Tech executives have historically been owners of significant portions of their companies' stock so there is a propensity for them to diversify as a rule.
quote by David Coleman
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Twin State
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[...] Read more
poem by Caasder Fronds
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Born To Rule
Lay down your arms this night
Surrender to the power
Embracing your metal heart
On your final walk through the snow
A hammer made of steel
From the river of blood
With magic, forged in flames
Delusions, a curse of the damned
What do you see?
Imaginary visions or reality
When you're free
Then you'll see that you are bound to rule
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever more
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever
The revolution forced us all to heed the final call
And if tomorrow never comes
Then we will strike the hammer down
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever more
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever
Forever, forever Rule!
song performed by Hammerfall
Added by Lucian Velea
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Surfers Rule
Its a genuine fact that the surfers rule
Its plastered on the walls all around the school now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Becoming just as common as a golden rule now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Take it or leave it but you better believe it
Surfers rule
They burnt it in the grass on the football field now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Just try to make them cool it and theyll never yield now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Take what youve heard now and go pass the word now
Surfers rule
Its a genuine fact that the surfers rule
A woody full of surfers pullin long side a wagon
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
The hodaddies sittin while the surfers are draggin
The surfers are winnin and they say as theyre grinnin
Surfers rule
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dominionistic
They wish to rule the world,
With strong fists that restrict.
They want it hidden,
That they are dominionistic.
They believe that they should rule,
Over land and sea.
As if they are supreme authority,
With 'sovereignty'.
And the people...
Dominionistic,
Think they...
Can rule with tough fists.
These people,
Who are like this...
Wish to rule and control.
Yes these people,
Dominionistic...
Think they...
Can rule with tough fists.
These people,
Who are like this...
Wish to rule and control.
They believe that they should rule,
Over land and sea.
As if they are supreme authority with 'sovereignty'.
They wish to rule the world,
With strong fists that restrict.
They want it hidden,
That they are...
Dominionistic.
People,
Who rule with tough fists.
People,
Who are just like this...
Conquer and control.
And the people...
Dominionistic,
Think they...
Can rule with tough fists.
These people,
Who are like this...
Wish to rule and control.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Soboba
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Pop Niggas
[ja rule]
How many niggas hit the scene like rule
Benley gt, pushin through bock flooded, with jewels
H-2 with the hungerous rule beside me
Armed up the army, dont play that with nobody
Rule, murder & gotti
We hittin bitches like lowes be hittin switches, 16 at a time
Times that behind with me down we lose and find
X style the night that they mind we ? the times
With renegades prowling this bitch with braids
Leather gloves with dark shades and sowed off day
Reminiscing the cleo, she go to living life flawless
Who the boss, you know this
Who the god, who fawlging
Hit me Im giving niggas 1 to 3
Yall need 1 to 3 hours to accomplish what we have built here
You nigga know this is rule here
Im cocking back, I got an idea
(chorus)
Just hop nigga, hop nigga, just hop niggas, cuz I pop niggas
When you see the rule comin
Clear the block niggas, hop niggas, just hop nigga, cuz I pop niggas
When you see the chrome run
Hop nigga, hop nigga, just hop nigga, cuz I pop niggas
When you see the rule comin
Clear the block niggas, hop nigga, just hop nigga, cuz I pop niggas
When you see the chrome run
[ja rule]
Yall niggas wanna see the n-g
Ill go watch it like its a hundred and ten of me
Guns bustin in every direction, the public enemy
But naah I aint chuck b, its rule baby
Yall niggas wanna get it crazy, come on yall cant fade me
The music is slavery, roll up and haze
Because most niggas is lazy cotton pickers
Wish theyd find out its me and my niggas they gone
Cuz they prisoners of they own home, we party and get it on
Live it up! as soon as we hit em home
We tuckin away the chrome and humpin up on some hoes
We dem niggas you love to hate...i know
Who cares I been blowin your bitch back out for years
Plus she shared so many tears for me
While you was away, was around the time I made put it on me
So homie, stay from round here you aint know, this is rule here
Im cockin back, I got an idea
(chorus)
[p. williams]
Yeah, you feelin hot tonight well look it here playboy we could go outside
(x2)
Huh, you feelin hot tonight well look it here lil mama we could go outside
[...] Read more
song performed by Ja Rule
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XXXV: Rules part 2
What’s the rule, when money could buy
What’s the rule, when power is absolute
What’s the rule, when feeling involved
What’s the rule, when pride is important
What’s the rule, when look affects
What’s the rule, when victory is a must
What’s the rule, when worlds are vain
What’s the rule, people don’t change
What’s the rule, when good is not always right
What’s the rule, freedom is misunderstood
What’s the rule, anger conquers
What’s the rule, past neglected
What’s the rule, crime that committed
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Saltbush Bill on the Patriarchs
Come all you little rouseabouts and climb upon my knee;
To-day, you see, is Christmas Day, and so it’s up to me
To give you some instruction like—a kind of Christmas tale—
So name your yarn, and off she goes. What, “Jonah and the Whale”?
