Extent of Cookery
Aliusque et idem.
(Another and the same).
When Tom to Cambridge first was sent,
A plain brown bob he wore;
Read much, and look'd as though he meant
To be a fop no more.
See him to Lincoln's-Inn repair,
His resolution flag;
He cherishes a length of hair,
And tucks it in a bag.
Nor Coke nor Salkeld he regards,
But gets into the House,
And soon a judge's rank rewards
His pliant votes and bows.
Adieu, ye bobs! ye bags! give place;
Full bottoms come instead;
Good L-d! to see the various ways
Of dressing-a calf's head!
poem by William Shenstone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Extent of Cookery
Aliusque et idem.
Explanation.
Another and the Same.
When Tom to Cambridge first was sent,
A plain brown bob he wore;
Read much, and look'd as though he meant
To be a fop no more.
See him to Lincoln's-Inn repair,
His resolution flag;
He cherishes a length of hair,
And tucks it in a bag.
Nor Coke nor Salkeld he regards,
But gets into the House,
And soon a judge's rank rewards
His pliant votes and bows.
Adieu, ye bobs! ye bags! give place;
Full bottoms come instead;
Good L-d! to see the various ways
Of dressing-a calf's head!
poem by William Shenstone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bobs
(Field Marshal Lord Roberts of Kandahar)
There's a little red-faced man,
Which is Bobs,
Rides the talliest 'orse 'e can --
Our Bobs.
If it bucks or kicks or rears,
'E can sit for twenty years
With a smile round both 'is ears --
Can't yer, Bobs?
Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur -- little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs!
'E's our pukka Kandaharder --
Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs!
'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel;
'E's the man that done us well,
An' we'll follow 'im to 'ell --
Won't we, Bobs?
If a limber's slipped a trace,
'Ook on Bobs.
If a marker's lost 'is place,
Dress by Bobs.
For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat,
An'a a bugle in 'is throat,
An'you will not play the goat
Under Bobs.
'E's a little down on drink
Chaplain Bobs;
But it keeps us outer Clink --
Don't it, Bobs?
So we will not complain
Tho' 'e's water on the brain,
If 'e leads us straight again --
Blue-light Bobs.
If you stood 'im on 'is head,
Father Bobs,
You could spill a quart ot lead
Outer Bobs.
'E's been at it thirty years,
An-amassin' soveneers
In the way o' slugs an' spears --
Ain't yer Bobs?
What 'e does not knowv o'war,
Gen'ral Bobs,
You cun arst the shop next door --
Can't they, Bobs?
Oh, 'e's little but he's wise;
'E's terror for' is size:,
An' -- 'e -- does -- not -- advertize --
Do yer, Bobs?
Now they 've made a blooimin 'Lord
Ou ter Bobs,
Which was but 'is fair reward --
Wheren't it, Bobs?:
So ell wear a coronet
W'here 'is 'elmet used to set;
But we know you won't forget --
Will yer, Bobs?
Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur -- little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs,
Pocket-Wellin'ton 'an arder --
Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs!
This ain't no bloomin' ode,
But you've 'elped the soldier's load,
An' for benefits bestowed,
Bless yer, Bobs!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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5. Fashion
I remember in the sixties funky clothes were all the rage
We wore our wide bell-bottoms with such pride
I remember beige/brown herringbone an itchy woollen cloth
Caused rashes on our legs we tried to hide
I remember soaking water up a gallon to each leg
As the bags took on a shower full of rain
I remember just how long they were dragging on the ground
Fraying edges showing signs of wear again
I remember one particular pair a kind of mustard yellow
The legs of which kept catching in the car
I remember as I closed the door a leg end dangling out
Collecting oil from hinges with some tar
I remember trying to free myself once trapped within the door
Like a prisoner in the clothing that I wore
I remember pulling really hard until the trousers tore
When the stitching couldn’t take it any more
I remember my elation as the clothing fashion changed
Back to good old baggy jumpers and black jean
I remember how we have a laugh at things from years ago
And all those stupid fashions we have seen
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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It Must Have Been The Roses
Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Ten years the waves roll the ships home from the sea,
Thinkin well how it may blow in all good company,
If I tell another what your own lips told to me,
Let me lay neath the roses, till my eyes no longer see.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
One pane of glass in the window,
No one is complaining, no, come in and shut the door,
Faded is the crimson from the ribbons that she wore,
And its strange how no one comes round any more.
I dont know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I dont know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Calf and the Giraffe
Once upon a time was born a gentle brown-eyed calf
Who lived near a zoo and met a tall, wise giraffe.
