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With Harley, you build it, then you've got to take it apart.

quote by Noah Hathaway
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Horace, Epist. I, VII Imitation Of Horace To Lord Oxford

Harley, the nation's great support,
Returning home one day from court,
His mind with public cares possest,
All Europe's business in his breast,
Observed a parson near Whitehall,
Cheap'ning old authors on a stall.
The priest was pretty well in case,
And show'd some humour in his face;
Look'd with an easy, careless mien,
A perfect stranger to the spleen;
Of size that might a pulpit fill,
But more inclining to sit still.
My lord, (who, if a man may say't,
Loves mischief better than his meat),
Was now disposed to crack a jest
And bid friend Lewis go in quest.
(This Lewis was a cunning shaver,
And very much in Harley's favour)—
In quest who might this parson be,
What was his name, of what degree;
If possible, to learn his story,
And whether he were Whig or Tory.
Lewis his patron's humour knows;
Away upon his errand goes,
And quickly did the matter sift;
Found out that it was Doctor Swift,
A clergyman of special note
For shunning those of his own coat;
Which made his brethren of the gown
Take care betimes to run him down:
No libertine, nor over nice,
Addicted to no sort of vice;
Went where he pleas'd, said what he thought;
Not rich, but owed no man a groat;
In state opinions a la mode,
He hated Wharton like a toad;
Had given the faction many a wound,
And libell'd all the junto round;
Kept company with men of wit,
Who often father'd what he writ:
His works were hawk'd in ev'ry street,
But seldom rose above a sheet:
Of late, indeed, the paper-stamp
Did very much his genius cramp;
And, since he could not spend his fire,
He now intended to retire.
Said Harley, 'I desire to know
From his own mouth, if this be so:
Step to the doctor straight, and say,
I'd have him dine with me to-day.'

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Swift
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Adrienne Vittadini

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Fitration Bags

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Gonna Build A Mountain

1: Im gonna build a mountain, from a little hill.
Im gonna build a mountain, least I hope I will.
Im gonna build a mountain, Im gonna build it high.
I dont know how Im gonna do it, only know Im gonna try.
2: Im gonna build a daydream, from a little hope.
Im gonna push the daydream, up that mountain slope.
Im gonna build a daydream, woah, Im gonna see it through.
Gonna build a mountain and a daydream,
Gonna make em both come true.
3: Im gonna build a heaven, as a will someday,
And the lord sends ga-bri-el to take me away.
Woah, I wanna fine young son, to take my place.
Ill leave my son in my heaven on earth with the good lords grace.
4: Im gonna build a mountain, from a little hill.
Im gonna build a mountain, least I hope I will.
Im gonna build a mountain, yeah, gonna see it through.
Gonna build a mountain and a daydream,
Gonna make em both come true.
5: Im gonna build a daydream, from a little hope.
Im gonna push the daydream, up that mountain slope.
Im gonna build a daydream, woah, Im gonna see it through,
Gonna build a mountain and a daydream,
Gonna make em both come true.
6: I wanna build a heaven, as a will someday,
And the lord sends ga-bri-el to take me away.
I wanna fine young son, to take my place.
Ill leave my son in my heaven on earth, with the good lords grace.
I wanna fine young son, yeah, to take my place.
Ill leave my son in my heaven on earth, with the good lords grace.
Yea-eah.

song performed by Monkees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stop Breaking Your Heart

Rick astley
Times are hard, thats for sure
Lovers need to love a little more
Everybodys got to do their best
You cant complain
If you settle for less
And I know its hard for you
To do the things that you want to do
But every day can get a little better
If you rise up, stand up
And stick together
* stop breaking your heart
Dont fall apart
Were gonna build this thing together
Stop breaking your heart
This is the start
Were gonna make it last forever
Were gonna build this thing together
Now
I believe in you for sure
People need to learn
To trust a little more
Everybodys got a chip on their shoulder
Just because they feel a little older
I know its got to be
So much better, wait and see
Hold on for a little longer
Gonna rise up, stand up
And well be stronger
( * repeat 2 times )
Come on
Were gonna build this thing together
Now
Build it up, build it up
Build it up, build it up
Every night people fight
Im askin you do you think thats right
I believe that the feelings there
But the people are unaware, yeah
And I know its hard for you
To do the things that you want to do
But everything can get a little better
If you rise up, stand up
And stick together now
( * repeat 2 times )
Now (stop breaking your heart)
Oh now, yeah
Were gonna build it up
Were gonna build it up
Were gonna build this thing together

