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Less judgment than wit is more sail than ballast.

quote by William Penn
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An Essay on Criticism

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.

'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Pope
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Orinoco Flows

Verse 1:
Let me sail, let me sail, let the orinoco flow,
Let me reach, let me beach on the shores of tripoli.
Let me sail, let me sail, let me crash upon your shore,
Let me reach, let me beach far beyond the yellow sea.
Sail away, sail away, sail away. (x3)
Verse 2:
From bissau to palau - in the shade of avalon,
From fiji to tiree and the isles of ebony,
From peru to cebu hear the power of babylon,
From bali to cali - far beneath the coral sea.
Turning up, turning up, turning up, up I do. ohh. (x3)
Sail away, sail away, sail away. (x3)
Verse 3:
From the north to the south, ebudae into khartoum,
From the deep sea of clouds to the island of the moon,
Carry me on the waves to the land Ive never been,
Carry me on the waves to the lands Ive never seen.
We can sail, we can sail... with the orinoco flow
We can sail, we can sail...
Sail away, sail away, sail away.
We can steer, we can near with rob dickins at the wheel,
We can sigh, say goodbye ross and his dependencies
We can sail, we can sail
Sail away , sail away, sail away
We can reach, we can beach on the shores of tripoli.
We can sail, we can sail
Sail away , sail away, sail away
From bali to cali - far beneath the coral sea.
We can sail, we can sail
Sail away , sail away, sail away
From bissau to palau - in the shade of avalon,
We can sail, we can sail
Sail away , sail away, sail away
We can reach, we can beach far beyond the yellow sea.
We can sail, we can sail
Sail away , sail away, sail away
From peru to cebu hear the power of babylon,
We can sail, we can sail
Sail away , sail away, sail away
We can sail, we can sail
Sail away , sail away, sail away (x5)
Ahhah, aahha, ah.

song performed by Enya
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Can I Get A...

[jay-z]
Bounce wit me, bounce wit me
Can ya can ya can ya bounce wit me, bounce wit me
Ya-yah-yah, ya-ya-yah-yeah bounce wit me, bounce wit me
Ge-gi, ge-gi-gi-gi-geyeah bounce wit me, bounce wit me
Get it!
Verse one: jay-z
Can i hit in the morning
Without giving you half of my dough
And even worse if i was broke would you want me?
If i couldn't get you finer things
Like all of them diamond rings [niggaz] kill for
Would you still roll?
If we couldn't see the sun risin off the shore of thailand
Would you ride then, if it wasn't droppin?
If wasn't ah, eight figure [nigga] by the name of jigga
Would you come around naked, would you clown me?
If i couldn't flow futuristic would ya
Put your two lips on my [dick], kiss it - could ya
See yourself with a [nigga] workin harder than 9 to 5
Contend with six, two jobs to survive, or
Do you need a balla? so you can shop and tear the mall up?
Brag, tell your friends what i bought ya
If you couldn't see yourself with a [nigga] when his dough is low
Baby girl, if this is so, yo..
Chorus: repeat 2x
[jay-z] can i get a what what
To these chickens from all of my doves
Who don't love those, they get no dough
[amil] can i get a woop woop
To these fellas from all of my ladies
Who don't got love for players without dubs?
[amil] now can you bounce wit me, uhh
[jay-z] bounce wit me, bounce wit me
Can ya can ya can ya bounce wit me, bounce wit me
[amil] uh uh.. major coins
[jay-z] bounce wit me, bounce wit me
[amil] yeah, not done
[jay-z] can ya can ya can ya bounce wit me, bounce wit me
[amil] uh-uh uh uh
Verse two: amil
You ain't gotta be rich but funk dat
How a [bitch] gonna get around your bus pass
? put this [ass] on your mustache
Can you afford me, my ? ? this, never corny
Ambition makes me, so horny, i come fussin in the
Front end, if you got nuttin, baby boy, you betta
"git up, git out and get somethin" [shit!]
I like a, lot of pravada, alize and baca
Late nights, candlelight, can i tear the [cock] up

