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If you had a face like mine, you'd punch me right on the nose, and I'm just the fella to do it.

quote by Stan Laurel
Added by Lucian Velea
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Real Gone Lover

Im a real gone lover
Im hip, Im in the know
Im a real gone lover
Im hip, Im in the know
And if ya love me one time
Youll soon come back for more
Come over to my pad
Come over to my pad and play
Come over to my pad
Come over to my pad and play
Like the old saying goes
When sunshines, lets make hay
Well, Im a nervous fella (hes a nervous fella)
Im a nervous fella (hes a nervous fella)
Im a little-little nervous fella
(hes a nervous fella)
Im a little-little nervous fella
(hes a nervous fella)
Im a nervous fella
Dont make me wait all night
Im a real gone lover
Im hip, Im in the know
(sing it with me)
Im a real gone lover
Im hip, Im in the know
And if ya love me one time
Youll soon come back for more
(come on over babe)
Come over to my pad
Come over to my pad and play
(come on over)
Come over to my pad
Come over to my pad and play
(come over baby) (ooo, Im comin)
Like the old saying goes
When the sun shines, lets make hay, ha
Im a nervous fella (Im a real gone lover)
Im a nervous fella (ho, Im a real gone lover)
Im a n-n-n-nervous fella (and Im a real gone lover)
Im-m-m a n-n-n-nervous fella (and Im a real gone lover)
Im a nervous fella
So dont make me wait all night
(sing one more time)
Im a nervous fella
(hes a nervous fella)
Im a nervous fella
(and Im a real gone lover)
Im a n-n-n nervous fella
(ooo, hes a nervous fella)
Im a n-n-n nervous fella

[...] Read more

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Punch & Judy

(fish / marillion)
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Washing machine, pinstripe dream
Stripped the gloss from a beauty queen
Punch and judy, judy
Found our nest, in the daily express
Met the vicar in a holy vest
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Brought up the children church of e
Now I vegetate with a colour tv
Worst ever thing that ever happened to me
Oh, for d.i.v.o.r.c.e.
Oh judy
Whatever happened to pillow fights
Whatever happened to jeans so tight, friday nights
Whatever happened to lovers lane
Whatever happened to passion games
Sunday walks in the pouring rain
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Curling tongs, mogadons, I got a headache baby, dont take so long
Single beds, middle age dread
Losing the war in the waistlands spread
Who left the cap of the toothpaste tube
Who forgot to flush the loo
Leave your sweaty socks outside the door
Dont walk across my polished floor, oh judy
Whatever happened to morning smiles
Whatever happened to wicked wiles, permissive styles
Whatever happened to twinkling eyes
Whatever happened to hard fast drives
Complements on unnatural size
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch

[...] Read more

song performed by Marillion
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Dorus

In days of yore, as Ancient Stories tell,
A King in love with a great Princess fell.
Long at her feet submiss the Monarch sigh'd,
While she with stern repulse his suit denied.
Yet was he form'd by birth to please the fair,
Dress'd, danc'd, and courted, with a Monarch's air;
But Magic Spells her frozen breast had steel'd
With stubborn pride, that knew not how to yield.

This to the King a courteous Fairy told,
And bade the Monarch in his suit be bold;
For he that would the charming Princess wed,
Had only on her cat's black tail to tread,
When straight the Spell would vanish into air,
And he enjoy for life the yielding fair.

He thank'd the Fairy for her kind advice.-
Thought he, 'If this be all, I'll not be nice;
Rather than in my courtship I will fail,
I will to mince-meat tread Minon's black tail.'

To the Princess's court repairing strait,
He sought the cat that must decide his fate;
But when he found her, how the creature stared!
How her back bristled, and her great eyes glared!
That tail, which he so fondly hop'd his prize,
Was swell'd by wrath to twice its usual size;
And all her cattish gestures plainly spoke,
She thought the affair he came upon, no joke.

With wary step the cautious King draws near,
And slyly means to attack her in her rear;
But when he thinks upon her tail to pounce,
Whisk-off she skips-three yards upon a bounce-
Again he tries, again his efforts fail-
Minon's a witch-the deuce is in her tail.-

The anxious chase for weeks the Monarch tried,
Till courage fail'd, and hope within him died.
A desperate suit 'twas useless to prefer,
Or hope to catch a tail of quicksilver.-
When on a day, beyond his hopes, he found
Minon, his foe, asleep upon the ground;
Her ample tail hehind her lay outspread,
Full to the eye, and tempting to the tread.