[...] Read more

song performed by Rick Astley
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The Three Tommies

That Barret, the painter of pictures, what feeling for color he had!
And Fanning, the maker of music, such melodies mirthful and mad!
And Harley, the writer of stories, so whimsical, tender and glad!

To hark to their talk in the trenches, high heart unfolding to heart,
Of the day when the war would be over, and each would be true to his part,
Upbuilding a Palace of Beauty to the wonder and glory of Art . . .

Yon's Barret, the painter of pictures, yon carcass that rots on the wire;
His hand with its sensitive cunning is crisped to a cinder with fire;
His eyes with their magical vision are bubbles of glutinous mire.

Poor Fanning! He sought to discover the symphonic note of a shell;
There are bits of him broken and bloody, to show you the place where he fell;
I've reason to fear on his exquisite ear the rats have been banqueting well.

And speaking of Harley, the writer, I fancy I looked on him last,
Sprawling and staring and writhing in the roar of the battle blast;
Then a mad gun-team crashed over, and scattered his brains as it passed.

Oh, Harley and Fanning and Barret, they were bloody good mates o' mine;
Their bodies are empty bottles; Death has guzzled the wine;
What's left of them's filth and corruption. . . . Where is the Fire Divine?

I'll tell you. . . . At night in the trenches, as I watch and I do my part,
Three radiant spirits I'm seeing, high heart revealing to heart,
And they're building a peerless palace to the splendor and triumph of Art.

Yet, alas! for the fame of Barret, the glory he might have trailed!
And alas! for the name of Fanning, a star that beaconed and paled,
Poor Harley, obscure and forgotten. . . . Well, who shall say that they failed!

No, each did a Something Grander than ever he dreamed to do;
And as for the work unfinished, all will be paid their due;
The broken ends will be fitted, the balance struck will be true.

So painters, and players, and penmen, I tell you: Do as you please;
Let your fame outleap on the trumpets, you'll never rise up to these --
To three grim and gory Tommies, down, down on your bended knees!

poem by Robert William Service
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The Author Upon Himself

By an old ——pursued,
A crazy prelate, and a royal prude;
By dull divines, who look with envious eyes
On ev'ry genius that attempts to rise;
And pausing o'er a pipe, with doubtful nod,
Give hints, that poets ne'er believe in God.
So clowns on scholars as on wizards look,
And take a folio for a conj'ring book.
Swift had the sin of wit, no venial crime:
Nay, 'twas affirm'd, he sometimes dealt in rhyme;
Humour and mirth had place in all he writ;
He reconcil'd divinity and wit:
He moved and bow'd, and talk'd with too much grace;
Nor show'd the parson in his gait or face;
Despised luxurious wines and costly meat;
Yet still was at the tables of the great;
Frequented lords; saw those that saw the queen;
At Child's or Truby's, never once had been;
Where town and country vicars flock in tribes,
Secured by numbers from the laymen's gibes;
And deal in vices of the graver sort,
Tobacco, censure, coffee, pride, and port.
But, after sage monitions from his friends,
His talents to employ for nobler ends;
To better judgments willing to submit,
He turns to politics his dang'rous wit.
And now, the public Int'rest to support,
By Harley Swift invited, comes to court;
In favour grows with ministers of state;
Admitted private, when superiors wait:
And Harley, not ashamed his choice to own,
Takes him to Windsor in his coach alone.
At Windsor Swift no sooner can appear,
But St. John comes, and whispers in his ear:
The waiters stand in ranks: the yeomen cry,
Make room, as if a duke were passing by.
Now Finch alarms the lords: he hears for certain
This dang'rous priest is got behind the curtain.
Finch, famed for tedious elocution, proves
That Swift oils many a spring which Harley moves.
Walpole and Aislaby, to clear the doubt,
Inform the Commons, that the secret's out:
'A certain doctor is observed of late
To haunt a certain minister of state:
From whence with half an eye we may discover
The peace is made, and Perkin must come over.'
York is from Lambeth sent, to show the queen
A dang'rous treatise writ against the spleen;
Which, by the style, the matter, and the drift,
'Tis thought could be the work of none but Swift.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Swift
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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Vermilion Pt. 2

