Come Gather Round Me, Parnellites
COME gather round me, Parnellites,
And praise our chosen man;
Stand upright on your legs awhile,
Stand upright while you can,
For soon we lie where he is laid,
And he is underground;
Come fill up all those glasses
And pass the bottle round.
And here's a cogent reason,
And I have many more,
He fought the might of England
And saved the Irish poor,
Whatever good a farmer's got
He brought it all to pass;
And here's another reason,
That parnell loved a lass.
And here's a final reason,
He was of such a kind
Every man that sings a song
Keeps Parnell in his mind.
For Parnell was a proud man,
No prouder trod the ground,
And a proud man's a lovely man,
So pass the bottle round.
The Bishops and the party
That tragic story made,
A husband that had sold hiS wife
And after that betrayed;
But stories that live longest
Are sung above the glass,
And Parnell loved his countrey
And parnell loved his lass.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A Story
(For the Irish Delegates in Australia)
DO you want to hear a story,
With a nobler praise than 'glory,'
Of a man who loved the right like heaven and loathed the wrong like
hell?
Then, that story let me tell you
Once again, though it as well you
Know as I — the splendid story of the man they call Parnell!
By the wayside of the nations,
Lashed with whips and execrations,
Helpless, hopeless, bleeding, dying, she, the Maiden Nation, lay;
And the burthen of dishonour
Weighed so grievously upon her
That her very children hid their eyes and crept in shame away.
And there as she was lying
Helpless, hopeless, bleeding, dying,
All her high-born foes came round her, fleering, jeering, as they said:
'What is freedom fought and won for?
She is down! She's dead and done for!'
And her weeping children shuddered as they crouched and whispered:
'Dead!'
Then suddenly up-starting,
All that throng before him parting,
See, a Man with firm step breaking through you central knot that gives;
And, as by some dear lost sister,
He knelt down, and softly kissed her,
And he raised his pale, proud face, and cried: 'She is not dead. She lives!
'O she lives, I say, and I here,
I am come to fight and die here
For the love my heart has for her like a slow consuming fire;
For the love of her low-lying,
For the hatred deep, undying
Of the robber lords who struck and stabbed and trod her in the mire!'
Then upon that cry bewildering,
Some of them, her hapless children —
In their hearts there leaped up hope like light when night gives birth to
day;
And, as mocks and threats defied him,
One by one they came beside him,
Till they stood, a band of heroes, sombre, desperate, at bay!
And the battle that they fought there,
And the bitter truth they taught there
To the blinded Sister-Nation suffering grievously alway,
All the wrong and rapine past hers,
Of her lords and her task-masters,
Is not this the larger hope of all as night gives birth to day?
For the lords and liars are quaking
At the People's stern awaking
From their slumber of the ages; and the Peoples slowly rise,
And with hands locked tight together,
One in heart and soul for ever,
Watch the sun of Light and Liberty leap up into the skies!
That's the story, that's the story
With a nobler praise than 'glory,'
Of the Man who loved the right like heaven and loathed the wrong like
hell,
And with calm, proud exultation
Bade her stand at last a nation,
Ireland, Ireland that is one name with the name of Charles Parnell!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Impromptu Like Martial
Gays gon out early, how comes it to pass?
Not that he has buisness, but thinks that he has
poem by Thomas Parnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Richard Pigott, the Forger
Richard Pigott, the forger, was a very bad man,
And to gainsay it there's nobody can,
Because for fifty years he pursued a career of deceit,
And as a forger few men with him could compete.
For by forged letters he tried to accuse Parnell
For the Phoenix Park murders, but mark what befell.
When his conscience smote him he confessed to the fraud,
And the thought thereof no doubt drove him mad.
Then he fled from London without delay,
Knowing he wouldn't be safe there night nor day,
And embarked on board a ship bound for Spain,
Thinking he would escape detection there, but 'twas all in vain.
Because while staying at a hotel in Spain
He appeared to the landlord to be a little insane.
And he noticed he was always seemingly in dread,
Like a person that had committed a murder and afterwards fled.
And when arrested in the hotel he seemed very cool,
Just like an innocent schoolboy going to school.
And he said to the detectives, "Wait until my portmanteau I've got."
