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Little Tim's Revenge

"Little Tim " was the name of him
Of whom I have to tell;
And he abode on the Western road,
In the busy town of L--.
As trains went down through the little town,
He peddled through the cars
His stock in trade, — iced lemonade,
Cake, peanuts, and cigars.
Conductor Dunn was the only one
Who'd not this trade allow;
And so 'twixt him and little Tim
There always was a row.
At last one day they had a fray;
And Timothy declared
He'd "fix old Dunn, 'as sure's a gun,'"
If both their lives were spared.
So off he went with this intent,
And sold his stock in trade:
His earnings hard he spent for lard,
And started for "the grade."

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poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Good Lord Is Irish

Twas in a wee little kirk
Nestled deep in the heather
Where leprechauns lurk
mid fog and brash weather

Where wee Father Flanagan stood
Attired in black coat and white collar
Aponderin’ evil and good
E’ twas Five foot two and na’ taller

Aponderin’ the warld’
and to how it might end
And how things might unfarl
When tis gone round the bend

“Oh dear Lard, how twillit be when we go?
Twill all be gone, or will yet some linger? ”
To which the Lard replied in voice soft and low
“suure and I’ll show ye my son, just pull my finger.

poem by David Whalen
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Les vieux maîtres

Dans les bouges fumeux où pendent des jambons,
Des boudins bruns, des chandelles et des vessies,
Des grappes de poulets, des grappes de dindons,
D'énormes chapelets de volailles farcies,
Tachant de rose et blanc les coins du plafond noir,
En cercle, autour des mets entassés sur la table,
Qui saignent, la fourchette au flanc dans un tranchoir,
Tous ceux qu'auprès des brocs la goinfrerie attable,
Craesbeke, Brakenburgh, Teniers, Dusart, Brauwer,
Avec Steen, le plus gros, le plus ivrogne, au centre,
Sont réunis, menton gluant, gilet ouvert,
De rires plein la bouche et de lard plein le ventre.
Leurs commères, corps lourds où se bombent les chairs
Dans la nette blancheur des linges du corsage,
Leur versent à jets longs de superbes vins clairs,
Qu'un rai d'or du soleil égratigne au passage,
Avant d'incendier les panses des chaudrons.
Elles, ces folles, sont reines dans les godailles,
Que leurs amants, goulus d'amours et de jurons,
Mènent comme au beau temps des vieilles truandailles,

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poem by Emile Verhaeren
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Whoever exchanges some lard for some other lard, one or the other must be rancid.

Sicilian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Odyssey: Book 21

Minerva now put it in Penelope's mind to make the suitors try
their skill with the bow and with the iron axes, in contest among
themselves, as a means of bringing about their destruction. She went
upstairs and got the store room key, which was made of bronze and
had a handle of ivory; she then went with her maidens into the store
room at the end of the house, where her husband's treasures of gold,
bronze, and wrought iron were kept, and where was also his bow, and
the quiver full of deadly arrows that had been given him by a friend
whom he had met in Lacedaemon- Iphitus the son of Eurytus. The two
fell in with one another in Messene at the house of Ortilochus,
where Ulysses was staying in order to recover a debt that was owing
from the whole people; for the Messenians had carried off three
hundred sheep from Ithaca, and had sailed away with them and with
their shepherds. In quest of these Ulysses took a long journey while
still quite young, for his father and the other chieftains sent him on
a mission to recover them. Iphitus had gone there also to try and
get back twelve brood mares that he had lost, and the mule foals
that were running with them. These mares were the death of him in
the end, for when he went to the house of Jove's son, mighty Hercules,
who performed such prodigies of valour, Hercules to his shame killed

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poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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The Iliad: Book 21

Now when they came to the ford of the full-flowing river Xanthus,
begotten of immortal Jove, Achilles cut their forces in two: one
half he chased over the plain towards the city by the same way that
the Achaeans had taken when flying panic-stricken on the preceding day
with Hector in full triumph; this way did they fly pell-mell, and Juno
sent down a thick mist in front of them to stay them. The other half
were hemmed in by the deep silver-eddying stream, and fell into it
with a great uproar. The waters resounded, and the banks rang again,
as they swam hither and thither with loud cries amid the whirling
eddies. As locusts flying to a river before the blast of a grass fire-
the flame comes on and on till at last it overtakes them and they
huddle into the water- even so was the eddying stream of Xanthus
filled with the uproar of men and horses, all struggling in
confusion before Achilles.
Forthwith the hero left his spear upon the bank, leaning it
against a tamarisk bush, and plunged into the river like a god,
armed with his sword only. Fell was his purpose as he hewed the
Trojans down on every side. Their dying groans rose hideous as the
sword smote them, and the river ran red with blood. As when fish fly
scared before a huge dolphin, and fill every nook and corner of some

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poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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Troy [slow, methodical]: Woman... I do the best I can do. I come home every Friday. I carry a sack of potatoes and a bucket of lard. You all line up at the door with your hands out. I give you the lint from my pockets. I give you my sweat and blood. I ain't got no tears. I done spent them. I get up on Monday morning... find my lunch on the table. I go out. Make my way. Find my strength to carry me through to the next Friday. [Pause] That's all I've got Rose. That's all I've got to give. I can't give nothing else.

line from Fences, Act I, Scene 3 by August Wilson (1983)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Pride grows in the human heart like lard on a pig.

Aleksandr Isayevich Solzhenitsyn in The Gulag Archipelago
Added by Lucian Velea
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They lard their lean books with the fat of others work.

quote by Richard Burton
Added by Lucian Velea
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We never had a bathtub. Mom would bathe me in the wooden or tin washtub in the kitchen, or in a big lard can.

quote by Ethel Waters
Added by Lucian Velea
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