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When you see this, post some poetry in your journal...
That's my last duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
"Fra Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
That depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain drawn for you, but I) [10]
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 't was not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps
Over my lady's wrist too much" or "Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat:" such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough [20]
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart - how shall I say? - too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed: she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 't was all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace -all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech, [30]
Or blush,at least. She thanked men - good! but thanked
Somehow - I know not how - as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech - (which I have not) - to make your will
Quite clear to such a one, and say, "Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss
Or there exceed the mark"- and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set [40]
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse
- E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will 't please you rise? We'll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master's known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence [50]
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed
At starting is my object. Nay, we'll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.
Robert Browning
That's my last duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
"Fra Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
That depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain drawn for you, but I) [10]
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 't was not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps
Over my lady's wrist too much" or "Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat:" such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough [20]
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart - how shall I say? - too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed: she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 't was all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace -all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech, [30]
Or blush,at least. She thanked men - good! but thanked
Somehow - I know not how - as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech - (which I have not) - to make your will
Quite clear to such a one, and say, "Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss
Or there exceed the mark"- and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set [40]
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse
- E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will 't please you rise? We'll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master's known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence [50]
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed
At starting is my object. Nay, we'll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.
Robert Browning
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Your just lucky you didn't get "In the Ning Nang Nong" though I WAS tempted.
Date: 2004-10-16 02:29 am (UTC)From:'Help, help, ' said a man. 'I'm drowning.'
'Hang on, ' said a man from the shore.
'Help, help, ' said the man. 'I'm not clowning.'
'Yes, I know, I heard you before.
Be patient dear man who is drowning,
You, see I've got a disease.
I'm waiting for a Doctor J. Browning.
So do be patient please.'
'How long, ' said the man who was drowning. 'Will it take for the Doc to arrive? '
'Not very long, ' said the man with the disease. 'Till then try staying alive.'
'Very well, ' said the man who was drowning. 'I'll try and stay afloat.
By reciting the poems of Browning
And other things he wrote.'
'Help, help, ' said the man with the disease, 'I suddenly feel quite ill.'
'Keep calm.' said the man who was drowning, ' Breathe deeply and lie quite still.'
'Oh dear, ' said the man with the awful disease. 'I think I'm going to die.'
'Farewell, ' said the man who was drowning.
Said the man with the disease, 'goodbye.'
So the man who was drowning, drownded
And the man with the disease past away.
But apart from that,
And a fire in my flat,
It's been a very nice day.
Spike Milligan
Okay, You asked for this.
Date: 2004-10-16 06:42 am (UTC)From:By Christ you should have seen us,
The figurehead was a whore in bed,
And the mast was the Captain's penis.
CHORUS:
Frigging in the rigging,
Wanking on the planking,
Masturbating on the grating,
There's fuck all else to do.
The Captain's wife was Mabel,
Whenever she was able,
She gave the crew their daily screw,
Upon the galley table,
The cabin boy's name was Kipper,
A cunning little nipper,
He lined his ass with broken glass,
And circumcised the skipper.
The ladies of the nation
Arose in indignation,
They stuffed his bum with chewing gum,
A smart retaliation.
The ship's dog's name was Rover,
We fairly bowled him over,
(The whole crew did him over,)
We ground and ground that faithful hound,
From Singapore to Dover.
The First Mate's name was Hopper,
By Christ, he had a whopper,
Twice round his neck, once round the deck,
And up his ass for a stopper.
The Captain's randy daughter,
She fell into the water,
Delighted squeals revealed that eels,
Had found her sexual quarter.
'Twas on the China Station,
To roars of approbation,
We sunk a Junk with a load of spunk,
By mutual masturbation.
The Second Mate's name was Carter,
By God, he was a farter,
When the wind wouldn't blow and the ship wouldn't go,
We'd get Carter the farter to start her.
The cook whose name was Freeman,
He was a dirty demon,
He served the crew with menstrual stew,
And foreskins fried in semen.
The Captain of that lugger,
By Christ, he was a bugger,
He wasn't fit to shovel shit,
From one ship to another.
The Third Mate's name was Wiggun,
By God, he had a big 'un,
We bashed that cock with lump of rock
For friggin in the riggin.
The next Mate's name was Andy,
By God, that man was randy,
We boiled his bum in red-hot rum,
For coming in the brandy.
The Fourth Mate's name was Morgan,
A homosexual Gorgon,
A dozen crow in rows could pose,
Upon his sexual organ,
On the trip to Buenos Aires,
We rogered all the fairies,
We got the syph at Tenneriffe,
And a dose of clap in the Canaries.
Another cook was O'Mally,
He didn't dilly dally,
He shot his bolt with a hell of a jolt,
And whitewashed half the galley.
The Captain was elated,
The Crew investigated,
The found some sand in his prostrate gland,
He had to be castrated.
Another Mate's name was Paul,
He only had one ball,
But with that cracker he'd roll terbaccer,
Around the cabin wall.
The Boatswain's name was Lester,
He was a hymen tester,
Through hymens thick he'd shove his prick
And leave it there to fester.
The engineer was McTavish,
And young girls he did ravish,
His missing tool's at Istanbul,
He was a trifle lavish.
A homo was the Purser,
He couldn't have been warser,
With all the crew he had a screw,
Until they yelled, "Oh, no sir."
'Twas in the Adriatic,
Where the water's almost static,
The rise and fall of arse and ball,
Was almost automatic.
The ship's cat's name was Hippy,
His hole was black and shitty,
But shit or not it had a twat,
The Captain showed no pity.
So now we end this serial,
Through sheer lack of material,
We wish you luck and freedom from
Diseases venereal.
Requiem
Date: 2004-10-16 06:18 pm (UTC)From:UNDER the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you 'grave for me:
Here he lies where he long'd to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
Robert Louis Stevenson