[...] Read more

song performed by Jay-Z
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Cadenus And Vanessa

THE shepherds and the nymphs were seen
Pleading before the Cyprian Queen.
The counsel for the fair began
Accusing the false creature, man.
The brief with weighty crimes was charged,
On which the pleader much enlarged:
That Cupid now has lost his art,
Or blunts the point of every dart;
His altar now no longer smokes;
His mother's aid no youth invokes—
This tempts free-thinkers to refine,
And bring in doubt their powers divine,
Now love is dwindled to intrigue,
And marriage grown a money-league.
Which crimes aforesaid (with her leave)
Were (as he humbly did conceive)
Against our Sovereign Lady's peace,
Against the statutes in that case,
Against her dignity and crown:
Then prayed an answer and sat down.

The nymphs with scorn beheld their foes:
When the defendant's counsel rose,
And, what no lawyer ever lacked,
With impudence owned all the fact.
But, what the gentlest heart would vex,
Laid all the fault on t'other sex.
That modern love is no such thing
As what those ancient poets sing;
A fire celestial, chaste, refined,
Conceived and kindled in the mind,
Which having found an equal flame,
Unites, and both become the same,
In different breasts together burn,
Together both to ashes turn.
But women now feel no such fire,
And only know the gross desire;
Their passions move in lower spheres,
Where'er caprice or folly steers.
A dog, a parrot, or an ape,
Or some worse brute in human shape
Engross the fancies of the fair,
The few soft moments they can spare
From visits to receive and pay,
From scandal, politics, and play,
From fans, and flounces, and brocades,
From equipage and park-parades,
From all the thousand female toys,
From every trifle that employs
The out or inside of their heads

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Swift
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Sail On Sailor

I sail an ocean, unsettled ocean
Through restless water, and deep commotion
Often frightened, unenlightened
Sail on, sail on sailor
I wrest the waters, fight Neptune's waters
Sail through the sorrows, of life's maurauders
Unrepenting, often empty
Sail on, sail on sailor
Caught like a sewer rat, alone but I see
Bought like a crust of bread, but oh do I wail
Seldom stumble, never crumble, try to tumble, life's a rumble
Feel the stinging, I've been given, never ending, unrelenting
Heartbreaks nearing, always fearing, never caring, persevering
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
I work the seaway (I work the seaway)
The gale swept seaway, (oh seaway)
Past shipwrecked daughters, (oh daughters)
Of wicked waters
Uninspired, drenched and tired
Wail on, wail on sailor
Always needing, ever bleeding, never feeding, all my feelings
Damn the thunder, must I blunder, there's no wonder,all I'm under
Stop your cryin', and the lyin', and the sighin', and my dyin'
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
(You've got to )
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
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Dont You Rock Me Daddio

Me and my daddy was comin into town
(sail away lady sail away)
Round the billygoat leadin a hound
(sail away lady sail away)
Hound got dumped, billygoat jumped
(sail away lady sail away)
Throwd my brother right over that stump
(sail away lady sail away)
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Well my old auntie promised me
(sail away lady sail away)
When shed die shed will to me
(sail away lady sail away)
She lived so long her head got bald
(sail away lady sail away)
She got out the notes and the dimes and all
(sail away lady sail away)
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Aaay
(instrumental)
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
I said
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Well my old auntie promised me
(sail away lady sail away)
When shed die shed will to me
(sail away lady sail away)
Well, she lived so long her head got bald
(sail away lady sail away)
She didnt got out the notes and the dimes and all
(sail away lady said away)
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio
Dont you rock me daddio

[...] Read more

song performed by Van Morrison
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Sail On Sailor

