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We both have a great loyalty to it, and I think that it's important to give it our best shot.

quote by Nicholas Lea
Added by Lucian Velea
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One Shot At Love

One shot
Oh lord
You know, its gonna be a lot of negative things surroundin you
Tryin to pull you down
But what you have to remember is
Its up to you - its your choice
You only get one shot in life
And you only get one shot at love
Did you ever notice - everytime you fall in love
And it seems like you finally met the perfect match
Everything is perfect, it seems divine
But for some strange reason, theres always a catch
Its a one-way relationship, it hurts inside
One person smirks while the other one cries
Butterflies in the stomach of the one whose in love
It cuts like a knife, the truth mixed with lies
One shot (one shot at love..)
One shot at love, one shot (one shot at love..)
One shot at love, one shot (one shot at love..)
One shot at love, one shot (one shot at love..)
Thats all you get
Physical and mental, those are two different loves
Physicals a moment, mental is forever
If the physical fades and gets weak, all of a sudden
Remember, its the mental love that keeps you together
You gotta be strong and endure the hard times
Cause af-ter hard times, good times, always follow
And when youre kissin and huggin and makin love
Treat that person like theres no tomorrow
One shot (one shot at love..)
One shot at love, one shot (one shot at love..)
Thats all you get baby; one shot at love, one shot (one shot at love..)
One shot at love, one.. shot.. (one shot at love..)
Thats all you get {*sniff*}
Jealousy - dont let it interfere
Dont let it come in between
The love you two share, cause jealousys a hateful god
So merciless and mean
And its only job in life, is to ruin relationships
And pit two people against, one another
And because of this god, the one you love so much
Will no longer be your lover
One shot (one shot at love..)
Aww baby, one shot at love, one shot (one shot at love..)
Thats all we get, one shot at love, one shot (one shot at love..)
I mean this baby, one shot at love, one shot (one shot at love..)
Thats all..
I hope you understand what I just said
All Im sayin is that you only get one shot at love in life
And you have to hold on to that shot, take advantage of it

[...] Read more

song performed by LL Cool J
Added by Lucian Velea
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Give The Po Man A Break

Give po man a break
Give po man a break
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a

[...] Read more

song performed by Fatboy Slim
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Sex Never Goes Out Of Fashion

She's the kind of girl who likes to do it stand up
From the back or anyway you want it, love
From the top if you keep it going all night
You're as good as the next for a fun time
Lookie here like a rabbit on the dancefloor
Party girl like you comin' in the back door
"c'mon boy, give it good, give an encore.."
Never leave a hungry sister begging one more
You keep it good and she'll beat you at your own game
Flip a switch and she's crying out her own name
Keep a lady happy as a little lamb
Give her head and you're riding on a sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
Wham bam slam it like a mama's man
Baby's on her back doin' the can-can
Such a babe-licious poco loco
Make her bob, make her beg and sweat it hardcore
Honky tonky lovin' keep her trembling
Funky style's never out of fashion, man
Keep it fresh with something for the weekend
Get some, daddy... You're riding on a sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
It's a sure shot... Honey, it's a sure shot
It's a sure shot, sure shot, sure shot
A little bit more
(Down her legs)
A little bit more
(Down her back)
A little bit more
(Down her neck)
A little bit more
(Down her arms)
A little bit more
(Down her breast)
A little bit m

song performed by Garbage
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pass The Gun Around

Sonny wakes up in the morning feeling kinda sick
Needs a little Stoli Vadka, needs it really quick
Sees a little blood run from his eyes
Feels a little hotel paralyzed
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, you gotta
Pass the gun around
And throw me in the local river, let me float away
I wake up watching cartoons... the television's on
There's a couple of party balloons and all my money's gone
She was just a reason to unwind
And actually the last thing I could find
Why don't you, pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, you better
Pass the gun around
And dump me in the local river, let me float away
Float away, ah float away
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, why don't you
Pass the gun around
Throw me in the local river, let me float away
Sonny wakes up in the morning, there's a stranger in his bed
Someone's pounding on the hotel door, he wishes he was dead
I've had so many blackout nights before
I don't think I can take this anymore
Why don't you, pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, why don't you
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, we're gonna
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, we're gonna
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, you gotta
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, you gotta
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, you gotta
Pass the gun around
Da Da

song performed by Alice Cooper
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.

Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact

that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals

becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,

who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight

in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.

Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Shot Of Love

(come on now,
Come on, come on, yeah, ow!)
Come on honey, take a trip with me
Well take a double shot of ectasy
Ill drink some water from a wooden cup
And keep a rockin til the sun comes up
Chorus:
And I warn you
Its the best shot of your life
And I warn you
Its the best shot of your life
Shot of love
Shot of love
Rock you little lady make you blow and bleed
A little bit of what you need is guaranteed
Come on now honey well get full of desire
A humping and a bumping till we start a fire (a huffin and a puffin) ?
Chorus
(shot of love - Im gonna make you plead)
(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, awright ooh hoo hoo baby oh baby)
Chorus
Shot of love
Like to plead?
Shot of love, shot of love, shot of love
A humping and pumping got you jumping
Shot of love, shot of love, shot of love
A little bit of what you need is guaranteed
Shot of love, shot of love, shot of love
Let me warn you, Im coming for you
Shot of love, shot of love, shot of love
Shot of love, shot of love
Come on give me shot of love

song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Shot Of Love

I need a shot of love, I need a shot of love.
Dont need a shot of heroin to kill my disease,
Dont need a shot of turpentine, only bring me to my knees,
Dont need a shot of codeine to help me to repent,
Dont need a shot of whiskey, help me be president.
I need a shot of love, I need a shot of love.
Doctor, can you hear me? I need some medicaid.
I seen the kingdoms of the world and its makin me feel afraid.
What I got aint painful, its just bound to kill me dead
Like the men that followed jesus when they put a price upon his head.
I need a shot of love, I need a shot of love.
I dont need no alibi when Im spending time with you.
Ive heard all of them rumors and you have heard em too.
Dont show me no picture show or give me no book to read,
It dont satisfy the hurt inside nor the habit that it feeds.
I need a shot of love, I need a shot of love.
Why would I want to take your life?
Youve only murdered my father, raped his wife,
Tattooed my babies with a poison pen,
Mocked my god, humiliated my friends.
I need a shot of love, I need a shot of love.
Dont wanna be with nobody tonight veronica not around nowhere,
Mavis just aint right.
Theres a man that hates me and hes swift, smooth and near,
Am I supposed to set back and wait until hes here?
I need a shot of love, I need a shot of love.
What makes the wind wanna blow tonight?
Dont even feel like crossing the street and my car aint actin right.
Called home, everybody seemed to have moved away.
My conscience is beginning to bother me today.
I need a shot of love, I need a shot of love.
I need a shot of love, I need a shot of love.
If youre a doctor, I need a shot of love.

song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.

Great Alexander was wise Philips son,
He to Amyntas, Kings of Macedon;
The cruel proud Olympias was his Mother,
She to Epirus warlike King was daughter.
This Prince (his father by Pausanias slain)
The twenty first of's age began to reign.
Great were the Gifts of nature which he had,
His education much to those did adde:
By art and nature both he was made fit,
To 'complish that which long before was writ.
The very day of his Nativity
To ground was burnt Dianaes Temple high:
An Omen to their near approaching woe,
Whose glory to the earth this king did throw.
His Rule to Greece he scorn'd should be confin'd,
The Universe scarce bound his proud vast mind.
This is the He-Goat which from Grecia came,
That ran in Choler on the Persian Ram,
That brake his horns, that threw him on the ground
To save him from his might no man was found:
Philip on this great Conquest had an eye,
But death did terminate those thoughts so high.
The Greeks had chose him Captain General,
Which honour to his Son did now befall.
(For as Worlds Monarch now we speak not on,
But as the King of little Macedon)
Restless both day and night his heart then was,
His high resolves which way to bring to pass;
Yet for a while in Greece is forc'd to stay,
Which makes each moment seem more then a day.
Thebes and stiff Athens both 'gainst him rebel,
Their mutinies by valour doth he quell.
This done against both right and natures Laws,
His kinsmen put to death, who gave no cause;
That no rebellion in in his absence be,
Nor making Title unto Sovereignty.
And all whom he suspects or fears will climbe,
Now taste of death least they deserv'd in time,
Nor wonder is t if he in blood begin,
For Cruelty was his parental sin,
Thus eased now of troubles and of fears,
Next spring his course to Asia he steers;
Leavs Sage Antipater, at home to sway,
And through the Hellispont his Ships made way.
Coming to Land, his dart on shore he throws,
Then with alacrity he after goes;
And with a bount'ous heart and courage brave,
His little wealth among his Souldiers gave.
And being ask'd what for himself was left,
Reply'd, enough, sith only hope he kept.

