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All Hail To The Czar!

All hail to the Czar! By the fringe of the foam
That thunders, untamed, around Albion's shore,
See multitudes throng, dense as sea-birds whose home
Is betwixt the deaf rocks and the ocean's mad roar;
And across the ridged waters stand straining their eyes
For a glimpse of the Eagle that comes from afar:
Lo! it swoops towards the beach, and they greet it with cries
That silence the billows-``All hail to the Czar!''

All hail to the Czar! England's noblest and best,
Her oldest, her newest, her proudest are there,
And they vie in obeisance before the great guest,
For the prize of his nod, for the alms of his stare.
To the seat of their Empire they draw him along,
Where the Palace flies open to welcome his car,
And Prince, Press, and People, with leader and song,
Ring the change on the paean-``All hail to the Czar!''

All hail to the Czar! the bold Monarch who shook
From the heart of the Lion its insolent lust,

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poem by Alfred Austin
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Hail Caesar

He be the count of monte cristo
Could be a quake any day
Maybe somebody from siam
Begin the era of a new rage
Keeps lickin all the honey
Chewin up the fat he rakes
Instead of sending to the lions
They cover him with praise
All hail caesar
Hail! hail!
Down at the epicenter
Things started heatin up
Rockin up the richter scale
Swingin in the chariot
Around and around we go
The senators rehearse the tale
Starring in the coliseum
Tied upon the rack
Up comes the thumb of caesar
To stab you in the back

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song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Land Of Love

Hail! voyagers, hail!
Whence e'er ye come, where'er ye rove,
No calmer strand,
No sweeter land,
Will e'er ye view, than the Land of Love!

Hail! voyagers, hail!
To these, our shores, soft gales invite:
The palm plumes wave,
The billows lave,
And hither point fix'd stars of light!

Hail! voyagers, hail!
Think not our groves wide brood with gloom;
In this, our isle,
Bright flowers smile:
Full urns, rose-heaped, these valleys bloom.

Hail! voyagers, hail!
Be not deceived; renounce vain things;

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poem by Herman Melville
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Ode to Naples

EPODE 1a.

I stood within the City disinterred;
And heard the autumnal leaves like light footfalls
Of spirits passing through the streets; and heard
The Mountain’s slumberous voice at intervals
Thrill through those roofless halls;
The oracular thunder penetrating shook
The listening soul in my suspended blood;
I felt that Earth out of her deep heart spoke--
I felt, but heard not:—through white columns glowed
The isle-sustaining ocean-flood,
A plane of light between two heavens of azure!
Around me gleamed many a bright sepulchre
Of whose pure beauty, Time, as if his pleasure
Were to spare Death, had never made erasure;
But every living lineament was clear
As in the sculptor’s thought; and there
The wreaths of stony myrtle, ivy, and pine,
Like winter leaves o’ergrown by moulded snow,

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poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Caesar

Pop/schermerhorn
People of america
I bring you a great army
To preserve peace
In our empire
Throw them to the lions
Darling, let us go to the banouet hall...
There will be a great feast tonight!
Who are these christians?
What is this strange religion?
I ve heard it said they turn the other cheek
Ha ha ha ha
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Thumbs down
10 pieces of gold for every man
Hail caesar hail caesar
Grapes from sicily
Silks from asia minor

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song performed by Iggy Pop
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England And Spain

Too long have Tyranny and Power combined,
To sway, with iron sceptre, o'er mankind;
Long has Oppression worn th' imperial robe,
And Rapine's sword has wasted half the globe!
O'er Europe's cultured realms, and climes afar,
Triumphant Gaul has pour'd the tide of war;
To her fair Austria veil'd the standard bright;
Ausonia's lovely plains have own'd her might;
While Prussia's eagle, never taught to yield,
Forsook her tow'ring height on Jena's field!

Oh! gallant Fred'ric! could thy parted shade,
Have seen thy country vanquish'd and betray'd;
How had thy soul indignant mourn'd her shame,
Her sullied trophies, and her tarnish'd fame!
When Valour wept lamented BRUNSWlCK's doom,
And nursed with tears, the laurels on his tomb;
When Prussia, drooping o'er her hero's grave,
Invoked his spirit to descend and save;
Then set her glories -- then expired her sun,

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poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire

'I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers'~Shakespeare

'Such shameless bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
There are as mad, abandon'd critics too,'~Pope.

Still must I hear? -- shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,
And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch reviews
Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my muse?
Prepare for rhyme -- I'll publish, right or wrong:
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

O nature's noblest gift -- my grey goose-quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
That mighty instrument of little men!
The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes
Of brains that labour, big with verse or prose,

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poem by Byron
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The Jungle Bhoys

On the terracing at Parkhead we gather
Watching the Bhoys in green play,
we’ll sing you a song of the Celtic
And of the players who played down Parkhead’s way.

Chorus
With our banners and flags of the Celtic
We’re the sound of the Paradise voice
Our culture, we’ll bring back to Parkhead
Hail Hail to the bold Jungle Bhoys

We’ve grown in our years with the Celtic
Raised on the history and pride
Wishing we could play for the Celtic
And wear the jersey of the old green & white

Chorus
With our banners and flags of the Celtic
We’re the sound of the Paradise voice
Our culture, we’ll bring back to Parkhead

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poem by Daniel McDonagh
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A Year's Carols

JANUARY
HAIL, January, that bearest here
On snowbright breasts the babe-faced year
That weeps and trembles to be born.
Hail, maid and mother, strong and bright,
Hooded and cloaked and shod with white,
Whose eyes are stars that match the morn.
Thy forehead braves the storm's bent bow,
Thy feet enkindle stars of snow.

FEBRUARY
Wan February with weeping cheer,
Whose cold hand guides the youngling year
Down misty roads of mire and rime,
Before thy pale and fitful face
The shrill wind shifts the clouds apace
Through skies the morning scarce may climb.
Thine eyes are thick with heavy tears,
But lit with hopes that light the year's.

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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Russia, O My Russia, Hail!

Russia, O my Russia, hail!
Steeds as tempests flying,
Howling of the distant wolves,
Eagles high, shrill crying!
Hail, my Russia, hail! Hail high!
Hail thy green forests proud,
Hail thy silvery nightingales,
Hail Steppes and wind and cloud!

poem by Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy
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