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Jason Bourne

Cast: Alicia Vikander, Matt Damon, Julia Stiles, Tommy Lee Jones, Vincent Cassel, Riz Ahmed, Ato Essandoh, Neve Gachev

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A Sicilian Idyll

(First Scene) Damon
I thank thee, no;
Already have I drunk a bowl of wine . . .
Nay, nay, why wouldst thou rise?
There rolls thy ball of worsted! Sit thee down;
Come, sit thee down, Cydilla,
And let me fetch thy ball, rewind the wool,
And tell thee all that happened yesterday.

Cydilla
Thanks, Damon; now, by Zeus, thou art so brisk,
It shames me that to stoop should try my bones.

Damon
We both are old,
And if we may have peaceful days are blessed;
Few hours of bouyancy will come to break
The sure withdrawal from us of life's flood.

Cydilla
True, true, youth looks a great way off! To think
It wonce was age did lie quite out of sight!

Damon
Not many days have been so beautiful
As yesterday, Cydilla; yet one was;
And I with thee broke tranced on its fine spell;
Thou dost remember? Yes? but not with tears,
Ah, not with tears, Cydilla, pray, oh, pray!

Cydilla
Pardon me, Damon,
'Tis many years since thou hast touched thereon;
And something stirs about thee -
Such air of eagerness as was thine when
I was more foolish than in my life, I hope
To ever have been at another time.

Damon
Pooh! foolish? - thou wast then so very wise
That, often having seen thee foolish since,
Wonder has made me faint that thou shouldst err.

Cydilla
Nay, then I erred, dear Damon; and remorse
Was not so slow to find me as thou deemst.

Damon
There, mop those dear wet eyes, or thou'lt ne'er hear
What it was filled my heart yesterday.

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Byron

Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

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Mr. Lee

(emma pought/jannie pought/helen gathers/laurawebb/rether dixon)
One, two, three, look at mr. lee
Three, four, five, look at him jive
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee
I met my sweetie
His name is mr. lee
I met my sweetie
His name is mr. lee
He's the hansomest sweetie
That you ever did see
My heart is achin' for you mr. lee
My heart is achin' for you mr. lee
'cause i love you so
And i'll never let you go
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee
Here comes mr. lee
He's coming for me
Here comes mr. lee
He's coming for me
He's my lover boy
Let's jump for joy
Come on mr. lee and do your stuff
Come on mr. lee and do your stuff
'cause you're gonna be mine
Till the end of time
One, two, three, look at mr. lee
Three, four, five, look at him jive
One, two, three, look at mr. lee
Three, four, five, look at him jive
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee
Mr. lee
One, two, three, look at mr. lee
Three, four, five, look at him jive
Mr. lee, mr. lee
Oh, mr. lee

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Tamar

I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.

The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,

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The Progress of Taste, or the Fate of Delicacy

Part first.

Perhaps some cloud eclipsed the day,
When thus I tuned my pensive lay:
The ship is launch'd-we catch the gale-
On life's extended ocean sail:
For happiness our course we bend,
Our ardent cry, our general end!
Yet, ah! the scenes which tempt our care
Are, like the forms dispersed in air,
Still dancing near disorder'd eyes,
And weakest his who best descries!'
Yet let me not my birthright barter,
(For wishing is the poet's charter;
All bards have leave to wish what's wanted,
Though few e'er found their wishes granted;
Extensive field! where poets pride them
In singing all that is denied them).
For humble ease, ye Powers! I pray;
That plain warm suit for every day,
And pleasure and brocade, bestow,
To flaunt it-once a month, or so.
The first for constant wear we want;
The first, ye Powers! for ever grant;
But constant wear the last bespatters,
And turns the tissue into tatters.
Where'er my vagrant course I bend,
Let me secure one faithful friend.
Let me, in public scenes, request
A friend of wit and taste, well drest;
And, if I must not hope such favour,
A friend of wit and taste, however.
Alas! that Wisdom ever shuns
To congregate her scatter'd Sons,
Whose nervous forces, well combined,
Would win the field, and sway mankind.
The fool will squeeze, from morn to night,
To fix his follies full in sight;
The note he strikes, the plume he shows,
Attract whole flights of fops and beaus,
And kindred fools, who ne'er had known him,
Flock at the sight, caress and own him;
But ill-starr'd Sense, not gay nor loud,
Steals soft on tiptoe through the crowd;
Conveys his meagre form between,
And slides, like pervious air, unseen;
Contracts his known tenuity,
As though 'twere even a crime to be;
Nor even permits his eyes to stray,
And win acquaintance in their way.

