An Address to the Rev. George Gilfillan
All hail to the Rev. George Gilfillan of Dundee,
He is the greatest preacher I did ever hear or see.
He is a man of genius bright,
And in him his congregation does delight,
Because they find him to be honest and plain,
Affable in temper, and seldom known to complain.
He preaches in a plain straightforward way,
The people flock to hear him night and day,
And hundreds from the doors are often turn'd away,
Because he is the greatest preacher of the present day.
He has written the life of Sir Waiter Scott,
And while he lives he will never be forgot,
Nor when he is dead,
Because by his admirers it will be often read;
And fill their minds with wonder and delight,
And wile away the tedious hours on a cold winter's night.
He has also written about the Bards of the Bible,
Which occupied nearly three years in which he was not idle,
Because when he sits down to write he does it with might and main,
And to get an interview with him it would be almost vain,
And in that he is always right,
For the Bible tells us whatever your hands findeth to do,
Do it with all your might.
Rev. George Gilfillan of Dundee, I must conclude my muse,
And to write in praise of thee my pen doss not refuse,
Nor does it give me pain to tell the world fearlessly, that when
You are dead they shall not look upon your like again.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Burial of the Reverend Gilfillan
On the Gilfillan burial day,
In the Hill o' Balgay,
It was a most solemn sight to see,
Not fewer than thirty thousand people assembled in Dundee,
All watching the funeral procession of Gilfillan that day,
That death had suddenly taken away,
And was going to be buried in the Hill o' Balgay.
There were about three thousand people in the procession alone,
And many were shedding tears, and several did moan,
And their bosoms heaved with pain,
Because they knew they would never look upon his like again.
There could not be fewer than fifty carriages in the procession that day,
And gentlemen in some of them that had come from far away,
And in whispers some of them did say,
As the hearse bore the precious corpse away,
Along the Nethergate that day.
I'm sure he will be greatly missed by the poor,
For he never turned them empty-handed away from his door;
And to assist them in distress it didn't give him pain,
And I'm sure the poor will never look upon his like again.'
On the Gilfillan burial day, in the Hill o' Balgay,
There was a body of policemen marshalled in grand array
And marched in front of the procession all the way;
Also the relatives and friends of the deceas'd,
Whom I hope from all sorrows has been releas'd,
and whose soul I hope to heaven has fled away,
To sing with saints above for ever and aye.
The provost, magistrates, and town council were in the procession that day;
Also Mrs Gilfillan, who cried and sobbed all the way
For her kind husband, that was always affable and gay,
Which she will remember until her dying day.
When the procession arrived in the Hill o' Balgay,
The people were almost as hush as death, and many of them did say --
As long as we live we'll remember the day
That the great Gilfillan was buried in the Hill o'Balgay.
When the body of the great Gilfillan was lowered into the grave,
'Twas then the people's hearts with sorrow did heave;
And with tearful eyes and bated breath,
Mrs Gilfillan lamented her loving husband's death.
Then she dropped a ringlet of immortelles into his grave,
Then took one last fond look, and in sorrow did leave;
And all the people left with sad hearts that day,
And that ended the Gilfillan burial in the Hill o' Balgay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bonnie Dundee in 1878
Oh, Bonnie Dundee! I will sing in thy praise
A few but true simple lays,
Regarding some of your beauties of the present day
And virtually speaking, there's none can them gainsay;
There's no other town I know of with you can compare
For spinning mills and lasses fair,
And for stately buildings there's none can excel
The beautiful Albert Institute or the Queen's Hotel,
For it is most handsome to be seen,
Where accommodation can be had for Duke, Lord or Queen,
And the four pillars of the front are made of Aberdeen granite, very fine,
And most beautiful does shine, just like a looking glass,
And for beauty and grandeur there's none can them surpass.
And your fine shops in Reform Street,
Very few can with them compete
For superfine goods, there's none can excel,
From Inverness to Clerkenwell.