And while going for his portmanteau, himself he shot.
So perished Richard Pigott, a forger bold,
Who tried to swear Parnell's life away for the sake of gold,
But the vengeance of God overtook him,
And Parnell's life has been saved, which I consider no sin.
Because he was a man that was very fond of gold,
Not altogether of the miser's craving, I've been told,
But a craving desire after good meat and drink,
And to obtain good things by foul means he never did shrink.
He could eat and drink more than two ordinary men,
And to keep up his high living by foul means we must him condemn,
Because his heart's desire in life was to fare well,
And to keep up his good living he tried to betray Parnell.
Yes, the villain tried hard to swear his life away,
But God protected him by night and by day,
And during his long trial in London, without dismay,
The noble patriot never flinched nor tried to run away.
Richard Pigott was a man that was blinded by his own conceit.
And would have robbed his dearest friend all for good meat,
To satisfy his gluttony and his own sensual indulgence,
Which the inhuman monster considered no great offence.
But now in that undiscovered country he's getting his reward,
And I'm sure few people have for him little regard,
Because he was a villain of the deepest dye,
And but few people for him will heave a sigh.
When I think of such a monster my blood runs cold,
He was like Monteith, that betrayed Wallace for English gold;
But I hope Parnell will prosper for many a day
In despite of his enemies that fried to swear his life away.
Oh! think of his sufferings and how manfully he did stand.
During his long trial in London, to me it seems grand.
To see him standing at the bar, innocent and upright,
Quite cool and defiant, a most beautiful sight.
And to the noble patriot, honour be it said,
He never was the least afraid
To speak on behalf of Home Rule for Ireland,
But like a true patriot nobly he did take his stand.
And may he go on conquering and conquer to the end,
And hoping that God will the right defend,
And protect him always by night and by day,
At home and abroad when far away.
And now since he's set free, Ireland's sons should rejoice
And applaud him to the skies, all with one voice,
For he's their patriot, true and bold,
And an honest, true-hearted gentleman be it told.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jac: Faber Stapul: By J: Scaliger.
a Nations praise thine ample glory be
or let the Nation find its praise in thee.
poem by Thomas Parnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Last Thing On My Mind
Its a lesson too late for the learning
Made of sand, made of sand
In the wink of an eye my soul is turnin
In your hand, in your hand
Are you going away
With no word of farewell
Will there be not a trace left behind
Oh I couldve loved you better
Didnt mean to be unkind
You know that was the last thing on my mind
As we walk along my thoughts are tumblin
Round and round, round and round
Underneath our feet are someplace rumblin
Underground, underground
Are you going away
With no word of farewell
Will there be not a trace left behind
Oh I couldve loved you better
Didnt mean to be unkind
You know that was the last thing on my mind
Ive got reason a plenty for goin
This I know, this I know
The weeds have been steadily growin
Please dont go, please dont go
Are you going away
With no word of farewell
Will there be not a trace left behind
I couldve loved you better
Didnt mean to be unkind
You know that was the last thing on my mind
Are you going away
With no word of farewell
Will there be not a trace left behind
Oh I couldve loved you better
Didnt mean to be unkind
You know that was the last thing on my mind
You know that was the last thing on my mind
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Here's to the Maiden of Bashful Fifteen
Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen;
Here's to the widow of fifty;
Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean,
And here's to the housewife that's thrifty.
Chorus
Let the toast pass,--
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.
Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize;
Now to the maid who has none, sir:
Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes,
And here's to the nymph with but one, sir.
Chorus
Let the toast pass,--
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.
Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow;
Now to her that's as brown as a berry:
Here's to the wife with her face full of woe,
And now to the damsel that's merry.
Chorus
Let the toast pass,--
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.
For let 'em be clumsy, or let 'em be slim,
Young or ancient, I care not a feather;
So fill a pint bumper quite up to the brim,
And let us e'en toast them together.
