Gaius Octavius

Me thinking? You jest! In re the 'Poetry' thread, why don't you put up the two poems I just sent to you? I am sure that Viggen, PP, and Moon wouldn't mind!

The most of the people didn't have money to buy things with. That's why prices fell.

Just in case anyone is interested: http://www.poemhunter.com/poems/

For my friend, Pertinax, who lately languished in the Pokey of Peter of Perth*. Ellen McJones Aberdeen MACPHAIRSON CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS McCLAN Was the son of an elderly labouring man; You've guessed him a Scotchman, shrewd reader, at sight, And p'r'aps altogether, shrewd reader, you're right. From the bonnie blue Forth to the lovely Deeside, Round by Dingwall and Wrath to the mouth of the Clyde, There wasn't a child or a woman or man Who could pipe with CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS McCLAN. No other could wake such detestable groans, With reed and with chaunter - with bag and with drones: All day and ill night he delighted the chiels With sniggering pibrochs and jiggety reels. He'd clamber a mountain and squat on the ground, And the neighbouring maidens would gather around To list to the pipes and to gaze in his een, Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. All loved their McCLAN, save a Sassenach brute, Who came to the Highlands to fish and to shoot; He dressed himself up in a Highlander way, Tho' his name it was PATTISON CORBY TORBAY. TORBAY had incurred a good deal of expense To make him a Scotchman in every sense; But this is a matter, you'll readily own, That isn't a question of tailors alone. A Sassenach chief may be bonily built, He may purchase a sporran, a bonnet, and kilt; Stick a skein in his hose - wear an acre of stripes - But he cannot assume an affection for pipes. CLONGLOCKETY'S pipings all night and all day Quite frenzied poor PATTISON CORBY TORBAY; The girls were amused at his singular spleen, Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN, "MACPHAIRSON CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS, my lad, With pibrochs and reels you are driving me mad. If you really must play on that cursed affair, My goodness! play something resembling an air." Boiled over the blood of MACPHAIRSON McCLAN - The Clan of Clonglocketty rose as one man; For all were enraged at the insult, I ween - Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. "Let's show," said McCLAN, "to this Sassenach loon That the bagpipes CAN play him a regular tune. Let's see," said McCLAN, as he thoughtfully sat, "'IN MY COTTAGE' is easy - I'll practise at that." He blew at his "Cottage," and blew with a will, For a year, seven months, and a fortnight, until (You'll hardly believe it) McCLAN, I declare, Elicited something resembling an air. It was wild - it was fitful - as wild as the breeze - It wandered about into several keys; It was jerky, spasmodic, and harsh, I'm aware; But still it distinctly suggested an air. The Sassenach screamed, and the Sassenach danced; He shrieked in his agony - bellowed and pranced; And the maidens who gathered rejoiced at the scene - Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. "Hech gather, hech gather, hech gather around; And fill a' ye lugs wi' the exquisite sound. An air fra' the bagpipes - beat that if ye can! Hurrah for CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS McCLAN!" The fame of his piping spread over the land: Respectable widows proposed for his hand, And maidens came flocking to sit on the green - Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. One morning the fidgety Sassenach swore He'd stand it no longer - he drew his claymore, And (this was, I think, in extremely bad taste) Divided CLONGLOCKETTY close to the waist. Oh! loud were the wailings for ANGUS McCLAN, Oh! deep was the grief for that excellent man; The maids stood aghast at the horrible scene - Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. It sorrowed poor PATTISON CORBY TORBAY To find them "take on" in this serious way; He pitied the poor little fluttering birds, And solaced their souls with the following words: "Oh, maidens," said PATTISON, touching his hat, "Don't blubber, my dears, for a fellow like that; Observe, I'm a very superior man, A much better fellow than ANGUS McCLAN." They smiled when he winked and addressed them as "dears," And they all of them vowed, as they dried up their tears, A pleasanter gentleman never was seen - Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. William S Gilbert --------------------------------- * http://www.unrv.com/forum/index.php?automo...p;showentry=467

One more for spittle. Sir Walter Scott Lochinvar O young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" "I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied; -- Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide -- And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up, He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, -- "Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar. So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a gailiard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whisper'd, "'twere better by far To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar. There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 1808

Just for spittle. Thomas R. Lounsbury, ed. (1838

"Welcome on board, pay no attention to the bumbling GO, dementia is setting in I think! laugh.gif" GPM, I'll get you for that!