[...] Read more

poem by Anne Bradstreet
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Give Up

(bernard edwards/nile rodgers)
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
You better listen well
When I tell you
To be on the look out
You cant call for help
cause I know you inside out
Despite all your hideouts
Im no great pretender
Ill make you surrender
So come along quietly
Heres a thought to remember
I have not met a man yet
To escape from my drag-net
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Ill give you just the facts man
And you can draw all your own conclusions
Ill keep your mind surrounded
With chains of love so strong
You cant break through them
My arsenal is stocked
With all kinds of seductive weapons
Although your hearts locked up
My love will assist me
So that you cant resist me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
No, no, no
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me
Give up, give up
Give up youre love to me

[...] Read more

song performed by Diana Ross
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gimmie Shelter

Oooo, oooo, oooo.
Oooo, oooo, oooo.
Oooo, a storm is threatenin, my very life today.
If I dont get some shelter, oh, Im gonna fade away.
Chorus
War children, its just a shot away, its just a shot away.
War children, its just a shot away, its just a shot away.
Oooo, see the fire sweeping, up every street today.
Burns like a red-coal carpet, mad bull lost its way.
Chorus
Rape, murder, its just a shot away, its just a shot away.
Rape, murder, its just a shot away, its just a shot away.
Rape, murder, its just a shot away, its just a shot away.
Oooo, a storm is threatenin, my very life today.
If I dont get some shelter, oh, Im gonna fade away.
War children, its just a shot away, its just a shot away.
Its just a shot away, its just a shot away, its just a shot away.
I said a love sister, its just a kiss away, its just a kiss away.
Its just a kiss away, its just a kiss away, kiss away, kiss away.
Chorus
Chorus
Love sister, its just a kiss away, its just a kiss away.
Love sister, its just a kiss away, its just a kiss away.
War children, its just a shot away, its just a shot away.
Love sister, its just a kiss away, its just a kiss away.
War children, its just a shot away, its just a shot away.
Love sister, its just a kiss away, its just a kiss away.
(repeat alternation to fade)

song performed by Grand Funk Railroad
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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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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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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Original Wrapper

The last shot should've killed me
Pour another drink
Let's drink to the last shot
And the blood on the dishes in the sink
Blood inside the coffee cup
Blood on the table top
When you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot
But when you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot
I shot blood at the fly on the wall
My heart almost stopped
Hardly there at all
I broke the mirror with my fall
With my fall - fall - fall
Fall - fall - fall
Gimme a double
Give yourself one too
Gimme a short beer
One for you too
And a toast to everything that doesn't move
That doesn't move
But when you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot
When you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot
Whiskey, bourbon, vodka and scotch
I don't care what it is you've got
I just want to know that it's my last shot
My last shot
I remember when I quit pretty good
See this here's where I chipped my tooth
I shot a vein in my neck and I coughed up a quaalude
On my last shot
My last shot
But when you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot
When you quit, you quit
But you always wish
You knew it was your last shot

song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Last Shot

Last shot sure killed me
Pour another drink
Lets drink to the last shot
And the blood on the dishes in the sink
Blood inside the coffee cup
Blood on the table top
But when you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot
When you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot
I shot blood at the fly on the wall
My heart almost stopped hardly there at all
I broke the mirror with my fall, with my -
- fall-fall-fall
Fall-fall-fall
Gimme a double, give yourself one two
Gimme a short beer, one for you too
And a toast to everything that doesnt move
That doesnt move
But when you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot
When you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot
Whiskey, bourbon, vodka and scotch
I dont care what it is youve got
I just want to know that its my last shot
My last shot
I remember when I quit pretty good
See this here, this is where I chipped my tooth
Shot of vein in my neck and I coughed up a quaalude
On my last shot
My last shot
Heres a toast to all thats good
And heres a toast to hate
And heres a toast to toasting and Im not boasting
When I say Im getting straight
When I say Im getting straight
But when you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot
When you quit, you quit, but you always wish
That you knew it was your last shot

song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Annus Mirabilis, The Year Of Wonders, 1666

1
In thriving arts long time had Holland grown,
Crouching at home and cruel when abroad:
Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own;
Our King they courted, and our merchants awed.

2
Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow,
Stopp'd in their channels, found its freedom lost:
Thither the wealth of all the world did go,
And seem'd but shipwreck'd on so base a coast.

3
For them alone the heavens had kindly heat;
In eastern quarries ripening precious dew:
For them the Idumaean balm did sweat,
And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew.

4
The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year;
Each waxing moon supplied her watery store,
To swell those tides, which from the line did bear
Their brimful vessels to the Belgian shore.

5
Thus mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long,
And swept the riches of the world from far;
Yet stoop'd to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong:
And this may prove our second Punic war.

6
What peace can be, where both to one pretend?
(But they more diligent, and we more strong)
Or if a peace, it soon must have an end;
For they would grow too powerful, were it long.

