A Cabbage Patch
Folk ask if I'm alive,
Most think I'm not;
Yet gaily I contrive
To till my plot.
The world its way can go,
I little heed,
So long as I can grow
The grub I need.
For though long overdue,
The years to me,
Have taught a lesson true,
--Humility.
Such better men than I
I've seen pass on;
Their pay-off when they die;
--Oblivion.
And so I mock at fame,
With books unread;
No monument I claim
When I am dead;
Contented as I see
My cottage thatch
That my last goal should be
--A cabbage patch.
poem by Robert William Service
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Related quotes
Kail Yard Bard
A very humble pen I ply
Beneath a cottage thatch;
And in the sunny hours I try
To till my cabbage patch;
And in the gloaming glad am I
To lift the latch.
I do not plot to pile up pelf,
With jowl and belly fat;
To simple song I give myself,
And seek no gain at that:
Content if milk is on the shelf
To feed the cat.
I joy that haleness I possess,
Though fame has passed me by;
And see such gold of happiness
A-shining in the sky,
I wonder who has won success,
Proud men or I?
I do not grieve that I am poor,
And by the world unknown;
Free as the wind, serene and sure,
In peace I live alone.
'Tis better to be bard obscure
Than King on Throne.
poem by Robert William Service
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Hung Up And Overdue
I'm so hung up I'm gonna go see her tonight
I'm so hung up I can't get her out of my mind
Could it be just stars in my eyes
Could it be this won't happen twice
We're overdue for a dream come true
Long time, nothing new
We're overdue for a dream come true
She said she's going to move to California on day
Said she's going out on safari to stay
She's tired of her job and the snow
We both need somewhere to go
We're overdue for a dream come true
Long time, nothing new
We're overdue for a dream come true
I'm so hung up on her now
I'm so strung out on her now
A gift from the sun to the moon
I hope something changes soon
We're overdue for a dream come true
Long time, nothing new
We're overdue for a dream come true
We're overdue for a dream come true
Long time, nothing new
We're overdue for a dream come true
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hung Up & Overdue
Im so hung up Im gonna go see her tonight
Im so hung up I cant get her out of my mind
Could it be just stars in my eyes
Could it be this wont happen twice
Were overdue for a dream come true
Long time, nothing new
Were overdue for a dream come true
She said shes going to move to california on day
Said shes going out on safari to stay
Shes tired of her job and the snow
We both need somewhere to go
Were overdue for a dream come true
Long time, nothing new
Were overdue for a dream come true
Im so hung up on her now
Im so strung out on her now
A gift from the sun to the moon
I hope something changes soon
Were overdue for a dream come true
Long time, nothing new
Were overdue for a dream come true
Were overdue for a dream come true
Long time, nothing new
Were overdue for a dream come true
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Blooming Shame
Still fields of scarlet poppies blow
on long abandoned battle fields.
The bones of dead men hid below
will feed their roots increasing yields.
The few survivors are now all dead.
Rejoined the comrades that they knew.
So we remember in their stead.
The many who salute the few.
Now Patch is dead he was the last
veteran who survived the war
A living relic from the past
who lived a hundred years and more.
There�s no one left who can recall
the muddy trenches and the gas.
The pain of seeing comrades fall.
He watched the long years slowly pass.
He never sought publicity.
He was a very private man
but became a celebrity
The last surviving veteran.
Each year the scarlet poppies grow
On Flanders Fields abundantly
The countless dead who lie below
Have earned their place in history.
By foolish useless sacrifice
They gave their lives to end all war
I think they paid to high a price.
The world is as it was before.
Men are still killing other men
but now much more efficiently
Each year we fail to learn again
the lessons taught by history.
There are no winners in a war.
There never was nor will there be.
But men will fight for evermore.
