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If the cap fits wear it.

Bajan proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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You Wear It So Well

All of those things
Yeah, that you got to give
Yeah, you wear it so well
Hey, you wear it so well
All of those stories
Honey, that i know you could tell
Yeah, you wear it so well
And your face hides it so we can't tell
That you knew we would wear it so well
You wear it so well
Yeah darling, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah now baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Hey now darling now, yeah, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
All of those things
That make poets sing
You wear it so well
Yeah, you hide it so well
And all of those pain
That you used to tell
You hide it so well
Can't tell from your face that you knew it so well
Hey, now that you have such a story to tell
Yeah, you got style and grace and you wear it so well
You wear it so well
And you got, you got such a story to tell
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well
Grace and style equals you so well
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well, well, yeah, so well
Yeah, you wear it, wear it, wear it now, wear it now, baby
Yeah, now you wear it so well
And you got such a story to tell
(ooohhh, ooohhh, ooohhh)
(ooohhh, you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)

song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fits Like A Glove

Aint a cardinal sin, baby lemme in, girl Im gonna treat you right
Well goodness sakes, my snakes alive and its ready to bite
Hornets nest, lay me down to rest, ooh I wanna shed my skin
I got the urge to merge, youre cold as ice, baby wont you lemme in
Night scenes, wet dreams, enough to make you drool
And fire, fire, fire for the fuel
Dont like to dress, talk too good, but I found my queen
Not too clean, know what I like, if you know what I mean
Baby, baby, guess you win the prize
Maybe, baby, where the sun never shines
This must be love, fits like a glove
Well it must be love, it must be love - fits like a glove - fits like a glove
Feel the heat, drivers seat, my blessing is my curse
Think Im gonna burst, a gonna burst, a gonna burst
Night scenes, wet dreams, enough to make you drool
And fire, fire, fire for the fuel
Ooh baby, babe - fits like a glove
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah - fits like a glove - fits like a glove
Cause when I go through her, its just like a hot knife through butter, ooh yeah
Baby, baby, guess you win the prize
Maybe, baby, where the sun never shines
Fits like a glove - well it must be love, it must be love - fits like a glove
Fits like a glove - well it must be love, it must be love
Fits like a glove

song performed by Kiss
Added by Lucian Velea
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Colour My Life

If youre wondering why Ive not been speaking my mind sir
It took so long since I could call this my home
My shapes of confusion fit holes of frustration
And theres nothing worse then being home on your own
You can colour my life
Until it fits with your own
You can colour my life
Until it fits with your own
Ive been wondering why youve not been speaking your mind sir
Ive coloured my life and Ill make no bones
My shapes of confusion fit holes of frustration
You can colour my life until it fits with your own
You can colour my life
Until it fits with your own
You can colour my life
Until it fits with your own
You can colour my life
Until it fits with your own
You can colour my life
You can colour my life
If youre wondering why Ive not been speaking my mind sir
It took so long since I could call this my home
My shapes of confusion fit holes of frustration
You can colour my life until it fits with your own
You can colour my life
Until it fits with your own
You can colour my life
Until it fits with your own
You can colour my life
Until it fits with your own
You can colour my life
You can colour my life
Colour my life
Colour my life
Colour my life

song performed by Oasis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Chevy-Chase

The Perse owt off Northombarlonde,
And a vowe to God mayd he
That he wold hunte in the mowntayns
Off Chyviat within days thre,
In the magger of doughte Dogles,
And all that ever with him be.

The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat
He sayd he wold kyll, and cary them away:
'Be my feth,' sayd the doughteti Doglas agayn,
'I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may.

Then the Perse owt off Banborowe cam,
With him a myghtee meany,
With fifteen hondrith archares bold off blood and bone;
The wear chosen owt of shyars thre.

This begane on a Monday at morn,
In Cheviat the hyllys so he;
They chylde may rue that ys un-born,
It wos the mor pitte.

The dryvars thorowe the woodes went,
For to reas the dear;
Bomen byckarte uppone the bent
With ther browd aros cleare.

Then the wyld thorowe the woodes went,
On every syde shear;
Greahondes thorowe the grevis glent,
For to kyll thear dear.

This began in Chyviat the hyls abone,
yerly on a Monnyn-day;
Be that it drewe to the oware off none,
A hondrith fat hartes ded ther lay.

The blewe a mort uppone the bent,
The semblyde on sydis shear;
To the quyrry then the Perse went,
To se the bryttlynge off the deare.

