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Beer before liquor, you'll never be sicker, but liquor before beer and you're in the clear.

English proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Reminders

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s confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.

song performed by Feeder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Chug-a-lug

Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Gary likes a girls tight black pants
Larry knows he doesnt stand a chance
Carl says hurry up and order it quick
Dave gets out to chase that chick
Dennis wonders whats under the hood
A big chrome tach and it sounds real good
I go down to the root beer stand
And drink up all that I can
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Cold beer, root beer
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Brians still glued to the radio
Louies lookin out the rear window
Guys got around to orderin fries
But root beers my best buy
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Cold beer, root beer
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Give me some root beer (chug-a-lug chug-a-lug chug-a-lug)
Cold beer, root beer
Here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug
Root beer, need another mug now
Root beer, chug-a-lug-a-lug now
Root beer, need another mug now
Root beer, chug-a-lug-a-lug now
Root beer, need another mug now
Root beer, chug-a-lug-a-lug now

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Bar-Room Patriot

Why, 'ow's she goin', Bill, ole sport?
I thort I knoo your dile!
My oath! You look the proper sort!
That khaki soots your style.
I never 'eard you'd joined, yeh know
It makes me feel I want to go.

Must be a year or more, I s'pose,
Since last time we two met!
An' then, to see you in them clothes
Can't realise it yet!
I'm proud to think a friend o' mine
Is off to biff the German swine!

You look slap-up in that rig-out.
We ort to celebrate
I fell it's up to me to shout!
But - can't be done, ole mate!
For I 'ave took a solemn vow
I never shout for soldiers now.

No, Bill; you mustn't take offence;
You'll undertsand, I thnk.
I've come to see there ain't no sense
In buyin' soldiers drink.
I loves me country an' me king;
An' boozin' soldiers ain't the thing.

An' yet it's sich a time ago
Since you an' me 'ave met,
It's sorter 'ard to let you go
Without one little wet.
Say, come in 'ere, an' you can take
A soft'un, jist fer ole time's sake.

Well, Bill - 'ere MIss! Don't you attend
To customers in 'ere?
A lime-an'-soder fer me friend:
And' mine's a long, cool beer.
Ah, Bill, you stick to that soft stuff;
Chuck booze, an' you'll be right enough.

Well, 'ere's a go!...My oath, that's goo!
Bets beer I've 'ad to-day....
Yes, Bill, I 'olds no soldier should
Drink all 'is brains away.
I'm patriotic, that I am;
To fight on beer ain't worth a damn.

Now, Bill, look 'ere, you take my tip

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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House Of The Gods

Finally found a place they could never reach
Sipping singha beer on pattaya beach
Singha beer dont ask no questions
Singha beer dont tell no lies
Singha beer dont ask no questions
Singha beer dont tell no lies
Theres a guy next to me wont tell me his name
Buys me mekong whiskey just the same
Singha beer dont ask no questions
Singha beer dont tell no lies
Singha beer dont ask no questions
Singha beer dont tell no lies
Im just a wally
Hanging out on pattaya beach
Im just a wally
Hanging out on pattaya beach
Met a girl said shes really going to blow my mind
She says she dont mean sex and I say alright
Turns out shes a bloke, tries to give me head
I have to run out screaming to the street instead
Shes just a wally
Hanging out on pattaya beach
Im just a wally
Hanging out on pattaya beach
Singha beer dont ask no questions
Singha beer dont tell no lies...
In the house of the gods
Where no mongrels preach
I watched the sun going down
On pattaya beach
Im just a wally
Hanging out on pattaya beach
Im just a wall
Hanging out on pattaya beach

song performed by Pogues
Added by Lucian Velea
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Seasonable Retour-Knell

SEASONABLE RETOUR KNELL
Variations on a theme...
SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS

Author notes

A mirrored Retourne may not only be read either from first line to last or from last to first as seen in the mirrors, but also by inverting the first and second phrase of each line, either rhyming AAAA or ABAB for each verse. thus the number of variations could be multiplied several times.- two variations on the theme have been included here but could have been extended as in SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS robi03_0069_robi03_0000

In respect of SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
This composition has sought to explore linguistic potential. Notes and the initial version are placed before rather than after the poem.
Six variations on a theme have been selected out of a significant number of mathematical possibilities using THE SAME TEXT and a reverse mirror for each version. Mirrors repeat the seasons with the lines in reverse order.