"Indeed, our republican experiment was something new, and our 19th century monetary system, while flawed, accommodated an unbelievable amount of immigration and some of the most impressive gains in the standard of lower class living ever seen, simultaneously." Yes, but largely due to the 'open west'. Fully one third of the immigrants returned to their home lands. Gold did not help the eastern ghettos, the former slaves, the mill and mine workers. The most were not shunted out of hand to mouth living until the mid 20th century. Then there is W.J. Bryant's "Cross of Gold" speech.

Throwing money at schools is not the answer. If you look at the NYC school budgets decade after decade, there seems to be an inverse ratio between money expended and return. Superintendents get a 'budget', the most of which winds up in their pockets through outright theft, or via kick backs from contractors. The so called 'community' school boards are nothing more than leeches on the system. A place to park political flunkys at a very nice salary for doing nothing. A while back, a convicted felon, (a politico), was placed on one of those boards with the nice income. Both competent and incompetent teachers get the same raises. No one may be fired. At the end of their careers, they can beef up their pensions. Paid sabbaticals, are for vacations in Europe and nothing more. But ancient school books are used year after year. Both teachers and kids are allowed in school dressed as street arabs, thus engendering no self respect. Fifty years ago, NYC had three high schools that were the envy of the nation - that is not to say that the most were nothing but a parking lot for kids so that mama and papa could go to work. Same for grammar schools. There is absolutely no reason why a kid going to a public school in NYC cannot get the same education as one going to a Swiss boarding school.

THE TWINS Henry S. Leigh In form and feature, face and limb, I grew so like my brother, That folks got taking me for him, And each for one another. It puzzled all our kith and kin, It reached an awful pitch; For one of us was born a twin, Yet not a soul knew which. One day (to make the matter worse), Before our names were fixed, As we were being washed by nurse We got completely mixed; And thus, you see, by Fate's decree, (or rather nurse's whim), My brother John got christened me, and I got christened him. This fatal likeness even dogged My footsteps when at school, And I was always getting flogged, For John turned out a fool. I put this question hopelessly To every one I knew -- What would you do, if you were me, To prove that you were you? Our close resemblance turned the tide Of my domestic life; For somehow my intended bride Became my brother's wife. In short, year after year the same Absurd mistakes went on; And when I died - the neighbors came And buried brother John! ----------------------------------------------- With the Compliments of Noel Coward

STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

The public school system in the 20th century was geared up to prepare kids to work in factories. When money is thrown at the school, it goes into the pockets of administrators. The teachers are Viet-Nam draft dodgers. They couldn't pass an exam in the classes they teach. A number of years ago Massachusetts made the entrance test for teachers a little more difficult, and also lowered the passing grade. In Florida most of the candidates couldn't answer the question: If you have 17 pencils and take away 3, how many do you have left? It's quantity, not quality that counts in America. I wish that I had paid attention in school and to my parents.

Melody - Seq. by Lesley Nelson The sons of the Prophet are brave men and bold And quite unaccustomed to fear, But the bravest by far in the ranks of the Shah, Was Abdul Abulbul Amir. 2. If you wanted a man to encourage the van, Or harass the foe from the rear, Storm fort or redoubt, you had only to shout For Abdul Abulbul Amir. 3. Now the heroes were plenty and well known to fame In the troops that were led by the Czar, And the bravest of these was a man by the name Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar. 4. One day this bold Russian, he shouldered his gun And donned his most truculent sneer, Downtown he did go where he tred on the toe Of Abdul Abulbul Amir. 5. Young man, quote Abdul, has life grown so dull That you wish to end your career? Vile infidel know, you have trod on the toe Of Abdul Abulbul Amir. 6. So take your last look at the sunshine and brook And send your regrets to the Czar For by this I imply, you are going to die, Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar. 7. Then this bold Mameluke drew his trusty skibouk, Singing, "Allah! Il Allah! Al-lah!" And with murderous intent he ferociously went For Ivan Skavinsky Skavar. 8. They parried and thrust, they side-stepped and cussed, Of blood they spilled a great part; The philologist blokes, who seldom crack jokes, Say that hash was first made on the spot. 9. They fought all that night neath the pale yellow moon; The din, it was heard from afar, And huge multitudes came, so great was the fame, Of Abdul and Ivan Skavar. 10. As Abdul's long knife was extracting the life, In fact he was shouting, "Huzzah!" He felt himself struck by that wily Calmuck, Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar. 11. The Sultan drove by in his red-breasted fly, Expecting the victor to cheer, But he only drew nigh to hear the last sigh, Of Abdul Abulbul Amir. 12. There's a tomb rises up where the Blue Danube rolls, And graved there in characters clear, Is, "Stranger, when passing, oh pray for the soul Of Abdul Abulbul Amir." 13. A splash in the Black Sea one dark moonless night Caused ripples to spread wide and far, It was made by a sack fitting close to the back, Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar. 14. A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps, 'Neath the light of the cold northern star, And the name that she murmurs in vain as she weeps, Is Ivan Skavinsky Skavar. ---------------------------------------------- To be sung quite loud - especially at drinking parties. Antinouis

Nursery Rhyme Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross to see a fine lady upon a white horse; Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, She shall have music wherever she goes.