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Julia, or the Convent of St. Claire

Stranger, that massy, mouldering pile,
Whose ivied ruins load the ground,
Reechoed once to pious strains
By holy sisters breathed around.

There many a noble virgin came
To bid the world she loved....adieu;
There, victim of parental pride,
To years of hopeless grief withdrew.

Yes, proud St. Claire! thy costly walls
Have witnessed oft the mourner's pain;
And hearts in joyless durance bound,
Which sighed for kindred hearts in vain.

But never more within thy cells
Shall beauty breathe the fruitless sigh,
Nor hid beneath the envious veil
Shall sorrow dim the sparkling eye.

For now, a sight by reason blest,
Thy gloomy dome in ruins falls,
While bats and screechowls harbour there,
Sole tenants of thy crumbling walls.

And soon, blest change! as those dread plains,
Where Etna's burning torrents poured,
Become, when Time its power has shed,
With softly-smiling verdure stored:

So, when thy darkly-frowning towers
The verdant plain no longer load,
These scenes, where sorrow reigned, may prove
Fond, faithful lovers' blest abode.

And they shall pledge the nuptial vow,
Where once far different vows were heard;
And where thy pining virgins mourned,
Shall babes, sweet smiling babes, be reared.

Hail, glorious change, to Nature dear!
Methinks I see the bridal throng;
And hark, where lonely sisters prayed,
How sweetly swells the social song!

But nought, O! nought can her restore
To social life, to happy love,
Who once amidst thy cloistered train
With passion's hopeless sorrow strove.

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La Fontaine

The Magic Cup

THE worst of ills, with jealousy compared,
Are trifling torments ev'ry where declared.

IMAGINE, to yourself a silly fool,
To dark suspicion grown an easy tool;
No soft repose he finds, by night or day;
But rings his ear, he's wretched ev'ry way!
Continually he dreams his forehead sprouts;
The truth of reveries he never doubts.
But this I would not fully guaranty,
For he who dreams, 'tis said, asleep should be;
And those who've caught, from time to time, a peep,
Pretend to say--the jealous never sleep.

A MAN who has suspicions soon will rouse;
But buz a fly around his precious spouse,
At once he fancies cuckoldom is brought,
And nothing can eradicate the thought;
In spite of reason he must have a place,
And numbered be, among the horned race;
A cuckold to himself he freely owns,
Though otherwise perhaps in flesh and bones.

GOOD folks, of cuckoldom, pray what's the harm,
To give, from time to time, such dire alarm?
What injury 's received, and what 's the wrong,
At which so many sneer and loll their tongue?
While unacquainted with the fact, 'tis naught;
If known:--e'en then 'tis scarcely worth a thought.
You think, however, 'tis a serious grief;
Then try to doubt it, which may bring relief,
And don't resemble him who took a sup,
From out the celebrated magic cup.
Be warned by others' ills; the tale I'll tell;
Perhaps your irksomeness it may dispel.

BUT first, by reason let me prove, I pray,
That evil such as this, and which you say,
Oft weighs you down with soul-corroding care;
Is only in the mind:--mere spright of air:
Your hat upon your head for instance place,
Less gently rather than's your usual case;
Pray, don't it presently at ease remain?
And from it do you aught amiss retain?
Not e'en a spot; there's nothing half so clear;
The features, too, they as before appear?
No difference assuredly you see?
Then how can cuckoldom an evil be?
Such my conclusion, spite of fools or brutes,
With whose ideas reason never suits.

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Three Women

My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.

Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.

Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.


Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.


Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.


1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.


Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,

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Sally Simpson

Outside the house mr. simpson announced
Outside the house mr. simpson announced
That sally couldnt go to the meeting.
That sally couldnt go to the meeting.
He went on cleaning his blue rolls royce
He went on cleaning his blue rolls royce
And she ran inside weeping.
And she ran inside weeping.
She got to her room and tears splashed the picture
She got to her room and tears splashed the picture
Of the new messiah.
Of the new messiah.
She picked up a book of her fathers life
She picked up a book of her fathers life
And threw it on the fire!
And threw it on the fire!
She knew from the start
She knew from the start
Deep down in her heart
Deep down in her heart
That she and tommy were worlds apart,
That she and tommy were worlds apart,
But her mother said never mind your part...
But her mother said never mind your part...
Is to be what youll be.
Is to be what youll be.
The theme of the sermon was come unto me,
The theme of the sermon was come unto me,
Love will find a way,
Love will find a way,
So sally decided to ignore her dad,
So sally decided to ignore her dad,
And sneak out anyway!
And sneak out anyway!
She spent all afternoon getting ready,
She spent all afternoon getting ready,
And decided shed try to touch him,
And decided shed try to touch him,
Maybe hed see that she was free
Maybe hed see that she was free
And talk to her this sunday.
And talk to her this sunday.
She knew from the start
She knew from the start
Deep down in her heart
Deep down in her heart
That she and tommy were worlds apart,
That she and tommy were worlds apart,
But her mother said never mind your part...
But her mother said never mind your part...

