Quotes about petri, page 3
Ami, Chez Nos Francois
Ami, chez nos Français ma muse voudrait plaire;
Mais j'ai fui la satire à leurs regards si chère.
Le superbe lecteur, toujours content de lui,
Et toujours plus content s'il peut rire d'autrui,
Veut qu'un nom imprévu, dont l'aspect le déride,
Égayé au bout du vers une rime perfide;
Il s'endort si quelqu'un ne pleure quand il rit.
Mais qu'Horace et sa troupe irascible d'esprit
Daignent me pardonner, si jamais ils pardonnent:
J'estime peu cet art, ces leçons qu'ils nous donnent
D'immoler bien un sot qui jure en son chagrin,
Au rire âcre et perçant d'un caprice malin.
Le malheureux déjà me semble assez à plaindre
D'avoir, même avant lui, vu sa gloire s'éteindre
Et son livre au tombeau lui montrer le chemin,
Sans aller, sous la terre au trop fertile sein,
Semant sa renommée et ses tristes merveilles,
Faire à tous les roseaux chanter quelles oreilles
Sur sa tête ont dressé leurs sommets et leurs poids.
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poem by Andre Marie de Chenier
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I Think Im A Clone Now
Isnt it strange
Feels like Im lookin in the mirror
What would people say
If only they knew that I was
Part of some geneticists plan (plan-plan-plan)
Born to be a carbon copy man (man-man-man)
There in a petri dish late one night
They took a donors body cell and fertilized a human egg and so I say
I think Im a clone now
Theres always two of me just a-hangin around
I think Im a clone now
cause every chromosome is a hand-me-down
Look at the way
We go out walking close together
I guess you could say
Im really beside myself
I still remember how it began (gan-gan-gan)
They produced a carbon copy man (man-man-man)
Born in a science lab late one night
Without a mother or a father, just a test tube and a womb with a view
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song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mary had a Little Vamp and Other Parodies after Sarah Josepha HALE
Mary had a little vamp,
whose teeth glowed white as snow,
each night from sightly vent – no cramp -
the crimson droplets flow.
Some followed her from school one day;
though stalking's 'gainst the rules;
it made goose pimples grow and stay
to see them play at ghouls.
But they were caught, their tale remains
from history well hid,
though we discovered their remains
beneath oak coffin lid.
And so blood flowed from inside out,
none dared to lingered near
when shadows shiver, hang about
until Vamps disappear.
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Golden Legend: V. A Covered Bridge At Lucerne
_Prince Henry_. God's blessing on the architects who build
The bridges o'er swift rivers and abysses
Before impassable to human feet,
No less than on the builders of cathedrals,
Whose massive walls are bridges thrown across
The dark and terrible abyss of Death.
Well has the name of Pontifex been given
Unto the Church's head, as the chief builder
And architect of the invisible bridge
That leads from earth to heaven.
_Elsie_ How dark it grows!
What are these paintings on the walls around us?
_Prince Henry_ The Dance Macaber!
_Elsie_ What?
_Prince Henry_ The Dance of Death!
All that go to and fro must look upon it,
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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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