She seemed dressed in all of me,stretched across my shame
All the torment and the pain
leaked through and coverd me
Id do anything to have her to myself
Just to have her for myself
Now I dont know what to do, dont know what to do when she makes me sad
She is everything to me
The unrequited dream
The song that no one sings
The unattainable, shes a myth that I have to believe in
All I need to make it real is one more reason
I dont know what to do, I dont know what to do when she makes me sane
But I wont let this build up inside of me
I wont let this build up inside of me
I wont let this build up inside of me
I wont let this build up inside of me
But I wont let this build up inside of me
A catch in my throat
Choke, torn into pieces, I wont
No, I dont want to be this
I wont let this build up inside of me
(Wont let this build up inside of me)
I wont let this build up inside of me
(Wont let this build up inside of me)
I wont let this build up inside of me
(Wont let this build up inside of me)
I wont let this build up inside of me
(Inside of me)
She isnt real
I can't make her real
She isnt real
I can't make her real

song performed by Slipknot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Vermilion

She seems dressed in all the rings
Of past fatalaties
So fragile yet so devious
She continues to see it
Climatic hands that press
Her temples and my chest
Enter the night that she came home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me sad)
She is everything and more
The solemn hypnotic
My Dahlia, bathed in posession
She is so into me
I get neverous, perversed when I see her it's worse
But the stress is astounding
It's now or never she's coming home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me sad)
Hard to say what caught my attention
Fixed and crazy, Aphid Attraction
Carve my name in my face, to recognize
Such a pheromone cult to terrorize
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
(Yeah!)
I'm a slave, and I am a master
No restraints and, unchecked collectors
I exist throught my name, to self-oblige
She is something in me, that I despise
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
She Isn't real!
I Can't make her real!
She Isn't real!
I Can't make her real!
(She isn't real, I can't make her real)
(She isn't real, I can't make her real)

song performed by Slipknot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Vermillion (Terry Date Mix)

She seems dressed in all the rings
Of past fatalaties
So fradgile yet so devious
She continues to see it
Climatic hands that press
Her temples in my chest
Enter the night that she came home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me soar)
She is everytihng and more
The solemn hypnotic
My doll you're bathed in posession
She is home to me
I get neverous, perversed when I see her to worse
But the stress is astounding
It's now or never she's coming home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me soar)
Hard to say waht caught my attention
Vixen crazy, Athen Attraction
Call my name in my face, to recognize
Such a fair amount called, to terrorize
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
(Yeah!)
I'm a slave, and I am a master
No restraints and, unchecked collectors
I exist throught my name, to self ablige
There is something in me, the darkness finds
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
SHE ISN'T REAL!
I CAN'T MAKE HER REAL!
SHE ISN'T REAL!
I CAN'T MAKE HER REAL!
(She isn't real, I can't make her real)
(She isn't real, I can't make her real)

song performed by Slipknot
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Build

Clambering men in big bad boots
Dug up my den, dug up my roots
Treated us like plasticine town
They built us up and knocked us down
From meccano to legoland
Here they come with a brick in their hand
Men with heads filled up with sand
Its build
Its build a house where we can stay
Add a new bit everyday
Its build a road for us to cross
Build us lots and lots and lots and lots and lots
Whistling men in yellow vans
They can and drew us diagrams
Showed us how it all worked it out
And wrote it down in case of doubt
Slow, slow, quick, quick, quick
Its wall to wall and brick to brick
They work so fast it makes you sick
Its build
Its build a house where we can stay
Add a new bit everyday
Its build a road for us to cross
Build us lots and lots and lots and lots and lots
Its build
Down with sticks and up with bricks
In with boots and up with roots
Its in with suits and new recruits
Its build

song performed by Housemartins
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Build A Fire

