That's libertarians for you - anarchists who want police protection from their slaves.
quote by Kim Stanley Robinson
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Protection
Night after night
I keep holding on
You say you love me
Then you leave me so lonely
Baby, I dont believe a word
Youre sayin
I think its all some evil game
Youre playin
Still all day long all I do is think
About ya
You got me believin that I cant
Live without ya
Well if ya want it, well here is
My confession
Baby, I cant help it, youre my obsession
Protection, thats what I need
I need protection, baby from your love
Protection, thats what I need
I need protection, baby from your love
I wait at home by my telephone
When I call your house, baby
Youre not home
Knock on the door and rush
Down the stairs
When I open up, baby youre
Not there
When were together and ya put
Your arms around me
Your love sweeps away all the
Confusion that surrounds me
You keep my mind
Forever, ever in doubt
You want me believin
That baby, I cant live without
Protection thats what I need
I need protection, baby from your love
Protection, thats what I need
I need protection, baby from your love
We stand alone, at my window
And stare out, at the shadows
Down below
I feel your fingers on my face
I want to stay, I want to run away
Protection thats what I need
I need protection, baby from your love
Protection, thats what I need
I need protection, baby from your love
Protection, thats what I need
I need protection, baby from your love
Protection, thats what I need
[...] Read more
song performed by Donna Summer
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Protection
Night after night
I keep holding on
You say you love me
Then you leave me so lonely
Baby I dont believe a word youre sayin
I think its all some evil game youre playin
Still all day long all I do is think about you
You got me believin that I cant live without you
Well if you want it, heres my confession
Baby I cant help it, youre my obsession
Protection, thats what I need
I need protection, baby, from your love
Protection, thats what I need
I need protection, baby, from your love
I wait at home by the telephone
When I call your house, baby, youre not there
Knock on the door and I rush down the stairs
When I open up, baby, youre not there
When were together
When were together and you put your arms around me
You keep my mind
Forever, ever in doubt
You want me believin
That, baby, I cant live without
Protection, thats what I need
I need protection, baby, from your love
Protection, thats what I need
I need protection, baby, from your love
We stand alone, at my window
And stare out, at the shadows down below
I feel your fingers on my face
I want to stay, I want to run away
Protection, thats what I need
I need protection, baby, from your love
Protection, thats what I need
I need protection, baby, from your love
Protection
Liner notes on lost masters bootleg cd:
Bruce springsteen and the e street band, the hit factory, new york city,
August 1, 1983. the full e street band completed take of song written for
Donna summer.
song performed by Bruce Springsteen
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Black History
Boom, boom, boom!
That was in 1530 to the Slave Trade;
My Mama told me so,
My Papa told me so,
In the name of our ancestors gone by;
Slaves for arms,
Slaves for powder,
Slaves for hardware,
Slaves for spirits;
Boom, boom, boom! !
All over the West Coast of Africa!
Today, i am a Blackman to tell you a story.
Black History, the Black African, the Black Race;
Of my ancestors gone by,
Boom, boom, boom!
Black head, black sugar, black coffee;
Where are the true identities of the Blacks?
That was in 1530 to the Slave trade.
Black History, black love;
A Black Race to a call.
Tap your fingers and do think about it,
My Mama told me so;
Bllack shoes, black phones;
With the Black History gone too soon,
My Papa told me so.
Black hair, black eyes;
The black coal to steam up the engines!
In the name of my ancestors gone by;
But, where are the black pens of love to share?
Do think about this and learn from it,
Boom, boom, boom!
A Blackman in the house to tell us a story;
Where is William Wilberforce?
Where is Thomas Buxton?
Where is Granville Sharp?
What about the Slaves? !
These men need to tell us more;
They killed my ancestors softly without compensations!
Black love, black stream, a black home to live in;
Like 'Naughty By Nature',
I've got 'Queen Latifah' to tell us more.
Of the Black Songs,
Of the Black race,
With a Black-Limo to keep us going;
This Slave Trade was a Black History to us all.
Boom, boom, boom!
