Viewing 10 posts - 111 through 120 (of 136 total)
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  • #357487
    #357488
    #357489

    The Fool

    Since the wise men have not spoken, I speak that am only a fool;
    A fool that hath loved his folly,
    Yea, more than the wise men their books or their counting houses or their quiet homes,
    Or their fame in men’s mouths;
    A fool that in all his days hath done never a prudent thing,
    Never hath counted the cost, nor recked if another reaped
    The fruit of his mighty sowing, content to scatter the seed;
    A fool that is unrepentant, and that soon at the end of all
    Shall laugh in his lonely heart as the ripe ears fall to the reaping-hooks
    And the poor are filled that were empty,
    Tho’ he go hungry.
    I have squandered the splendid years that the Lord God gave to my youth
    In attempting impossible things, deeming them alone worth the toil.

    Was it folly or grace? Not men shall judge me, but God.
    I have squandered the splendid years:
    Lord, if I had the years I would squander them over again,
    Aye, fling them from me !
    For this I have heard in my heart, that a man shall scatter, not hoard,
    Shall do the deed of to-day, nor take thought of to-morrow’s teen,
    Shall not bargain or huxter with God ; or was it a jest of Christ’s
    And is this my sin before men, to have taken Him at His word?
    The lawyers have sat in council, the men with the keen, long faces,
    And said, `This man is a fool,’ and others have said, `He blasphemeth;’
    And the wise have pitied the fool that hath striven to give a life
    In the world of time and space among the bulks of actual things,
    To a dream that was dreamed in the heart, and that only the heart could hold.

    O wise men, riddle me this: what if the dream come true?
    What if the dream come true? and if millions unborn shall dwell
    In the house that I shaped in my heart, the noble house of my thought?
    Lord, I have staked my soul, I have staked the lives of my kin
    On the truth of Thy dreadful word. Do not remember my failures,
    But remember this my faith
    And so I speak.
    Yea, ere my hot youth pass, I speak to my people and say:
    Ye shall be foolish as I; ye shall scatter, not save;
    Ye shall venture your all, lest ye lose what is more than all;
    Ye shall call for a miracle, taking Christ at His word.
    And for this I will answer, O people, answer here and hereafter,
    O people that I have loved, shall we not answer together?

    Padraic Pearse

    #357490

    Skara Brae by George Mackay Brown

    Here in our village in the west
    We are little regarded.

    The lords of tilth and loch
    Are Quarrying (we hear)
    Great stones to make a stone circle

    In the last of the snow
    A great one died
    In that stone hollow in the east.
    A winter sunset
    Will touch his mouth. He carries
    A cairngorm on his cold finger
    To the country of the dead.

    They come here from Birsay
    To take our fish for taxes. Otherwise
    We are left in peace
    With our small fires and pots.

    Will it be a morning for fishermen?
    The sun died in red flames
    Then the night swarmed with stars, like fish.

    The sea gives and takes. The sea
    Devoured four houses one winter.

    Ask the old one to make a clay lamp
    The ripening sun
    May be pleased with the small flame, at-plough-time.

    #357491
    #357492

    Now these lovely girls are perfect examples as to why I love being Irish :P

    Steve MacPaddy’s Revenge

    8)

    #357493

    Maybe someday, i’ll go back again to Ireland
    If my dear old wife would pass away
    She nearly has my heart broke with all her naggin
    she’s got a mouth as big as galway bay

    See her drinkin 16 pints of Pabst Blue Ribbon
    And then she can walk home without a sway
    If the sea were beer instead of salty water
    She would live and die in galway bay

    See her drinkin 16 pints of Pabst Blue Ribbon
    And then she can walk home without a sway
    If the sea were beer instead of salty water
    She would live and die in galway bay

    On her back she has tattooed a map of Ireland
    And when she takes her bath on Saturday
    She rubs the sunlight soap around by Claddaugh
    Just to watch the suds roll down by Galway Bay

    #357494

    “I think I have made it clear how important drink is to the Scottish character. Is it any wonder how many Glaswegians hold teetotalers in such great contempt. In Glasgow, we’ve always enjoyed the ancient ceremony of throwing teetotalers into pubs on Saturday night”

    Arnold Brown (lecturing to a class of immigrants about local customs). :P

    #357495

    I reckon these guys belong in here..

    Big Country – In A Big Country

    Big Country – Look Away

    #357496

    The Funeral of the Late Ex-Provost Rough, Dundee By William McGonagal

    ‘Twas in the year of 1888, and on the 19th of November,
    Which the friends of the late Ex-Provost Rough will long remember,
    Because ’twas on the 19th of November his soul took its flight
    To the happy land above, the land of pure delight.

    Take him for all in all, he was a very good man,
    And during his Provostship he couldn’t be equalled in Great Britain,
    Which I proclaim to the world without any dread,
    Because while Provost he reduced the public-houses to three hundred.

    Whereas at the time there were 620 public-houses in the town,
    But being a friend of the temperance cause he did frown,
    Because he saw the evils of intemperance every day
    While sitting on the bench, so he resolved to sweep public-houses away.

    And in doing so the good man, in my opinion, was right,
    Because the evils of intemperance is an abomination in God’s sight;
    And all those that get drunk are enemies to Him,
    Likewise enemies to Christ’s kingdom, which is a great sin.

    The late Ex-Provost Rough was President of the Dundee Temperance Society,
    An office which he filled with great ability;
    Besides Vice-President of the Scottish Temperance League for many years,
    And no doubt the friends of temperance for his loss will shed tears.

    Because many a hungry soul he relieved while in distress,
    And for doing so I hope the Lord will him bless,
    For his kindness towards the poor people in Dundee,
    Besides for his love towards the temperance cause, and his integrity.

    And when the good man’s health began to decline
    The doctor ordered him to take each day two glasses of wine,
    But he soon saw the evil of it, and from it he shrunk,
    The noble old patriarch, for fear of getting drunk.

    And although the doctor advised him to continue taking the wine,
    Still the hero of the temperance cause did decline,
    And told the doctor he wouldn’t of wine take any more,
    So in a short time his spirit fled to heaven, where all troubles are o’er.

    I’m sure very little good emanates from strong drink,
    And many people, alas! it leads to hell’s brink!
    Some to the scaffold, and some to a pauper’s grave,
    Whereas if they would abstain from drink, Christ would them save.

    ‘Twas on Friday afternoon, in November the 23rd day,
    That the funeral cortege to the Western Cemetery wended its way,
    Accompanied by the Magistrates, and amongst those present were-
    Bailie Macdonald and Bailie Black, also Lord Provost Hunter I do declare.

    There were also Bailie Foggie, Bailie Craig, and Bailie Stephenson,
    And Ex-Provost Moncur, and Ex-Provost Ballingall representing the Royal Orphan Institution;
    Besides there were present the Rev. J. Jenkins and the Rev. J. Masson,
    With grief depicted in their faces and seemingly woe-begone.

    There were also Mr Henry Adams, representing the Glover trade,
    Also Mr J. Carter, who never was afraid
    To denounce strong drink, and to warn the people from it to flee,
    While agent of the Temperance Society in Dundee.

    And when the funeral cortege arrived at the Western burying-ground,
    Then the clergyman performed the funeral service with a solemn sound;
    While from the eyes of the spectators fell many a tear
    For the late Ex-Provost Rough they loved so dear.

    And when the coffin was lowered into its house of clay,
    Then the friends of the deceased homewards wended their way,
    Conversing on the good qualities of the good man,
    Declaring that the late Ex-Provost Rough couldn’t be equalled in Great Britain.

Viewing 10 posts - 111 through 120 (of 136 total)

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