Chorus
Let the toast pass,--
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.
poem by Richard Brinsley Sheridan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Loved
Loved
Written by Ricky Wilde & Terry Ronald
Take all your goodness and shiness away
I'll tell you the things I've been longing to say
I'll break it to you just so you understand
The force and control that you hold in your hands
Make me the beat of your heart
Then fall into mine
One step at a time
You have no reason for doubting your feelings
Love isn't always the same
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
(Ooh you are loved)
Live for the moment according to you
And so when the time comes you know what to do
Trust me, I'm giving no secret away
I'm drowning in you but I want it that way
Make me the beat of your heart
Then fall into mine
One step at a time
You have no reason for doubting your feelings
Love isn't always the same
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
(Ooh you are loved)
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
(Ooh you are loved)
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
Rise to my world, fly to my arms
I love you
I'll make it for good, I'll make it forever
you know you are loved
Make me the beat of your heart
Love isn't always the same
You are loved
Ooh you are loved
(Loved you are)
(Loved you are)
(Loved you are loved)
Ooh you are loved
(Loved you are)
(Loved you are)
(Loved you are loved)
Ooh you are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
Ooh you are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
(You are the only one I love)
You are loved
(Loved you are)
You are loved
(Loved you are)
You are loved
You I love
You
(You are the only one I love)
You are loved
(Loved you are)
You are loved
(Loved you are)
You are loved
You I love
You
(You are the only one I love
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
From A Full Moon In March
PARNELL'S FUNERAL
UNDER the Great Comedian's tomb the crowd.
A bundle of tempestuous cloud is blown
About the sky; where that is clear of cloud
Brightness remains; a brighter star shoots down;
What shudders run through all that animal blood?
What is this sacrifice? Can someone there
Recall the Cretan barb that pierced a star?
Rich foliage that the starlight glittered through,
A frenzied crowd, and where the branches sprang
A beautiful seated boy; a sacred bow;
A woman, and an arrow on a string;
A pierced boy, image of a star laid low.
That woman, the Great Mother imaging,
Cut out his heart. Some master of design
Stamped boy and tree upon Sicilian coin.
An age is the reversal of an age:
When strangers murdered Emmet, Fitzgerald, Tone,
We lived like men that watch a painted stage.
What matter for the scene, the scene once gone:
It had not touched our lives. But popular rage,
i{Hysterica passio} dragged this quarry down.
None shared our guilt; nor did we play a part
Upon a painted stage when we devoured his heart.
Come, fix upon me that accusing eye.
I thirst for accusation. All that was sung.
All that was said in Ireland is a lie
Bred out of the c-ontagion of the throng,
Saving the rhyme rats hear before they die.
Leave nothing but the nothingS that belong
To this bare soul, let all men judge that can
Whether it be an animal or a man.
The rest I pass, one sentence I unsay.
Had de Valera eaten parnell's heart
No loose-lipped demagogue had won the day.
No civil rancour torn the land apart.
Had Cosgrave eaten parnell's heart, the land's
Imagination had been satisfied,
Or lacking that, government in such hands.
O'Higgins its sole statesman had not died.
Had even O'Duffy -- but I name no more --
Their school a crowd, his master solitude;
Through Jonathan Swift's clark grove he passed, and there
plucked bitter wisdom that enriched his blood.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She's So Beautiful
SHE'S SO BEAUTIFUL MEANINGFUL THAT SHE GIVE A SON REASON TOO SHINE, A ROSE REASON TO STAND OUT AMONG FLOWERS, A RAINBOW REASON TO BE BEATIFUL, A SUNSET REASON TO BE PRETTY, A DIAMOND REASON TO BE PRECIOUS, A QUEEN REASON TO BE CARE FOR, HER SMILE REASON TO BE RADIANT AND HER REASON TO BE LOVED.
poem by Tijani Adebowale Destiny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
By Simon Vallambert. Erasmus
Here Great Erasmus resteth all of thine
That Death can touch or Monument confine
Thy Hope and Virtue soard ye lofty sky
Round ye wide world thy Fame & Knowledge fly
Those meet rewards above and these below.
Thus seek Erasmus. What has Death to show?
poem by Thomas Parnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Mr Brown On His Book Against T
Giddy wth fond ambition, mad wth pride,
Apostate angells once ev'n heavn defi'de;
Avenging heavn its hottest bolts prepard,
And hell and thunder provd their sad reward.
Yet foolish man by no example won,
perverse in ill, dare rashly venture on,
Wildly rebells, calls reason to his aid,
And uses it on him who reason made.
For crimes like this what vengeance is in store?