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Soul Protection
Johnnys got a job
Spreading the cure
Self employed
Hes a one man crusade
We want to give you your soul protection
Something inside
Big mistake
Spread the word
To the new generation
We want to give you your soul protection
One more night
One more dream
One more time
One more scream
One more heart
One more name
One more chance
For your soul protection.
Johnnys got pride
Ill pay it all back
Now he calls it
the poetry of motion
We want to give you your soul protection
Listen to this
This is life
Listen to your heart
And youre living under clock law
We want to give you your soul protection
Hide your fear
Hide your shame
Hide your tears
And hide your pain
Hide your face
Hide your name
Hide your need
For your soul protection
Everybodys scared
Big glass house
Dont throw stones
At your soul protection
We want to give you your soul protection
Johnnys got faith
Prays to god
Mention love
And he calls it nostalgia
We want to give you your soul protection.
song performed by Gary Numan
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The Tower Beyond Tragedy
I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
burning-flower from Sparta, the beautiful sea-flower
Cut in clear stone, crowned with the fragrant golden mane, she
the ageless, the uncontaminable-
This Clytemnestra was her sister, low-statured, fierce-lipped, not
dark nor blonde, greenish-gray-eyed,
Sinewed with strength, you saw, under the purple folds of the
queen-cloak, but craftier than queenly,
Standing between the gilded wooden porch-pillars, great steps of
stone above the steep street,
Awaiting the King.
Most of his men were quartered on the town;
he, clanking bronze, with fifty
And certain captives, came to the stair. The Queen's men were
a hundred in the street and a hundred
Lining the ramp, eighty on the great flags of the porch; she
raising her white arms the spear-butts
Thundered on the stone, and the shields clashed; eight shining
clarions
Let fly from the wide window over the entrance the wildbirds of
their metal throats, air-cleaving
Over the King come home. He raised his thick burnt-colored
beard and smiled; then Clytemnestra,
Gathering the robe, setting the golden-sandaled feet carefully,
stone by stone, descended
One half the stair. But one of the captives marred the comeliness
of that embrace with a cry
Gull-shrill, blade-sharp, cutting between the purple cloak and
the bronze plates, then Clytemnestra:
Who was it? The King answered: A piece of our goods out of
the snatch of Asia, a daughter of the king,
So treat her kindly and she may come into her wits again. Eh,
you keep state here my queen.
You've not been the poorer for me.- In heart, in the widowed
chamber, dear, she pale replied, though the slaves
Toiled, the spearmen were faithful. What's her name, the slavegirl's?
AGAMEMNON Come up the stair. They tell me my kinsman's
Lodged himself on you.
CLYTEMNESTRA Your cousin Aegisthus? He was out of refuge,
flits between here and Tiryns.
Dear: the girl's name?
AGAMEMNON Cassandra. We've a hundred or so other
captives; besides two hundred
Rotted in the hulls, they tell odd stories about you and your
guest: eh? no matter: the ships
Ooze pitch and the August road smokes dirt, I smell like an
old shepherd's goatskin, you'll have bath-water?
CLYTEMNESTRA
They're making it hot. Come, my lord. My hands will pour it.
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Freedom's Plow
When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
He starts first with himself
And the faith that is in his heart-
The strength there,
The will there to build.
First in the heart is the dream-
Then the mind starts seeking a way.
His eyes look out on the world,
On the great wooded world,
On the rich soil of the world,
On the rivers of the world.
The eyes see there materials for building,
See the difficulties, too, and the obstacles.
The mind seeks a way to overcome these obstacles.
The hand seeks tools to cut the wood,
To till the soil, and harness the power of the waters.
Then the hand seeks other hands to help,
A community of hands to help-
Thus the dream becomes not one man’s dream alone,
But a community dream.
Not my dream alone, but our dream.
Not my world alone,
But your world and my world,
Belonging to all the hands who build.
A long time ago, but not too long ago,
Ships came from across the sea
Bringing the Pilgrims and prayer-makers,
Adventurers and booty seekers,
Free men and indentured servants,
Slave men and slave masters, all new-
To a new world, America!