It�s human nature seemingly.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Slug City
There once was a family of slugs
That lived in a cabbage patch town
They went out every nite to eat
Found a cabbage and began to munch down
All through the night they could reduce
A cabbage to a stalk in the ground
All night they would munch and munch
But you would never here them, not nary a sound
But Mrs H was becoming fed up
Her patch the proudest around
With malace, blood red, she schemed
She vowed to eliminate those clowns
She purchased the best poison they had
She tried every trick she read
But the slugs just kept on coming
Every nite long after it was bed
Then a local wino he said
Out of the garden he could take
These inconsiderate gluttonous
Stylommatophora pulmonates
So he began by opening a beer
Placing some into a sphere
Putting them by each cabbage head
he said, 'This will make these slugs disappear.'
But by morning the cabbage was gone
Worse yet so was the beer
And if you looked even more closely
Tiny signs saying, 'Next time make it import you here.'
poem by Midnights Voice
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Unsung
Dead heroes hold an honoured place
in histories of the human race.
But I am forced to wonder why
we only honour those who die.
To live and raise a family
would seem to me to be.
A much more worthwhile thing to do.
Just common folk like me and you.
Who in their quiet way contrive
to keep the human race alive.
The heroes leave behind their fame
But I pass on the family name
ensuring immortality
at least for some small part of me.
(17-Jun-07)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Little Puddleton
I
Let others sing of Empire and of pomp beyond the sea,
A song of Little Puddleton is good enough for me,
A song of kindly living, and of coming home to tea.
I seldom read the papers, so I don't know what goes on.
I go to bed at sunset, and I leap alert at dawn,
To gossip with my garden, which I'll have you understand,
Is the neatest and the sweetest little garden in the land;
A span of sunny quietude, with walls so high and stout,
They shut me in from all the world, and shut the whole world out,
So that its sad bewilderment seems less than true to me:
As placid as a pool I live, as tranquil as a tree;
And all its glory I would give for glint of linnet's wings;
My cabbages are more to me than continents and kings.
Dominion have I of my own, where feud and faction cease,
A heaven of tranquillity, a paradise of peace.
II
Let continents be bathed in blood and cities leap in flame;
The life of Little Puddleton goes on and on the same;
Its ritual we follow, as we play a pleasant game.
The village wortkies sit and smoke their long-stemmed pipes of clay.
And cheerily they nod to me, and pass the time of day.
We talk of pigs and clover, and the prospect of the crops,
And the price of eggs and butter - there the conversation drops.
For in a doubt-distracted world I keep the rustic touch;
I think it better not to think too deeply nor too much;
But just to dream and take delight in all I hear and see,
The tinker in the tavern, with his trollop on his knee;
The ivied church, the anvil clang, the geese upon the green,
The drowsy noon, the hush of eve so holy and screne.
This is my world, then back again with heart of joy I go
To cottage walls of mellow stain, and garden all aglow.
III
For all I've been and all I've seen I have no vain regret
One comes to Little Puddleton, contented to forget;
Accepting village values, immemorially set.
I did not make this world and so it's not my job to mend;
But I have fought for fifty years and now I hear the end;
And I am heart-faint from the fight, and claim the right to rest,
And dare to hope the last of life will prove to be the best.
For there have I four sturdy walls with low and humble thatch,
A smiling little orchard and a big potato patch.
And so with hoe in hand I stand and mock the dubious sky;
let revolution rock the land, serene, secure am I.
I grow my simple food, I groom my lettuce and my beans;
I feast in colour, form and song, and ask not what it means.
Beauty suffiices in itself; then when my strength is spent,
like simple hind with empty mind, I cultivate content.
Behold then Little Puddleton, the end of all my dreams.
Not much to show for life, I know; yet O how sweet it seems!
For when defeated day goes down in carnage in the West,
How blesses sanctuary is, and peace and love and rest!
poem by Robert William Service
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Now That Youre Gone
(bernard edwards/nile rodgers)
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
Im living my life all alone
Or hit by a blow
To my pride
But Im doing ok
I wont let you see
What this has done to me
I guess Ill just take it in stride
Come what may
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
How can one do what should be done by two
I guess thats a crazy question to ask
I might seem happy
But dont be fooled by my appearance
Make no mistake
Im just wearing a mask
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song of the Little White Girl
Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, what is the matter?