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Lamb
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The Kind Of Fella I Am

Well I dont like it when I see your eyes dartin
Back and forth across the room
And I dont like it when I see you doin dances
Baby that I aint used to
Chorus:
But thats the kind of fella I am
Thats the kind of fella I am
Im a jealous kinda fella
And I might fall in love with you
Im a jealous kinda fella
And I just might fall in love with you
Hey
Well I dont like it when you try to impress me
With your daddys jewels and his car
And I dont like it when I hear you talkin
bout your ex-boyfriend the movie star
What I like is when you walk me home
And you let me hold you tight
But I dont like it when I hear that you learned
All this from some other guy
Chorus:
But thats the kind of fella I am
Thats the kind of fella I am
Im a jealous kinda fella
And I might fall in love with you
Im a jealous kinda fella
And I just might fall in love with you
Hey
So look out
Chorus:
But thats the kind of fella I am
Thats the kind of fella I am
Im a jealous kinda fella
And I might fall in love with you
Im a jealous kinda fella
And I just might fall in love with you
Hey

song performed by John Mellencamp
Added by Lucian Velea
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Finding Oneself......... [EXTREMELY LONG; Growing Up; Relationships; Humor

Part One

When Bri was 13 and in grade 8,
he noticed classmates beginning to date.
At school (other) boys got their way with the girls with a kiss.
But Bri didn't have the urge; he thought 'what's this? '
He decided he should give it a try,
but each time he tried, the girl would cry.
Not only would she cry; she would run away and hide.
Bri felt between himself and the other boys a great divide.

Back home after school he'd seclude himself in his room and cry.
Through his mind was repeated the question 'why? ' 'Why DO they cry? Why? '

Bri was a straight A+ student with no flubs.
He played football but (except for 'Cooking') he joined not clubs.

After a few months Bri gave up (on girls) . He had NO close friends to set him right;
his parents should have known the problem, but they weren't bright.

In high school he took AP courses, and took 3 courses at a nearby college.
He ignored girls and sports and concentrated on gaining knowledge.

He got a full scholarship to Harvard, but his advisor looked at him funny.
By age 26 he had his PhD in psychology and started making money.
But he still asked 'why? '
It still bothered him and at times he'd cry.

Then waking up one day from a dream, Bri suddenly asked himself 'were they shy?
And if so, why with ME and not the other boys? Why DID they cry? '
The answer could be that his brain and looks were superior.
Were those girls only uncomfortable with boys that were inferior (to him) ?
If that really was the answer, he could now save face,
and could pursue women with HIS high level of brains, looks, and grace.
(But WAS it the answer? He was still not SURE why they did cry.)
For now he would work hard, avoid girls, and try to keep his eyes dry.
In two more years would be a second high school reunion. Thoughts of attending gave Bri a fright. (He'd skipped the first,5 year, reunion.)
But by going this time he might find out if his answer to his 'why? ' was right.

PART TWO

For two more years he waited anxiously for invitation he was dreading.
At times he'd awaken at night from a 'reunion dream', profusely sweating.
Finally it arrived in mail; it would be in June, before it got TOO warm.
He kept his calendar free for the whole month, doubting, at work, he could perform.
He got out the yearbooks his Mom had bought, and he studied each girl's name.
Would he have the nerve to ask them 'why? ' ….OR would he be too scared and lame?

He lived on sedatives for a week. He picked his favorite tie, and a light grey business suit.
Would he find out if the girls had just been shy, or would they give him 'the boot'?

[...] Read more

poem by Bri Edwards
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So It Goes

Life
Life
Roll my die
Roll my die
Change this life
Change this life
You said this movie was mine
You said this movie was mine
But now you go and change your mind
But now you go and change your mind
This is my life
This is my life
So it goes
So it goes
You come in on your own in this life
You come in on your own in this life
You know you leave on your own
You know you leave on your own
cause I dont need no cause
cause I dont need no cause
When my feelings fall
When my feelings fall
You showed me things I didnt want to see
You showed me things I didnt want to see
I dont believe that love is free
I dont believe that love is free
Sure fine way to treat a man
Sure fine way to treat a man
So it goes
You come in on your own in this life
So it goes
And you know you leave on your own
You come in on your own in this life
And you know you leave on your own
Life
This is my life
So it goes
Life
You come into this life on your own
This is my life
You know youll leave on your own
So it goes
Life
You come into this life on your own
This is my life
You know youll leave on your own
So it goes
Life
You come into this life on your own
This is my life

[...] Read more

song performed by Verve
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Fella With An Umbrella

Im just a fella, a fella with an umbrella,
Looking for a girl who saved her love for a rainy day.
Im just a fella, a fella with an umbrella,
Glad to see the skies of blue have turned into skies of gray.
Raindrops have brought us together,
And thats what I long to see.
Maybe the break in the weather will prove to be a break for me.
So Ill be the fella, that fella with an umbrella,
If youll be the girl who saved her love for a rainy day.