Well, whales is sheep I’ve never shore; I’ve never been to sea,
So all them great Leviathans is mysteries to me;
But there’s a tale the Bible tells I fully understand,
About the time the Patriarchs were settling on the land.
Those Patriarchs of olden time, when all is said and done,
They lived the same as far-out men on many a Queensland run—
A lot of roving, droving men who drifted to and fro,
The same we did out Queensland way a score of years ago.
Now Isaac was a squatter man, and Jacob was his son,
And when the boy grew up, you see, he wearied of the run.
You know the way that boys grow up—there’s some that stick at home;
But any boy that’s worth his salt will roll his swag and roam.
So Jacob caught the roving fit and took the drovers’ track
To where his uncle had a run, beyond the outer back;
You see they made for out-back runs for room to stretch and grow,
The same we did out Queensland way a score of years ago.
Now, Jacob knew the ways of stock—that’s most uncommon clear—
For when he got to Laban’s Run, they made him overseer;
He didn’t ask a pound a week, but bargained for his pay
To take the roan and strawberry calves—the same we’d take to-day.
The duns and blacks and “Goulburn roans” (that’s brindles), coarse and hard,
He branded them with Laban’s brand, in Old Man Laban’s yard;
So, when he’d done the station work for close on seven year,
Why, all the choicest stock belonged to Laban’s overseer.
It’s often so with overseers—I’ve seen the same thing done
By many a Queensland overseer on many a Queensland run.
But when the mustering time came on old Laban acted straight,
And gave him country of his own outside the boundary gate.
He gave him stock, and offered him his daughter’s hand in troth;
And Jacob first he married one, and then he married both;
You see, they weren’t particular about a wife or so—
No more were we up Queensland way a score of years ago.
But when the stock were strong and fat with grass and lots of rain,
Then Jacob felt the call to take the homeward road again.
It’s strange in every creed and clime, no matter where you roam,
There comes a day when every man would like to make for home.
So off he set with sheep and goats, a mighty moving band,
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Down 4 U (D'n'D Conemelt Mix)
New
Ja Rule, Vita, Charlie Baltimore, Ashanti
Fat Joe, All Murder Inc
Irv Gotti, Chris, TNT
Whaaaat
[Chorus:]
I wanna be your chick
I wanna be down for you
(Do ya trust me?) Yeah
(Love me?) Yeah
(You're puttin' it on me Ya must be)
Ya down ass chick
I wanna be your chick
(It ain't only for the RULE baby)
I ride for u, Down for u
Do anything ya want me to
I be ya down ass chick
[Ja Rule:]
This chick no intentions of bein' offensive
The women by callin ya'll bitches
My down ass bitches
Still my queen bitch's cut look clean
On ya finger next to the finger ya flipped at me
And this no in between me and you
Only me and you
Who else gon' put it on me like the RULE
God only looks after children and foo's
And you not so who gon' look after you
It's RULE baby
[Vita:]
True baby
It's only for you baby
Vita thighs only divide if you beside
Cuz I love the way you touch me
Nobody can get it
And if it's comin' and gunnin'
Just come in it and spit it
So when ya gone for a minute
I just fantasize like if it's you It's all in it
Then I'm satisfied til' you come back to me
Holdin stack and jewels
V-i-t-a and my nigga J-a RULE baby
[Chorus:]
[Ashanti:]
I'm gonna be here when ya need
RULE baby can always count on me
No you don't ever have to worry
You know I'll make it in a hurry
I'm here for ya
And I wont never leave tears for ya
[...] Read more
song performed by Ja Rule
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rule Britannia
When Britain first, at Heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain:
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
The nations, not so blest as thee,
Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall:
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke:
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine:
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair:
Blest isle! with matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
poem by James Thomson
Added by Poetry Lover
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Eleven rules of football
I took my little boy
to a nearby football pitch
He said he was tired
of playing hide and seek
He now wanted a football
to play around and kick
As he clutched my hand
I spoke to him
and tried to make him understand