Why are you shaking so? Why do you chatter?
Because it is just a white baby you see,
And it's the black ones you like, cabbage tree?
Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, you're a strange fellow
With your green hair and your legs browny-yellow.
Wouldn't you like to have curls, dear, like me?
What! No one to make them? O poor cabbage tree!
Never mind, cabbage tree, when I am taller,
And if you grow, please, a little bit smaller,
I shall be able by that time, bay be,
To make you the loveliest curls, cabbage tree.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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His Monument
Horace: Book III, Ode 30
"Exegi monumentum aere perennius---"
The monument that I have built is durable as brass,
And loftier than the Pyramids which mock the years that pass.
No blizzard can destroy it, nor furious rain corrode--
Remember, I'm the bard who built the first Horatian Ode.
I shall not altogether die; a part of me's immortal.
A part of me shall never pass the mortuary portal;
And when I die my fame shall stand the nitric test of time--
The fame of me of lowly birth, who built the lofty rhyme!
Ay, fame shall be my portion when no trace there is of me,
For I first madeÆolian songs the songs of Italy.
Accept I pray, Melpomene, my modest meed of praise,
And crowm my thinning, graying locks with wreathes of Delphic bays!
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Song of the Children
The World is ours till sunset,
Holly and fire and snow;
And the name of our dead brother
Who loved us long ago.
The grown folk mighty and cunning,
They write his name in gold;
But we can tell a little
Of the million tales he told.
He taught them laws and watchwords,
To preach and struggle and pray;
But he taught us deep in the hayfield
The games that the angels play.
Had he stayed here for ever,
Their world would be wise as ours--
And the king be cutting capers,
And the priest be picking flowers.
But the dark day came: they gathered:
On their faces we could see
They had taken and slain our brother,
And hanged him on a tree.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXVI
THE THREE AGES OF WOMAN
Love, in thy youth, a stranger, knelt to thee,
With cheeks all red and golden locks all curled,
And cried, ``Sweet child, if thou wilt worship me,
Thou shalt possess the kingdoms of the world.''
But you looked down and said, ``I know you not,
Nor want I other kingdom than my soul.''
Till Love in shame, convicted of his plot,
Left you and turned him to some other goal.
And this discomfiture which you had seen
Long served you for your homily and boast,
While, of your beauty and yourself the queen,
You lived a monument of vain love crossed,
With scarce a thought of that which might have been
To scare you with the ghost of pleasures lost.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Long Live Rock
Down at the astoria the scene was changing,
Bingo and rock were pushing out x-rating,
We were the first band to vomit in the bar,
And find the distance to the stage too far,
Meanwhile its getting late at ten oclock,
Rock is dead they say,
Long live rock.
Long live rock, I need it every night,
Long live rock, come on and join the line,
Long live rock, be it dead or alive.
People walk in sideways pretending that theyre leaving,
We put on our makeup and work out all the lead-ins,
Jack is in the alley selling tickets made in hong kong,
Promoters in the pay box wondering where the bands gone,
Back in the pub the governor stops the clock,
Rock is dead, they say,
Long live rock.
Long live rock, I need it every night,
Long live rock, come on and join the line,
Long live rock, be it dead or alive.
Landslide, rocks are falling,
Falling down round our very heads,
We tried but you were yawning,
Look again, rock is dead, rock is dead, rock is dead.
The place is really jumping to the high-watt amps,
til a 20-inch cymbal fell and cut the lamps,
In the blackout they dance right into the aisle,
And as the doors fly open even the promoter smiles,
Someone takes his pants off and the rafters knock,
Rock is dead, they say,
Long live rock, long live rock, long live rock.
Long live rock, long live rock, long live rock,
Long live rock, long live rock, long live rock.
Long live rock, I need it every night,
Long live rock, come on and join the line,
Long live rock, be it dead or alive.