For the second roll the first four syllables of each line are reversed, and sense is retained both in the normal order of seasons and the reversed order as well... The 3rd and 4th variations offer ABAB rhyme schemes retaining the original text. The 5th and 6th variations modify the text into rhyming couplets.

Given the linguistical structure of this symphonic composition the score could be read in inversing each and every line and each and every hemistitch. There are minor punctuation differences between versions.

One could probably attain sonnet status for each of the four seasons and through partioning in 3 groups of 4 syllables extend the possibilites ad vitam.

Seasonable Round Robin Roll Reversals
robi03_0069_robi03_0000 QXX_DNZ
Seasonable Retour-Knell
robi03_0070_robi03_0069 QXX_NXX
26 March 1975 rewritten 20070123
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllll
For previous version see below
_______________________________________
SPRING SUMMER

Life is at ease Young lovers long
Land under plough; To hold their dear;
Whispering trees, Dewdrops among,
Answering cow. Bold, know no fear.

Blossom, the bees, Life full of song,
Burgeoning bough; Cloudless and clear;
Soft-scented breeze, Days fair and long,
Spring warms life now. Summer sends cheer.

AUTUMN WINTER

Each leaf decays, Harvested sheaves
Each life must bow; And honeyed hives;
Our salad days Trees stripped of leaves,
Are ending now. Jack Frost has knives.

Fruit heavy lays Time, Prince of thieves,
Bending the bough, - Onward he drives,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Tristram And Iseult

I
TRISTRAM

Tristram. Is she not come? The messenger was sure—
Prop me upon the pillows once again—
Raise me, my page! this cannot long endure.
—Christ, what a night! how the sleet whips the pane!
What lights will those out to the northward be?

The Page. The lanterns of the fishing-boats at sea.

Tristram. Soft—who is that, stands by the dying fire?

The Page. Iseult.

Tristram. Ah! not the Iseult I desire.

What Knight is this so weak and pale,
Though the locks are yet brown on his noble head,
Propt on pillows in his bed,
Gazing seaward for the light
Of some ship that fights the gale
On this wild December night?
Over the sick man's feet is spread
A dark green forest-dress;
A gold harp leans against the bed,
Ruddy in the fire's light.
I know him by his harp of gold,
Famous in Arthur's court of old;
I know him by his forest-dress—
The peerless hunter, harper, knight,
Tristram of Lyoness.
What Lady is this, whose silk attire
Gleams so rich in the light of the fire?
The ringlets on her shoulders lying
In their flitting lustre vying
With the clasp of burnish'd gold
Which her heavy robe doth hold.
Her looks are mild, her fingers slight
As the driven snow are white;
But her cheeks are sunk and pale.
Is it that the bleak sea-gale
Beating from the Atlantic sea
On this coast of Brittany,
Nips too keenly the sweet flower?
Is it that a deep fatigue
Hath come on her, a chilly fear,
Passing all her youthful hour
Spinning with her maidens here,
Listlessly through the window-bars

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Arnold
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The Shepheardes Calender: May

May: AEgloga Quinta. Palinode & Piers.

Palinode.
IS not thilke the mery moneth of May,
When loue lads masken in fresh aray?
How falles it then, we no merrier bene,
Ylike as others, girt in gawdy greene?
Our bloncket liueryes bene all to sadde,
For thilke same season, when all is ycladd
With pleasaunce: the grownd with grasse, the Wods
With greene leaues, the bushes with bloosming Buds.
Yougthes folke now flocken in euery where,
To gather may bus-kets and smelling brere:
And home they hasten the postes to dight,
And all the Kirke pillours eare day light,
With Hawthorne buds, and swete Eglantine,
And girlonds of roses and Sopps in wine.
Such merimake holy Saints doth queme,
But we here sytten as drownd in a dreme.

PIERS.
For Younkers Palinode such follies fitte,
But we tway bene men of elder witt.

PALINODE.
Sicker this morrowe, ne lenger agoe,
I sawe a shole of shepeheardes outgoe,
With singing, and shouting, and iolly chere:
Before them yode a lusty Tabrere,
That to the many a Horne pype playd,
Whereto they dauncen eche one with his mayd.
To see those folkes make such iouysaunce,
Made my heart after the pype to daunce.
Tho to the greene Wood they speeden hem all,
To fetchen home May with their musicall:
And home they bringen in a royall throne,
Crowned as king: and his Queene attone
Was Lady Flora, on whom did attend
A fayre flock of Faeries, and a fresh bend
Of louely Nymphes. (O that I were there,
To helpen the Ladyes their Maybush beare)
Ah Piers, bene not thy teeth on edge, to thinke
How great sport they gaynen with little swinck.