the eleven rules of football
taking into consideration
that he was quite small
Now rule number one
Football is made of eleven strong men
When one or two are naughty
you may still get away
with playing nine or ten
Rule number two
When a member of your crew
hits the ball into the net
A goal is scored
that I can place a bet
For I am very sure
Rule number three
The maximum number of players
you can substitute is three
It does not cost a dime
It is totally free
Rule number four
There are rules you must comply with
When a team commits an offense
named a foul
before the game can commence
A small advantage has to be given
to the otherside
Rule number five
A freekick
is given after a foul
Sometimes awarded after
unnecessary dives
Rule number six
When you are shown a card that is yellow
Its time for your temper to mellow
[...] Read more
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Don't Be Fooled
When my twin brother was dying of cancer the insurance company pulled his insurance then the bank foreclosed his house. i hate them! I hate the right wing of today and corporate insurance companies and the rich get richer off the middle class and the union busting etc. i will always fight them no matter what happens. I love people with empathy and compassion and courage and real love. We are in a very bad chapter in American history and even if we do not pull out of it I still will fight because I am a universalist with spiritual ethics based on God is love and love thy neighbor as thyself. I know both parties are in the hands of money and lobby dollars but the right wing is way worse and the tea party even crazier. They won't tax the rich back to the Clinton years while they watch tuitions going up so the rich get to send their kids to school and the poor or lower middleclass can't send their kids to college. The tea party sides with banks and the oil companies and tax breaks for the wealthy not the working class and poor. The Congressional Budget Office (CBO) just came out with a report showing that since 1979 the top 1 percent increased wages and wealth a staggering 275%. This inequality and massive distribution of wealth is ruining our economy. The right wing spins this and blames the victims, accuses people of being lazy etc when the truth is they take from the poor to give to the rich and then they turn around and accuse everyone of starting class warfare. They are the class warefare oppressors! These mobsters and political cronies for the rich use evangelicals. Side with the poor and the working class. Remember in the feast of Jubilee the land went back to the original tribe every 50 years in Israel. The fields were to remain fallow and unplowed every seven years for one year and the poor only could glean. During harvest the fields could only be gone over once then the poor could go in. There was always justice and social justice and distribution of wealth. Jesus healed them all. Today we have cattle that don't graze but are fed on corn filled with growth hormones and antibiotics, chickens never seeing the sun with broken legs after a few months because of rapid growth for profit, pigs that never stand up though they are smarter than dogs all for the food industries. The grain companies feed these animals and it all goes for MONEY while corporate Christianity is more worried about the rapture and Armageddon then love and justice. Regulations let down increase lead, mercury, toxic chemicals and cancers and the evangelicals get used by the republican gangsters and rhetoric. GMO’s everywhere that are being questioned by more and more scientist and the right wing church is mum. Ministers preaching right out in the open, vote for these right wing gang leaders and not loosing their tax exempt status! Don't be fooled. It is the rich and major companies that have shipped the jobs out of here; it is not the poor and the middle class. They won’t tax the rich and still give exemptions to the OIL COMPANIES! C’mon folks! ! ! Don’t be fooled!
Big Oil just posted multibillion-dollar profits – AGAIN – and what are Republicans doing? Filibustering a jobs bill. Refusing to make billionaires pay their fair share. Basically anything they can do for the benefit of their wealthy buddies in the top 1% - and at the expense of the middle class. They don't want the middle class strengthened in any way as to give any credit to the left because they don't love their country. They love their power, the rich, the elite and all they do is grandstand and block help for hurting people.