He sayd, 'It was the Doglas promys
This day to met me hear;
But I wyste he wolde faylle, verament;'
A great oth the Perse swear.

At the laste a squyar off Northomberlonde
Lokyde at his hand full ny;
He was war a the doughetie Doglas commynge,

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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As Ireland Wore the Green

BY RIGHT of birth in southern land I send my warning forth.
I see my country ruined by the wrongs that damned the North.
And shall I stand with fireless eyes and still and silent mouth
While Mammon builds his Londons on the fair fields of the South?

CHORUS:
O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we will wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!

I see the shade of poverty fall on each sunny scene.
And slums and alley-ways extend where fields were evergreen.
There is a law that stamps the flower of freedom as it springs;
And this upon a soil that’s trod by prouder feet than kings’.

And must I hide my colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall I wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland swore the green!
Aye, I will wear my colour yet,
As Ireland wore the green!

Out there beyond the lonely range our fathers toiled for years
’Neath all the hardships that beset true-hearted pioneers;
And our brave mothers journeyed there to do the work of men
On those great awful plains that were unfit for women then.

Then must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland swore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we shall wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!

O shall the fields our fathers won be yielded to the few
Who never touched the axe or spade, and hardships never knew?
Shall lordly robbers rule the land and build their mansions high,
And ladies flaunt their jewelled plumes where our brave mothers lie?

O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammnon’s spleen?

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Who’ll Wear the Beaten Colours?

Who’ll wear the beaten colours—and cheer the beaten men?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, till our time comes again?
Where sullen crowds are densest, and fickle as the sea,
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?

We closed the bars and gambling dens and voted straight and clean,
Our women walked while motor cars were whirling round the scene,
The Potts Point Vote was one for Greed and Ease and Luxury
With all to hold, and coward gold, and beaten folk are we.

Who’ll wear the beaten colours, with hands and pockets clean?
(I wore the beaten colours since I was seventeen)
I wore them up, and wore them down, Outback and across the sea—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?

We wore them back from Ladysmith to where the peace was signed,
And wore them through the London streets where Jingoes howled behind.
We wore them to the Queen’s Hall, while England yelled “Pro-Boers!”
And sat them over victory while London banged the doors.1

We wore them from Port Arthur round till all sunk in the sea—
(Who’ll wear the white man’s colours, and wear them home with me?)
I’ve worn them through with gentlemen, with work-slaves and alone—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, boys, and wear them on his own?

There’s one would look with startled eyes and shrink while I caressed,
Came I not with the colours of the conquered on my breast.
And twenty thousand Bushmen would stand with hands behind
And scorn in all their faces for the coward of his kind.

Who’ll wear the beaten colours and raise the voice they drowned—
It may be when we march again, they’ll bear some other sound—
Who’ll pin the beaten colours on and drive the beaten pen—
It may be other steel and ink when we march out again.

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Task: Book II. -- The Time-Piece

Oh for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war
Might never reach me more! My ear is pained,
My soul is sick with every day's report
Of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart,
It does not feel for man. The natural bond
Of brotherhood is severed as the flax
That falls asunder at the touch of fire.
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin
Not coloured like his own, and having power
To enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
Lands intersected by a narrow frith
Abhor each other. Mountains interposed,
Make enemies of nations who had else
Like kindred drops been mingled into one.
Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys;
And worse than all, and most to be deplored
As human nature's broadest, foulest blot,
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat
With stripes, that mercy with a bleeding heart
Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast.
Then what is man? And what man seeing this,
And having human feelings, does not blush
And hang his head, to think himself a man?
I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.
No: dear as freedom is, and in my heart's
Just estimation prized above all price,
I had much rather be myself the slave
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him.
We have no slaves at home. - Then why abroad?
And they themselves, once ferried o'er the wave
That parts us, are emancipate and loosed.
Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free,
They touch our country and their shackles fall.
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then,
And let it circulate through every vein
Of all your empire! that where Britain's power
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too.

Sure there is need of social intercourse,
Benevolence and peace and mutual aid

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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Cap'n Storm-Along

They are buffeting out in the bitter grey weather,

-Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!-

Sea-lark
singing to
Golden Feather
,
And burly blue waters all swelling aroun'.
There's
Thunderstone
butting ahead as they wallow,
With death in the mesh of their deep-sea trawl;
There's
Night-hawk
swooping by wild
Sea-swallow,

And old Cap'n Storm-along leading 'em all.