PIERS.
Perdie so farre am I from enuie,
That their fondnesse inly I pitie.
Those faytours little regarden their charge,
While they letting their sheepe runne at large,
Passen their time, that should be sparely spent,

[...] Read more

poem by Edmund Spenser
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The Castle Of Indolence

The castle hight of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!
We lived right jollily.

O mortal man, who livest here by toil,
Do not complain of this thy hard estate;
That like an emmet thou must ever moil,
Is a sad sentence of an ancient date:
And, certes, there is for it reason great;
For, though sometimes it makes thee weep and wail,
And curse thy star, and early drudge and late;
Withouten that would come a heavier bale,
Loose life, unruly passions, and diseases pale.
In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,
With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round,
A most enchanting wizard did abide,
Than whom a fiend more fell is no where found.
It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground;
And there a season atween June and May,
Half prankt with spring, with summer half imbrown'd,
A listless climate made, where, sooth to say,
No living wight could work, ne cared even for play.
Was nought around but images of rest:
Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between;
And flowery beds that slumbrous influence kest,
From poppies breathed; and beds of pleasant green,
Where never yet was creeping creature seen.
Meantime, unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd,
And hurled every where their waters sheen;
That, as they bicker'd through the sunny glade,
Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made.
Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills
Were heard the lowing herds along the vale,
And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills,
And vacant shepherds piping in the dale:
And, now and then, sweet Philomel would wail,
Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep,
That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale;
And still a coil the grasshopper did keep;
Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.
Full in the passage of the vale, above,
A sable, silent, solemn forest stood;
Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to move,
As Idless fancied in her dreaming mood:
And up the hills, on either side, a wood
Of blackening pines, aye waving to and fro,
Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood;
And where this valley winded out, below,
The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
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Dont Start Me On The Liquor

Dont start me on the liquor
Ill drink it all down straight
Ill make a toast to love
But I drink the most
When I got somebody to hate
Im an old man
I got an old mans pain
Will the morning
Will the morning ever come again
Well, Im likin lickin a lotta liquor
Im drivin down the drink
Ill take a toast to life
But I drink the most
When my devil start to think
Im an old man
I got an old mans pain
Will the morning
Will the morning ever come again
Oh, I could drink, drink, drink
So I cant think, think, think
I got a hope or a home
In this life Im all alone
On this long cold lonely night of fright
Followed by a lonely day
til theres nothing left I can say
Except I didnt know I was sick
And so I got sicker
Hes a low down lying
Peckerwood cotton picker
Dont start me on the liquor
I got nothing more to say
I had a little money
But it all flown away
And I said oh man
Oh, aint that a shame
Oh, I keep manin, I keep manin
Like I got an old mans pain
Dont
Dont start
Dont start me
Dont start me on
Dont start me on the
Dont start me on the liquor.
Gordon gano: vocal, guitar
Brian ritchie: bass, guitar, vocal
Guy hoffman: drums, vocal
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwuakee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission

song performed by Violent Femmes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Goes Good With Beer

Goes Good With Beer
(Casey Beathard/Ed Hill)
Flat tire on the interstate;
Too many nights of workin' too late.
Had a run in with an old memory.
No, it ain't been the best of weeks.
But it goes good with beer and the Friday night atmosphere.
Of this cross-town bar where the cars all get steered to.
And it goes hand-and-hand with my crazy buddies and this three-piece band,
And the pretty girls and the games we play, and the smoke and mirrors:
Yeah, troubles come, but they go good with beer.
Yeah, it does, yeah.
Bring all your debts and all your bills;
Load up your mountains and your molehills.
Come as you ain't or as you are,
An' don't forget that broken heart,
Oh, it goes good with beer and the Friday night atmosphere.
Of this cross-town bar where the cars all get steered to.
And it goes hand-and-hand with my crazy buddies and this three-piece band,
An' the pretty girls and the games we play, and the smoke and mirrors:
Yeah, troubles come, but they go good with beer.
Yee haw, oh, yeah.
Bring all those stories you can share.
Just like the peanuts and the pretzels on the table there.
Yeah, it all goes good with beer and the Friday night atmosphere,
And the pretty girls and the games we play, and the smoke and mirrors:
Yeah, troubles come, but they go........
Good with beer and the Friday night atmosphere,
Of this cross-town bar where the cars all get steered to.
And they go hand-and-hand with my crazy buddies and this three-piece band,
An' the pretty girls and the games we play, and the smoke and mirrors.
Yeah, it all goes good with beer and the Friday night atmosphere,
Of this cross-town bar where the cars all get steered to.
And it goes hand-and-hand with my crazy buddies and this ten-piece band,
An' the pretty girls and the games we play, and the smoke and mirrors:
Yeah, troubles come, but they go good with beer.
Pass me them peanuts brother.
Shhhhhhh.