I am for the party that distributes the wealth, that helps kids get to college, that supports women, that supports the mentally ill and doesn’t cut funding, that doesn’t allow companies to pollute and ruin the environment, that is green and wanting clean technology for our children, that leaves the rivers and lakes and wilderness in tact for future generations, that supports unions and good wages for working people with good benefits and a future, that believes is social security, that wants healthcare for every single citizen. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Do onto others as you would want them to do unto you. Do you want healthcare for you and yours, do you want college for your children, do you want clean water, do you want a good job for you and your children? ? ? Then fight these greedy, evil republicans of today who support the 1% of the filthy rich while they dismantle and take away the middle class in a horrible battle of class warfare. See what the Bible preaches about the rich and oppressors. The Scriptures constantly lift up the poor and working people and condemn the rich and those that do not share the wealth. I don’t care about names or tags but as a Christian I cannot see the 1% have all the marbles and allow our country to be taken over by these gangsters and liars. These right-wingers of today support the rich. Powerful and greedy and they are trying for the evangelical vote and bubba while taking bread off everyone’s table except their own. DON’T BE FOOLED
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Few Came to Socialize with the Baker
~There's an 'old' player on the field.
One who has yet been revealed,
As appealing with significance.
But...
Significant this player is.
Significant to 'that' which lives.
Under the current circumstances.
And the benefit to 'whom'...
Those significant looming circumstances,
Come to grow and groom.~
The easiest thing to do...
For those in positions of leadership,
Appointed and likeable too.
Was...
Not to create opposition,
For those elated who appreciated...
A charading done in masquerade.
When favorite cakes are baked to taste...
Those waiting in anticipation,
Can be counted on to celebrate.
But...
When that oven is finally turned off,
And the aroma of baked cakes fade away.
People once patient,
Begin to show a disrespect.
With a desire to twist the leader's neck.
And a stirring of the masses begin to rise!
When the incompetence of the leader...
Catches all by surprise.
What now becomes prioritized,
Is what has happened to the funds?
And why no one accepts responsibility...
For paying bills that has not been done!
~Has the baker taken ill? ~
No one had ever questioned,
The credibility of those 'appointed' to lead.
Or an ability to think.on feet...
To keep a sinking process,
Now believed and seen as getting deep.
Those looks of impressions,
Seem to be consciously addressed.
Those dressed impeccably with images given...
Are lost to define leadership qualities felt to express.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Insect Assassins
Injects no survive. Efforts control the
Animal survive. Survive. Animal survive. Survive. Injects no survive.
In nasty spitting eye cost. This
Assassin spitting spitting assassin spitting spitting in nasty spitting
Insectivorous nutriment species encounter Charles to
Are species species are species species insectivorous nutriment species
Into notoriety. Sweeping eastern capture testimony
As sweeping sweeping as sweeping sweeping into
notoriety. Sweeping
Interest nervous succumb easily: composed tube
Adhesive succumb succumb adhesive succumb succumb interest
nervous succumb
It near spider East closes thorax.
And spider spider and spider spider it near spider
Its needle. Specialized enlarged? Cutting tough
A specialized specialized a specialized specialized its needle.
Specialized
Is nontoxic secretion extremely contains that
Assassin-bug secretion secretion assassin-bug secretion secretion
is nontoxic secretion
I needle-like snake. Enzymes compound TENDON
ANCHORING snake, snake, ANCHORING snake, snake, I
needle-like snake,
INLET not significant, effect cockroach. Thus
About significant, significant, about significant, significant,
INLET not significant,
Insect "natural" surround enzyme constituents time
After surround surround after surround surround insect "natural"
surround
Internal nerve. Sucks especially contents through.
Against sucks sucks. Against sucks sucks. Internal nerve. Sucks
Immediate now share extinguishing controlling them.
Arises: share share arises: share share immediate now share
Insecticide? Needs. Sap; episode. Cimicidae thoroughly
Attributed sap; sap; attributed sap; sap; insecticide? Needs. Sap;
Insects numbing seconds. Each channels. They.
[...] Read more
poem by Jackson Mac Low
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Cars... Waiting in the sun(9/11/01)
Patiently waiting their owners,
the cars sit alone
Blue Mercedes, black ford,
red Dodge, grey Toyota
But for tonight these waiting cars,
will not be going home
No one gives it a thought,
nor cares an iota
Only two days later
does one give it a thought
That these cars waiting their owners,
and coated with dust
Would never be driven again
by their owners
Though waiting, patiently…
oblivious in trust
Waiting in bright sunlight,
where once there was shade
From the two majestic towers
that seemed to forever persist
Waiting in the lonely parking lot
for owners delayed
By the fact that their owners…
and the towers… no longer exist.
poem by David Whalen
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Faces In The Street
They lie, the men who tell us in a loud decisive tone
That want is here a stranger, and that misery's unknown;
For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet
My window-sill is level with the faces in the street --
Drifting past, drifting past,
To the beat of weary feet --
While I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.
