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Creating new jobs for Pennsylvanians continues to be my highest priority throughout the Commonwealth.

quote by Edward G. Rendell
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Commonwealth

Immigrants. Wilson Health said to the immgrants you better get back to the
commonwealth homes. Yeah, yeah, yeah I said Get back home. Now Enoch Powell was
said to the folks color of his skin. He said don't care. So he said you better
get up. He said he said to Enoch Powell. You better go home. So Wilson said to.
We got to swing. We have to go the hill. So Wilson Health said to Enoch Powell
we got to the commonwealth. Commonwealth yeah commonwealth yeah commonwealth
yeah commonwealth yeah.
Commonwealth yeah. If you don't want trouble you got to go home. To Indania.
I've have enough of that. I'm coming back yeah to England. Dirty Enoch Powell.
Commonwealth. Commonwealth yeah. Don't you hear me commonwealth yeah. Well I
check Austria England India. Enoch powell. Oh commonwealth yeag. Oh
commonwealth yeah. Yeah commonwealth yeah. Commonwealth yeah. It's to common to
me. I came down the street to New Zealand. Commonwealth. Commonwealth yeah.
Commonwealth yeah. Enoch Powell commonwealth yeah. Immigrants commonwealth
yeah. Market.

song performed by Beatles
Added by Lucian Velea
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Life-An immortal Love poetry

Life is unconquerably; resplendent poetry of the most
highest degree; incredibly pacifying every
infinitesimal urge of the miserably unfinished soul,

Life is perpetually; majestic poetry of the most
highest degree; royally gifting countless impoverished
souls; with insatiably unending fantasy,

Life is ubiquitously; vibrant poetry of the most
highest degree; triumphantly metamorphosing each
ethereal trace of misery; into a fireball of
ingratiatingly untamed happiness,

Life is marvelously; bountiful poetry of the most
highest degree; beautifully placating every
hedonistically traumatized agony; with the exuberance
of untainted breath,

Life is indomitably; enchanting poetry of the most
highest degree; harmoniously coalescing every organism
irrespective of caste; creed; color or tribe; into the
religion of Omnipresent oneness,

Life is unceasingly; triumphant poetry of the most
highest degree; wholesomely massacring every speck of
the horrifically parasitic devil; with the scepter of
unshakable righteousness,

Life is tirelessly; fantastic poetry of the most
highest degree; iridescently glimmering like the
stream of ultimate unity; even in the heart of
insidiously macabre midnight,

Life is blessedly; exotic poetry of the most highest
degree; inevitably triggering an unprecedented
maelstrom of eclectic fantasy; in every brain on this
planet; enigmatically alike,

Life is irrefutably; sensuous poetry of the most
highest degree; miraculously rekindling every shade of
claustrophobically dwindling expression; with a wave
of undauntedly perennial heavenliness,

Life is astoundingly; impeccable poetry of the most
highest degree; forever erasing the wounds of
dastardly salaciousness; with its eternal mantra of
everlasting mankind,

Life is unrestrictedly; divinely poetry of the most
highest degree; spell bindingly mollifying every

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Life-An Immortal Poetry

Life is unconquerably; resplendent poetry of the most
highest degree; incredibly pacifying every
infinitesimal urge of the miserably unfinished soul,

Life is perpetually; majestic poetry of the most
highest degree; royally gifting countless impoverished
souls; with insatiably unending fantasy,

Life is ubiquitously; vibrant poetry of the most
highest degree; triumphantly metamorphosing each
ethereal trace of misery; into a fireball of
ingratiatingly untamed happiness,

Life is marvelously; bountiful poetry of the most
highest degree; beautifully placating every
hedonistically traumatized agony; with the exuberance
of untainted breath,

Life is indomitably; enchanting poetry of the most
highest degree; harmoniously coalescing every organism
irrespective of caste; creed; color or tribe; into the
religion of Omnipresent oneness,

Life is unceasingly; triumphant poetry of the most
highest degree; wholesomely massacring every speck of
the horrifically parasitic devil; with the scepter of
unshakable righteousness,

