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yes, what if God does not speak english at all?

you were not born yesterday
and probably heard it before

that if your God does not speak english
then he must not be God

of course, something arrogant
hangs in the air
of this effortless superiority that
'englishers'
'english-plongplangs'
clai m, which, of course, we
always oppose and dub
as prettry dumb silly

but anyhow, yes, we are asked again
what if?
what if, this God, does not really speak English?

well, of course, he is still God

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Speak'n Aussie.

I myself like to speak plain,
Sometimes others drive me insane.
They say fine is my pronunciation,
And does not produce castigation.

So I'd like to give good English a plug,
So would ya give-it-go-ya-mug.
I mean to say fair dinkum.
Don't be down don't be glum.

Speak plainly it will suit.
You do not need a new bag of fruit.
English is no trick,
Unless you're away with the pixies.

How we dress is of importance as well,
We must try to square the circle.
Wearing cozzies or your uggies,
Out of place they look real bodgy.

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poem by R.K. Hart
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Dublin At Dawn

IN the chill grey summer dawn-light
We pass through the empty streets;
The rattling wheels are all silent;
No friend his fellow greets.
Here and there, at the corners,
A man in a great-coat stands;
A bayonet hangs by his side, and
A rifle is in his hands.
This is a conquered city;
It speaks of war not peace;
And that's one of the English soldiers
The English call 'police.'
You see, at the present moment
That noble country of mine
Is boiling with indignation
At the memory of a 'crime.'
In a path of the Phoenix Park where
The children romped and ran,
An Irish Ruffian met his doom,
And an English Gentleman.

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poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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The English Flag

Above the portico a flag-staff, bearing the Union Jack,
remained fluttering in the flames for some time, but ultimately
when it fell the crowds rent the air with shouts,
and seemed to see significance in the incident. -- DAILY PAPERS.


Winds of the World, give answer! They are whimpering to and fro --
And what should they know of England who only England know? --
The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume and brag,
They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp at the English Flag!

Must we borrow a clout from the Boer -- to plaster anew with dirt?
An Irish liar's bandage, or an English coward's shirt?
We may not speak of England; her Flag's to sell or share.
What is the Flag of England? Winds of the World, declare!

The North Wind blew: -- "From Bergen my steel-shod vanguards go;
I chase your lazy whalers home from the Disko floe;
By the great North Lights above me I work the will of God,
And the liner splits on the ice-field or the Dogger fills with cod.

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poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Hervé Riel

On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two,
Did the English fight the French--woe to France!
And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,
Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue,
Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance,
With the English fleet in view.

'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase,
First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville;
Close on him fled, great and small,
Twenty-two good ships in all;
And they signalled to the place,
"Help the winners of a race!
Get us guidance, give us harbour, take us quick--or, quicker still,
Here's the English can and will!"

Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leaped on board:
"Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?"
laughed they;
"Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred

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poem by Robert Browning from Pacchiarotto (1876)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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After Sixty Years

RING, bells! flags, fly! and let the great crowd roar
Its ecstasy. Let the hid heart in prayer
Lift up your name. God bless you evermore,
Lady, who have the noblest crown to wear
That ever woman wore.
A jewel, in the front of time, shall blaze
This day, of all your days commemorate;
With Time's white bays your brows are laureate,
And England's love shall garland all your days.

When England's crown, to Love's acclaim, was laid
On the soft brightness of a maiden's hair,
Amid delight, Love trembled, half afraid,
To give that little head such weight to bear,--
Bind on so slight a maid
A kingdom's purple--bid her hands hold high
The sceptre and the heavy orb of power,
To give to youth and beauty for a dower
Care and a crown, sorrow and sovereignty.

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poem by Edith Nesbit
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The More Modern Ballad of Chevy Chace

God prosper long our noble king,
Our liffes and safetyes all;
A woefull hunting once there did
In Chevy-Chace befall.

To drive the deere with hound and horne,
Erle Percy took his way;
The child may rue that is unborne
The hunting of that day.

The sout Erle of Northumberland
A vow to God did make,
His pleasure in the Scottish woods
Three summers days to take;

The cheefest harts in Chevy-Chase
To kill and beare away:
These tydings to Erle Douglas came,
In Scotland where he lay.

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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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English Eyes

What youre sayin it never really crossed my mind
I hear playin and everybodys keepin time
Im recallin that girl I met in london town
She was strange, young and tender and narrowed all my choices down
Chorus:
We ran away into the night hypnotized
You carved your name right next to mine, english eyes
I was tryin to read her lips and knew the time was drawing near
I forgot what she said but I remember how she whispered in my ear
I can hear laughter coming from the places we once knew
There were stories from a stranger out of nowhere but they seemed so true
Chorus
English eyes, english eyes
(instrumental break)
English eyes
Red sky warning, girl you really put a spell on me
Never told me bout the daddy you refused to please
You took the bishop when the king was standing right in front of you
Theres nothing in it if I cant have a girl with eyes like you
Chorus repeats 2x

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song performed by Toto
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Lay of the Last Minstrel: Canto IV.

I
Sweet Teviot! on thy silver tide
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more;
No longer steel-clad warrior ride
Along thy wild and willow'd shore
Where'er thou wind'st, by dale or hill
All, all is peaceful, all is still,
As if thy waves, since Time was born
Since first they roll'd upon the Tweed,
Had only heard the shepherd's reed,
Nor started at the bugle-horn.

II
Unlike the tide of human time,
Which, though it change in ceaseless flow
Retains each grief, retains each crime
Its earliest course was doom'd to know;
And, darker as it downward bears,
Is stain'd with past and present tears
Low as that tide has ebb'd with me,

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Brus Book XI

[Criticism of the compact about Stirling Castle]

And quhen this connand thus wes mad
Schir Philip intill Ingland raid
And tauld the king all haile his tale,
How he a tuelf moneth all hale
5 Had as it writyn wes in thar taile
To reskew Strevillyne with bataill.
And quhen he hard Schyr Philip say
That Scottismen had set a day
To fecht and that sic space he had
10 To purvay him he wes rycht glaid,
And said it wes gret sukudry
That set thaim apon sic foly,
For he thocht to be or that day
Sa purvayit and in sic aray
15 That thar suld nane strenth him withstand,
And quhen the lordis off Ingland
Herd that this day wes set planly
Thai jugyt all to gret foly,

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poem by John Barbour
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