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The great thieves lead away the little thief.

quote by Diogenes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lead Balloon

Kiss my ass! I said
And I threw my drink
Tequila trickling
Down his business suit
Must be the irish blood
Fight before you think
Turn it now
You cant cowtow
You cant undo it
Its his town
And that went down
Like a lead balloon
Lead lead lead lead balloon
He said sic her, rover
That went over
Like a lead balloon
Lead lead lead lead balloon
Lead balloon
An angry man is just an angry man
But an angry woman
Bitch!
I had to ask him for a helping hand
It came with the heart
Of a bonaparte
Of a frozen fish
Its his town
And that went down
Like a lead balloon
Lead lead lead lead balloon
He said sic her, rover
That went over
Like a lead balloon
Lead lead lead lead balloon
Lead balloon
Lead balloon, lead lead lead lead balloon
Lead balloon, lead lead lead lead balloon
Lead balloon, lead lead lead lead balloon
Lead balloon
Its his town
And that went down
Like a lead balloon
Lead lead lead balloon
He said sic her, rover
That went over
Like a lead balloon
Lead lead lead lead balloon
Lead balloon
Lead lead lead lead balloon
Lead lead lead lead balloon
Lead balloon

song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Seasonable Retour-Knell

SEASONABLE RETOUR KNELL
Variations on a theme...
SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS

Author notes

A mirrored Retourne may not only be read either from first line to last or from last to first as seen in the mirrors, but also by inverting the first and second phrase of each line, either rhyming AAAA or ABAB for each verse. thus the number of variations could be multiplied several times.- two variations on the theme have been included here but could have been extended as in SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS robi03_0069_robi03_0000

In respect of SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
This composition has sought to explore linguistic potential. Notes and the initial version are placed before rather than after the poem.
Six variations on a theme have been selected out of a significant number of mathematical possibilities using THE SAME TEXT and a reverse mirror for each version. Mirrors repeat the seasons with the lines in reverse order.

For the second roll the first four syllables of each line are reversed, and sense is retained both in the normal order of seasons and the reversed order as well... The 3rd and 4th variations offer ABAB rhyme schemes retaining the original text. The 5th and 6th variations modify the text into rhyming couplets.

Given the linguistical structure of this symphonic composition the score could be read in inversing each and every line and each and every hemistitch. There are minor punctuation differences between versions.

One could probably attain sonnet status for each of the four seasons and through partioning in 3 groups of 4 syllables extend the possibilites ad vitam.

Seasonable Round Robin Roll Reversals
robi03_0069_robi03_0000 QXX_DNZ
Seasonable Retour-Knell
robi03_0070_robi03_0069 QXX_NXX
26 March 1975 rewritten 20070123
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllll
For previous version see below
_______________________________________
SPRING SUMMER

Life is at ease Young lovers long
Land under plough; To hold their dear;
Whispering trees, Dewdrops among,
Answering cow. Bold, know no fear.

Blossom, the bees, Life full of song,
Burgeoning bough; Cloudless and clear;
Soft-scented breeze, Days fair and long,
Spring warms life now. Summer sends cheer.

AUTUMN WINTER

Each leaf decays, Harvested sheaves
Each life must bow; And honeyed hives;
Our salad days Trees stripped of leaves,
Are ending now. Jack Frost has knives.

Fruit heavy lays Time, Prince of thieves,
Bending the bough, - Onward he drives,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Thief! ! !

You are a thief
THIEF, THIEF, THIEF
Thief from bones and soul
Thief till dust and ash
THIEF, THIEF, THIEF
Thief who steals and shouts
Thief who cheats and hides
You have a pride
A pride of THIEF
You have an ethic
An ethic of THIEF
You have rules
Rules of THIEF
You take what you want
And run from everyone
Irresponsible about what you’ve done
Leave this mess to be blown
THIEF, THIEF, THIEF
There’s nothing real
From your belonging
You’re just a thief
And why I should follow a thief

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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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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Lead Them Home My Dreams