And your Tramways, I must confess,
That they have proved a complete success,
Which I am right glad to see ...
And a very great improvement to Bonnie Dundee.
And there's the Royal Arch, most handsome to be seen,
Erected to the memory of our Most Gracious Queen -
Most magnificent to see,
And a very great honour to the people of Dundee.
Then there's the Baxter Park, most beautiful to see,
And a great boon it is to the people of Dundee,
For there they can enjoy themselves when they are free from care
By inhaling the perfumed air,
Emanating from the sweet flowers and green trees and shrubs there.
Oh, Bonnie Dundee! I must conclude my muse,
And to write in praise of thee, my pen does not refuse,
Your beauties that I have alluded to are most worthy to see,
And in conclusion, I will call thee Bonnie Dundee!
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
With your numerous arches and pillars in so grand array
And your central girders, which seem to the eye
To be almost towering to the sky.
The greatest wonder of the day,
And a great beautification to the River Tay,
Most beautiful to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
That has caused the Emperor of Brazil to leave
His home far away, incognito in his dress,
And view thee ere he passed along en route to Inverness.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
The longest of the present day
That has ever crossed o'er a tidal river stream,
Most gigantic to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
Which will cause great rejoicing on the opening day
And hundreds of people will come from far away,
Also the Queen, most gorgeous to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
And prosperity to Provost Cox, who has given
Thirty thousand pounds and upwards away
In helping to erect the Bridge of the Tay,
Most handsome to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
I hope that God will protect all passengers
By night and by day,
And that no accident will befall them while crossing
The Bridge of the Silvery Tay,
For that would be most awful to be seen
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
And prosperity to Messrs Bouche and Grothe,
The famous engineers of the present day,
Who have succeeded in erecting the Railway
Bridge of the Silvery Tay,
Which stands unequalled to be seen
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Requisition to the Queen
Smiths Buildings No. 19
Patons Lane,
Dundee.
Sept the 6th. 1877.
Most August! Empress of India, and of great Britain the Queen,
I most humbly beg your pardon, hoping you will not think it mean
That a poor poet that lives in Dundee,
Would be so presumptous to write unto Thee
Most lovely Empress of India, and Englands generous Queen,
I send you an Address, I have written on Scotlands Bard,
Hoping that you will accept it, and not be with me to hard,
Nor fly into a rage, but be as Kind and Condescending
As to give me your Patronage
Beautiful Empress, of India, and Englands Gracious Queen,
I send you a Shakespearian Address written by me.
And I think if your Majesty reads it, right pleased you will be.
And my heart it will leap with joy, if it is patronized by Thee.
Most Mighty Empress, of India, and Englands beloved Queen,
Most Handsome to be Seen.
I wish you every Success.
And that heaven may you bless.
For your Kindness to the poor while they are in distress.
I hope the Lord will protect you while living
And hereafter when your Majesty is ... dead.
I hope the Lord above will place an eternal Crown! upon your Head.
I am your Gracious Majesty ever faithful to Thee,
William McGonagall, The Poor Poet,
That lives in Dundee.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On A Plain (Live) (10 Jan 92 Soundcheck, MTV Studios, NYC)
Nirvana- On A Plain
I'll start this off without any words
I got so high that I scratched 'til I bled
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
The finest day that I ever had
Was when I learned to cry on command
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
I'm on a plain
I can't complain
I'm on a plain
My brother died every night
It's safe to say don't quote me on that
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
The black sheep got blackmailed again
Forgot to put on the zip code
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
I'm on a plain
I can't complain
I'm on a plain
Somewhere I have heard this before
In a dream my memory has stored
As a defense I'm neutered and spayed
What the hell am I trying to say
It is now time to make it unclear
To write off lines that don't make sense
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
One more special message to go
And then I'm done then I can go home
I love myself better than you
I know it's wrong so what should I do?