Bashing the seas to a welter of white,
Look at the fleet that he leads to the fight.
O, they're dancing like witches to open the ball;
And old Cap'n Storm-along's lord of 'em all.

Now, where have you seen such a bully old sailor?
His eyes are as blue as the scarf at his throat;
And he rolls on the bridge of his broad-beamed whaler,
In yellow sou'-wester and oilskin coat.
In trawler and drifter, in dinghy and dory,
Wherever he signals, they leap to his call;
They batter the seas to a lather of glory,
With old Cap'n Storm-along leading 'em all.

You'll find he's from Devon, the sailor I mean;
Look at his whaler now, shipping it green.
O, Fritz and his 'U'-boat must crab it and crawl
When old Cap'n Storm-along sails to the ball.

Ay, there is the skipper that knows how to scare 'em

-Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!&mdash:

Look at the sea-wives he keeps in his harem,
Wicked young merry-maids, buxom and brown :

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Noyes
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Fits Ya Good

Well in the air for the world today yeah.
Five oclock and those walls are slowly closin.
You get home so down and worn out, thunderstruck.
Yeah fits you good,
Oh fits you good.
Yeah fits you good, oh.
Closin time you were bringin me down,
Well I know its just the way you live your life.
But you dont know like I know better,
I did all that I could. now it
Fits you good,
Yeah fits you good.
Oh fits you good, oh.
But you dont know what I know,
I did all that I could. now

song performed by Bryan Adams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wear My Hat

She came looking for me with her arms open wide,
Like some long lost friend of mine.
She said excuse me, but do you remember me ?
I said no, I dont believe I do
So she looked me up and down
And undressed me with her eyes,
Then she said youve got everything I need, youve got everything I want
So I said ok,
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
So her friend came up to me
With a pen and paper in her hand,
Expressing some interest in the number of my room,
She said excuse me, but do you remember me?
I said no, she said can I appeal to you?
So I looked her up and down
And realising her insinuations I blushed
She said listen babe you dont know me,
No you dont know me but you owe me,
And I love you,
Yes I love you,
Put your arms around me cos I love you,
I got all your records and I love you
So I suggested
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
Well later on that day this guy came to me
With a scrap of paper in his hand
He said hey buddy can you sign your name for me?
I said why, do I owe you money? he said no
I said listen pal do I know you? have we ever met?
Why do you want my name on this little piece of paper?

[...] Read more

song performed by Phil Collins
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Man in Green

Well, you wonder why
I always wear the green,
The colours of the world’s
Finest football team,

You will never see me wear the colours
Of royal or navy blue,
As I’m a Celtic supporter,
Faithful through and through.

I wear the green for my ancestors,
Who came from Ireland, long ago,
Who left Erin’s shores and settled
In the town of Glasgow,

I wear it for the Irish Diaspora,
Who fled the famine and the crown,
I wear from Brother Walfrid
Who sheltered the poor in the east end of town.

I wear the emerald green
In memory of my father,
Garngad born,
A faithful Celtic supporter,

He walked the path to heaven,
Over ten years ago,
As he stands with Our Lord
Wearing his green, white and gold.

I wear the green for the Celtic legends,
Who have left our lives,
Knowing that they entered heaven
With Our Lord on their side,

I wear it for Willie Maley, Jock Stein
And young John Thomson,
I wear it for Bobby Murdoch, Johnny Doyle
And wee Jimmy Johnstone.

I wear the colours of Celtic,
Each and every day,
I pray for the bhoys of Parkhead each night,
And to God, I do say,

Why do all the Orangemen,
All hate the sight of green?
For green’s the finest colour
That the world has ever seen.

[...] Read more

poem by Daniel McDonagh
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American Idle

An excuse
Getting through
Kick around your leeway

An idea
Overdue
Work-shy with hunger pains

Wear out your dunce's cap
Wear out your pocket flaps
But don't wear out your mind
Because you can't have mine

American Idle
Overfill your seidel
'Cause excess is romance
And everyone's convinced

Channel-surfing
Devil's food
Kick around your leeway

Snake oil rigged
Fate is sealed
Work-shy with stomach pains

Wear out your dunce's cap
Wear out your pocket flaps
But don't wear out your mind
Because you can't have mine

American Idle
Overfill your seidel
'Cause excess is romance
And everyone's convinced

poem by Michael Fischer
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The Brown Dwarf of Rügen (From Narrative and Legendary Poems )

THE pleasant isle of Rügen looks the Baltic water o'er,
To the silver-sanded beaches of the Pomeranian shore;

And in the town of Rambin a little boy and maid
Plucked the meadow-flowers together and in the sea-surf played.