And cause I have to sorrow, in a land so young and fair,
To see upon those faces stamped the marks of Want and Care;
I look in vain for traces of the fresh and fair and sweet
In sallow, sunken faces that are drifting through the street --
Drifting on, drifting on,
To the scrape of restless feet;
I can sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.
In hours before the dawning dims the starlight in the sky
The wan and weary faces first begin to trickle by,
Increasing as the moments hurry on with morning feet,
Till like a pallid river flow the faces in the street --
Flowing in, flowing in,
To the beat of hurried feet --
Ah! I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.
The human river dwindles when 'tis past the hour of eight,
Its waves go flowing faster in the fear of being late;
But slowly drag the moments, whilst beneath the dust and heat
The city grinds the owners of the faces in the street --
Grinding body, grinding soul,
Yielding scarce enough to eat --
Oh! I sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.
And then the only faces till the sun is sinking down
Are those of outside toilers and the idlers of the town,
Save here and there a face that seems a stranger in the street,
Tells of the city's unemployed upon his weary beat --
Drifting round, drifting round,
To the tread of listless feet --
Ah! My heart aches for the owner of that sad face in the street.
And when the hours on lagging feet have slowly dragged away,
And sickly yellow gaslights rise to mock the going day,
Then flowing past my window like a tide in its retreat,
Again I see the pallid stream of faces in the street --
Ebbing out, ebbing out,
To the drag of tired feet,
While my heart is aching dumbly for the faces in the street.
And now all blurred and smirched with vice the day's sad pages end,
For while the short `large hours' toward the longer `small hours' trend,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Rule Of The A.J.C.
Come all ye bold trainers attend to my song,
It's a rule of the A.J.C.
You mustn't train ponies, for that's very wrong
By the rules of the A.J.C.
You have to wear winkers when crossing the street,
For fear that a pony you'd happen to meet
If you hear one about, you must beat a retreat,
That's a rule of the A.J.C.
And all ye bold owners will find without fail
By the rules of the A.J.C.
The jockey boys' fees you must pay at the scale,
It's a rule of the A.J.C.
When your horse wins a fiver, you'll laugh, I'll be bound,
But you won't laugh so much by the time that you've found
That the fee to the boy is exactly ten pound!
That's a rule of the A.J.C.
And all ye bold 'Books' who are keeping a shop,
In the rules of the A.J.C.,
There's a new regulation that says you must stop!
That's a rule of the A.J.C.
You must give up your shop with its pipes and cigars
To an unlicensed man who is thanking his stars,
While you go and bet in the threepenny bars,
That's a rule of the A.J.C.
And all ye small jockeys who ride in a race,
In the rules of the A.J.C.
If owners' instructions are 'Don't get a place',
By the rules of the A.J.C.,
You must ride the horse out, though, of course, if you do
You will get no more mounts, it's starvation to you.
But, bless you, you'll always find plenty to chew
In the rules of the A.J.C.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Rule of the A.J.C.
Come all ye bold trainers attend to my song,
It's a rule of the A.J.C.
You mustn't train ponies, for that's very wrong
By the rules of the A.J.C.
You have to wear winkers when crossing the street,
For fear that a pony you'd happen to meet
If you hear one about, you must beat a retreat --
That's a rule of the A.J.C.
And all ye bold owners will find without fail
By the rules of the A.J.C.
The jockey boys' fees you must pay at the scale --
It's a rule of the A.J.C.
When your horse wins a fiver, you'll laugh, I'll be bound,
But you won't laugh so much by the time that you've found
That the fee to the boy is exactly ten pound!
That's a rule of the A.J.C.
And all ye bold "Books" who are keeping a shop,
In the rules of the A.J.C.,
There's a new regulation that says you must stop!
That's a rule of the A.J.C.
You must give up your shop with its pipes and cigars
To an unlicensed man who is thanking his stars,
While you go and bet in the threepenny bars --
That's a rule of the A.J.C.
And all ye small jockeys who ride in a race,
In the rules of the A.J.C.
If owners' instructions are "Don't get a place",
By the rules of the A.J.C.,
You must ride the horse out -- though, of course, if you do
You will get no more mounts, it's starvation to you.
But, bless you, you'll always find plenty to chew
In the rules of the A.J.C.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Added by Poetry Lover
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