Quotes about goose, page 2
The Fox
The Fox went out on a chilly night
He prayed for the moon to give him light
For he had many a mile to go that night
Before he reached the town-o, town-o, town-o
He had many a mile to go that night
Before he reached the town-o
He ran till he came to the farmers pen
The ducks and the geese were kept therein
He said a couple of you are gonna grease my chin
Before I leave this town-o, town-o, town-o
A couple of you are gonna grease my chin
Before I leave this town-o
[BRIDGE (Mandolin)]
He grabbed the great goose by the neck
He threw a duck across his back
And he didn't mind the quack, quack
And the legs all danglin' down-o, down-o, down-o
He didn't mind the quack, quack
And the legs all danglin' down-o
Well the old gray Woman jumped out of bed
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song performed by Nickel Creek
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gareth And Lynette
The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirled away.
'How he went down,' said Gareth, 'as a false knight
Or evil king before my lance if lance
Were mine to use--O senseless cataract,
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy--
And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows
And mine is living blood: thou dost His will,
The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know,
Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall
Linger with vacillating obedience,
Prisoned, and kept and coaxed and whistled to--
Since the good mother holds me still a child!
Good mother is bad mother unto me!
A worse were better; yet no worse would I.
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,
Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator
Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!
It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Duck! Don't Stick Your Neck Out
How many quacks does a quack quack quack
before he ducks for fish?
How many ducks does a quack quack duck
before his fish is fished?
How many geese's goose is cooked
because they ate up all the fish?
How many cooks cook geese
before their goose is cooked?
How many fowl fall foul
of fowl hunting cooks?
How many fowls' geese are cooked
before they flew from a foul hunting cook?
How many ducks' goose is cooked
because he didn't duck duck duck
when a fowl cook reached for his neck?
poem by David Taylor
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The Mouse Who Ate Louse
The rat who ate louse
was really funny
as he thought he was fast enough to race the bunny
he had a race with the bunny
and it was funny
that the bunny
raced him as ought to loose
so he said to the goose
oh no here I loose
its OK said the goose
but he said no I hadn't ought to loose
why said the goose
you ought to loose
so said the mouse
its OK I'll have a competition who eats more louse
with the bunny
ya said the funny bunny
lets do the competition
so won the mouse at eating louse! ! ! ! !
poem by Aryaman Ajit Naik
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Hiding With A Squab
'Have you run out of luck? '
Said the goose who left a flock of geese,
On an approach...
To what was thought,
To be a sitting duck plucked.
~No not at all.~
Replied a nearby pigeon,
Practicing ventriloquism...
And hiding with a squab,
Of witnessing young pigeons.
~My family and I,
Have grown tired of berries, popcorn and nuts.
And we decided to use a decoy,
To see what showed up.
But to my surprise,
A nosey goose has arrived.
Strutting with a pulchritude...
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Oh I Use to Be That Goose to Cook
I use to be that goose to cook.
One taken for granted...
Because I had been out and open.
Making the chase easy to take.
As I healed from a mending...
Comprised of negativity and heartbreak.
And today that I no longer care,
Who is there to play hard to get...
In a game of hide and seek.
My presence is not readily available.
To anyone I thought was there to care.
With a sweeping off my feet in the air.
And this is no longer a challenge sought.
With a hope to make myself easily caught.
A sitting goose or a duck I am not.
Waiting from dawn until dusk to be fawned.
I've moved on to correct those things I felt wrong.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Political Economy
'I beg you to note,' said a Man to a Goose,
As he plucked from her bosom the plumage all loose,
'That pillows and cushions of feathers and beds
As warm as maids' hearts and as soft as their heads,
Increase of life's comforts the general sum
Which raises the standard of living.' 'Come, come,'
The Goose said, impatiently, 'tell me or cease,
How that is of any advantage to geese.'
'What, what!' said the man-'you are very obtuse!
Consumption no profit to those who produce?
No good to accrue to Supply from a grand
Progressive expansion, all round, of Demand?
Luxurious habits no benefit bring
To those who purvey the luxurious thing?
Consider, I pray you, my friend, how the growth
Of luxury promises-' 'Promises,' quoth
The sufferer, 'what?-to what course is it pledged
To pay me for being so often defledged?'
'Accustomed'-this notion the plucker expressed
As he ripped out a handful of down from her breast
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poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Know Your Life
You've got to be,
Alive.
You've got to be,
A lion loose.
You've got to feel...
Your juices pumping,
And...
Goose bumps to chill you too!
You've got to grow,
Up to cope.
You've got to accept,
And to let go.
You've got to be,
Both strong and weak...
To...
Stand and walk on two feet.
To know,
Life.
Yes,
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Bling Side
They want to see,
That bling side for them to begin.
With a start for them that has no end.
And hoping their lives,
Will sparkle bright.
With a sheen seen...
From outer space at night.
They hope that bling side to blister and glow.
From angles that exposes,
Their studded gold teeth glimmering...
In a bold gold that shows.
That want that bling side to begin...
With goose bumps too,
That never end.
With expensive sneakers costng fortunes.
To brag likes fools...
Like selfish spoiled children do!
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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