Intro:
Lead them home
Lead them home my dreams,
My dreams
Verse 1:
Some people stand
Some choose not to understand
Some people fight (fight, fight)
Some people dream
Some people wake up
In the middle of the night
With the eyes of a tiger and a childs curiosity
Cant turn from my conscience when its starin at me
Chorus:
Lead them home
Lead them home my dreams
You can hear
When you disguise whispers as screams
(lead them home my, lead them home my...dreams)
Verse 2:
Some people climb
Some people wait for time to pass
Looking for a miracle (a miracle)
Some people could care less
Some people dwell on the impossible
And I always remember the times I let myself slide
And I put all the bad things like money
Far lower on the list than pride
Bring me home
Bring them home my dreams (lead the home)
Bring them home my dreams
(bring the home my, lead them home my)
You can hear, you can hear (you can hear)
When you disguise whispers as screams
(lead them home my, lead them home my)
Bring them home (bring them home, bring them home)
Bring them home my dreams
(lead them home my, bring them home my)
You can hear, you can hear when you
Disguise whispers as screams
(lead them home my, bring them home my...dreams)
Verse 3:
Wait a lifetime
Then my wish will drag on slowly
Come into ones own
At the time of conception (ooooo...)
Give in over time
You may as well change your mind
Now is when I see the light (I see it)
Im gonna touch it, grab it -

[...] Read more

song performed by Debbie Gibson
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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

[...] Read more

poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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John Cornstalk

Jack Cornstalk lives in the Southern Land—
What says Cornstalk John?
Jack Cornstalk says in a loud firm voice:
“Land of the South, lead on.”

CHORUS:
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!

John Bull lays claim to the Southern Land.
Jack, is the South Land thine?
John Cornstalk cries in a loud, firm voice:
“The Land of the South is mine!”

Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!

“By the long, long years my father toiled
In the pioneering band;
By the hardships of those early days,
I claim the Southern Land!”

Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!

But where shall the Land of the South lead to?
Where lead the nation’s van?
Jack Cornstalk cries from his strong young heart:
“To the Dynasty of Man.”

Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!

poem by Henry Lawson
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Gareth And Lynette

The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirled away.
'How he went down,' said Gareth, 'as a false knight
Or evil king before my lance if lance
Were mine to use--O senseless cataract,
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy--
And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows
And mine is living blood: thou dost His will,
The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know,
Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall
Linger with vacillating obedience,
Prisoned, and kept and coaxed and whistled to--
Since the good mother holds me still a child!
Good mother is bad mother unto me!
A worse were better; yet no worse would I.
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,
Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
In ever-highering eagle-circles up
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop
Down upon all things base, and dash them dead,
A knight of Arthur, working out his will,
To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he came
With Modred hither in the summertime,
Asked me to tilt with him, the proven knight.
Modred for want of worthier was the judge.
Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said,
"Thou hast half prevailed against me," said so--he--
Though Modred biting his thin lips was mute,
For he is alway sullen: what care I?'

And Gareth went, and hovering round her chair
Asked, 'Mother, though ye count me still the child,
Sweet mother, do ye love the child?' She laughed,
'Thou art but a wild-goose to question it.'
'Then, mother, an ye love the child,' he said,
'Being a goose and rather tame than wild,
Hear the child's story.' 'Yea, my well-beloved,
An 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs.'

And Gareth answered her with kindling eyes,
'Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine
Was finer gold than any goose can lay;
For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid
Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm
As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours.
And there was ever haunting round the palm
A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Thieves In The Temple

{long version of thieves in the temple}
I'm holdin' on (i'm holdin' on) the best that i can
Love please, (let me be) let me be the better man
Better than the ones that wanna count me out
Better than the ones that don't know what my love's about
I'm talkin' 'bout the kinda love that can move a mountain
The kinda love that could part the sea
The kinda love that'll last 4 ever
(no matter what u say we should be together)
U should be with me (thieves in the temple)
Yeah, u should be with me
I said i wanna know (talk to me)
One thing (talk to me)
Said i wanna know (talk to me)
I wanna know one thing, baby (talk to me)
How come you said that i was your baby
When u and your love was gonna leave
U led me on, led me on thinkin' u was moses
Herding sheep blindly through a fantasy
U done me wrong (thieves in the temple)
And everybody knows it
Now the sound of my voice is pumpin' in your chest
More or less, i am here to tell u that
I am the best
Better than the rest
Better than the thieves in the temple tonight
Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, hurt me
(put it in)
Thieves in the temple
Thieves in the temple
Thieves in the temple
Thieves in the temple tonight
Put your foot on the rock
Let me show you how to clock
Put your foot on the rock
Let me show you how to clock
Thieves in the temple
(what the....?)
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
(hurt me)
Thieves in the temple