I sailed an ocean, unsettled ocean
Through restful waters and deep commotion
Often frightened, unenlightened
Sail on, sail on sailor
I wrest the waters, fight neptunes waters
Sail through the sorrows of lifes marauders
Unrepenting, often empty
Sail on, sail on sailor
Caught like a sewer rat alone but I sail
Bought like a crust of bread, but oh do I wail
Seldom stumble, never crumble
Try to tumble, lifes a rumble
Feel the stinging Ive been given
Never ending, unrelenting
Heartbreak searing, always fearing
Never caring, persevering
Sail on, sail on, sailor
I work the seaways, the gale-swept seaways
Past shipwrecked daughters of wicked waters
Uninspired, drenched and tired
Wail on, wail on, sailor
Always needing, even bleeding
Never feeding all my feelings
Damn the thunder, must I blunder
Theres no wonder all Im under
Stop the crying and the lying
And the sighing and my dying
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor

song performed by Beach Boys
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The Bas Bleu: Or, Conversation. Addressed To Mrs. Vesey

VESEY, of Verse the judge and friend,
Awhile my idle strain attend:
Not with the days of early Greece,
I mean to ope my slender piece;
The rare Symposium to proclaim
Which crown'd th' Athenians' social name;
Or how Aspasia's parties shone,
The first Bas-bleu at Athens known;
Where SOCRATES unbending sat,
With ALCIBIADES in chat;
And PERICLES vouchsafed to mix
Taste, wit, and mirth, with politics.
Nor need I stop my tale to show,
At least to readers such as you,
How all that Rome esteem'd polite,
Supp'd with LUCULLUS every night;
LUCULLUS, who, from Pontus come,
Brought conquests, and brought cherries home.
Name but the suppers in th' Appollo,
What classic images will follow!
How wit flew round, while each might take
Conchylia from the Lucrine lake;
And Attic Salt, and Garum Sauce,
And Lettuce from the Isle of Cos;
The first and last from Greece transplanted,
Us'd here--because the rhyme I wanted:
How pheasant's heads, with cost collected,
And Phenicopters' stood neglected,
To laugh at SCIPIO's lucky hit,
POMPEY's bon-mot, or CAESAR's wit!
Intemperance, list'ning to the tale,
Forgot the Mullet growing stale;
And Admiration, balanc'd, hung
'Twixt PEACOCKS' brains, and TULLY's tongue.
I shall not stop to dwell on these,
But be as epic as I please,
And plunge at once in medias res.
To prove that privilege I plead,
I'll quote some Greek I cannot read;
Stunn'd by Authority you yield,
And I, not reason, keep the field.
Long was Society o'er-run
By Whist, that desolating Hun;
Long did Quadrille despotic sit,
That Vandal of colloquial wit;
And Conversation's setting light
Lay half-obscur'd in Gothic night.
At length the mental shades decline,
Colloquial wit begins to shine;
Genius prevails, and Conversation

[...] Read more

poem by Hannah More
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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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;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Hot Wit U

Hot wit U
CHORUS:
I wanna get hot wit U
Get U underneath the cream and ooh
Get U doin' things U thought U'd never do
Make U suck your tongue and say, "Ooh!"
I wanna get hot wit U
Take U upstairs 2 the 14th room
Multicolored lights and an ocean view
Ooh, I wanna get hot wit U
I wanna get hot wit U, I wanna get hot wit U {x2}
I want 2 get hot with U
I wanna get U underneath the cream and do the marshmallow
Ooh I wanna get hot with U
I wanna get U 2 do something
U thought U'd never do
Like dance in front of my headlights
On a hot summer night - nude
I wanna get hot with U
CHORUS
I want 2 get hot with U
I wanna make U climb this chain around my waist so I can prove
That I'm the only one that brings out the freak in U
I want 2 get hot with U
I wanna get hot wit U, I wanna get hot wit U {x2}
Know the body bangin', got U singin'
No shouts from the neighbors, telephone ringin'
Put me in positions thought I'd never do proper
Created a machine, now U know U can't stop her
Tryin' 2 turn me out, it never happen, so stop this
I'm suppose 2 tremble cuz they call U "The Artist"?
Let's wild out - can U handle ruff ridin'?
Treat U like the freak of the week and had U hidin' from me
I'd do whatever U like if U could take it
If I could be your girlfriend, U could catch me naked
Can't front sexually, I'd like a sample
But I don't think that I'm ready 4 U 2 make me an example
I mean - come on - why front on
I'd never place time - queen of your life
I'm there, whenever
The things that U're feeling 4 me - mutual
But I'm ready 2 call U daddy, even get hot wit U
Meet me early morning (Meet me in the morning, baby)
In a 4th dimension plane (In a 4th dimension plane)
Astral travelin' hottie, (Hottie hottie) I know U know my game
Underneath the cream I'll meet U (I'll U meet down there)
And then we'll rearrange (Turn the child 'round)
Everything U know of love (Everything)
I'll give U reason 2 change
Hot wit U, I wanna get hot wit U (Wanna wanna)