Alike were they in beauty if not in their degree:
He was the Amptman's first-born, the miller's child was she.

Now of old the isle of Rügen was full of Dwarfs and Trolls,
The brown-faced little Earth-men, the people without souls;

And for every man and woman in Rügen's island found
Walking in air and sunshine, a Troll was underground.

It chanced the little maiden, one morning, strolled away
Among the haunted Nine Hills, where the elves and goblins play.

That day, in barley fields below, the harvesters had known
Of evil voices in the air, and heard the small horns blown.

She came not back; the search for her in field and wood was vain:
They cried her east, they cried her west, but she came not again.

"She's down among the Brown Dwarfs," said the dream-wives wise and old,
And prayers were made, and masses said, and Rambin's church bell tolled.

Five years her father mourned her; and then John Deitrich said:
"I will find my little playmate, be she alive or dead."

He watched among the Nine Hills, he heard the Brown Dwarfs sing,
And saw them dance by moonlight merrily in a ring.

And when their gay-robed leader tossed up his cap of red,
Young Deitrich caught it as it fell, and thrust it on his head.

The Troll came crouching at his feet and wept for lack of it.
"Oh, give me back my magic cap, for your great head unfit!"

"Nay," Deitrich said; "the Dwarf who throws his charmëd cap away,
Must serve its finder at his will, and for his folly pay.

"You stole my pretty Lisbeth, and hid her in the earth;
And you shall ope the door of glass and let me lead her forth."

"She will not come; she's one of us; she's mine!" the Brown Dwarf said;
"The day is set, the cake is baked, to-morrow we shall wed."

"The fell fiend fetch thee!" Deitrich cried, "and keep thy foul tongue still.
Quick! open, to thy evil world, the glass door of the hill!"

[...] Read more

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Rock Hard

Hot lover, turn up the heat
I want your sugar, girl your love tastes so sweet
I feel a fire burnin' under me
I've got a hunger that you love's gotta feed
You make me sweat, you turn me 'round
You get me up, you never let me down
You make me rock hard, baby all night
Love's like a glove and it fits just rights
You make me rock hard, so baby hold tight
Come on baby, let's rock hard, baby all night
I'm under a physical spell
I'm a prisoner and your love is my cell
Once i get started i can't stop
I can't cool down 'cause this love is so hot
You make me sweat, you turn me 'round
You get me up, you never let me down
You make me rock hard, baby all night
Love's like a glove and it fits just right
You make me rock hard, so baby hold tight
Come on baby, let's rock hard, baby all night
You make me sweat, you turn me 'round
You get me up, you never let me down
You make me rock hard, baby all night
Love's like a glove and it fits just right
You make me rock hard, so baby hold tight
Come on baby, let's rock hard, baby let's
Rock hard, baby all night
Love's like a glove and it fits just right
You make me rock hard, so baby hold tight
Come on baby, let's rock hard, baby all night
All night, all night, yeah, all night, hey
You make me rock hard, baby all night
Love's like a glove and it fits just right
You make me rock hard, so baby hold tight
Come on baby, let's rock hard, baby let's
Rock hard, baby all night

song performed by Kiss
Added by Lucian Velea
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(You Make Me) Rock Hard

Hot lover, turn up the heat
I want your sugar, girl your love tastes so sweet
I feel a fire burnin' under me
I've got a hunger that you love's gotta feed
You make me sweat, you turn me 'round
You get me up, you never let me down
You make me rock hard, baby all night
Love's like a glove and it fits just rights
You make me rock hard, so baby hold tight
Come on baby, let's rock hard, baby all night
I'm under a physical spell
I'm a prisoner and your love is my cell
Once I get started I can't stop
I can't cool down 'cause this love is so hot
You make me sweat, you turn me 'round
You get me up, you never let me down
You make me rock hard, baby all night
Love's like a glove and it fits just right
You make me rock hard, so baby hold tight
Come on baby, let's rock hard, baby all night
You make me sweat, you turn me 'round
You get me up, you never let me down
You make me rock hard, baby all night
Love's like a glove and it fits just right
You make me rock hard, so baby hold tight
Come on baby, let's rock hard, baby let's
Rock hard, baby all night
Love's like a glove and it fits just right
You make me rock hard, so baby hold tight
Come on baby, let's rock hard, baby all night
All night, all night, yeah, all night, hey
You make me rock hard, baby all night
Love's like a glove and it fits just right
You make me rock hard, so baby hold tight
Come on baby, let's rock hard, baby let's
Rock hard, baby all night

song performed by Kiss
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Don't Welcome Bitter Fits

I don't have a spicy tongue,
Normally exposed.
Until somebody stands too close,
To step on my toes.