The calf said to the tall, wise giraffe, “Come and run with me.”
The giraffe replied, “I can’t since I live within these walls you see.”
The confused brown-eyed calf asked, “Can’t they let you out.”
The giraffe smiled and asked, “Do you know what a zoo’s about? ”
The gentle calf said, “You did something wrong so you’re in jail.”
The wise giraffe laughed and explained that his was a happy tale.
He said, “For everyone who visits the zoo there’s so much joy I give.
As one day you’ll love your babies and teach them how to live.
So let’s enjoy every day and look forward to what’s in store.
Then both of us can give to others since that’s what life is for.”
poem by Gregory Huyette
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The Dear Brown Head
James Cecil Johnston. Suvla. August 9th, 1915
Only an hour ago we were fearful for you,
Knowing the death and the darkness behind and before you.
Years ago it might be since we were afraid.
Nothing can harm you now, O dear brown head!
You have come into port with a favouring wind;
We are tossing yet in the seas unkind.
All around you the light and glory are shed;
We are in darkness without you, dear brown head!
Heart and soul of a boy, simple and merry,
Never now to grow old, never be weary.
Light in the Land of the Young is your springing tread.
Long and heavy the road to you, dear brown head!
The House of God is full in the August days --
Full of the young coming home by the bitter ways.
Their beds are made near God, and the table spread,
And you lying down, sitting down with them, dear brown head!
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Brown Paper Bag
Brown paper bag
Squalid incomplete
slumped to the side of the street
Like unwanted sacks of garbage
She left her track her smell
And like the brown paper bag
She had travelled well
She had a whole world in her head
Her first love
The man she wed
And the drink and the smoke
And the four o clock bloke
That returned with a bottle in a brown paper bag
And better days before
When she had carried her first round fruit
When the brown paper bag was waxed new
And he carried his bride to the door
Then the four o clock bloke
Full of stale wine and stale smoke
With a bottle in a brown paper bag
How he called her a hag
And that first punch to the floor
And the brown paper bags fell by her side
Crumpled and stained
And the liquor cans and the four o clock man
Who never spoke
Left her broke
Bones shattered in pieces
Flesh bare to the wind
Body out on the street
Skin tanned dirt brown
Hair matted locks
And two brown paper bags tied with string to her feet
yvette m smith 11.2.09
poem by Yvette Smith
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The Cradle Song
Baby, O baby, fain you are for bed,
Magpie to mopoke busy as the bee;
The little red calf’s in the snug cow-shed,
An’ the little brown bird’s in the tree.
Daddy’s gone a-shearin’, down the Castlereagh,
So we’re all alone now, only you an’ me.
All among the wool-O, keep your wide blades full-O!
Daddy thinks o’ baby, wherever he may be.
Baby, my baby, rest your drowsy head,
The one man that works here, tired you must be,
The little red calf ’s in the snug cow-shed,
An’ the little brown bird ’s in the tree.
poem by Louis Esson
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Art is Long - Hair is Shorter
When artists wore a flowing mane,
Then, in a sentimental vein,
With pastorals they lured the eye,
Or sad, sweet scenes of sea and sky.
But now that hair sprouts from the face
They chuck their paint about the place
And, in the modern manner, seek
To baffle one with the unique.
I've often wondered if this surge
Of hirsute foam denotes some urge
Artistic that controls and sways
The hand and brain to newer ways.
For instance, might we not expect
An artist in dundrearies decked
In other manner to behave
From him who wore a monkey shave?
I've known but one of this quaint throng
Who wore both hair and whiskers long,
But he, poor bloke, was short of cash,
And wore a full beard and moustache
That he might draw on this supply
When price of brushes soared to high ...
But there are ways, it seems to me.
To test my novel theory.
If some brave man would range the land
And catch a few of this quaint band
And hold them captive for a while
Who knows what tricks of school and style
One might evolve if, to each man,
We gave a different hirsute plan?
You doubt, perhaps? But all the same,
There might be money in the game.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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A Famous Dog Story
The story I am about to tell you it well may be true
For the one who told it to me for to give him his due
Is one who does not make up stories nor neither is he
One prone to imagine it would seem to me.
We were swapping dog stories myself and old Lew
Of dogs we heard tell of and dogs that we knew
Of dogs who are honoured in story and rhyme
The history of their greatness has lived on in time.
But the best dog story he told me was one I heard before
When I was a young school-boy going back five decades or more
The greatest dog story that he can recall
Perhaps is the greatest dog story of all.