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
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Sail Away

By dickey betts
(c) 1979 emi blackwood music inc.
Sunset colors, all across the bay.
Finds me here alone at the end of one more day.
Skipping stones across the water.
Wonder why I ever thought youd stay.
Palm trees sway in the evening breeze.
Sing a lullabye of sweet love to me.
Sailboat, sail away into the amber sky.
And I wonder why I ever thought youd stay.
Sail on, sail away.
May all your dreams come true one day.
Sail on, sail away.
I wonder why I ever thought youd stay.
Sail on, sail away.
May all your dreams come true one day.
Sail on, sail away.
I wonder why I ever thought youd stay.
I wonder why I ever thought youd stay.
Sail on, sail away.
Sail on, sail away.
Sail on, sail away.
Sail on, sail away.

song performed by Allman Brothers Band
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Quintus

Incipit Liber Sextus

Est gula, que nostrum maculavit prima parentem
Ex vetito pomo, quo dolet omnis homo
Hec agit, ut corpus anime contraria spirat,
Quo caro fit crassa, spiritus atque macer.
Intus et exterius si que virtutis habentur,
Potibus ebrietas conviciata ruit.
Mersa sopore labis, que Bachus inebriat hospes,
Indignata Venus oscula raro premit.

---------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------

The grete Senne original,
Which every man in general
Upon his berthe hath envenymed,
In Paradis it was mystymed:
Whan Adam of thilke Appel bot,
His swete morscel was to hot,
Which dedly made the mankinde.
And in the bokes as I finde,
This vice, which so out of rule
Hath sette ous alle, is cleped Gule;
Of which the branches ben so grete,
That of hem alle I wol noght trete,
Bot only as touchende of tuo
I thenke speke and of no mo;
Wherof the ferste is Dronkeschipe,
Which berth the cuppe felaschipe.
Ful many a wonder doth this vice,
He can make of a wisman nyce,
And of a fool, that him schal seme
That he can al the lawe deme,
And yiven every juggement
Which longeth to the firmament
Bothe of the sterre and of the mone;
And thus he makth a gret clerk sone
Of him that is a lewed man.
Ther is nothing which he ne can,
Whil he hath Dronkeschipe on honde,
He knowth the See, he knowth the stronde,
He is a noble man of armes,
And yit no strengthe is in his armes:
Ther he was strong ynouh tofore,
With Dronkeschipe it is forlore,
And al is changed his astat,
And wext anon so fieble and mat,
That he mai nouther go ne come,
Bot al togedre him is benome
The pouer bothe of hond and fot,

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poem by John Gower
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Imitations of Horace: The First Epistle of the Second Book

Ne Rubeam, Pingui donatus Munere
(Horace, Epistles II.i.267)
While you, great patron of mankind, sustain
The balanc'd world, and open all the main;
Your country, chief, in arms abroad defend,
At home, with morals, arts, and laws amend;
How shall the Muse, from such a monarch steal
An hour, and not defraud the public weal?
Edward and Henry, now the boast of fame,
And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred name,
After a life of gen'rous toils endur'd,
The Gaul subdu'd, or property secur'd,
Ambition humbled, mighty cities storm'd,
Or laws establish'd, and the world reform'd;
Clos'd their long glories with a sigh, to find
Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind!
All human virtue, to its latest breath
Finds envy never conquer'd, but by death.
The great Alcides, ev'ry labour past,
Had still this monster to subdue at last.
Sure fate of all, beneath whose rising ray
Each star of meaner merit fades away!
Oppress'd we feel the beam directly beat,
Those suns of glory please not till they set.