What but the same wch heaven showrd down on fiends before?
What milder could wee hope wee should receive?
But god is kindly willing to forgive,
He usd his Justice then, but mercy now,
Was then wth thunder armd, but now wth you:
He bid you rise truths champion, & oppose
Wth their own arms wth reason his audacious foes.
You take ye lists, & in your gods defence,
Unravell all their specious arguments,
Who lull their hearers with a show of sense,
In artfull words their best objections place,
and in fair terms their sly delusions dress;
this guilding you remove, & streight we see
What nothings all their demonstrations be.
Thus when a fiend upon their sabbats cheats
The witches he has made wth fancyd treats,
The air condenses round to costly meates:
But if a stranger who by chance has viewd
their rites, dares venture to be boldly good,
No more the pleasing Phantome does remain,
But to its former air dissolves again.
poem by Thomas Parnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You must show him, by leaving him severely alone.
quote by Charles Stewart Parnell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
No man shall have the right to fix the boundary to the march of a Nation.
quote by Charles Stewart Parnell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Scriblerian Epigrams
Our Carys a Delicate Poet; for What?
For having writt? No: but for having writ not.
poem by Thomas Parnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On A Certain Poets Judgement Between Mr Pope & Mr Philips Don In An Italian Air
Upon a time, and in a place,
With Pan Apollo playd,
Grave Midas sat to Judge ye case,
And Pan ye Victour made.
The Rustick to his Fauns withdrew;
Whilst on ye silver wing
Sweet Phœbus for Parnassus flew
To hear his Homer sing.
Yet ere he went to Midas said,
Ile fitt you for your Jears,
So took two leaves from off his head,
And stuck them in his ears.
Tis hence he thinks the bays his own,
And hence it comes to pass
That as we think his ears are grown
We sooner find the Ass.
poem by Thomas Parnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Parnell
PARNELL came down the road, he said to a cheering man:
'Ireland shall get her freedom and you still break stone.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy!
The Sound Of The Crowd
Put your hand in a party wave
Pass around
Make a shroud pulling combs through a backwash frame
Find the copies in a carbon mount
Pass around
Stroke a pocket with a print of a laughing sound
Get around town
Get around town
Where the people look good
Where the music is loud
Get around town
No need to stand proud
Add your voice to the sound of the crowd
The shades from a pencil peer
Pass around
A fold in an eyelid brushed with fear
The lines on a compact guide
Pass around
A hat with alignment worn insde
Get around town
Get around town
Where the people look good
Where the music is loud
Get around town
No need to stand proud
Add your voice to the sound of the crowd
Get in line now
Get in line now
Stay in time with the rhythm and rhyme
Get around town
Get around town
Where the people look good
Where the music is loud
Get around town
No need to stand proud
Add your voice to the sound of the crowd
Get around town
Get around town
Where the people look good
Where the music is loud
Get around town
No need to stand proud
Add your voice to the sound of the crowd
Get around town
Get around town
Where the people look good
Where the music is loud
Get around town
No need to stand proud
Add your voice to the sound of the crowd
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
On The Castle Of Dublin, Anno 1715
This House and Inhabitants both well agree,
And resemble each other as near can be;
One half is decay'd, and in want of a Prop,
The other new built, but not finish'd a-top.
poem by Thomas Parnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On Mr Pope Drawing D: Swifts Picture
One authour has anothers head begun
Lett no man say it might be better don
For since they both are Witts Ime very glad
To find he has not drawn him twice as bad.
poem by Thomas Parnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ps: 113
Ye who ye Ld of host adore
O praise his name alone
O send his praises to ye skyes
Untill they reach his throne
his throne who's ever ever blest
Whose great whose holy name
still great still holy will endure
Who ever is ye same
Morning & night letts praise yt god
Who gave us morn & night.
Above all thinges yt are he is
Above ye heav'ns his might
tell of his mercy humbleness
yt tho so high he be
yet he will stoop to mind such poor
such wretched things as we
Tell of his Justice too yt from
A mean & lowly state
ye poor & innocent he does
among ev'n princes sett
Those who with barreness were curst
he blesses wth increase,
That happy thus in all they wish
They might his goodness praise.
poem by Thomas Parnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!