song performed by John Michael Montgomery
Added by Lucian Velea
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Clear Across America Tonight

(Randy Owen/Teddy Gentry/Ronnie Rogers/Greg Fowler)
Just outside of Austin
I turned on my radio
Turned it in to a satellite station
She was talkin' on a call-in show
She said it was over, she'd made her choice
Her mind was made-up by the sound of her voice
Clear across America tonight
Clear coast-to-coast tonight
She's long gone, she's outta here
But she's comin' through loud and clear
Clear across America tonight
Sounded like he really had it coming
All the times he'd done her wrong
She said, I hope he's listening
And hung-up the telephone
All of a sudden, I realized
It was me she was telling good-bye
Clear across America tonight
Clear coast-to-coast tonight
She's long gone, she's outta here
But she's comin' through loud and clear
Clear across America tonight
Hello dj, put me on the air
Give me the chance to tell her I still care
Get her back on the line, tell her I'm still in love
Said, "sorry son, but you're breaking up"
Clear across America tonight
Clear coast-to-coast tonight
She's long gone, she's outta here
But she's comin' through loud and clear
Across America tonight
Across America tonight
Clear across America tonight
Clear across America tonight
Clear across America tonight

song performed by Alabama
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Canto the Second

I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.

II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.

III
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be consider'd: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A—never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
A pretty woman (that's quite natural,
Or else the thing had hardly come to pass);
A husband rather old, not much in unity
With his young wife—a time, and opportunity.

IV
Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust,—perhaps a name.

V
I said that Juan had been sent to Cadiz -—
A pretty town, I recollect it well -—
'T is there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel),
And such sweet girls—I mean, such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell;
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it—I never saw the like:

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Cold Beer, Women and Music

I like cold beer on a hot day
I like hot women on a cold day
I like music on a hot or cold day

I like to have cold beer in my pad
I like to have my women scantily clad
I like to have my music not bad

I like my cold beer enshrouded
I like my women endowed
I like my music loud

I like my cold beer in my right hand
I like my women tanned
I like my music close at hand

I like cold beer to unwind
I like women to dine
I like music to remind

I like cold beer with women
I like women with cold beer
I like cold beer and women with music

poem by Bill Kamen
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Beer And Bones

I ain't nothin' but beer and bones
Honey since I lost you
I ain't ate a bite
Since the night
That you said we're through
I walked to that jukebox to play
A few sad country songs
I heard someone say
Hey that old boy
Ain't nothin' but beer and bones
I got to work this morning
Early this afternoon
Yeah my boss man nudged me
Said son I need to talk to you
You used to make me money
But lately I been taking a loss
Well he smelled my breath
Gave me what was left
Of the day off
I ain't nothin' but beer and bones
Honey since I lost you
I ain't ate a bite
Since the night
That you said we're through
I walked to that jukebox to play
A few sad country songs
I heard someone say
Hey that old boy
Ain't nothin' but beer and bones
Well I wish I could go home
And rest my weary head
But I know I'll just stay here
And have another beer instead
That little waitress asked me
Honey could you use some help
I said I thank you miss
I'll have to get through this
By my dang self
I ain't nothin' but beer and bones
Honey since I lost you
I ain't ate a bite
Since the night
That you said we're through
I walked to that jukebox to play
A few sad country songs
I heard someone say
Hey that old boy
Ain't nothin' but beer and bones
I heard someone say
Hey that old boy

[...] Read more

song performed by John Michael Montgomery
Added by Lucian Velea
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Beer & Bones

(sanger d. shafer/lonnie williams)
I aint nothin but beer and bones
Honey since I lost you
I aint ate a bite
Since the night
That you said were through
I walked to that jukebox to play
A few sad country songs
I heard someone say
Hey that old boy
Aint nothin but beer and bones
I got to work this morning
Early this afternoon
Yeah my boss man nudged me
Said son I need to talk to you
You used to make me money
But lately I been taking a loss
Well he smelled my breath
Gave me what was left
Of the day off
I aint nothin but beer and bones
Honey since I lost you
I aint ate a bite
Since the night
That you said were through
I walked to that jukebox to play
A few sad country songs
I heard someone say
Hey that old boy
Aint nothin but beer and bones
Well I wish I could go home
And rest my weary head
But I know Ill just stay here
And have another beer instead
That little waitress asked me
Honey could you use some help
I said I thank you miss
Ill have to get through this
By my dang self
I aint nothin but beer and bones
Honey since I lost you
I aint ate a bite
Since the night
That you said were through
I walked to that jukebox to play
A few sad country songs
I heard someone say
Hey that old boy
Aint nothin but beer and bones
I heard someone say