I'm on a plain
I can't complain
I'm on a plain
I can't complain
I'm on a plain
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
On The First Of Seven's Night
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
for the world, ag'n christmas sight
on the first of seven's night
when the light of heaven is light
it's the world of two thousand seven bright
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
see, she is smiling in alone
ah! in love she is gone
'n' now she has got the tone
to say! to wish a new morn..ing
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
oh! it's the hit of 12'o clock
but who are they in morning flock
look it's you 'n' that is me
in between it's bond of thee
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
hey! who is playing these notes so cute
it must be octaves from lord krishnas flute
no! on the first of seven with the rythm inherent
a boy to a girl with the happys of heaven
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
and you! what are you doing over here
go to the fields and harvest your share
my blackberrys ripen with the dawn of the sun
hares and birds may already be having there fun
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
sown for you blackberry's delight
on the first of seven's night
poem by Amit Ranjan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lie Of All Lies
SOME YOUNG LADS SAT CHATTING MERRILY AND NOISILY WHEN A REVEREND PREACHER WALKED BY AND HE SAID TO THEM, WHAT BE THE CAUSE FOR THY NOISY CHATTER? HE ASKED AND THE CHILDREN REPLIED SAYING, PREACHER, WE HAVE PUT UP OUR SAVINGS FOR A WAGER! HE AMONGST US WHO TELLS THE GREATEST LIE WILL WIN THE WHOLE MONEY! THE PREACHER FROWNED AND SAID, LISTEN BOYS! IT IS NOT A GOOD THING TO TELL LIES! TAKE ME AS AN EXAMPLE! I HAVE NEVER TOLD A LIE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE! STATED THE PREACHER! AND THE BOYS QUICKLY GOT UP, PACKED UP THE COINS ON THE FLOOR AND HANDED IT TO THE PREACHER SAYING, YOU WIN SIR! YOURS WAS THE BIGGEST LIE WE HAVE EVER HEARD!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Robert Burns
Immortal Robert Burns of Ayr,
There's but few poets can with you compare;
Some of your poems and songs are very fine:
To "Mary in Heaven" is most sublime;
And then again in your "Cottar's Saturday Night,"
Your genius there does shine most bright,
As pure as the dewdrops of the night.
Your "Tam O'Shanter" is very fine,
Both funny, racy, and divine,
From John O'Groats to Dumfries
All critics consider it to be a masterpiece,
And, also, you have said the same,
Therefore they are not to blame.
And in my own opinion both you and they are right,
For your genius there does sparkle bright,
Which I most solemnly declare
To thee, Immortal Bard of Ayr!
Your "Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon"
Is sweet and melodious in its tune,
And the poetry is moral and sublime,
And in my opinion nothing can be more fine.
Your "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled"
Is most beautiful to hear sung or read;
For your genius there does shine as bright,
Like unto the stars of night
Immortal Bard of Ayr! I must conclude my muse
To speak in praise of thee does not refuse,
For you were a mighty poet, few could with you compare,
And also an honour to Scotland, for your genius it is rare.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At Nightfall
O little hands, long vanished in the night--
Sweet fairy hands that were my treasure here--
My heart is full of music from some sphere,
Where ye make melody for God's delight.
Though autumn clouds obscure the starry height,
And winds are noisy and the land is drear,
In this blank room I feel my lost love near,
And hear you playing--hands so small and white.
The shadowy organ sings its songs again,
The dead years turn to music at its voice,
And all the dreams come back my brain did store.