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Saints An Sinners

(coverdale/lord/moody/marsden/murray/paice)
Get ready for judgement day
An the final curtain call,
Dont lie when you testify
cos the good lord know youre all
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves,
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves
When moses stood on the red sea shore
Laying the law on the line,
He said dont come knocking
On the pearly gates
If all you did was have a real good time
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves,
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves
For what we are about to receive
May the lord make us truly thankful.
Saints an sinners
I stand guilty of a thousand crimes,
An I suffer temptation still,
Show me a man who wont give it to his woman
An Ill show you somebody who will
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves,
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves
For what we are about to receive
May the lord make us truly thankful
Saints an sinners,
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves,
Get ready for judgement day
An the final curtain call,
Dont lie when you testify
cos the good lord know youre all
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves,
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves
For what we are about to receive
May the lord make us truly thankful
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves
Saints an sinners...

song performed by Whitesnake
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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Thief In The Night

Far off in the distance, a shape in the night, alright
On a mission of mercy, if the price is right
He tries to possess her and she bites
Its a ritual slaying, but the tables are turned, oh no
And now hes prayin, but its his turn to burn
Like a thief in the night - she breaks into his heart
Like a thief in the night - she never leaves her mark
In a hotel chamber, on a cryptic note
cos where theres fire, theres gotta be smoke, oh no
Footsteps in the twilight, and red nails round his throat
Its a ritual slaying, without strings attached, oh no
And now hes praying, but theres no turning back
Like a thief in the night - she breaks into his heart
Like a thief in the night
Like a thief in the night - she never leaves her mark
Like a thief in the night - alright, alright
Like a thief in the night - she breaks into his heart
Like a thief in the night - alright, alright
Like a thief in the night - she never leaves her mark
Like a thief in the night
Like a thief in the night (repeats out)

song performed by Kiss
Added by Lucian Velea
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Coming Down Hard On Crime

They're coming down hard on crime.
And this you can believe.
All eyes will open wide.
And deceit and thieves,
Will cease to be.

So hold your head erect!
And know this will happen soon.
And sing a happy song.
Knowing we'll soon be crook free!

Come from behind those bushes,
Children.
Come...
Come sing along with me!
The 'boogeyman' is gone.

They're coming down hard on crime.
Sing...
('Coming down hard on crime...')
And this you can believe.
('This we can believe...')
I think you've got it.
All eyes will open wide
('Our eyes are open wide...
And deceit and thieves have ceased to be.')

Very nice!

Yes...
Deceit and thieves.
('Yes deceit and thieves')
Yes...
Deceit and thieves.
('Yes deceit and thieves')

YES...
DECEIT and THIEVES.
('DECEIT and THIEVES')
Together and raise our voices high!
YES...
DECEIT and THIEVES...
HAVE CEASED
TO
BE!

Marvelous children!
Wasn't that a 'happy tune'?

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Orlando Furioso Canto 15

ARGUMENT
Round about Paris every where are spread
The assailing hosts of Africa and Spain.
Astolpho home by Logistilla sped,
Binds first Caligorantes with his chain;
Next from Orrilo's trunk divides the head;
With whom Sir Aquilant had warred in vain,
And Gryphon bold: next Sansonet discerns,
Ill tidings of his lady Gryphon learns.

I
Though Conquest fruit of skill or fortune be,
To conquer always is a glorious thing.
'Tis true, indeed, a bloody victory
Is to a chief less honour wont to bring;
And that fair field is famed eternally,
And he who wins it merits worshipping,
Who, saving from all harm his own, without
Loss to his followers, puts the foe to rout.