Life is tirelessly; fantastic poetry of the most
highest degree; iridescently glimmering like the
stream of ultimate unity; even in the heart of
insidiously macabre midnight,

Life is blessedly; exotic poetry of the most highest
degree; inevitably triggering an unprecedented
maelstrom of eclectic fantasy; in every brain on this
planet; enigmatically alike,

Life is irrefutably; sensuous poetry of the most
highest degree; miraculously rekindling every shade of
claustrophobically dwindling expression; with a wave
of undauntedly perennial heavenliness,

Life is astoundingly; impeccable poetry of the most
highest degree; forever erasing the wounds of
dastardly salaciousness; with its eternal mantra of
everlasting mankind,

Life is unrestrictedly; divinely poetry of the most
highest degree; spell bindingly mollifying every

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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I Could Make A Living Out Of Lovin You

If theres something that needs fixing
Im the man to see
Look me up, Im listed
Just check under b
If youre ever on the spot
Well, Im good with my hands
24-7 Im your handyman
Odd jobs, hard jobs, anything under the sun
Big jobs, small jobs, baby
Chorus:
Id be a rich man, its true
If I could make a living out of lovin you
These two hands know what to do
If I could make a living out of lovin you
I could make a living out of lovin you
Until the work is finished
Well, I dont get paid
I dont mind getting dirty
Thats my middle name
Im in the service business
So I understand
Call me 24-7, Im your handyman
Odd jobs, hard jobs, anything under the sun
Big jobs, small jobs, baby
Chorus:
Id be a rich man, its true
If I could make a living out of lovin you
These two hands know what to do
If I could make a living out of lovin you
If I could make a living out of lovin you
Solo
Tough jobs, rough jobs, say where and when
Ill leave you my card, call when you need me again
Odd jobs, hard jobs, baby
Chorus:
Id be a rich man, its true
If I could make a living out of lovin you
These two hands know what to do
If I could make a living out of lovin you
Id be a rich man, its true
I could make a living out of lovin you
Im a rich man
I could make a living out of lovin you

song performed by Bon Jovi
Added by Lucian Velea
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If I Could Make A Living Out Of Loving You

If theres something that needs fixing
Im the man to see
Look me up, Im listed
Just check under b
If youre ever on the spot
Well, Im good with my hands
24-7 Im your handyman
Odd jobs, hard jobs, anything under the sun
Big jobs, small jobs, baby
Chorus:
Id be a rich man, its true
If I could make a living out of lovin you
These two hands know what to do
If I could make a living out of lovin you
I could make a living out of lovin you
Until the work is finished
Well, I dont get paid
I dont mind getting dirty
Thats my middle name
Im in the service business
So I understand
Call me 24-7, Im your handyman
Odd jobs, hard jobs, anything under the sun
Big jobs, small jobs, baby
Chorus:
Id be a rich man, its true
If I could make a living out of lovin you
These two hands know what to do
If I could make a living out of lovin you
If I could make a living out of lovin you
Solo
Tough jobs, rough jobs, say where and when
Ill leave you my card, call when you need me again
Odd jobs, hard jobs, baby
Chorus:
Id be a rich man, its true
If I could make a living out of lovin you
These two hands know what to do
If I could make a living out of lovin you
Id be a rich man, its true
I could make a living out of lovin you
Im a rich man
I could make a living out of lovin you

song performed by Bon Jovi
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Sobre Horizontes

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soccer backgrounds for myspace
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soccer back packs
soccer background graphics
soccer back pack bags

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Allegany Camp

amazing grace circus camp
amazing grace day camp
amazing grace hallelujah jeremy camp
amazing grace jeremy camp
amazing love jeremy camp
amazing place chalet pigeon forge
amazing race church camp
amazing race games for camps
amazing race girl scout camp
amazon camp dutch lodge oven
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amazon lodge dutch oven camp
ambassador camp at lake waccamaw nc
ambassador camp inc
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ambassador chalet at doral
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amber bowers
amber camp lazlo
amber pow camp
amberg germany dp camp
ambition camp hockey pro
ambler baseball camp
ambleside scotland school camp
ambon pow camp
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ambulance bower
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amc summer camp for s 2007
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amc theater camp hill
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amcmovie camps
amelia earhart in japanese war camp

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Too Patient

When I began to weed through,
My priority list...
I saw some things on it,
That no longer exist.