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Christmas

Father:
Father:
Did you ever see the faces of children
Did you ever see the faces of children
They get so excited.
They get so excited.
Waking up on christmas morning
Waking up on christmas morning
Hours before the winter suns ignited.
Hours before the winter 1s ignited.
They believe in dreams and all they mean
They believe in dreams and all they mean
Including heavens generosity.
Including heavens generosity.
Peeping round the door
Peeping round the door
To see what parcels are for free
To see what parcels are for free
In curiosity.
In curiosity.
And tommy doesnt know what day it is.
And tommy doesnt know what day it is.
Doesnt know who jesus was or what praying is.
Doesnt know who jesus was or what praying is.
How can he be saved?
How can he be saved?
From the eternal grave.
>from the eternal grave.
Surrounded by his friends he sits so silently,
Surrounded by his friends he sits so silently,
And unaware of everything.
And unaware of everything.
Playing poxy pin ball
Playing poxy pin ball
Picks his nose and smiles and
Picks his nose and smiles and
Pokes his tongue at everything.
Pokes his tongue at everything.
I believe in love
I believe in love
But how can men whove never seen
But how can men whove never seen
Light be enlightened.
Light be enlightened.
Only if hes cured
Only if hes cured
Will his spirits future level ever heighten.
Will his spirits future level ever heighten.
And tommy doesnt know what day it is.
And tommy doesnt know what day it is.

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Rudyard Kipling

Tommy

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

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Rudyard Kipling

The Ballad of Ahmed Shah

This is the ballad of Ahmed Shah
Dealer in tats in the Sudder Bazar,
By the gate that leads to the Gold Minar
How he was done by a youth from Morar.

Ahmed Shah was a man of peace -
His beard and turban were thick with grease:
His paunch was huge and his speech was slow
And he swindled the subalterns high and low,
Scores of subalterns came to try
The tats that he sold - and remained to buy,
Scores of subalterns later on
Found that their flashiest mounts were 'gone' -
Some in the front and some behind
Some were roarers and some went blind -
Scores of subalterns over their 'weeds'
Cursed old Ahmed and all his deeds.
But Ahmed Shah in his gully sat still -
And ever he fashioned a Little Black Pill!

Yet a judgement was brewing for Ahmed Shah,
Like a witches cauldron, in far Morar
And the youth that brewed it has eyes of blue
And his cheek was beardless and boundless too.
Softly he mused o'er a trichi thick:-
'By the Beard of the Prophet I've got the trick!'
Then he rose from his chair with an artless grin
And called the Battery Sergeant in:-
'Sergeant' he said 'Hasst aught for me
In the way of a 'caster' with lots of gee ?'
The sergeant pondered and answered slow
'There's a red-roan gelding that's bound to go
At the next Committee. 'E ain't no use
Excep' for kickin' recruits to the deuce,
'E's chained in the sick lines.'
The subaltern's brow
Was puckered with thought for a moment. Then
The sergeant was richer by rupees ten.
'When the next Committee sits' quoth he
'O Sergeant buy up that brute for me.'

So the plot was laid and the long weeks passed
And the red-road gelding was duly cast.
They led him in chains to the subaltern's stall
And gave him his gram' through a hole in the wall.
The subaltern mixed it. When morning came
The red-road gelding was strangely tame.
He bit not nor kicked nor essayed to slay
And he and the sub went north that day
Till they came to the gully of Ahmed Shah

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Julia

Half of what i say is meaningless
But i say it just to reach you, julia
Julia, julia, oceanchild, calls me
So i sing a song of love, julia
Julia, seashell eyes, windy smile, calls me
So i sing a song of love, julia
Her hair of floating sky is shimmering, glimmering,
In the sun
Julia, julia, morning moon, touch me
So i sing a song of love, julia
When i cannot sing my heart
I can only speak my mind, julia
Julia, sleeping sand, silent cloud, touch me
So i sing a song of love, julia
Hum hum hum hum...calls me
So i sing a song of love for julia, julia, julia