To thee the world its present homage pays,
The harvest early, but mature the praise:
Great friend of liberty! in kings a name
Above all Greek, above all Roman fame:
Whose word is truth, as sacred and rever'd,
As Heav'n's own oracles from altars heard.
Wonder of kings! like whom, to mortal eyes
None e'er has risen, and none e'er shall rise.

Just in one instance, be it yet confest
Your people, Sir, are partial in the rest:
Foes to all living worth except your own,
And advocates for folly dead and gone.
Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old;
It is the rust we value, not the gold.
Chaucer's worst ribaldry is learn'd by rote,
And beastly Skelton heads of houses quote:
One likes no language but the Faery Queen ;
A Scot will fight for Christ's Kirk o' the Green:
And each true Briton is to Ben so civil,
He swears the Muses met him at the Devil.

Though justly Greece her eldest sons admires,
Why should not we be wiser than our sires?
In ev'ry public virtue we excel:

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poem by Alexander Pope
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How Bateese Came Home

1 W'en I was young boy on de farm, dat 's twenty year ago
2 I have wan frien' he 's leev near me, call Jean Bateese Trudeau
3 An offen w'en we are alone, we lak for spik about
4 De tam w'en we was come beeg man, wit' moustache on our mout'.

5 Bateese is get it on hees head, he 's too moche educate
6 For mak' de habitant farmerre--he better go on State--
7 An' so wan summer evening we 're drivin' home de cow
8 He 's tole me all de whole beez-nesse--jus' lak you hear me now.

9 'W'at 's use mak' foolish on de farm? dere 's no good chances lef'
10 An' all de tam you be poor man--you know dat 's true you'se'f;
11 We never get no fun at all--don't never go on spree
12 Onless we pass on 'noder place, an' mak' it some monee.

13 'I go on Les Etats Unis, I go dere right away
14 An' den mebbe on ten-twelve year, I be riche man some day,
15 An' w'en I mak' de large fortune, I come back I s'pose
16 Wit' Yankee famme from off de State, an' monee on my clothes.

17 'I tole you somet'ing else also--mon cher Napoleon
18 I get de grande majorité, for go on parliament
19 Den buil' fine house on borde l'eau--near w'ere de church is stand
20 More finer dan de Presbytere, w'en I am come riche man!'

21 I say 'For w'at you spik lak dat? you must be gone crazee
22 Dere 's plaintee feller on de State, more smarter dan you be,
23 Beside she 's not so healtee place, an' if you mak' l'argent,
24 You spen' it jus' lak Yankee man, an' not lak habitant.

25 'For me Bateese! I tole you dis: I 'm very satisfy--
26 De bes' man don't leev too long tam, some day Ba Gosh! he die--
27 An' s'pose you got good trotter horse, an' nice famme Canadienne
28 Wit' plaintee on de house for eat--W'at more you want ma frien'?'

29 But Bateese have it all mak' up, I can't stop him at all
30 He 's buy de seconde classe tiquette, for go on Central Fall--
31 An' wit' two-t'ree some more de boy,--w'at t'ink de sam' he do
32 Pass on de train de very nex' wick, was lef' Rivière du Loup.

33 Wall! mebbe fifteen year or more, since Bateese go away
34 I fin' mesef Rivière du Loup, wan cole, cole winter day
35 De quick express she come hooraw! but stop de soon she can
36 An' beeg swell feller jomp off car, dat 's boss by nigger man.