Once more, dear hands, ye soothe me in my pain,
Once more your music makes my heart rejoice--
God speed the day we clasp for evermore!
poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Three Wooden Crosses
a farmer and a preacher a hooker and a teacher
Ridin on a midnight bus
bound for Mexico
one was headed for vacation
one for higher education
and two of them were searchin for lost souls
and that driver never ever saw the stop sign
and eighteen wheelers can't stop on a dime
Chorus:
there are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway
why there's not four of them heaven only knows
I guess it's not what you take when you leave this world behind you
It's what you leave behind you when you go
That farmer left his harvest
A hime and eighty acres
the faith and love for growing things in his young son's heart
and that teacher left her wisdom in the minds of lots of children
did her best to give em all a better start
and that preacher whispered, "can't you see the promise land"
as he laid his blood stained bible in that hooker's hand
Chorus
That's the story that our preacher told last Sunday
As he held that blood stained bible up for all of us to see
he said bless the farmer and the teacher and the preacher
who gave this bible to my momma who read it to me
there are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway
why there's not four of them
now I guess we know
it's not what it takes when you leave this world behind you
it's what you leave behind you when you go
there are three wooden crosses
on the right side of the highway...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Poet Is Looking For Love Deep İn The Night
sometimes you may find
sincerity to a poem as to
the date when it is written,
the hour particularly tells you
that a poem is written when
everyone in the house is
fast asleep, and
that someone
cannot sleep, because he
has to write some words for
someone, who
too, cannot
sleep,
not really because they
are insomniacs, much less
vampires looking for blood,
but perhaps someone
who is
looking for love, even in the
dark, even in the wee hours
even when love
is no longer
there, even when the night
is dead, even when there is
no one alive in this world
to tell him that he is alive
and must by all means and
at all cost, deserve to
be happy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Don't You Hear Jerusalem Moan
Don't You Hear Jerusalem Moan
Don't you hear Jerusalem moan?
Don't never let a chicken get big enough to crow
Don't you hear Jerusalem moan?
Don't you hear Jerusalem moan?
Don't you hear Jerusalem moan?
Thank God there's a heaven and a ringing in my soul and my soul's got free
Don't you hear Jerusalem moan?
Well a hard-shell preacher you can tell him how he do
Well he chews his own tobacco and he drinks his own brew.
Well a Baptist preacher you can tell him by his coat
Has a bottle in his pocket that he can't hardly tote
Well a Cambellite preacher his soul is saved
Well he has to be baptized every other day
Well the Holy Roller preacher he sure is a sight
Well he gets em all a-rolling and he kicks out the light
Well the Presbyterian preacher he lives in town
His neck's so stiff he can't hardly look around.
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Walt Whitman
The master-songs are ended, and the man
That sang them is a name. And so is God
A name; and so is love, and life, and death,
And everything. But we, who are too blind
To read what we have written, or what faith
Has written for us, do not understand:
We only blink, and wonder.
Last night it was the song that was the man,
But now it is the man that is the song.
We do not hear him very much to-day:
His piercing and eternal cadence rings
Too pure for us --- too powerfully pure,
Too lovingly triumphant, and too large;
But there are some that hear him, and they know
That he shall sing to-morrow for all men,
And that all time shall listen.
The master-songs are ended? Rather say
No songs are ended that are ever sung,
And that no names are dead names. When we write
Men's letters on proud marble or on sand,
We write them there forever.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Preacher Man
(Gary Rossington-Johnny Van Zant-Rickey Medlocke-Hughie Thomasson)
You know i'm dirty because it's in me
Life's not easy
And it's the heart that i won't change
I wouldn't be the same
You see me one day and then the next day
I don't wanna play
I'm not the same dog you have known
It's not written in stone
Well am i right or wrong
Lookin' out for number one
I never stay too long
I'm there and then i'm gone
I'm not the preacher man
Oh can you understand
It's a game of win or lose
I've got an evil eye
You know sometimes i might lie
Oh i'm not the preacher man
Yeah-Yeah-Yeah
Saint was a sinner
Ain't he a winner
And did you hear him say
I didn't lie just as well
It's all in the head
Oh ain't it funny
How little money
Cheap talkin' honey
Can turn a sunny day to gray
Well am i right or wrong
Lookin' out for number one
I never stay too long
