and Ill fall with you lift me up
Let your love lift me up
I dont need your sacred vow
Or the promise tomorrow brings
There behind the morning clouds
Ill take the faith the daylight brings
Lift me up, darling
Lift me up, and Ill fall with you lift me up
Let your love lift me up
When the morning bright
Lifts away this night
And the light above
We will find our love, we will find our love
Your skin, your hand upon my neck
This skin, your fingers on my skin
This kiss, this heartbeat this breath
This heart, this heart this wilderness
Lift me up darling
Lift me up and Ill fall with you lift me up
Let your love lift me up
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Witch
I HAVE walked a great while over the snow,
And I am not tall nor strong.
My clothes are wet, and my teeth are set,
And the way was hard and long.
I have wandered over the fruitful earth,
But I never came here before.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
The cutting wind is a cruel foe.
I dare not stand in the blast.
My hands are stone, and my voice a groan,
And the worst of death is past.
I am but a little maiden still,
My little white feet are sore.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
Her voice was the voice that women have,
Who plead for their heart's desire.
She came--she came--and the quivering flame
Sunk and died in the fire.
It never was lit again on my hearth
Since I hurried across the floor,
To lift her over the threshold, and let her in at the door.
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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The Red Rose And White
A RED rose climbed to the casement;
Cried, 'Open to me!
My cry is the call of the passing years,
I ask for love and the dew of tears
Withheld by thee.'
I broke the rose at the casement;
Cried, 'Welcome to thee.'
Ah, red rose dead! but I could not know
That only the pale white rose would blow
On earth for me.
poem by Philip Henry Savage
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I never apologized for anything in my life. The only thing I'm sorry about is putting a curse on Roger Ebert's colon. If a fat pig like Roger Ebert doesn't like my movie, then I'm sorry for him.
quote by Vincent Gallo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man On The Silver Mountain
I'm a wheel, I'm a wheel
I can roll, I can feel
And you can't stop me turning
Cause I'm the sun, I'm the sun
I can move, I can run
But you'll never stop me burning
Come down with fire
Lift my spirit higher
Someone's screaming my name
Come and make me holy again
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the day, I'm the day
I can show you the way
And look, I'm right beside you
I'm the night, I'm the night
I'm the dark and the light
With eyes that see inside you
Come down with fire
Lift my spirit higher
Someone's screaming my name
Come and make me holy again
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the man on the silver mountain
Come down with fire
And lift my spirit higher
Someone's screaming my name
Come and make me holy again
Well, I can help you, you know I can
I'm the man on the silver mountain
I'm the man on the silver mountain
Just look at me and listen
I'm the man, the man, give you my hand
I'm the man on the silver mountain
Come down with fire
And lift your spirit higher
I'm the man on the mountain
The man on the silver mountain
I'm the night, the light
The black and the white
The man on the silver mountain
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lift thine eyes
Lift thine eyes towards that star
That shines so high above,
My hopes and dreams shall travel far
Towards the one I love.
Lift thine eyes towards the skies
The heavens are as one,
But whn the sun does slowly rise
My love shall not be gone.
Lift thine eyes in longing now
My wish shall then come true,
I have no room left in my heart
Such love I hold for you.
Lift thine eyes towards that star,
My hopes and dreams shall travel far.
poem by Andrew Blakemore
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Sad side
Sad like a dark polluted sea
under a rusty bridge
and the cloudy foggy sky
Pass some happy
throw away the sad
smile let go of pain
is that possible?
Augmented depression
hey, lift this veil
and think it over
Sad so wrong sometimes to be
when there's nothing to control you
when there is something
you make it seem so filthy
More than a little less than a lot
is that what you are searchin' for
Wake up earlier than noon
don't start from the moon
cause again you'll end up alone
in the city's dessert jungle
poem by Roger Bewman
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Music Is Hapiness
I lift up my hands
The smile on my face tells all
The music
Takes me away
Away from everything bad
The Music
It makes me laugh
It makes me happy
I lift up my hands
Sway back and forth
If there is one thing good in this world
Its Music
It fills my mind
With good thoughts
Replacing the bad ones
My eyes
Full of joy
Instead of sadness
The music
Is my happiness
I lift up my hands
Shake my head back and forth
My hair in my face
The music
It lets me
Come out of my shell
The music
Lets me be who I am
I lift up my hands
The rhythm pounds on my eardrums
The ends of my mouth
Curl up
Instead of down
I lift my head
Brush the hair out of my eyes
The music
Is my happiness
Lift Me Higher
Follow the sound that is far away
Cause the love that I found
Becomes stronger everyday
Please take my hand so we can fly away
Then youll understand
That the love I have for you will always stay.
Cant we fly away
Reach your hand and follow me
Let me be your fantasy
Lift me higher now
Lift me higher now
Let the music take control
Of your body and your soul
Lift me higher now
Lift me higher now
song performed by by Kate Ryan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet 04 - Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor
IV
Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor,
Most gracious singer of high poems! where
The dancers will break footing, from the care
Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more.
And dost thou lift this house's latch too poor
For hand of thine? and canst thou think and bear
To let thy music drop here unaware
In folds of golden fulness at my door?
Look up and see the casement broken in,
The bats and owlets builders in the roof!
My cricket chirps against thy mandolin.
Hush, call no echo up in further proof
Of desolation! there 's a voice within
That weeps . . . as thou must sing . . . alone, aloof
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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