I had placed people,
Who I considered friends on this list.
And for years they had been on it...
Doing and saying things to me as they wished.
Some don't speak to me.
But my name is on their lips.

When I began to weed through,
My priority list...
I saw some things on it,
That should not on my list exist!

Very few on my priority list,
Have me on their agenda.
And if they do,
I'm sure it's for fun, sport and gossip.

When I began to weed through,
My priority list...
I saw some things on it,
I couldn't not explain...
Why some names had hearts near them.
Did I do that?
Did I draw them in?

I use to dropp every and anything,
To be at someone's aide.
Some people I would call everyday...
Just to see if they were okay.
I've even allowed my own work to be submitted...
So folks could get their college degrees.
Joking about this,
I am not!
I have been the subject of innuendos and lies,
As if my life meant nothing at all.
To leave me to walk around with 'my' pain disguised.

Then I awakened and realized.
I am considered a fool!

Today...
When I began to weed through,
My priority list...
I saw some things on it,
That no longer exist.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The 47% Mitt Romney Calls Welfare Slobs

61% of these 47% percent of Americans that Mitt Romney calls irresponsible and welfare trash work and pay payroll taxes. Many of these 47% are vets, elderly on social security, crippled and hurting people. He doesn't mention soldiers at war during his acceptance speech NOW THIS....24%% of the people voting for the Romney ticket are in this 47% Romney called welfare slobs; they were voting for him but not no more! ! ! ! ! ! I'm sorry the zombies still will. Romney is an outsourcing business man who hid his money in tax shelters around the world. His 47% perspective is just more of his elitist antics. This 47%number has, elderly people on social security, vets and many hurting people. This shows his perspective on social security and medicare way back to the New Deal and President Roosevelt; it shows that he detests entitlement programs for the middle class and poor. He calls them irresponsible and seeing themselves as victims. So condescending, so out of touch....President Obama wants the private sector to lower this statistic of 47% getting government aid by creating jobs. He doesn't want everyone on the government dole but until jobs are created he wants everyone to get a fair shake at the American Dream not just the rich. The republicans and tea party resist any creation of jobs so they don't give him any credit or help. They paint him as a big government socialist because he uses the government to help the people, all of the people. Romney is a 1% representative and disdains a huge portion of the American people. These fat cats outsourced the jobs and now so many industrial jobs are in China with cheap labor and no environmental standards by people like Mitt Romney and Bain Capital. They hide their money in tax shelters then use that same money for lobbyists and use the right wing Supreme Courts ruling on Citizens United calling a corporation a person with first amendment rights so they can pour money into elections without disclosure. Mitt Romney represents this movement of the power of money not freedom. They even define rape or tried to as they bring their sexist elitist perspective into play....we must resist these new rich elites and power hungry shills

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Jobs?

Jobs?
They don't want jobs.
Not the ones they exclaim,
Can make a down payment...
On credited fantasies.
And they want to be able to pay for them.
They want money.
And lots of it.
They are above pushing a broom.
They've been spoiled by 'entitlements'.

That's why those who created those jobs,
Found a cheaper way to produce their products...
Now being made overseas.
With more sweating they get,
From grateful and pleasant employees.
Not discussing their retirement plans,
Or increments of expected raises.

Those employers wanting to survive,
Have prioritized their needs as well.
With a paying of those interested in creating quality...
And not those more involved,
In discussing where they vacation...
During a two hour lunch break.
While complaining what the boss makes...
Or who shops where for a price making eyes pop.
As they within eight hours do exactly what they please.
To leave a job before it is time...
Completing nothing that is due.

Jobs?
They had jobs.
And complained 'aliens' were taking them away.
When blacks began getting tips waiting on tables,
It was soon discovered how they were no longer qualified,
To do menial work.
Since 'some' folks began to realize,
Those menial positions could become very lucrative.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If the choice were made, one for us to lose our sovereignty and become a member of the Commonwealth or remain with our sovereignty and lose the membership of the Commonwealth, I would say let the Commonwealth go.

quote by Robert Mugabe
Added by Lucian Velea
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Another Fusion

There's been fierce argument of late
In my vicinitee,
Between the Commonwealth and State,
For I fell out with me.