37 He 's dressim on de première classe, an' got new suit of clothes
38 Wit' long moustache dat 's stickim out, de 'noder side hees nose
39 Fine gol' watch chain--nice portmanteau--an' long, long overcoat
40 Wit' beaver hat--dat 's Yankee style--an' red tie on hees t'roat--

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poem by William Henry Drummond
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Runnin'

It's hard to hit a moving target
At least that's what I've been told
If they can't catch you they can't hurt you
You never let them get a hold
So I keep runinn'
I keep right on runnin'
I've always pushed it to the limit
In fact I've pushed it way past that
If you got guts then jump on in it
If not then don't forget your hat
And I keep runnin'
Keep on runnin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
Even though I'm cryin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
Keep myself from dyin'
Kick back, relax, don't try to fight it
I'm like a time bomb set to blow
Oh babe, you make me so excited
I just can't take it anymore
I might stop cryin'
Feels like I'm flyin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
Though it feels like flyin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
You make me feel like dyin'
Sail - sail - sail
Sail - sail - sail
Babe, I can't run away from you
But I'm scared to let you know
I never stayed one place long enough
To lose my will to go
Our future's way on up ahead
The past fades somewhere far behind
If we could just inveil our needs
No one could stop us or we'd be flyin'
We could stop runnin'
Stop all this runnin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
No more need for cryin'
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
Love feels like just flyin'
Sail - sail - sail
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
No more need for cryin'
Sail - sail - sail
Runnin', runnin', runnin'
Lovemake me feel like flyin'
Sail - sail - sail
Runnin', runnin', runnin'

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song performed by Cher
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Rose Delima

You can sew heem up in a canvas sack,
An' t'row heem over boar'
You can wait till de ship she 's comin' back
Den bury heem on de shore
For dead man w'en he 's dead for sure,
Ain't good for not'ing at all
An' he 'll stay on de place you put heem
Till he hear dat bugle call
Dey say will soun' on de las', las' day
W'en ev'ry t'ing 's goin' for pass away,
But down on de Gulf of St. Laurent
W'ere de sea an' de reever meet
An' off on St. Pierre de Miquelon,
De chil'ren on de street
Can tole you story of Pierre Guillaume,
De sailor of St. Yvonne
Dat 's bringin' de Rose Delima home
Affer he 's dead an' gone.
______

He was stretch heem on de bed an' he could
n't raise hees head
So dey place heem near de winder w'ere he
can look below,
An' watch de schooner lie wit' her topmas' on
de sky,
An' oh! how mad it mak' heem, ole Cap-
tinne Baribeau.

For she 's de fines' boat dat never was afloat
From de harbour of St. Simon to de shore of
New-fun-lan'
She can almos' dance a reel, an' de sea shell on
her keel
Wall! you count dem very easy on de finger
of your han'.

But de season 's flyin' fas', an' de fall is nearly
pas'
An' de leetle Rose Delima she 's doin' not-
'ing dere
Only pullin' on her chain, an' wishin' once
again
She was w'ere de black fish tumble, an jomp
upon de air.

But who can tak' her out, for she 's got de
tender mout'
Lak a trotter on de race-course dat's mebbe
run away

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poem by William Henry Drummond
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Book Of The Duchesse

THE PROEM

I have gret wonder, be this lighte,
How that I live, for day ne nighte
I may nat slepe wel nigh noght,
I have so many an ydel thoght
Purely for defaute of slepe
That, by my trouthe, I take no kepe
Of no-thing, how hit cometh or goth,
Ne me nis no-thing leef nor loth.
Al is y-liche good to me --
Ioye or sorowe, wherso hyt be --
For I have feling in no-thinge,
But, as it were, a mased thing,
Alway in point to falle a-doun;
For sorwful imaginacioun
Is alway hoolly in my minde.
And wel ye wite, agaynes kynde
Hit were to liven in this wyse;
For nature wolde nat suffyse
To noon erthely creature
Not longe tyme to endure
Withoute slepe, and been in sorwe;
And I ne may, ne night ne morwe,
Slepe; and thus melancolye
And dreed I have for to dye,
Defaute of slepe and hevinesse
Hath sleyn my spirit of quiknesse,
That I have lost al lustihede.
Suche fantasies ben in myn hede
So I not what is best to do.
But men myght axe me, why soo
I may not slepe, and what me is?
But natheles, who aske this
Leseth his asking trewely.
My-selven can not telle why
The sooth; but trewely, as I gesse,
I holde hit be a siknesse
That I have suffred this eight yere,
And yet my bote is never the nere;
For ther is phisicien but oon,
That may me hele; but that is doon.
Passe we over until eft;
That wil not be, moot nede be left;
Our first matere is good to kepe.
So whan I saw I might not slepe,
Til now late, this other night,
Upon my bedde I sat upright
And bad oon reche me a book,
A romaunce, and he hit me took

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poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
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Hudibras: Part 1 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

Sir Hudibras his passing worth,
The manner how he sallied forth;
His arms and equipage are shown;
His horse's virtues, and his own.
Th' adventure of the bear and fiddle
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.