Oh, the raindrops have brought us together,
And thats what I long to see.
Maybe the break in the weather will prove to be a big break for me.
So Ill be the fella, the kid with the small umbrella,
If youll be the girl who saved her love for a rainy day.
If you will be the girl, the girl who saved her love for a rainy day.

song performed by Irving Berlin
Added by Lucian Velea
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Beaten To The Punch

You say that you can and then you run to get your mummy
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Looking for the man who sold you the dummy
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Laughing at the older guys who say its just as well
Saved by the wedding bell
Almost beaten to the punch
Youre looking for somebody new that you can knock around
You are almost beaten to the punch
If youve got a head for figures then youd better count me out
You were almost beaten to the punch
You pulled the piece but you soon called it love
You go hand in glove
Almost beaten to the punch
Your body speaks much louder than your voice
You let it do the talking so I dont have any choice
Now you find the younger guys are putting up resistance
And youre almost beaten to the punch
You better get out now because youll never go the distance
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Youll find a girl and youll promise her anything
Even a wedding ring
Almost beaten to the punch

song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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Face To Face

We never talk to one another
We just disagree
Im the one who runs for cover
And you turn your back on me
They say nothings gonna last forever
But some things are worth fighting for
Yeah, well love could bring us back together
But love dont come round here no more
The words unspoken in the night
Locked away in my heart
And Im feeling out of place
But if love is the key
Let it open the door
So well be standing -- face to face
You never want to see me face to face
Think it over
Face to face
If only it could be just face to face
Baby you and me
Face to face
I may be better off without it
I cant go on this way
Time has come to talk about it
This is our judgement day
You know we swore it would last forever
Always felt so sure it would
But its looking like now or never
Time to turn a bad thing into good
The words that echo in the night
Theyre fading away
And theyre gone without a trace
Now its up to you and me
Lets open the door
And meet each other -- face to face
Its time we saw each other face to face
To talk it over
Face to face
You know its gotta be just face to face
Baby you and me
Face to face
We gotta see each other -- face to face
And talk about it
Face to face
Hope it aint too late to meet face to face
Just you and me
(solo)
Face to face
Its time we saw each other face to face
To talk it over
Face to face

[...] Read more

song performed by Foreigner
Added by Lucian Velea
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Punch And Judy

Gather 'round!)
Punch and Judy did it truly and were married in a haste
In love, maybe, using the baby as a kind of romance paste
She's grown fatter, her hair cut shorter, looks much older than nineteen
He's a drinker not a thinker, baby spoiled his could have been
This must be make-believe
This must be make-believe
This must be make-believe
'Cos who do we know, dear, who acts like that?
oh oh oh oh!
Punch and Judy
Punch and Judy in a semi on a brand new council plot
Sunday lunchtime, beer-for-Punch time, while his dinner's far from hot
She grows tired, cab is hired, she goes round to see her friend
He comes back late, fool is irate, we will see his temperament
Punch and Judy in a quandary, she's walked out and he is mad
Now he's grown up, can't smash home up, retribution must be had
Punch and Judy had a baby who brought them to married bliss
Mr Punch has drunken hunch that he must punish kid for this
Punch and Judy

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Punch & Judy

Gather round!
Punch and judy,
Did it truly,
And were married in a haste,
In love, maybe,
Using the baby,
As a kind of romance paste,
Shes grown fatter,
Her hair cut shorter,
Looks much older than nineteen,
Hes a drinker,
Not a thinker,
Baby spoiled his could-have-been.
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
cos who do we know, dear, who acts like that?
Punch and judy.
Punch and judy,
In a semi,
On a brand new council plot,
Sunday lunchtime,
Beer-for-punch time,
While his dinners far from hot,
She grows tired,
Cab is hired,
She goes round to see her friend,
He comes back late,
Fool is irate,
We will see his temper bend.
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
cos who do we know, dear, who acts like that?
Punch and judy,
In a quandary,
Shes walked out, and he is mad.
Now hes grown up,
Cant smash home up,
Retribution must be had.
Punch and judy,
Had a baby,
Who brought them to married bliss.
Mr punch,,
Has drunken hunch,
That he must punish kid for this
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
cos who do we know, dear, who acts like that?