II
You, sir, earned worthy praise, when you o'erbore
The lion of such might by sea, and so
Did by him, where he guarded either shore
From Francolino to the mouth of Po,
That I, though yet again I heard him roar,
If you were present, should my fear forego.
How fields are fitly won was then made plain;
For we were rescued, and your foemen slain.

III
This was the Paynim little skilled to do,
Who was but daring to his proper loss;
And to the moat impelled his meiny, who
One and all perished in the burning fosse.
The mighty gulf had not contained the crew,
But that, devouring those who sought to cross,
Them into dust the flame reduced, that room
Might be for all within the crowded tomb.

IV
Of twenty thousand warriors thither sent,
Died nineteen thousand in the fiery pit;
Who to the fosse descended, ill content;
But so their leader willed, of little wit:
Extinguished amid such a blaze, and spent
By the devouring flame the Christians lit.
And Rodomont, occasion of their woes,
Exempted from the mighty mischief goes:

[...] Read more

poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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Lead Me On

Shoulder to the wheel
For someone elses selfish gain
Here there is no choosing
Working the clay
Wearing their anger like a ball and chain.
Fire in the field
Underneath a blazing sun
But soon the sun was faded
And freedom was a song
I heard them singing when the day was done
Singing to the holy one.
Lead me on
Lead me on
To a place where the river runs
Into your keeping, oh.
Lead me on
Lead me on
The awaited deliverance
Comforts the seeking...lead on.
Waiting for the train
Labelled with a golden star
Heavy hearted boarding
Whispers in the dark
Where are we going--is it very far?
Bitter cold terrain
Echoes of a slamming door
In chambers made for sleeping, forever
Voices like thunder in a mighty roar
Cry to the lord.
Lead me on
Lead me on
To a place where the river runs
Into your keeping, oh.
Lead me on
Lead me on
The awaited deliverance
Comforts the seeking...lead on.
Man hurts man
Time and time, time again
And we drown in the wake of our power
Somebody tell me why.
Lead me on
Lead me on
To a place where the river runs
Into your keeping, oh.
Lead me on
Lead me on
The awaited deliverance
Comforts the seeking...lead on.
Lead me on

[...] Read more

song performed by Amy Grant
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Thief Without The Take (feat. Inger Lorre)

(i.lorrej.buckley)
Jeff duets with inger lorre and plays guitar on this song, contained in inger lorre's album trascendental medication.
Oh baby didn't you hear?
I'm goin' solo dear,
So low dear
I am the thief without the take
I'm swallowing the bitterest pill
Totally ever so against my will
I am the thief without the take,
I am the thief without the take,
Everytime i try to do my art
Always fallin' apart,
Fallin' apart
I am the thief without the take,
I am the thief without the take,
I'm the desert without sun
Five minus one diamond without shine
I'm the poem that doesn't rhyme
I'm the king on the hill
Sick and ill
Nothin' i wouldn't trade to be the serving knave
I'm the sun without heat
The drum without the beat
I'm the winter without snow
Flame without a glow
I am the thief without the take,
I am the thief without the take
Everytime i try to do my art
Always fallin' apart,
Fallin' apart
I am the thief without the take,
I am the thief without the take
I've stolen from myself too too long
It's just the music makes me want to go on
I am the thief without the take

song performed by Jeff Buckley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thief Without The Take

(i.lorre/j.buckley)
Jeff duets with inger lorre and plays guitar on this song, contained in inger lorres album trascendental medication.
Oh baby didnt you hear?
Im goin solo dear,
So low dear
I am the thief without the take
Im swallowing the bitterest pill
Totally ever so against my will
I am the thief without the take,
I am the thief without the take,
Everytime I try to do my art
Always fallin apart,
Fallin apart
I am the thief without the take,
I am the thief without the take,
Im the desert without sun
Five minus one diamond without shine
Im the poem that doesnt rhyme
Im the king on the hill
Sick and ill
Nothin I wouldnt trade to be the serving knave
Im the sun without heat
The drum without the beat
Im the winter without snow
Flame without a glow
I am the thief without the take,
I am the thief without the take
Everytime I try to do my art
Always fallin apart,
Fallin apart
I am the thief without the take,
I am the thief without the take
Ive stolen from myself too too long
Its just the music makes me want to go on
I am the thief without the take

song performed by Jeff Buckley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sir Peter Harpdon's End

In an English Castle in Poictou. Sir Peter Harpdon, a Gascon knight in the English service, and John Curzon, his lieutenant.