I don't welcome bitter fits,
Instantly to show...
To anybody who should know,
When to get up and go.

I am respectful,
Until I can't be...
To those people unaware,
Of what this means.

I try to be accountable,
Without apologies.
I make sure I'm there,
Taking care...
Of responsibilities.

I don't welcome bitter fits,
Instantly to show...
To anybody who should know,
When to get up and go.

I don't have a spicy tongue,
Normally exposed.
Until somebody stands too close,
To step on my toes.
And when somebody does that,
My ignorance shows.

I don't welcome bitter fits,
Instantly to show...
To anybody who should know,
When to get up and go.

I don't have a spicy tongue,
Normally exposed.
Until somebody stands too close,
To step on my toes.
And when somebody does that,
My ignorance shows.

I am respectful,
Until I can't be...
To those people unaware,
Of what this means.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Sensitive Visits Quick

If you've got to know,
I will admit it...
Those sensitive visits,
That come to sit...
Gets me weary,
And into fits.

I will admit it...
Those sensitive visits,
That come to sit...
Gets me weary,
And into fits.

If you've got to know,
I'll take this minute.
To find why I'm in it?
And what is that price...
I'll have to pay,
One day.

I'll take this minute.
To find why I'm in it?
And what is that price...
I'll have to pay,
One day.

If you've got to know,
I will admit it...
Those sensitive visits,
That come to sit...
Gets me weary,
And into fits.

Those sensitive visits,
That come to sit...
Gets me weary,
And into fits.

Only people I know...
I think in sensitive visits quick!
Only people I know...
I think in sensitive visits quick!

Only people I know,
That come to sit...
Can get me weary,
And into fits.
Only people I know,
Can get me in sensitive visits quick!
Only people I know,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It's Your Niche

Some people...
Rather sleep than leap.
Some people...
Can't get up on their own two feet.
And some people...
Seek defeat!
While some people...
Tease a sleaze to keep that peeped.

But it's your niche...
That must be pitched.
The one that fits.
And doesn't quit one bit.

Yes it's your niche.
That must be pitched.
The one that fits,
And doesn't quit one bit!

Some people...
Rather sleep than leap.
Some people...
Can't get up on their own two feet.
But it's your niche...
That must be pitched.
The one that fits.
And doesn't quit one bit.

Some people...
Seek defeat!
While some people...
Tease a sleaze to keep that peeped.
But it's your niche...
That must be pitched.
The one that fits.
And doesn't quit one bit.

Yes it's your niche.
That must be pitched.
The one that fits,
And doesn't quit one bit!

Some people...
Don't have a niche.
Some people...
Give up too easy and they quit.
Some people...
Don't have a niche.
Some people...
May have a scratch but have no itch.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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4th November 2008

'I have a dream! '
And today the dream is fulfilled by electing Barack Obama;
'I have a dream! '
And the 4th November 2008 is now recorded into the History Books;
'I have a dream! '
And today Barack Obama is the 44th President of the U.S.A.;
For the Blackman is capable of handling his or her own affairs.

'I have a dream! '
And 4th November 2008 will be the date to remember always;
'I have a dream! '
For this date gave the First African American to be a President;
'I have a dream! '
And the shout i do hear around me is: 'Obama, Obama, Obama! ! '
'I have a dream! '
That today the Americans had recorded a History to us all;
'I have a dream! '
That the days of the Slavery gone by had yielded fruit today;
'I have a dream! '
And 4th November 2008 had taken us through to fulfil this dream;
So we can really make a change of our lives today.

'I have a dream! '
Today the First Blackman is Elected as the 44th U.S. President;
'I have a dream! '
That today there is joy in the African American Community;
'I have a dream! '
And for who the cap fits must surely wear it;
And today, the cap fits Barack Obama.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II

THE ARGUMENT

The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.

THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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