Pulled up to rest, let the engine cool awhile.
Open the beans, gather wood for the fire.
I hum this tune, to all the girls Ive known.
Should I care, about the chances Ive blown?
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire
Theyre gonna build a fire
Theyre gonna build a fire
When daylight breaks, Ill be down that road.
Rockman an me, with a lighter load.
Well stop for lunch, in some taco bar.
Lee marvin on the jukebox, wanderin star.
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire

song performed by KLF
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Build A Fire (lenny Dee Remix)

Pulled up to rest, let the engine cool awhile.
Open the beans, gather wood for the fire.
I hum this tune, to all the girls I've known.
Should I care, about the chances I've blown?
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire
They're gonna build a fire
They're gonna build a fire
When daylight breaks, I'll be down that road.
Rockman 'an me, with a lighter load.
We'll stop fo r lunch, in some taco bar.
Lee Marvin on the jukebox, 'Wanderin Star'.
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire

song performed by KLF
Added by Lucian Velea
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Another Pyramid

Sad to say our mighty ruler
Is not really in the pink
Hopes could not be minuscular
That he'll come back from the brink
Not to beat around the bush
He looks like heading for his box
At the risk of seeming pushy
We must plan for future shocks
According to the hawk of Horus
Our most regal invalid
Is not that much longer for us
Build another pyramid
Build it, build it
Another pyramid
build it, build it
Though all doctors and physicians
Have been summoned to his bed
It'll soon be top morticians
We'll be calling for instead
With each wheeze the nation's humming
Egypt shakes with every cough
No two ways about what's coming
No discussion, bets are off
Soon our monarch will have filled the tomb
Just like his fathers did
Summon Egypt's greatest builder
Need another pyramid
Build it, build it
Another pyramid
Build it, build it
We hate to depress the nation
But our leader has been told
He should scrub his next vacation
Even put tonight on hold
This is where his loyal priesthood
Has the chance to do him proud
Holy leaders at the least should
See him happy to his shroud
He must have a vault that's grand by
Any standards for to live
Put five thousand slaves on standby
Build another pyramid

song performed by Sting
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Haley's Got A Harley

Well she don't need nothin from that man no more
No she took it all with her when she walked out the door
I say 1-800-PARTY, that's the number to call
Now Haley's got a Harley and she's leaving it all
Now she's headed out to Sturgis got it all wrapped up in leather
Got her Softail shined up, don't worry about the weather
Yeah she used to be the quiet type, the shyest of all
But now Haley's got a Harley, feelin' ten feet tall
Look at her now, look at her go
Out from the shadows, into the show
Ridin it hard, ridin it low
Flyin her colors, she's ready to roll
Just like the tattoo of an eagle on her shoulder
Yeah, her spirit's wild and free and the party's never over
Well, she's ridin' on the wind just a' wavin at em all
Cause now Haley's got a Harley and she's having a ball
Free as a Bird, watch her in flight
Across South Dakota, into the night
Ridin to live, livin to ride
She calls it heaven, ridin' for life

song performed by 38 Special
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The Barn at Willoughby's Farm - II

Jacinth's Tale

He was always there on the fringes
Of my world, when just a child,
There wasn't a time he wasn't there
To guide, protect, to chide,
He'd follow me safely home from school,
He'd take me for a ride,
A cousin, so many times removed
From those on my mother's side.

I wasn't the only sibling, but
It was me he called his pet,
The others would get quite jealous
And they'd not let me forget,
‘He carries a torch for you, Jacinth,
And never will let you be! '
But when I was just a teenager
He made me feel like a queen.

He was into his later twenties, then
But he didn't seem to care,
He'd let me dress for a party, then
He'd sit and he'd brush my hair,
There wasn't a friend as good as him
I told my party crowd,
The cuz that lived in the basement
Of our flat, my Tom O'Dowd.