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Albert's Allotment
Albert loved being on his allotment
he'd be on his plot everyday of the week
growing Cauliflower, Parsnip, Cabbage,
and winning awards for his Carrots, and Leek.
He spent so much time on his allotment
his wife thought he was having an affair
but Albert was more interested in his Potatoes
than any curvy woman with long Blonde hair.
When it rained Albert sat in his shed
reading Gardening books and having a cuppa
then he'd be out again digging for hours
till his wife called him in for his supper.
Albert liked growing all sorts of vegetables
but his favourite of the lot was the Marrow
he could grow them so big and so large
that some wouldn't fit into his Wheelbarrow.
Albert is buried down on his beloved allotment
as that was to be his final dying wish
when tearfully his wife asked him why he replied:
'So I can keep an eye on my Runner Beans and Radish! '
poem by Kevin Halls
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Lubie (Come Back Home)
Down at the Astoria the scene was changing,
Bingo and rock were pushing out X-rating,
We were the first band to vomit in the bar,
And find the distance to the stage too far,
Meanwhile it's getting late at ten o'clock,
Rock is dead they say,
Long live rock.
Long live rock, I need it every night,
Long live rock, come on and join the line,
Long live rock, be it dead or alive.
People walk in sideways pretending that they're leaving,
We put on our makeup and work out all the lead-ins,
Jack is in the alley selling tickets made in Hong Kong,
Promoter's in the pay box wondering where the band's gone,
Back in the pub the governor stops the clock,
Rock is dead, they say,
Long live rock.
Long live rock, I need it every night,
Long live rock, come on and join the line,
Long live rock, be it dead or alive.
Landslide, rocks are falling,
Falling down 'round our very heads,
We tried but you were yawning,
Look again, rock is dead, rock is dead, rock is dead.
The place is really jumping to the high-watt amps,
'Til a 20-inch cymbal fell and cut the lamps,
In the blackout they dance right into the aisle,
And as the doors fly open even the promoter smiles,
Someone takes his pants off and the rafters knock,
Rock is dead, they say,
Long live rock, long live rock, long live rock.
Long live rock, long live rock, long live rock,
Long live rock, long live rock, long live rock.
Long live rock, I need it every night,
Long live rock, come on and join the line,
Long live rock, be it dead or alive.
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Farewell
My farewell is a long one, I just have a lot to say.
Farewell to all of my teachers, you have taught me well.
You have taught me to grow with the world and with society.
You have taught me everything I know, and I say 'Thank you! '
My farewell goes to all of my friends,
You have been great throughout the years.
You have taught me a lot about life.
You have been there through the hatred and the love,
Through the ups and the downs,
Through thick and thin,
You have proved yourselves worthy of being true friends.
And I just want to say, 'I love you all! '
My Farewell goes to my parents.
You have also taught me well.
You are the ones who taught me how to credit others that I love and care
about. You sat with me in the doctors office through those painful shots.
You have been through hell and back with me, literally.
You have seen me grow from a little girl to the woman that I am today.
Father, you are the one who is going to give me away at the alter someday.
And Mother, you are the one who is going to help me find the perfect dress for my wedding and you are the one who is going to help me prepare for it.
You are the ones who I can trust with my life and I just want you to know that I am grateful and that I will love you with all my heart.
I will never forget you!
My farewell goes to Auburn High School.
I don't care how much I have said that I hated this old Brick building, I have come to be comfortable with it.