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song performed by John Michael Montgomery
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dogs

The first time we met you were a kennel maid,
The first time we met you were a kennel maid,
You gave me a tip I got me forecast paid,
You gave me a tip I got me forecast paid,
You were holding a greyhound in trap number one,
You were holding a greyhound in trap number one,
Your white coat was shining in the afternoon sun.
Your white coat was shining in the afternoon sun.
Now were both together,
Now were both together,
Were never gonna break apart, no no,
Were never gonna break apart, no no,
cause were a happy couple you and me,
cause were a happy couple you and me,
With a greyhound at either knee.
With a greyhound at either knee.
Ill have ten shillings to win on camera flash, young man,
Ill have ten shillings to win on camera flash, young man,
What dogs that, its a deuce, look at it.
What dogs that, its a deuce, look at it.
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
ceptin you, little darling,
ceptin you, little darling,
ceptin you, little darling,
ceptin you, little darling,
Were a happy couple you and me,
Were a happy couple you and me,
With a greyhound at either knee.
With a greyhound at either knee.
We go to the dog track on saturday night,
We go to the dog track on saturday night,
We put all our money on a dog that we like,
We put all our money on a dog that we like,
A kiss and a cuddle, a hot meat pie,
A kiss and a cuddle, a hot meat pie,
Two dollar tickets and a starry sky.
Two dollar tickets and a starry sky.
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
There was nothing in my life bigger than beer,
ceptin you, little darling,
ceptin you, little darling,
ceptin you, little darling,
ceptin you, little darling,
Were a happy couple you and me,
Were a happy couple you and me,

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song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Beer

1 In those old days which poets say were golden --
2 (Perhaps they laid the gilding on themselves:
3 And, if they did, I'm all the more beholden
4 To those brown dwellers in my dusty shelves,
5 Who talk to me 'in language quaint and olden'
6 Of gods and demigods and fauns and elves,
7 Pan with his pipes, and Bacchus with his leopards,
8 And staid young goddesses who flirt with shepherds:)

9 In those old days, the Nymph called Etiquette
10 (Appalling thought to dwell on) was not born.
11 They had their May, but no Mayfair as yet,
12 No fashions varying as the hues of morn.
13 Just as they pleased they dressed and drank and ate,
14 Sang hymns to Ceres (their John Barleycorn)
15 And danced unchaperoned, and laughed unchecked,
16 And were no doubt extremely incorrect.

17 Yet do I think their theory was pleasant:
18 And oft, I own, my 'wayward fancy roams'
19 Back to those times, so different from the present;
20 When no one smoked cigars, nor gave At-homes,
21 Nor smote a billiard-ball, nor winged a pheasant,
22 Nor 'did' her hair by means of long-tailed combs,
23 Nor migrated to Brighton once a year,
24 Nor -- most astonishing of all -- drank Beer.

25 No, they did not drink Beer, 'which brings me to'
26 (As Gilpin said) 'the middle of my song.'
27 Not that 'the middle' is precisely true,
28 Or else I should not tax your patience long:
29 If I had said 'beginning,' it might do;
30 But I have a dislike to quoting wrong:
31 I was unlucky -- sinned against, not sinning --
32 When Cowper wrote down 'middle' for 'beginning.'

33 So to proceed. That abstinence from Malt
34 Has always struck me as extremely curious.
35 The Greek mind must have had some vital fault,
36 That they should stick to liquors so injurious --
37 (Wine, water, tempered p'raps with Attic salt) --
38 And not at once invent that mild, luxurious,
39 And artful beverage, Beer. How the digestion
40 Got on without it, is a startling question.

41 Had they digestions? and an actual body
42 Such as dyspepsia might make attacks on?
43 Were they abstract ideas -- (like Tom Noddy
44 And Mr. Briggs) -- or men, like Jones and Jackson?
45 Then nectar -- was that beer, or whisky-toddy?