John Curzon

Of those three prisoners, that before you came
We took down at St. John's hard by the mill,
Two are good masons; we have tools enough,
And you have skill to set them working.

Sir Peter

So-
What are their names?

John Curzon

Why, Jacques Aquadent,
And Peter Plombiere, but-

Sir Peter

What colour'd hair
Has Peter now? has Jacques got bow legs?

John Curzon

Why, sir, you jest: what matters Jacques' hair,
Or Peter's legs to us?

Sir Peter

O! John, John, John!
Throw all your mason's tools down the deep well,
Hang Peter up and Jacques; they're no good,
We shall not build, man.

John Curzon

going.

Shall I call the guard
To hang them, sir? and yet, sir, for the tools,
We'd better keep them still; sir, fare you well.

[...] Read more

poem by William Morris
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Don't Forget who is your Father

God is Great
He created you and me so ladies and gentleman
he is the only person to praise and pray
Cause some of us we pray Alan people you pray him
who is him God is the one who created us
so guys help me to Thank him every time i'm sick i call him cause
he is the hiller the killer of diseases in the world
Help me to sing.
How great is our God sing with me how great is our God
all we sing is how great is our God age to age praise his
Great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great great great great great

GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD..

Thank you Help me pliz.

poem by Ruvimbo Daisy Matsika
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Carmen Seculare. For the Year 1700. To The King

Thy elder Look, Great Janus, cast
Into the long Records of Ages past:
Review the Years in fairest Action drest
With noted White, Superior to the rest;
Aera's deriv'd, and Chronicles begun
From Empires founded, and from Battels won:
Show all the Spoils by valiant Kings achiev'd,
And groaning Nations by Their Arms reliev'd;
The Wounds of Patriots in their Country's Cause,
And happy Pow'r sustain'd by wholesom Laws:
In comely Rank call ev'ry Merit forth:
Imprint on ev'ry Act it's Standard Worth:
The glorious Parallels then downward bring
To Modern Wonders, and to Britain's King:
With equal Justice and Historic Care
Their Laws, Their Toils, Their Arms with His compare:
Confess the various Attributes of Fame
Collected and compleat in William's Name:
To all the list'ning World relate
(As Thou dost His Story read)
That nothing went before so Great,
And nothing Greater can succeed.
Thy Native Latium was Thy darling Care,
Prudent in Peace, and terrible in War:
The boldest Virtues that have govern'd Earth
From Latium's fruitful Womb derive their Birth.
Then turn to Her fair-written Page:
From dawning Childhood to establish'd Age,
The Glories of Her Empire trace:
Confront the Heroes of Thy Roman Race:
And let the justest Palm the Victor's Temples grace.
The Son of Mars reduc'd the trembling Swains,
And spread His Empire o'er the distant Plains:
But yet the Sabins violated Charms
Obscur'd the Glory of His rising Arms.
Numa the Rights of strict Religion knew;
On ev'ry Altar laid the Incense due;
Unskill'd to dart the pointed Spear,
Or lead the forward Youth to noble War.
Stern Brutus was with too much Horror good,
Holding his Fasces stain'd with Filial Blood.
Fabius was Wise, but with Excess of Care;
He sav'd his Country; but prolonged the War:
While Decius, Paulus, Curius greatly fought;
And by Their strict Examples taught,
How wild Desires should be controll'd;
And how much brighter Virtue was, than Gold;
They scarce Their swelling Thirst of Fame could hide;
And boasted Poverty with too much Pride.
Excess in Youth made Scipio less rever'd:

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poem by Matthew Prior
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