[...] Read more

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Punch And Judy

Gather 'round!)
Punch and Judy did it truly and were married in a haste
In love, maybe, using the baby as a kind of romance paste
She's grown fatter, her hair cut shorter, looks much older than nineteen
He's a drinker not a thinker, baby spoiled his could have been
This must be make-believe
This must be make-believe
This must be make-believe
'Cos who do we know, dear, who acts like that?
oh oh oh oh!
Punch and Judy
Punch and Judy in a semi on a brand new council plot
Sunday lunchtime, beer-for-Punch time, while his dinner's far from hot
She grows tired, cab is hired, she goes round to see her friend
He comes back late, fool is irate, we will see his temperament
Punch and Judy in a quandary, she's walked out and he is mad
Now he's grown up, can't smash home up, retribution must be had
Punch and Judy had a baby who brought them to married bliss
Mr Punch has drunken hunch that he must punish kid for this
Punch and Judy

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Punch & Judy

Gather round!
Punch and judy,
Did it truly,
And were married in a haste,
In love, maybe,
Using the baby,
As a kind of romance paste,
Shes grown fatter,
Her hair cut shorter,
Looks much older than nineteen,
Hes a drinker,
Not a thinker,
Baby spoiled his could-have-been.
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
cos who do we know, dear, who acts like that?
Punch and judy.
Punch and judy,
In a semi,
On a brand new council plot,
Sunday lunchtime,
Beer-for-punch time,
While his dinners far from hot,
She grows tired,
Cab is hired,
She goes round to see her friend,
He comes back late,
Fool is irate,
We will see his temper bend.
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
cos who do we know, dear, who acts like that?
Punch and judy,
In a quandary,
Shes walked out, and he is mad.
Now hes grown up,
Cant smash home up,
Retribution must be had.
Punch and judy,
Had a baby,
Who brought them to married bliss.
Mr punch,,
Has drunken hunch,
That he must punish kid for this
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
This must be make-believe,
cos who do we know, dear, who acts like that?

[...] Read more

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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5. A Punch-up

Punch and Judy always fighting
Crocodile is always biting
Baby crying Punch looks rough
Judy says she’s had enough

She leaves Punch to baby mind
He’s lost baby cannot find
Searching high and searching low
Punch thinks Judy mustn’t know

Judy’s back she had a hunch
With a stick she batters Punch
Policeman comes to stop the fighting
Sausages the croc is biting

Punch arrested took to jail
Judy searching starts to wail
Baby found beneath a bush
Fast asleep a little hush

Judy goes back to the station
Told the police with much elation
Punch released it made him smile
Till he got chased home by the crocodile

poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Added by Poetry Lover
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Sixth Book

THE English have a scornful insular way
Of calling the French light. The levity
Is in the judgment only, which yet stands;
For say a foolish thing but oft enough,
(And here's the secret of a hundred creeds,–
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell,
By re-iteration chiefly) the same thing
Shall pass at least for absolutely wise,
And not with fools exclusively. And so,
We say the French are light, as if we said
The cat mews, or the milch-cow gives us milk:
Say rather, cats are milked, and milch cows mew,
For what is lightness but inconsequence,
Vague fluctuation 'twixt effect and cause,
Compelled by neither? Is a bullet light,
That dashes from the gun-mouth, while the eye
Winks, and the heart beats one, to flatten itself
To a wafer on the white speck on a wall
A hundred paces off? Even so direct,
So sternly undivertible of aim,
Is this French people.
All idealists
Too absolute and earnest, with them all
The idea of a knife cuts real flesh;
And still, devouring the safe interval
Which Nature placed between the thought and act,
They threaten conflagration to the world
And rush with most unscrupulous logic on
Impossible practice. Set your orators
To blow upon them with loud windy mouths
Through watchword phrases, jest or sentiment,
Which drive our burley brutal English mobs
Like so much chaff, whichever way they blow,–
This light French people will not thus be driven.
They turn indeed; but then they turn upon
Some central pivot of their thought and choice,
And veer out by the force of holding fast.
–That's hard to understand, for Englishmen
Unused to abstract questions, and untrained
To trace the involutions, valve by valve,
In each orbed bulb-root of a general truth,
And mark what subtly fine integument
Divides opposed compartments. Freedom's self
Comes concrete to us, to be understood,
Fixed in a feudal form incarnately
To suit our ways of thought and reverence,
The special form, with us, being still the thing.
With us, I say, though I'm of Italy
My mother's birth and grave, by father's grave
And memory; let it be,–a poet's heart