I am a sturdy Federalist,
A staunch Australian;
And I have waved an angry fist
At me, the States' Rights man.

The argument began like this:
I to myself one night
Remarked: 'There's something sore amiss
That cries to be put right.

'This argument 'twixt Commonwealth
And State must cease, 'tis plain.
'Tis interfering with my health
And rending me in twain.'

'Then, as a free,' myself replied,
'Elector of the State,
I hold my Rights can't be denied,
And I've been wronged of late.

'The Commonwealth's extravagance'
'Hold on,' I said, 'hold on!
A fool could tell you at a glance
Where all the money's gone.

'Of late the States' expenditure
Has risen high and higher.'
'What rot,' me thought. 'That's pretty pure!'
Then shouted, 'I'm a liar!'

I rose to smite the Fed'ralist
And - what do you suppose?
I found, with my avenging fist,
The States' Rights person's nose.

And yet, it did seem strange, because
Though, truly, as I've said,
I hit the State elector, 'twas
The Federal nose that bled.

'See here,' I said, 'this game won't do.
We'll have to stop and think.
There's something wrong with me and you.
Let's go and have a drink.'

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Colin Clouts Come Home Againe

Colin Clouts Come Home Againe
THe shepheards boy (best knowen by that name)
That after Tityrus first sung his lay,
Laies of sweet loue, without rebuke or blame,
Sate (as his custome was) vpon a day,
Charming his oaten pipe vnto his peres,
The shepheard swaines, that did about him play:
Who all the while with greedie listfull eares,
Did stand astonisht at his curious skill,
Like hartlesse deare, dismayed with thunders sound.
At last when as he piped had his fill,
He rested him: and sitting then around,
One of those groomes (a iolly groome was he,
As euer piped on an oaten reed,
And lou'd this shepheard dearest in degree,
Hight Hobbinol) gan thus to him areed.
Colin my liefe, my life, how great a losse
Had all the shepheards nation by thy lacke?
And I poore swaine of many greatest crosse:
That sith thy Muse first since thy turning backe
Was heard to sound as she was wont on hye,
Hast made vs all so blessed and so blythe.
Whilest thou wast hence, all dead in dole did lye:
The woods were heard to waile full many a sythe,
And all their birds with silence to complaine:
The fields with faded flowers did seem to mourne,
And all their flocks from feeding to refraine:
The running waters wept for thy returne,
And all their fish with langour did lament:
But now both woods and fields, and floods reuiue,
Sith thou art come, their cause of meriment,
That vs late dead, hast made againe aliue:
But were it not too painfull to repeat
The passed fortunes, which to thee befell
In thy late voyage, we thee would entreat,
Now at thy leisure them to vs to tell.
To whom the shepheard gently answered thus,
Hobbin thou temptest me to that I couet:
For of good passed newly to discus,
By dubble vsurie doth twise renew it.
And since I saw that Angels blessed eie,
Her worlds bright sun, her heauens fairest light,
My mind full of my thoughts satietie,
Doth feed on sweet contentment of that sight:
Since that same day in nought I take delight,
Ne feeling haue in any earthly pleasure,
But in remembrance of that glorious bright,
My lifes sole blisse, my hearts eternall threasure.
Wake then my pipe, my sleepie Muse awake,
Till I haue told her praises lasting long:

[...] Read more

poem by Edmund Spenser
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First Anniversary

Like the vain curlings of the watery maze,
Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise,
So Man, declining always, disappears
In the weak circles of increasing years;
And his short tumults of themselves compose,
While flowing Time above his head does close.

Cromwell alone with greater vigour runs,
(Sun-like) the stages of succeeding suns:
And still the day which he doth next restore,
Is the just wonder of the day before.
Cromwell alone doth with new lustre spring,
And shines the jewel of the yearly ring.