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Julia

Half of what I say is meaningless
But I say it just to reach you
Julia
Julia
Julia
Oceanchild
Calls me
So I sing a song of love
Julia
Julia
Seashell eyes
Windy smile
So I sing a song of love
Julia
Her hair of floating sky is shimmering
Glimmering
In the sun
Julia
Julia
Morning moon
Touch me
So I sing a song of love
Julia
When I cannot sing my heart
I can only speak my mind
Julia
Julia
Sleeping sand
Silent cloud
Touch me
So I sing a song of love
Julia
Calls me
So I sing a song of love
For julia
Julia
Julia

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Tommy Keep Your Head Down

Tommy is a soldier in the army
Tommy thinks all the “Top Brass” are barmy
Tommy is out on patrol in Iraq
Tommy hears gun-fire, he’s under attack

Tommy keep your head down” a voice did say
Tommy saw the “Insurgents” run away
Tommy felt a burning pain in his head
Tommy fell to the ground, and Tommy bled

Tommy did not wish to die in the sand
Tommy had a wife,5 kids, all unplanned
Tommy has a widow and 5 orphans
Tommy has donated all his organs

Tommy was a soldier in the army
Tommy knows all the “Top Brass” are barmy________________

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Amy Lowell

Lead Soldiers

The nursery fire burns brightly, crackling in cheerful little explosions
and trails of sparks up the back of the chimney. Miniature rockets
peppering the black bricks with golden stars, as though a gala
flamed a night of victorious wars.

The nodding mandarin on the bookcase moves his head forward and back, slowly,
and looks into the air with his blue-green eyes. He stares into the air
and nods - forward and back. The red rose in his hand is a crimson splash
on his yellow coat. Forward and back, and his blue-green eyes stare
into the air, and he nods - nods.


Tommy's soldiers march to battle,
Trumpets flare and snare-drums rattle.
Bayonets flash, and sabres glance -
How the horses snort and prance!
Cannon drawn up in a line
Glitter in the dizzy shine
Of the morning sunlight. Flags
Ripple colours in great jags.
Red blows out, then blue, then green,
Then all three - a weaving sheen
Of prismed patriotism. March
Tommy's soldiers, stiff and starch,
Boldly stepping to the rattle
Of the drums, they go to battle.


Tommy lies on his stomach on the floor and directs his columns.
He puts his infantry in front, and before them ambles a mounted band.
Their instruments make a strand of gold before the scarlet-tunicked soldiers,
and they take very long steps on their little green platforms,
and from the ranks bursts the song of Tommy's soldiers marching to battle.
The song jolts a little as the green platforms stick on the thick carpet.
Tommy wheels his guns round the edge of a box of blocks, and places
a squad of cavalry on the commanding eminence of a footstool.


The fire snaps pleasantly, and the old Chinaman nods - nods. The fire makes
the red rose in his hand glow and twist. Hist! That is a bold song
Tommy's soldiers sing as they march along to battle.

Crack! Rattle! The sparks fly up the chimney.


Tommy's army's off to war -
Not a soldier knows what for.
But he knows about his rifle,
How to shoot it, and a trifle
Of the proper thing to do

[...] Read more

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Stagger Lee

The night was clear and the moon was yellow
And the leaves came tumbling down
I was standing on the corner
When I heard my bulldog bark
He was barking up at the two men
Who were gambling in the dark
It was stagger lee and billy
Two men who gambled late
Stagger lee threw a seven
Billy swore, he threw an eight
Stagger lee told billy,
I cant let you get away with that
Well, youve won all my money
And my brand new stetson hat
Stagger lee ran home
Went and got him his 44
Said, Im going to the bar room
Just to pay that debt that I owe
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Said, i m going to the bar room
Just to pay that debt that I owe
Stagger lee went to the bar room
Boy, he stood across the bar room doors
Said, now, nobody move
And he pulled out his 44
Stagger lee, cried billy
Oh, please dont you take my life
I got me three little children
And a very sickly wife
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Got me three little children
And a very, very sickly wife
Stagger lee shot billy
Boy, he shot that poor boy so bad
That the bullet came thru billy
And went right thru the bartenders glass
While I was standing on the corner
When I heard my bulldog bark
He was barking up at the two men
Who were gambling in the dark
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Well, he was barking up at the two men
Who were gambling in the dark