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

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

No one cares for the nose

To go nose straight is the tao

If there were no eyes

You could see better with your nose

If there were no nose

you wouldnot distinguish the sweet from the bitter

And there would be no value judgements in the world

And it is the nose that keeps you hot in the cold

And that keeps you cold in Jakodabad

The nose is the vigilant customs officer

That does not allow any drug to your lungs

And the nose cannot be bribed

Oh Nose! the customs officer of the body

And the pivot of value judgement in the world

If that name thou love

Remain with us and teach the noseless world

That it must have a nose in this wartorn world

He who knows the greatness of nose

Surely goes to the realm of rose

In the life to come

Hurrah Let us compose hymns to nose

poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Face To Face

Now I've got a chick who will be with me
Anytime, day or night
But I won't put up with no runnin' around
You know it just ain't right
I'm going down...
To the town -
Out to go drink with the clowns
You stay at home...
All alone -
And don't you talk on the phone
You're comin' face to face with the guy that's gonna knock you dead
Face to face with the guy that's gonna bust your head
I'm gonna knock you on the floor
You'll beg me for no more
You're comin' face to face with me, like it or not
When I got to town
The words going 'round
That you've been seen on your back
I open the door and you were on the floor
Spreadin' for the clowns in my pack
Now you were wrong...
If you thought -
I'd take it lyin' down like a dog
I put a match...
In her snatch
She thinks she's such a hot little vamp
You're comin' face to face with the guy that's gonna knock you dead
Face to face with the guy that's gonna bust your head
I'm gonna knock you on the floor
You'll beg me for no more
You comn' face to face with me, like it or not
Tear your face apart
Waste you in the dark
Rip you like a shark
Won't think you're so smart
Face to face (face to face) you disgrace
Face to face (face to face) you disgrace
Face to face (face to face) you disgrace
Face to face
Face to face
Face to face with the guy that's gonna knock you dead
Your're comin' face to face with the guy that's gonna bust your head
I'm gonna knock you on the floor
You'll beg me for no more
You're comin' face to face with me, like it or not
You're cominc12

song performed by Quiet Riot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;

Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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King Billy's Skull.

THE scene is the Southern Hemisphere;
The time — oh, any time of the year
Will do as well as another; say June,
Put it down likewise as the full of the moon,
And midnight to boot, when churchyards, they say,
Yawn in a most unmannerly way;
And restless ghosts in winding-sheets
Go forth and gibber about the streets,
And rehearse old crimes that were better hid
In the darkness beneath the coffin-lid.
Observe, that I merely say, on dit;
But though it never happened to me
To encounter, either in-doors or out,
A posthumous gentleman walking about,
In regulation sepulchral guise,
Or in shirt, Crimean or otherwise,
Or in hat and boots and usual wear,
Or, save for a cloud, unbecomingly bare,
Or in gaseous form, with the stars shining through him,
Beckoning me to interview him —
On mission of solemnest import bound,
Or merely a constitutional round,
Beginning at twelve as books declare,
And ending at first sniff of morning air; —
Though all such things, you will understand,
Have reached me only at second-hand,
Or third, or fourth, as the case may be,
Yet there really did occur to me
Something which I perforce must call
Ultra-super-natural; —
In fact trans-ultra-super-preter-
Natural suits both truth and metre.
There is an Island, I won't say where,
For some yet live who mightn't care
To have the address too widely known;
Suffice it to say: South Temperate Zone.
In that same Isle, thus precisely set down,
There's a certain township, and also a town —
(For, to ears colonial, I need not state
That the two do not always homologate). —
And in that same town there's a certain street;
And in that same street, the locals to complete,
There's a certain Surgery, trim and neat,
Kept by —— well, perhaps it were rash
To call him other than Doctor Dash.
At midnight, then, in the month of June
(And don't forget the full of the moon),
I sat in that Surgery, writhing with pain,
Having waited fully two hours in vain
For Doctor Dash, who, I understood,

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poem by James Brunton Stephens
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