When civil dudgeon a first grew high,
And men fell out they knew not why?
When hard words, jealousies, and fears,
Set folks together by the ears,
And made them fight, like mad or drunk,
For Dame Religion, as for punk;
Whose honesty they all durst swear for,
Though not a man of them knew wherefore:
When Gospel-Trumpeter, surrounded
With long-ear'd rout, to battle sounded,
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastick,
Was beat with fist, instead of a stick;
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a colonelling.
A wight he was, whose very sight wou'd
Entitle him Mirror of Knighthood;
That never bent his stubborn knee
To any thing but Chivalry;
Nor put up blow, but that which laid
Right worshipful on shoulder-blade;
Chief of domestic knights and errant,
Either for cartel or for warrant;
Great on the bench, great in the saddle,
That could as well bind o'er, as swaddle;
Mighty he was at both of these,
And styl'd of war, as well as peace.
(So some rats, of amphibious nature,
Are either for the land or water).
But here our authors make a doubt
Whether he were more wise, or stout:
Some hold the one, and some the other;
But howsoe'er they make a pother,
The diff'rence was so small, his brain
Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain;
Which made some take him for a tool
That knaves do work with, call'd a fool,
And offer to lay wagers that
As MONTAIGNE, playing with his cat,
Complains she thought him but an ass,
Much more she wou'd Sir HUDIBRAS;

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poem by Samuel Butler
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M'Sieu Smit

THE ADVENTURES OF AN ENGLISHMAN IN THE CANADIAN WOODS.

Wan morning de walkim boss say 'Damase,
I t'ink you're good man on canoe d'ecorce,
So I'll ax you go wit' your frien' Philéas
An' meet M'sieu' Smit' on Chenail W'ite Horse.

'He'll have I am sure de grosse baggage--
Mebbe some valise--mebbe six or t'ree--
But if she's too moche for de longue portage
'Poleon he will tak' 'em wit' mail buggee.'

W'en we reach Chenail, plaintee peep be dere,
An' wan frien' of me, call Placide Chretien,
'Splain all dat w'en he say man from Angleterre
Was spik heem de crowd on de 'Parisien.'

Fonny way dat Englishman he'll be dress,
Leetle pant my dear frien' jus' come on knee,
Wit' coat dat's no coat at all--only ves'
An' hat--de more stranger I never see!

Wall! dere he sit on de en' some log
An' swear heem in English purty loud
Den talk Français, w'ile hees chien boule dog
Go smellim an' smellim aroun' de crowd.

I spik im 'Bonjour, M'sieu' Smit', Bonjour,
I hope dat yourse'f and famille she's well?'
M'sieu Smit' he is also say 'Bonjour,'
An' call off hees dog dat's commence for smell.

I tell heem my name dat's Damase Labrie
I am come wit' Philéas for mak' de trip,
An' he say I'm de firs' man he never see
Spik English encore since he lef' de ship.

He is also ax it to me 'Damase,
De peep she don't seem understan' Français,
W'at's matter wit' dat?' An' I say 'Becos
You mak' too much talk on de Parisien.'

De groun she is pile wit' baggage--Sapré!
An' I see purty quick we got plaintee troub--
Two tronk, t'ree valise, four-five fusil,
An' w'at M'sieu Smit' he is call 'bat' tubbe.'

M'sieu Smit' he's tole me w'at for's dat t'ing,
An' it seem Englishman he don't feel correc'

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poem by William Henry Drummond
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