A story from early Spring the weather was cold
The red shorthorn calf had strayed from her mother a young five days old
In the field by the farm-yard the cow bellowed around
But her calf did not reply and was not to be found.
The farmer searched for her with Shep his brown cattle dog
But no trace of the calf in the field by the bog
He then thought the calf may have strayed and in a bog hole drown
Still no trace of the young heifer though the bog he searched up and down.
But in the gray dawning of the very next day
Old Shep the brown dog to the yard made his way
With the red heifer calf suckling on the end of his tail
That the clever dog had dipped into a full milk pail.
The mother cow was delighted her calf she did lick
And none more relieved than the old farmer Mick
As he patted his dog you're a hero he did say
This a famous dog story that lives on today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Jealousy
She wore braids in her hair
every single day.
Not because she wanted to.
It was her mother's way.
She braided them so tightly.
She thought her head would break.
Sometimes just the thought of them
would make her poor head ache.
'Why can't I have my hair
flowing down my back?
Her mother's frown would let her know
to try some other tact..
'Mother can we cut it
just above my shoulder? '
the answer that was given was
'Not until you're older.'
And so she wore her hair like this.
She never wore it down.
When at night she unbraided it
she looked just like a clown.
She knew she would cut it
the very next day
right in front of her mother
to see what she would say.
Her mother watched and sat down
and had a cup of tea.
Her mother simply said
'Now you're more beautiful than me.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Ill Be Good For You
Justin: ohh..
Yaknow Ill be good for you baby yeahhh ohhh
Ill be good for you
I aint gonna take my love away
And I will love you more girl every day
Ill be good for you (yeah)
Baby girl its plain to see,
That our love was meant to be
Justin:
I know youre hearts anticipating
And my love is on your mind
Well dont you worry
I wont keep you waiting
Cause I aint ever seen a lady so fine yeah
I know you want me too
Its in your eyes they say you do
Theyre telling me youll open your heart to me yeah
Cause if you want me to
Ill sacrifice my world for you
And show you the way loves supposed to be yeah
Ill be good for you
I aint gonna take my love away
And I will love you more girl every day
Ill be good for you (ohh)
My baby girl its plain to see,
That our love was meant to be
Jc:
Now I know you think I must be faking
I promised all these things right from the start
So dont you rush into decision making (rush, rush)
Cause I just wrote this song to tell you my heart
I wanna be with you
And girl theres nothing I wont do
To make you see that this is where you should be
Cause baby we can do, anything you wanna do
Girl I wanna be a part of your fantasy
Ill be good for you
I aint gonna take my love away
And I will love you more girl everyday
Ill be good for you (so good)
My baby girl its plain to see,
That our love was meant to be yeah
Justin: ohhh yeah yeah yeah
Know Ill be good for you baby
I can be good for you
Tell me what you want to do
Baby girl, its plain to see
That our love was meant to be
(Ill be good for you)
I can be good for you
Tell me what you want to do (oh yeah)
Baby girl (so good), its plain to see
(so good) that our love was meant to be
(Ill be good for you)
I can be good for you
Tell me what you want to do (tell me what you want to do)
Baby girl, its plain to see
(open up your heart to me) that our love was meant to b
E
(Ill be good for you)
I can be good for you
Tell me what you want to do (cause I know, I know)
Baby girl, its plain to see
The way love is supposed to be
I can be good for you (I could be good for you baby)
Tell me what you want to do (I could be good for you baby)
Baby girl, its plain to see
That our love was meant to be
Ill be good for you
Justin:
I aint gonna take my love away
And I will love you more girl everyday
Jc:
Ill be good for you
Justin:
My baby girl its plain to see that our love was meant to be yeah
song performed by by N Sync
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Plains
ALONE with the silence, the sun and sky,
Full length on the tussocky plain I lie:
An ocean of yellow from east to west
Still rolling and sweeping, far crest on crest;
And billow on billow the tussocks bend
Until in one shimmering haze they blend;
Where, under the distance, the heat and noon,
The plains in an ecstasy thrilling, swoon
And melt in the yellow-tinged, sombre air,
Like perfume from roses on evenings rare.
Where the sky and the misty horizon meet
The flax-bushes float, like a far-off fleet;
As slowly they swim, with no spray nor splash,
Their green sails swell, and their brown oars flash;
So, lost in two oceans—of plain and sky—
Full length on the tussocks alone I lie.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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Back When
Dont you remember the fizz in a pepper .
Penuts in a bottle at ten, two, and four.
A fried bologna sandwitch with mayo and tamata, sittin around
the table dont happen much anymore.