'Tis he the force of scattered time contracts,
And in one year the work of ages acts:
While heavy monarchs make a wide return,
Longer, and more malignant than Saturn:
And though they all Platonic years should reign,
In the same posture would be found again.
Their earthy projects under ground they lay,
More slow and brittle than the China clay:
Well may they strive to leave them to their son,
For one thing never was by one king done.
Yet some more active for a frontier town,
Taken by proxy, beg a false renown;
Another triumphs at the public cost,
And will have won, if he no more have lost;
They fight by others, but in person wrong,
And only are against their subjects strong;
Their other wars seem but a feigned contèst,
This common enemy is still oppressed;
If conquerors, on them they turn their might;
If conquered, on them they wreak their spite:
They neither build the temple in their days,
Nor matter for succeeding founders raise;
Nor sacred prophecies consult within,
Much less themself to pèfect them begin;
No other care they bear of things above,
But with astrologers divine of Jove
To know how long their planet yet reprieves
From the deservéd fate their guilty lives:
Thus (image-like) an useless time they tell,
And with vain sceptre strike the hourly bell,
Nor more contribute to the state of things,
Than wooden heads unto the viol's strings.

While indefatigable Cromwell hies,
And cuts his way still nearer to the skies,
Learning a music in the region clear,

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Marvell
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Without A Priority

Finding oneself...
Might take a lifetime.
And,
Finding one's life...
May not be...
Any need.
But...
Finding one's happiness,
Without a wanting...
May be possible.
But without a priority,
How can this succeed?

Finding oneself and untieing the knots,
May take a lifetime.
And finding one's life without a tear to drop,
May not be a need.
But...
Finding one's happiness without a crave,
May be possible.
But without a priority,
How can this succeed?
Without priority,
How this succeed?

Finding oneself...
Might,
Take a lifetime.
And finding one's life may not,
Be...
Anybody's need,
And...
Finding one's true happiness,
Without a wanting...
May be possible.
But without priority...
How can one succeed?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Wish I Had My Home

Home

Brandon

Home

What is a home?

Where is home?

When can I go home?

Home is a place where you can feel safe

Home is a place where you can break down in the free

Home is the place where you feel joy happiness and whole

Home is a place where you lay your heart in

I have laid my heart in three different places

(What) My first home is a place everywhere

All I need is a basket and a ball

All I did was give a ball love and I got something better in return

A ball gave me hope, understanding and appreciation for true love

I have never put more hours into one thing than it

It was always my top priority and I was it’s top priority

Better than any girlfriend and any friend

Home

Brandon

Home

What is a home?

Where is home?

When can I go home?

Home is a place where you can feel safe

[...] Read more

poem by Buddha Love
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Samson Agonistes (excerpts)

[Samson's Opening Speech]
A little onward lend thy guiding hand
To these dark steps, a little further on;
For yonder bank hath choice of sun or shade,
There I am wont to sit, when any chance
Relieves me from my task of servile toil,
Daily in the common prison else enjoin'd me,
Where I a prisoner chain'd, scarce freely draw
The air imprison'd also, close and damp,
Unwholesome draught: but here I feel amends,
The breath of Heav'n fresh-blowing, pure and sweet,
With day-spring born; here leave me to respire.
This day a solemn feast the people hold
To Dagon, their sea-idol, and forbid
Laborious works; unwillingly this rest
Their superstition yields me; hence with leave
Retiring from the popular noise, I seek
This unfrequented place to find some ease;
Ease to the body some, none to the mind
From restless thoughts, that like a deadly swarm
Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone,
But rush upon me thronging, and present
Times past, what once I was, and what am now.
O wherefore was my birth from Heaven foretold
Twice by an angel, who at last in sight
Of both my parents all in flames ascended
From off the altar, where an off'ring burn'd,
As in a fiery column charioting
His godlike presence, and from some great act
Of benefit reveal'd to Abraham's race?
Why was my breeding order'd and prescrib'd
As of a person separate to God,
Design'd for great exploits; if I must die
Betray'd, captiv'd, and both my eyes put out,
Made of my enemies the scorn and gaze;
To grind in brazen fetters under task
With this Heav'n-gifted strength? O glorious strength
Put to the labour of a beast, debas'd
Lower than bondslave! Promise was that I
Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver;
Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him
Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves,
Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke.
Yet stay, let me not rashly call in doubt
Divine prediction; what if all foretold
Had been fulfill'd but through mine own default,
Whom have I to complain of but myself?
Who this high gift of strength committed to me,
In what part lodg'd, how easily bereft me,
Under the seal of silence could not keep,