I'm there and then i'm gone
I'm not the preacher man
Oh can you understand
It's a game of win or lose
I've got an evil eye
You know sometimes i might lie
Oh i'm not the preacher man
Aah aah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah
Aah aah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah
I'm not the preacher man
Oh can you understand
It's a game of win or lose
I got an evil eye
You know sometimes i might lie
Oh i'm not the preacher man
I'm not the preacher man
Oh can you understand
It's a game of win or lose
I got an evil eye
You know sometimes i might lie
Oh i'm not the preacher man
Aah aah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah
Aah aah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Daddy Was An Old Time Preacher Man
(Dolly Parton)
Daddy was an old time preacher man
He preacher the word of God throughout the land
He preached so plain a child could understand
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
He told the people of he need to pray
He talked about God's wrath and judgement day
He preached about the great eternity
He preached hell so hot that you could feel the heat
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
Aunt Leanona would get up to testify
And we'd sing "In The Sweet By And By"
The we'd sing "I'm On My Way To Canaan Land"
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
Revivals and camp meetings went for weeks
Folks came from all around to hear him preach
Daddy said if one is saved it's worth it all
But the aisles were always filled at altar calls
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
Daddy worked for God but asked for no pay
For he believed that God provides a way
We never had a lot but we got by
Guess it's 'cause the Lord was on Daddy's side
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Greatest Man I Never Knew
The greatest man I never knew
Lived just down the hall
And everyday we said hello
But never touched at all
He was in his paper
I was in my room
How was I to know he thought I hung the moon
The greatest man I never knew
Came home late every night
He never had too much to say
Too much was on his mind
I never really knew him
And now it seems so sad
Everything he gave to us took all he had
Then the days turned into years
And the memories to black and white
He grew cold like an old winter wind
Blowing across my life
The greatest words I never heard
I guess Ill never hear
The man I thought could never die
Sbeen dead almost a year
He was good at business
But there was business left to do
He never said he loved me
Guess he thought I knew
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Write
About this world with end
I write
Where I was brought upon,
Amidst this rot
Where hands are laid on the Bible
But the Bible is never opened,
Where doctrines are preached
But never practiced,
Where kleptomaniacs
And lootersand thieves
Control politics.
.
About this hell on earth
Men call life,
I write.
poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Results Ridiculous
("Humourists have amused themselves by translating famous sonnets into free verse. A result no less ridiculous would have been obtained if somebody had re-written a passage from 'Paradise Lost' as a rondeau." --George Soule in the New Republic)
"PARADISE LOST"
Sing, Heavenly Muse, in lines that flow
More smoothly than the wandering Po,
Of man's descending from the height
Of Heaven itself, the blue, the bright,
To Hell's unutterable throe.
Of sin original and the woe
That fell upon us here below
From man's pomonic primal bite--
Sing, Heavenly Muse!
Of summer sun, of winter snow, Of future days, of long ago,
Of morning and "the shades of night,"
Of woman, "my ever new delight,"
Go to it, Muse, and put us Joe--
Sing, Heavenly Muse!
* * * * *
"THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER"
THE wedding guest sat on a stone,
He could not chose but hear
The mariner. They were there alone.
The wedding guest sat on a stone.
"I'll read you something of my own,"
Declared that mariner.
The wedding guest sat on a stone--
He could not chose but hear.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bequeathal
THE night-birds cry in the bush outside,
And I write here, though the hour be late;
And what shall I write of the man who died?
'He gave his gold to the poor at his gate!'
The line is written. Was that his all,
And did that all exhaust his love?
'Nay, nay, write on, while the night-birds call:
‘He gave his soul to his God above’!'
Say on; for in so rich a vein
More gold lay waiting to be proved.
' 'T was so! Write this, and write it plain:
‘He gave his heart to the wife he loved’!'
What more? 'What more dost thou require?
What more was left to give or take?
Yet more there was. Write this in fire:
‘He gave his life for his country's sake’!'
'Last gift of all, with courage fine,
Though far from stars that watched his birth.
He fell. Write then this final line:
‘He gave his clay to the aliens' earth’!'
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!