7
Behold two nations, then, engaged so far
That each seven years the fit must shake each land:
Where France will side to weaken us by war,
Who only can his vast designs withstand.

8
See how he feeds the Iberian with delays,
To render us his timely friendship vain:
And while his secret soul on Flanders preys,
He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain.

9
Such deep designs of empire does he lay

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poem by John Dryden
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The Ballad of the White Horse

DEDICATION

Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?

Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?

In cloud of clay so cast to heaven
What shape shall man discern?
These lords may light the mystery
Of mastery or victory,
And these ride high in history,
But these shall not return.

Gored on the Norman gonfalon
The Golden Dragon died:
We shall not wake with ballad strings
The good time of the smaller things,
We shall not see the holy kings
Ride down by Severn side.

Stiff, strange, and quaintly coloured
As the broidery of Bayeux
The England of that dawn remains,
And this of Alfred and the Danes
Seems like the tales a whole tribe feigns
Too English to be true.

Of a good king on an island
That ruled once on a time;
And as he walked by an apple tree
There came green devils out of the sea
With sea-plants trailing heavily
And tracks of opal slime.

Yet Alfred is no fairy tale;
His days as our days ran,
He also looked forth for an hour
On peopled plains and skies that lower,
From those few windows in the tower
That is the head of a man.

But who shall look from Alfred's hood

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poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Give It Up

He wants her, she wants him too
Broken message coming through
Same story for different fools
Give it up
Give it up
Thats what they all say say
Pressure from the boys to give it away
Suck it up
Suck it up
Don't treat me that way way
My hearts gonna tell me when its time to play
Give it up
Give it up
Thats what they all say say
Pressure from the boys to give it away
Suck it up
Suck it up
Don't treat me that way way
My hearts gonna tell me when its time to play
Give it up
Give it up
Give it up
It's time to play
Give it up
Give it up
Give it up
It's time to play
She sees him
He stares right through
Nasty rumors so untrue
There's nothing that she can do
Give it up
Give it up
Thats what they all say say
Pressure from the boys to give it away
Suck it up
Suck it up
Don't treat me that way way
My hearts gonna tell me when its time to play
Give it up
Give it up
Thats what they all say say
Pressure from the boys to give it away
Suck it up
Suck it up
Don't treat me that way way
My hearts gonna tell me when its time to play
Give it up
Give it up
Give it up

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song performed by Ufo
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

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poem by Charles Churchill
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The Candidate

This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the
Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the
University of Cambridge, vacant by the death of the Lord Chancellor
Hardwicke. The spirit of party ran high in the University, and no
means were left untried by either candidate to obtain a majority. The
election was fixed for the th of March, when, after much
altercation, the votes appearing equal, a scrutiny was demanded;
whereupon the Vice-Chancellor adjourned the senate _sine die_. On
appeal to the Lord High-Chancellor, he determined in favour of the
Earl of Hardwicke, and a mandamus issued accordingly.

Enough of Actors--let them play the player,
And, free from censure, fret, sweat, strut, and stare;
Garrick abroad, what motives can engage
To waste one couplet on a barren stage?
Ungrateful Garrick! when these tasty days,
In justice to themselves, allow'd thee praise;
When, at thy bidding, Sense, for twenty years,
Indulged in laughter, or dissolved in tears;
When in return for labour, time, and health,
The town had given some little share of wealth,
Couldst thou repine at being still a slave?
Darest thou presume to enjoy that wealth she gave?
Couldst thou repine at laws ordain'd by those
Whom nothing but thy merit made thy foes?
Whom, too refined for honesty and trade,
By need made tradesmen, Pride had bankrupts made;
Whom Fear made drunkards, and, by modern rules,
Whom Drink made wits, though Nature made them fools;
With such, beyond all pardon is thy crime,
In such a manner, and at such a time,
To quit the stage; but men of real sense,
Who neither lightly give, nor take offence,
Shall own thee clear, or pass an act of grace,
Since thou hast left a Powell in thy place.
Enough of Authors--why, when scribblers fail,
Must other scribblers spread the hateful tale?
Why must they pity, why contempt express,
And why insult a brother in distress?
Let those, who boast the uncommon gift of brains
The laurel pluck, and wear it for their pains;
Fresh on their brows for ages let it bloom,
And, ages past, still flourish round their tomb.
Let those who without genius write, and write,
Versemen or prosemen, all in Nature's spite,
The pen laid down, their course of folly run
In peace, unread, unmention'd, be undone.
Why should I tell, to cross the will of Fate,
That Francis once endeavour'd to translate?
Why, sweet oblivion winding round his head,

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poem by Charles Churchill
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