And I just want to say,
'CONGRATS CLASS OF 2010! WE MADE IT THROUGH! ! !
poem by Shannon Monroe
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How Long
climb on top of all you despise
it's a better view from the lies
two steps behind before I've begun
time stops to tell me all I could have done
and I'll say
how long till the word will be completed
how many times will history repeat it
how long will it take
how long
how long
I want to go
will you show me the way
I'd rather be wrong than be deceived
to thinking that I believe
that I can stand to be here on my own
there's too many questions that we won't ask
in hopes that this too will pass
but how far down do we have to go before we know it
how long till the word will be completed
how many times will history repeat it
how long will it take
how long
how long
I want to go
will you show me the way
how long
how long
how long will it take
how long
how long
how long
I want to go
will you show me the way
how long
how long
how long will it take
how long till the word will be completed
how many times will history repeat it
how long till the words fall to the pages
how many times till all we can say is save us
song performed by by Lifehouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope Dieth: Hope Liveth
Strong are thine arms, O love, & strong
Thine heart to live, and love, and long;
But thou art wed to grief and wrong:
Live, then, and long, though hope be dead!
Live on, & labour thro’ the years!
Make pictures through the mist of tears,
Of unforgotten happy fears,
That crossed the time ere hope was dead.
Draw near the place where once we stood
Amid delight’s swift-rushing flood,
And we and all the world seemed good
Nor needed hope now cold and dead.
Dream in the dawn I come to thee
Weeping for things that may not be!
Dream that thou layest lips on me!
Wake, wake to clasp hope’s body dead!
Count o’er and o’er, and one by one
The minutes of the happy sun
That while agone on kissed lips shone,
Count on, rest not, for hope is dead.
Weep, though no hair’s breadth thou shalt move
The living Earth, the heaven above
By all the bitterness of love!
Weep and cease not, now hope is dead!
Sighs rest thee not, tears bring no ease,
Life hath no joy, and Death no peace:
The years change not, though they decrease,
For hope is dead, for hope is dead.
Speak, love, I listen: far away
I bless the tremulous lips, that say,
“Mock not the afternoon of day,
Mock not the tide when hope is dead!”
I bless thee, O my love, who say’st:
“Mock not the thistle-cumbered waste;
I hold Love’s hand, and make no haste
Down the long way, now hope is dead.
With other names do we name pain,
The long years wear our hearts in vain.
Mock not our loss grown into gain,
Mock not our lost hope lying dead.
Our eyes gaze for no morning-star,
No glimmer of the dawn afar;
Full silent wayfarers we are
Since ere the noon-tide hope lay dead.
Behold with lack of happiness
The master, Love, our hearts did bless
Lest we should think of him the less:
Love dieth not, though hope is dead!”
poem by William Morris
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The Contemplative Sentry
When all night long a chap remains
On sentry-go, to chase monotony
He exercises of his brains,
That is, assuming that he's got any.
Though never nurtured in the lap
Of luxury, yet I admonish you,
I am an intellectual chap,
And think of things that would astonish you.
I often think it's comical
How Nature always does contrive
That every boy and every gal,
That's born into the world alive,
Is either a little Liberal,
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal lal la!
When in that house M.P.'s divide,
If they've a brain and cerebellum, too,
They've got to leave that brain outside,
And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.
But then the prospect of a lot
Of statesmen, all in close proximity,
A-thinking for themselves, is what
No man can face with equanimity.
Then let's rejoice with loud Fal lal
That Nature wisely does contrive
That every boy and every gal,
That's born into the world alive,
Is either a little Liberal,
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal lal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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It Wont Be Long
(words & music by wayne - weisman)
The shooting stars are coming out of your eyes
They point the way, the way to paradise
I got a funny feeling, I cant be wrong
It wont be long until the sparks will fly
It wont be long
I hear a buzz, buzz around in my brain
But what it does, is bound to drive me insane
At a time like this I must be strong
It wont be long till the sky falls down
It wont be long
Love has taught me plenty, Im still learning more
Anything worth having is worth the waiting for
Here I go, Im on a one way trip
Look out below because Im about to flip
I tell you when these lips get to that kiss
It wont be long until were out of this world
It wont be long
Love has taught me plenty, Im still learning more
Anything worth having is worth the waiting for
Here I go, Im on a one way trip
Look out below because Im about to flip
I tell you when these lips get to that kiss
It wont be long, it wont be long until were out of this world
It wont be long
It wont be long, it wont be long until were out of this world
It wont be long
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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