THE FEMALE OF THE SPECIES Rudyard Kipling - 1911 When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride, He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside. But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail. For the female of the species is more deadly than the male. When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man, He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can. But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail. For the female of the species is more deadly than the male. When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws, They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws. 'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale. For the female of the species is more deadly than the male. Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say, For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away; But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the other's tale - The female of the species is more deadly than the male. Man, a bear in most relations - worm and savage otherwise - Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise. Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act. Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low, To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe. Mirth obscene diverts his anger - Doubt and Pity oft perplex Him in dealing with an issue - to the scandal of The Sex! But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same; And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail, The female of the species must be deadlier than the male. She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast May not deal in doubt or pity - must not swerve for fact of jest. These be purely make diversions - not in these her honour dwells. She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else. She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate. And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same. She is wedded to convictions - in default of grosser ties; Her contentions are her children, heaven help him who denies! - He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild, Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child. Unprovoked and awful charges - even so the she-bear fights, Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons - even so the cobra bites, Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw And the victim writes in anguish - like the Jesuit with the squaw! So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands To some God of Abstract Justice - which no woman understands. And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him Must command but may not govern - shall enthral but not enslave him. And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail, That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.

G-Man: Didn't Suzanne Pleshette just become recent? How many points did you get and where is my fair share? Don Camillo

"I was at a celebrity party hosted by the beckhams when these terrorists burst in. Needless to say, I used my SAS training to employ a candlestick as a lethal weapon. Swinging in over their heads via chandelier I despatched the villains, won the heart of the requisite love interest, and discovered to my absolute joy I have a winning ticket in the lotto. Then I woke up." You don't call that a calamity? Sheesh! The cure for obesity is to eat the kind of food you wouldn't feed to a cobra. And have an extra dry Muddy Tini with it. Oscar Wilde

When I was one and twenty, I heard a crooked man say: Give crowns and pounds and guineas, But not your heart away. Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free. But I was one and twenty, No use to talk to me. Amended version, by yours truly, Oscar Wilde

I don't think that the above is a marching camp. The barracks would have been tents. I think that the towers would have been sentry's. There doesn't seem to be any place for the animals.

This might be a little help: http://www.vroma.org/cgi-bin/webglimpse/va...0&cache=yes

Don Camillo is where I got Lambrusco from. Castor oil settles matters rather than bullets. One day the soccer teams, both communist and Christian, were praying to God for victory. The priest quipped that if God granted one their prayer, the other could justly curse God. ------------------- Anyone mention: P.G. Woodhouse Mark Twain Oscar Wilde

Well, at least he didn't do it for personal profit. And the chairman and his flunky are going to give up six months salary and their all too well earned bonuses. That should make everyone feel much better. How in the blazes can you have a kid on the trading desk and not know that cash is going down?

Does Pantagathus approve? Will I pass out when I see the price?

A man in Topeka, Kansas decided to write a book about churches around the country, He began by flying to San Francisco and started working east from there. Going to a very large church, he began taking photos and making notes. He spotted a golden telephone on the vestibule wall and was intrigued with a sign, which read, "Calls $10,000 a minute." Seeking out the pastor he asked about the phone and the sign. The pastor answered that this golden phone is, in fact, a direct line to heaven and if he pays the price he can talk directly to god. The author thanked the pastor and continued on his way. As he continued to visit churches in various large cities across the country, he found more phones with the same sign and the same answer. His final stop was in a church in Boston Mass. There he also found the same type of golden phone with a sign that read "Calls 35 cents," It surprised him and then he asked to speak to the pastor and told him in each city he visited he found the same gold fone but it could be used for a $10,000 call only. He said your sign is for 35 cents only...... Why????? The pastor , smiling, replied,"Son, you're in Boston, Mass., home of the Patriots, The Boston Red Sox, The Celtics, The Bruins, and Boston College. You're in God's Country. It's a local call" GO PATS GO

Some short stories to go to sleep with a smile on your face. "Don Camillo" (Don Camallo), the priest with three nostrils and his encounters with a communist mayor in 1940's Italy. By Giovanni Guareschi.