But once I grew as a woman, then
His manner became intense,
He started to irritate me, and
Took issue with all my friends,
‘That fellow isn't the one for you,
He'll only drag you down! '
Or - ‘What in the world are you coming to?
That guy, he's simply a clown! '

He tried to snuggle up closer on
The couch, when I was home,
Started to stroke my hand and knee
When we were quite alone,
I told him I wasn't interested,
That he was merely a friend,
His eyes would follow me round the room,
‘You'll love me, in the end! '

I got upset, and told him straight:
‘I hate it when you cling!
Just leave me be, or Tom, you'll see

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
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On the Prospect of Peace

______ Sacerdos
Fronde super mitram, & felici comptus oliva.
Virg.

To the Lord Privy Seal

Contending kings, and fields of death, too long
Have been the subject of the British song.
Who hath not read of fam'd Ramillia's plain,
Bavaria's fall, and Danube choak'd with slain!
Exhausted themes! a gentler note I raise,
And sing returning peace in softer lays.
Their fury quell'd, and martial rage allay'd,
I wait our heroes in the sylvan shade:
Disbanding hosts are imag'd to my mind,
And warring powers in friendly leagues combin'd,
While ease and pleasure make the nations smile,
And Heaven and Anna bless Britannia's isle.
Well sends our queen her mitred Bristol forth,
For early counsels fam'd, and long-try'd worth;
Who, thirty rolling years, had oft withheld
The Swede and Saxon from the dusty field;
Completely form'd to heal the Christian wounds,
To name the kings, and give each kingdom bounds;
The face of ravag'd Nature to repair,
By leagues to soften Earth, and Heaven by prayer,

To gain by love, where rage and slaughter fail,
And make the crosier o'er the sword prevail.
So when great Moses, with Jehovah's wand,
Had scatter'd plagues o'er stubborn Pharaoh's land,
Now spread an host of locusts round the shore,
Now turn'd Nile's fattening streams to putrid gore;
Plenty and gladness mark'd the priest of God,
And sudden almonds shot from Aaron's rod.

O thou, from whom these bounteous blessings flow,
To whom, as chief, the hopes of peace we owe,

(For next to thee, the man whom kings contend
To style companion, and to make their friend,
Great Strafford, rich in every courtly grace,
With joyful pride accepts the second place)
From Britain's isle, and Isis' sacred spring,
One hour, oh! listen while the Muses sing.
Though ministers of mighty monarchs wait,
With beating hearts to learn their masters' fate,
One hour forbear to speak thy queen's commands,
Nor think the world, thy charge, neglected stands;

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poem by Thomas Tickell
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The Building Of The Temple

(An Anthem Heard In Canterbury Cathedral)

[The Organ]

O Lord our God, we are strangers before Thee, and sojourners, as were
all our fathers: our days on the earth are as a shadow, and there is
none abiding.

O Lord God of our fathers, keep this for ever in the imagination of
the thoughts of Thy people, and prepare their heart unto Thee.

And give unto Solomon my son a perfect heart to keep Thy commandments,
and to build the palace for the which I have made provision.

[Boys' voices.]

O come to the Palace of Life,
Let us build it again.
It was founded on terror and strife,
It was laid in the curse of the womb,
And pillared on toil and pain,
And hung with veils of doom,
And vaulted with the darkness of the tomb.

[Men's voices.]

O Lord our God, we are sojourners here for a day,
Strangers and sojourners, as all our fathers were:
Our years on the earth are a shadow that fadeth away;
Grant us light for our labour, and a time for prayer.

[Boys.]

But now with endless song,
And joy fulfilling the Law;
Of passion as pure as strong
And pleasure undimmed of awe;
With garners of wine and grain
Laid up for the ages long,
Let us build the Palace again
And enter with endless song,
Enter and dwell secure, forgetting the years of wrong.

[Men.]

O Lord our God, we are strangers and sojourners here,
Our beginning was night, and our end is hid in Thee:
Our labour on the earth is hope redeeming fear,
In sorrow we build for the days we shall not see.

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poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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