With billowing sails the galleons came
Bringing men and dreams, women and dreams.
In little bands together,
Heart reaching out to heart,
Hand reaching out to hand,
They began to build our land.
Some were free hands
Seeking a greater freedom,
Some were indentured hands
Hoping to find their freedom,
Some were slave hands
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
[...] Read more
poem by Langston Hughes
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Dream Police
Words and music by rick nielsen
The dream police, they live inside of my head.
The dream police, they come to me in my bed.
The dream police, theyre coming to arrest me, oh no.
You know that talk is cheap, and those rumors aint nice.
And when I fall asleep I dont think Ill survive the night, the night.
cause theyre waiting for me.
Theyre looking for me.
Evry single night theyre driving me insane.
Those men inside my brain.
The dream police, they live inside of my head.
(live inside of my head.)
The dream police, they come to me in my bed.
(come to me in my bed.)
The dream police, theyre coming to arrest me, oh no.
Well, I cant tell lies, cause theyre listening to me.
And when I fall asleep, bet theyre spying on me tonight, tonight.
cause theyre waiting for me.
Theyre looking for me.
Evry single night theyre driving me insane.
Those men inside my brain.
I try to sleep, theyre wide awake, they wont leave me alone.
They dont get paid to take vacations, or let me alone.
They spy on me, I try to hide, they wont let me alone.
They persecute me, theyre the judge and jury all in one.
cause theyre waiting for me.
Theyre looking for me.
Evry single night theyre driving me insane.
Those men inside my brain.
The dream police, they live inside of my head.
The dream police, they come to me in my bed.
The dream police, theyre coming to arrest me.
song performed by Cheap Trick
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W. M. A.
He won the lottery when he was born
Took his mothers white breast to his tongue
Trained like dogs, color and smell
Walks by me to get to him police man (2x)
He won the lottery by being born
Big hand slapped a white male merican
Do no wrong, so clean cut...
Dirty his hands, it comes right off
Police man (2x)
Police stopped my brother again (3x)
Police man (2x)
Jesus greets me...looks just like me...
Do no wrong, so clean cut
Dirty his hands, it comes right off
Police man (3x)
Police stopped my brother again (3x)
Police man (2x)
Police stopped my brother again (3x)
Police man (3x)
All my pieces set me free...human devices set me free...
All my pieces set me free... (2x) } (2x)
Human devices set me free... (2x) }
song performed by Pearl Jam
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I've concluded that anarchism is an impractical ideal. Nowadays, I regard myself as a libertarian. I suppose an anarchist would say, paraphrasing what Marx said about agnostics being "frightened atheists,"that libertarians are simply frightened anarchists. Having just stated the case for the opposition, I will go along and agree with them: yes, I am frightened. I'm a libertarian because I don't trust the people as much as anarchists do. I want to see government limited as much as
possible; I would like to see it reduced back to where it was in Jefferson's time, or even smaller. But I would not like to see it abolished. I think the average American, if left totally free, would act exactly like Idi Amin. I don't trust the people any more than I trust the government.
quote by Robert Anton Wilson
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There are Anarchists in other parts of the world who are unable to, comprehend the position of the Spanish Anarchists. I do not pretend to censor these Anarchists.
quote by Frederica Montseny
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They were only doing their duty (Two ballades with a prologue)
I. Prologue: Four days of terror
The arrest was just before five o’clock
on a Thursday afternoon,
with one white and one black constable
waiting at his work
and when he returned from business
cuffing him and searching his body
and taking him into custody.
The employer notified his relatives,
seeing the incident
as a blot on the company’s name
and then his job was hanging in balance
and the charges was
based on a false affidavit
made by stepson
on persuasion of the mother in law
and where his car had been stolen,
criminals had broken into his rented house
and robbed him of the TV, DVD-player,
hifi and everything valuable
no arrest was ever made
and the police was only doing their job
and will tell you
that another unit
is responsible for robberies
and hijackings
passing the buck endlessly.