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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Prisoner Of Love

In your book of broken hearts
You had my name now the story starts
Well never be the same again I know
Im a victim of circumstance
Im the one that got the second chance
One chance...thats all I need, and I wont let go
Now youve got to understand Im ready
I wont be denied
This lonely heart must be satisfied
You lie waiting far across the sea
Wild horses could never stop me
The highest mountain aint high enough
Im coming back, gonna take you prisoner of love
Calling all dreamers, every heart broken fool
Doing what I can...but, love is cruel
The highest mountain aint high enough
I wont give up, gonna take you prisoner of love
You took the magic of the silver screen
Youve got the look, that dreams are made of
Ill do anything to make my dreams come true
Now turn this city upside down
I comb the streets of every lonely town
Ill never rest, Im a man possessed
I need love from you
I know youve got it there and I want it
I wont be denied
Your lonely heart will be satisfied
You lie waiting far across the sea
Wild horses could never stop me
The highest mountain aint high enough
Im coming back, gonna take you prisoner of love
Calling all dreamers, every heart broken fool
Doing what I can but love is cruel
The highest mountain aint high enough
I wont give up, gonna take you prisoner of love
Calling all dreamers, every heart broken fool
Doing what I can but love is cruel
The highest mountain aint high enough
Im coming back, gonna take you prisoner of love
Baby, Ill be sailing far across the sea
Wild horses could never stop me
The highest mountain aint high enough
I wont give up, gonna take you prisoner of love
Im coming back gonna take you prisoner of love
Im coming back, Im coming back
I wont give up, gonna take you prisoner of love
I get to your love
Im coming back, gonna take you prisoner of love
Take you prisioner of love
I wont give up, I wont give up, gonna take you prisoner of love

[...] Read more

song performed by Foreigner
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ruines of Time

It chaunced me on day beside the shore
Of siluer streaming Thamesis to bee,
Nigh where the goodly Verlame stood of yore,
Of which there now remaines no memorie,
Nor anie little moniment to see,
By which the trauailer, that fares that way,
This once was she, may warned be to say.
There on the other side, I did behold
A Woman sitting sorrowfullie wailing,
Rending her yeolow locks, like wyrie golde,
About her shoulders careleslie downe trailing,
And streames of teares from her faire eyes forth railing.
In her right hand a broken rod she held,
Which towards heauen shee seemd on high to weld.

Whether she were one of that Riuers Nymphes,
Which did the losse of some dere loue lament,
I doubt; or one of those three fatall Impes,
Which draw the dayes of men forth in extent;
Or th' auncient Genius of that Citie brent:
But seeing her so piteouslie perplexed,
I (to her calling) askt what her so vexed.

Ah what delight (quoth she) in earthlie thing,
Or comfort can I, wretched creature haue?
Whose happines the heauens enuying,
From highest staire to lowest step me draue,
And haue in mine owne bowels made my graue,
That of all Nations now I am forlorne,
The worlds sad spectacle, and fortunes scorne.

Much was I mooued at her piteous plaint,
And felt my heart nigh riuen in my brest
With tender ruth to see her sore constraint,
That shedding teares a while I still did rest,
And after did her name of her request.
Name haue I none (quoth she) nor anie being,
Bereft of both by Fates vniust decreeing.

I was that Citie, which the garland wore
Of Britaines pride, deliuer'd vnto me
By Romane Victors, which it wonne of yore;
Though nought at all but ruines now I bee,
And lye in mine owne ashes, as ye see:
Verlame I was; what bootes it that I was,
Sith now I am but weedes and wastfull gras?

O vaine worlds glorie, and vnstedfast state
Of all that liues, on face of sinfull earth,
Which from their first vntill their vtmost date

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poem by Edmund Spenser
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II

THE ARGUMENT

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

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

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poem by Samuel Butler
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