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poem by Charles Stuart Calverley
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Beowulf

LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him gifts: a good king he!
To him an heir was afterward born,
a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor the folk, feeling their woe
that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,
son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes it a youth to quit him well
with his father's friends, by fee and gift,
that to aid him, aged, in after days,
come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds
shall an earl have honor in every clan.
Forth he fared at the fated moment,
sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,
loving clansmen, as late he charged them,
while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
the leader beloved who long had ruled….
In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:
there laid they down their darling lord
on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,
by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
fetched from far was freighted with him.
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped hoard that hence should go
far o'er the flood with him floating away.
No less these loaded the lordly gifts,
thanes' huge treasure, than those had done
who in former time forth had sent him
sole on the seas, a suckling child.
High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful their mood. No man is able

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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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The Witch's frolic

[Scene, the 'Snuggery' at Tappington.-- Grandpapa in a high-backed cane-bottomed elbow-chair of carved walnut-tree, dozing; his nose at an angle of forty-five degrees,--his thumbs slowly perform the rotatory motion described by lexicographers as 'twiddling.'--The 'Hope of the family' astride on a walking-stick, with burnt-cork mustachios, and a pheasant's tail pinned in his cap, solaceth himself with martial music.-- Roused by a strain of surpassing dissonance, Grandpapa Loquitur. ]

Come hither, come hither, my little boy Ned!
Come hither unto my knee--
I cannot away with that horrible din,
That sixpenny drum, and that trumpet of tin.
Oh, better to wander frank and free
Through the Fair of good Saint Bartlemy,
Than list to such awful minstrelsie.
Now lay, little Ned, those nuisances by,
And I'll rede ye a lay of Grammarye.

[Grandpapa riseth, yawneth like the crater of an extinct volcano, proceedeth slowly to the window, and apostrophizeth the Abbey in the distance.]

I love thy tower, Grey Ruin,
I joy thy form to see,
Though reft of all,
Cell, cloister, and hall,
Nothing is left save a tottering wall,
That, awfully grand and darkly dull,
Threaten'd to fall and demolish my skull,
As, ages ago, I wander'd along
Careless thy grass-grown courts among,
In sky-blue jacket and trowsers laced,
The latter uncommonly short in the waist.
Thou art dearer to me, thou Ruin grey,
Than the Squire's verandah over the way;
And fairer, I ween,
The ivy sheen
That thy mouldering turret binds,
Than the Alderman's house about half a mile off,
With the green Venetian blinds.

Full many a tale would my Grandam tell,
In many a bygone day,
Of darksome deeds, which of old befell
In thee, thou Ruin grey!
And I the readiest ear would lend,
And stare like frighten'd pig;
While my Grandfather's hair would have stood up an end,
Had he not worn a wig.

One tale I remember of mickle dread--
Now lithe and listen, my little boy Ned!

Thou mayest have read, my little boy Ned,
Though thy mother thine idlesse blames,
In Doctor Goldsmith's history book,
Of a gentleman called King James,
In quilted doublet, and great trunk breeches,

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poem by Richard Harris Barham
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Pearl

Pearl of delight that a prince doth please
To grace in gold enclosed so clear,
I vow that from over orient seas
Never proved I any in price her peer.
So round, so radiant ranged by these,
So fine, so smooth did her sides appear
That ever in judging gems that please
Her only alone I deemed as dear.
Alas! I lost her in garden near:
Through grass to the ground from me it shot;
I pine now oppressed by love-wound drear
For that pearl, mine own, without a spot.

2
Since in that spot it sped from me,
I have looked and longed for that precious thing
That me once was wont from woe to free,
To uplift my lot and healing bring,
But my heart doth hurt now cruelly,
My breast with burning torment sting.
Yet in secret hour came soft to me
The sweetest song I e'er heard sing;
Yea, many a thought in mind did spring
To think that her radiance in clay should rot.
O mould! Thou marrest a lovely thing,
My pearl, mine own, without a spot.

3
In that spot must needs be spices spread
Where away such wealth to waste hath run;
Blossoms pale and blue and red
There shimmer shining in the sun;
No flower nor fruit their hue may shed
Where it down into darkling earth was done,
For all grass must grow from grains that are dead,
No wheat would else to barn be won.
From good all good is ever begun,
And fail so fair a seed could not,
So that sprang and sprouted spices none
From that precious pearl without a spot.

4
That spot whereof I speak I found
When I entered in that garden green,
As August's season high came round
When corn is cut with sickles keen.
There, where that pearl rolled down, a mound
With herbs was shadowed fair and sheen,
With gillyflower, ginger, and gromwell crowned,
And peonies powdered all between.

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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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