Three days elapsed before a bail hearing
as the black state attorney
was that Friday busy
with another case
in another town
while he was innocently locked up.
It is no joke being innocent and locked up
in a police cell with eighteen other people
with one toilet,
in the middle of the room,
no shower,
no bathing facilities, dirt everywhere
and lice jumping into your hair,
not being able to close your eyes
and knowing if you will be safe
from a attack from any of them
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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The God-Forgotten Election
Pat M'Durmer brought the tidings to the town of God-Forgotten :
‘There are lively days before ye—commin Parlymint’s dissolved!’
And the boys were all excited, for the State, of course, was ‘rotten,’
And, in subsequent elections, God-Forgotten was involved.
There was little there to live for save in drinking beer and eating;
But we rose on this occasion ere the news appeared in print,
For the boys of God-Forgotten, at a wild, uproarious meeting,
Nominated Billy Blazes for the commin Parlymint.
Other towns had other favourites, but the day before the battle
Bushmen flocked to God-Forgotten, and the distant sheds were still;
Sheep were left to go to glory, and neglected mobs of cattle
Went a-straying down the river at their sweet bucolic will.
William Spouter stood for Freetrade (and his votes were split by Nottin),
He had influence behind him and he also had the tin,
But across the lonely flatlands came the cry of God-Forgotten,
‘Vote for Blazes and Protection, and the land you’re living in!’
Pat M‘Durmer said, ‘Ye schaymers, please to shut yer ugly faces,
‘Lend yer dirty ears a momint while I give ye all a hint:
‘Keep ye sober till to-morrow and record yer vote for Blazes
‘If ye want to send a ringer to the commin Parlymint.
‘As a young and growin’ township God-Forgotten’s been neglected,
‘And, if we’d be ripresinted, now’s the moment to begin—
‘Have the local towns encouraged, local industries purtected:
‘Vote for Blazes, and Protection, and the land ye’re livin’ in.
‘I don’t say that William Blazes is a perfect out-an’ outer,
‘I don’t say he have the larnin’, for he never had the luck;
‘I don’t say he have the logic, or the gift of gab, like Spouter,
‘I don’t say he have the practice—BUT I SAY HE HAVE THE PLUCK!
‘Now the country’s gone to ruin, and the Governments are rotten,
‘But he’ll save the public credit and purtect the public tin;
‘To the iverlastin’ glory of the name of God-Forgotten
‘Vote for Blazes and Protection, and the land ye’re livin’ in!’
Pat M‘D. went on the war-path, and he worked like salts and senna,
For he organised committees full of energy and push;
And those wild committees riding through the whisky-fed Gehenna
Routed out astonished voters from their humpies in the bush.
Everything on wheels was ‘rinted,’ and half-sobered drunks were shot in;
Said M‘Durmer to the driver, ‘If ye want to save yer skin,
‘Never stop to wet yer whistles—drive like hell to God-Forgotten,
‘Make the villains plump for Blazes, and the land they’re livin, in.’
Half the local long-departed (for the purpose resurrected)
Plumped for Blazes and Protection, and the country where they died;
So he topped the poll by sixty, and when Blazes was elected
There was victory and triumph on the God-Forgotten side.
Then the boys got up a banquet, and our chairman, Pat M‘Durmer,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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Public Safety
You have no 'constitutional' rights,
To police protection.
The police are there to uphold the 'law'.
Public safety...
That's all!
And 'if' it has been determined,
That 'law' has been broken...
Guess who is going to jail?
That is certain.
Those 'laws' will prevail!
People yelling, 'Protect me and mine! '
Will find themselves ignored,
Most of the time!
Police are trained to deal with you psychologically...
However,
Your individual needs...
Are not theirs to feed!
Your rights to protect yourself is best.
And that's why the streets are full of such unrest!
IF you have problems with this as it is...
Know what those laws are!
And why crime has risen...
Bringing folks to tears.
And your individual feelings,
Are not part of constitutional business!
You have no 'constitutional' rights,
To police protection.
The police are there to uphold the 'law'.
Public safety...
That's all!