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Julia

Eyes so bright, so big and wide
Make you feel so strange
Somewhere deep inside
Its the face of an angel
Soul of the devil may care
How Id love to know
What goes on in there
She needs your love
She needs it every day
But speak of love
See her laugh and run away
Julia, which way will you go
Julia, I wanna know
Julia, only the moon and stars
Julia, know just where you are
Julia
See the dance that needs no alibi
Oh you dont need to dream
When you know you can fly
She needs your love
She needs it every day
But speak of love
See her laugh and run away
Julia, which way will you go
Julia, I wanna know
Julia, only the moon and stars
Julia, know just where you are
Julia

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William Cowper

On The Death Of Damon. (Translated From Milton)

Ye Nymphs of Himera (for ye have shed
Erewhile for Daphnis and for Hylas dead,
And over Bion's long-lamented bier,
The fruitless meed of many a sacred tear)
Now, through the villas laved by Thames rehearse
The woes of Thyrsis in Sicilian verse,
What sighs he heav'd, and how with groans profound
He made the woods and hollow rocks resound
Young Damon dead; nor even ceased to pour
His lonely sorrows at the midnight hour.
The green wheat twice had nodded in the ear,
And golden harvest twice enrich'd the year,
Since Damon's lips had gasp'd for vital air
The last, last time, nor Thyrsis yet was there;
For he, enamour'd of the Muse, remain'd
In Tuscan Fiorenza long detain'd,
But, stored at length with all he wish'd to learn,
For his flock's sake now hasted to return,
And when the shepherd had resumed his seat
At the elm's root within his old retreat,
Then 'twas his lot, then, all his loss to know,
And, from his burthen'd heart, he vented thus his woe.
Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due
To other cares than those of feeding you.
Alas! what Deities shall I suppose
In heav'n or earth concern'd for human woes,
Since, Oh my Damon! their severe decree
So soon condemns me to regret of Thee!
Depart'st thou thus, thy virtues unrepaid
With fame and honour, like a vulgar shade?
Let him forbid it, whose bright rod controls,
And sep'rates sordid from illustrious souls,
Drive far the rabble, and to Thee assign
A happier lot with spirits worthy thine!
Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due
To other cares than those of feeding you.
Whate'er befall, unless by cruel chance
The wolf first give me a forbidding glance,
Thou shalt not moulder undeplor'd, but long
Thy praise shall dwell on ev'ry shepherd's tongue;
To Daphnis first they shall delight to pay,
And, after Him, to thee the votive lay,
While Pales shall the flocks and pastures love,
Or Faunus to frequent the field or grove,
At least if antient piety and truth
With all the learned labours of thy youth
May serve thee aught, or to have left behind
A sorrowing friend, and of the tuneful kind.
Go, seek your home, my lambs, my thoughts are due
To other cares than those of feeding you.

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Old Spookses' Pass

I.
WE'D camped that night on Yaller Bull Flat,--
Thar was Possum Billy, an' Tom, an' me.
Right smart at throwin' a lariat
Was them two fellers, as ever I see;
An' for ridin' a broncho, or argyin' squar
With the devil roll'd up in the hide of a mule,
Them two fellers that camp'd with me thar
Would hev made an' or'nary feller a fool.
II.
Fur argyfyin' in any way,
Thet hed to be argy'd with sinew an' bone,
I never see'd fellers could argy like them;
But just right har I will hev to own
Thet whar brains come in in the game of life,
They held the poorest keerds in the lot;
An' when hands was shown, some other chap
Rak'd in the hull of the blamed old pot!
III.
We was short of hands, the herd was large,
An' watch an' watch we divided the night;
We could hear the coyotes howl an' whine,
But the darned critters kept out of sight
Of the camp-fire blazin'; an' now an' then
Thar cum a rustle an' sort of rush--
A rattle a-sneakin' away from the blaze,
Thro' the rattlin', cracklin' grey sage bush.
IV.
We'd chanc'd that night on a pootyish lot,
With a tol'ble show of tall, sweet grass--
We was takin' Speredo's drove across
The Rockies, by way of "Old Spookses' Pass"--
An' a mite of a creek went crinklin' down,
Like a "pocket" bust in the rocks overhead,
Consid'able shrunk, by the summer drought,
To a silver streak in its gravelly bed.
V.
'Twas a fairish spot fur to camp a' night;
An' chipper I felt, tho' sort of skeer'd
That them two cowboys with only me,
Couldn't boss three thousand head of a herd.
I took the fust of the watch myself;
An' as the red sun down the mountains sprang,
I roll'd a fresh quid, an' got on the back
Of my peart leetle chunk of a tough mustang.
VI.
An' Possum Billy was sleepin' sound
Es only a cowboy knows how to sleep;
An' Tommy's snores would hev made a old
Buffalo bull feel kind o' cheap.

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