We gotten to complicated, its all way overrated, I like old and outdated
way of life.
Back when a hoe was a hoe
Coke was a coke
And crakes what you were doing when you were cracking jokes
Back when a screw was a screw
The wind was all that blew
And when you said i'm down with that , well it meant you had the flu
I miss back when
I miss back when
I miss back when
I loved my records, black shiny vinyle
clikes, pops, and white noise man they sounded fine.
I had my favorite stations the ones that played them all.
country, soul, and rockin roll what happend to thouse times.
I'm reading street slang for dummies cause they put pop in my country.
I want more for my money, the way it was back then
When a hoe was hoe
Coke was a coke
And cracks what you were doing when you were cracking jokes
Back when a screw was a screw
The wind was all that blew
And when you said i'm down with that, well it meant you had the flu
I miss back when
I miss back when
I miss back when
Give me a flat top for strummin
I want the whole world to be hummin
Just keep it comin, the way it was back then
When a hoe was a hoe
Coke was a coke
And crakes what you were doing when you were crackin jokes
Back when a screw was a screw
The wind was all that blew
And when you said i'm down with that, well it meant you had the flu
I miss back when
I miss back when
I miss back when
I miss back when
I miss back when
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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While the gentleman cherishes benign rule, the small man cherishes his native land. While the gentleman cherishes a respect for the law, the small man cherishes generous treatment.
Bid Adieu to Maidenhood
Bid adieu, adieu, adieu,
Bid adieu to girlish days,
Happy Love is come to woo
Thee and woo thy girlish ways—
The zone that doth become thee fair,
The snood upon thy yellow hair,
When thou hast heard his name upon
The bugles of the cherubim
Begin thou softly to unzone
Thy girlish bosom unto him
And softly to undo the snood
That is the sign of maidenhood.
poem by James Joyce
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We have a maxim in the House of Commons, and written on the walls of our houses, that old ways are the safest and surest ways.
quote by Edward Coke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Guys Favorite Club
Going to a strip club tonight.
Flordia is the only place for me when it comes to the you can look but don't touch.
God how I love it so much.
One night, bottoms up, and the moneys all gone.
Triple XXX at the front door.
Sometimes it takes a big man to protect the girls.
That bouncer will knock you right to the floor.
Going to a strip club tonight.
Flordia is the only place for me when it comes to the you can look but don't touch.
God how I love it so much.
One night, bottoms up, and the moneys all gone.
All in good fun.
Sexual desires on the run.
Where's your mind as you glance.
Looky there that mans getting another lap dance.
She strips all the way down and spins around.
The perfect beauty, the perfect curves.
A figure so petite.
Going to a strip club tonight.
Flordia is the only place for me when it comes to the you can look but don't touch.
God how I love it so much.
One night, bottoms up, and the moneys all gone.
After hours, and not for kids.
Such a great time where can I begin.
With devil I'm holding hands.
Going into the vip room with certain demands.
Offers a plenty.
Time appointed stays.
Doing the nasty, behind closed curtains.
Knowing not a damn thing about this women.
Going to a strip club tonight.
Flordia is the only place for me when it comes to the you can look but don't touch.
God how I love it so much.
One night, bottoms up, and the moneys all gone.
Going to a strip club tonight.
Flordia is the only place for me when it comes to the you can look but don't touch.
God how I love it so much.
One night, bottoms up, and the moneys all gone.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Problems of Green
The problems of green have their own colors:
But they all together only cost five dollars: like the stripes
On the Mexican flag:
And Alma making up her own excuses for whatever she does or
Doesn’t do:
And the roads to and away from her are being used,
But her children are doing good:
And I am in my own house in my own graveyard inebriate and
Scarred:
And maybe she will read this, and maybe she will go down
River and find more beautiful boys and read them,
Her brown skin getting goose bumped over her brown and
Perfect skin;
She is the only female I ever think about or try to smell:
And I come to her in the fruit market and then drive away, as my
Life recesses, grows frantic from its lacking amusements,
Or doesn’t exist at all:
And the green planes frolic in the green clouds;
And the hungry green foxes leap for the out of reach grapes,
Vermillion in their over abundance and in their virginal aptitudes,
Or they don’t even try at all.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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The brown bag, of course, had its imperfections. While some kids carried roast beef sandwiches, others had peanut butter. I have no way of knowing if all of those brown bags contained 'nutritionally adequate diets.' But I do know that those brown bags and those lunch pails symbolized parental love and responsibility.
quote by Charles Mathias, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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