And your taxes 'may' be used,
To fill a pothole!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poem: Will You Travel With Me To Heaven?
When you wake up in the morning
From a dream you think is okay
You see your spouse and family
Get ready for another day
The dream you saw, the things you see
The bed on which you soundly sleep
Your kids all grown up, your husband
And old memories that you keep
Who do you think created them?
Were they created from nothing?
If there is no god who made these
All, then what's the point of living?
D'you think we were made from nothing
Then from nothing we live for fun
To eat and drink, to love and hate
Then when we die, what comes is none?
The eyes with which your body sees
Those sockets that keep your eyeballs
The mouth you use for food and speech
The way you answer random calls
The languages you use to speak
And another –your mother tongue-
The way you carry yourself, and
How you breathe through your heart and lungs
The muscles that stretch when you smile
Your friends who often make you laugh
The words you try to understand
And how you sign your name so fast
Your kids who once stayed in your womb
The months you carried them in you
Your feelings when you saw their first
Walk and when they smile back at you
The food you eat and cook each day
The rainfalls that fall from above
The earth you walk on each night and
[...] Read more
poem by Miriam Mababaya
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Cry For Freedom
(m&l - weikath/hansen)
Freedom this cry for all slaves will be heard
And the tyrans will feel the steal of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on the earth
Forever to be free on their load
Time has run out for all tyrans in this world
Your slaves are heedin the call
Mankin an end to all this terror and pain
And the end to your lies and your law
Takin away all your gold and your money
cause dead men don´t need it anymore
Much too long we felt the slash of your whips
So now you will feel our sword
Freedom the eternal cry will echo high in the sky
The day will come when all power has been broken
Your blood will flow down to the gates of hell
Satan will wait for your souls
Pray to your God he wont help you hes dead
He wonpt fool our minds and souls... anymore
Freedom this cry for all slaves will be heard
And the tyrans will feel the steal of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on the earth
Forever on their load
Freedom this cry for all slaves will be heard
And the tyrans will feel the steal of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on the earth
Forever to be free on their load
song performed by Helloween
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Nutbush City Limts
Words and music by tina turner
Theres a church house, gin house,
School house, outhouse.
On u.s. 19,
Hey, the people keep the city clean.
They call it nutbush, nutbush,
Nutbush city, nutbush city limits.
25 is the speed limit,
Motorcycles not allowed in it.
Go to town on saturday,
Go to church on sunday.
Up in ... up in ... nutbush city, nutbush city limits.
Say it again...
Work the fields on weekdays,
Have a picnic every labor day.
Go to town on a friday,
Be in church on a sunday.
Up in ... up in ... nutbush city, nutbush city limits.
Little old town,
Down in tennessee.
A real quiet community,
A real quiet southern community.
Not much happens in nutbush;
You can hear the corn grow.
Got to watch out for the police,
Drivin through nutbush.
Got to watch out for the police,
If youre drivin through nutbush.
Watch out for the police,
Watch out for the police.
Keep an eye out for the police,
Keep an eye out for the police.
An eye out for the police.
Nutbush city limits,
Nutbush city limits,
Nutbush city limits.
song performed by Bob Seger
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The Free Trader's Lament
Oft from a trading-boat I purchased spice
And shells and corals, brought for my inspection
From the fair tropics-paid a Christian price
And was content in my fool's paradise,
Where never had been heard the word 'Protection.'
'T was my sole island; there I dwelt alone
No customs-house, collector nor collection,
But a man came, who, in a pious tone
Condoled with me that I had never known
The manifest advantage of Protection.
So, when the trading-boat arrived one day,
He threw a stink-pot into its mid-section.
The traders paddled for their lives away,
Nor came again into that haunted bay,
The blessed home thereafter of Protection.
Then down he sat, that philanthropic man,
And spat upon some mud of his selection,
And worked it, with his knuckles in a pan,
To shapes of shells and coral things, and span
A thread of song in glory of Protection.
He baked them in the sun. His air devout
Enchanted me. I made a genuflexion:
'God help you, gentle sir,' I said. 'No doubt,'
He answered gravely, 'I'll get on without
Assistance now that we have got Protection.'
Thenceforth I bought his wares-at what a price
For shells and corals of such imperfection!
'Ah, now,' said he, 'your lot is truly nice.'
But still in all that isle there was no spice
To season to my taste that dish, Protection.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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The Law Is For Protection Of The People
Billy dalton staggered on the sidewalk
Someone said he stumbled and he fell
Six squad cars came screaming to the rescue
Hauled old billy dalton off to jail
cause the law is for protection of the people
Rules are rules and any fool can see
We dont need no drunks like billy dalton
Scarin decent folks like you and me, no siree
Charlie watson wandered like a stranger
Showing he had no means of support
Police man took one look at his pants cuffs
Hustled charlie watson off to court.
cause the law is for protection of the people
Rules are rules and any fool can see
We dont need no bums like charlie watson
Scarin decent folks like you and me, no siree.
Homer lee hunnicut was nothing but a hippy
Walking thru this world without a care
Then one day, six strapping brave policeman
Held down homer lee and cut his hair
cause the law is for protection of the people
Rules are rules and any foola can see
We dont need no hairy headed hippies
Scarin decent folks like you and me, no siree
So thank your lucky stars youve got protection
Walk the line, and never mind the cost
And dont wonder who them lawmen was protecting
When they nailed the savior to the cross.
cause the law is for protection of the people
Rules are rules and any fool can see
We dont need no riddle speaking prophets
Scarin decent folks like you and me, no siree.
song performed by Kris Kristofferson
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A libertarian is a person who believes that no one has the right, under any circumstances, to initiate force against another human being, or to advocate or delegate its initiation. Those who act consistently with this principle are libertarians, whether they realize it or not. Those who fail to act consistently with it are not libertarians, regardless of what they may claim.
quote by L. Neil Smith
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Independence
Happy the bard (though few such bards we find)
Who, 'bove controlment, dares to speak his mind;
Dares, unabash'd, in every place appear,
And nothing fears, but what he ought to fear:
Him Fashion cannot tempt, him abject Need
Cannot compel, him Pride cannot mislead
To be the slave of Greatness, to strike sail
When, sweeping onward with her peacock's tail,
Quality in full plumage passes by;
He views her with a fix'd, contemptuous eye,
And mocks the puppet, keeps his own due state,
And is above conversing with the great.
Perish those slaves, those minions of the quill,
Who have conspired to seize that sacred hill
Where the Nine Sisters pour a genuine strain,
And sunk the mountain level with the plain;
Who, with mean, private views, and servile art,
No spark of virtue living in their heart,
Have basely turn'd apostates; have debased
Their dignity of office; have disgraced,
Like Eli's sons, the altars where they stand,
And caused their name to stink through all the land;
Have stoop'd to prostitute their venal pen
For the support of great, but guilty men;
Have made the bard, of their own vile accord,
Inferior to that thing we call a lord.
What is a lord? Doth that plain simple word
Contain some magic spell? As soon as heard,
Like an alarum bell on Night's dull ear,
Doth it strike louder, and more strong appear
Than other words? Whether we will or no,
Through Reason's court doth it unquestion'd go
E'en on the mention, and of course transmit
Notions of something excellent; of wit
Pleasing, though keen; of humour free, though chaste;
Of sterling genius, with sound judgment graced;
Of virtue far above temptation's reach,
And honour, which not malice can impeach?
Believe it not--'twas Nature's first intent,
Before their rank became their punishment,
They should have pass'd for men, nor blush'd to prize
The blessings she bestow'd; she gave them eyes,
And they could see; she gave them ears--they heard;
The instruments of stirring, and they stirr'd;
Like us, they were design'd to eat, to drink,
To talk, and (every now and then) to think;
Till they, by Pride corrupted, for the sake
Of singularity, disclaim'd that make;
Till they, disdaining Nature's vulgar mode,
Flew off, and struck into another road,
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poem by Charles Churchill
Added by Poetry Lover
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