lizzardgirl: (Default)
Had I the heart of a poet,
I would write verses that could burn paper.
Literally.
That, however, I can‘t.
I suppose I‘d better
try my hand at prose again.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Had I the heart of a poet,
I would write verses that could burn paper.
Literally.
That, however, I can‘t.
I suppose I‘d better
try my hand at prose again.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Had I the heart of a poet,
I would write verses that could burn paper.
Literally.
That, however, I can‘t.
I suppose I‘d better
try my hand at prose again.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Sweet England, think of her at night
whenever you go to bed
do not let her out of your head
when your man switches off the light.

Think, only, think, of St. George‘s cross
Of England‘s dear pastures old
think of her own heaths and holt
and of ancient oaks covered in moss.

Think of Kent, Rutland, or Leicester
of Bedfordshire, York or of Essex
Of Shropshire, Durham or Sussex
Westmoreland, Warwick or Gloucester,

Of Cornwall and all Shires of Albion
England, dear England! Think of her alone.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Sweet England, think of her at night
whenever you go to bed
do not let her out of your head
when your man switches off the light.

Think, only, think, of St. George‘s cross
Of England‘s dear pastures old
think of her own heaths and holt
and of ancient oaks covered in moss.

Think of Kent, Rutland, or Leicester
of Bedfordshire, York or of Essex
Of Shropshire, Durham or Sussex
Westmoreland, Warwick or Gloucester,

Of Cornwall and all Shires of Albion
England, dear England! Think of her alone.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Sweet England, think of her at night
whenever you go to bed
do not let her out of your head
when your man switches off the light.

Think, only, think, of St. George‘s cross
Of England‘s dear pastures old
think of her own heaths and holt
and of ancient oaks covered in moss.

Think of Kent, Rutland, or Leicester
of Bedfordshire, York or of Essex
Of Shropshire, Durham or Sussex
Westmoreland, Warwick or Gloucester,

Of Cornwall and all Shires of Albion
England, dear England! Think of her alone.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
There once was a rather gigantic fowl
Larger than pigeon or parrot or owl
An omen of gloom
Of impending doom
it was a cliched joke by writers gone foul.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
There once was a rather gigantic fowl
Larger than pigeon or parrot or owl
An omen of gloom
Of impending doom
it was a cliched joke by writers gone foul.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
There once was a rather gigantic fowl
Larger than pigeon or parrot or owl
An omen of gloom
Of impending doom
it was a cliched joke by writers gone foul.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
When the night is quiet and the castle is sleeping
Then out of the kitchen, house-elves are creeping
To clean up the messes and deliver fresh knickers
While the fire in the room is low and flickers.
Sometimes they‘re astonished at what they‘re seeing
There are peculiar things about the human being.
At times, they sleep alone and sometimes, they‘re sharing
Not knowing that while they sleep, the house-elves are caring.
They know who sleeps while hugging their bear
Who sleeps with socks and who with their feet bare.
And sometimes they wish that, when dark is the night
There were someone who cared and sat at their side.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
When the night is quiet and the castle is sleeping
Then out of the kitchen, house-elves are creeping
To clean up the messes and deliver fresh knickers
While the fire in the room is low and flickers.
Sometimes they‘re astonished at what they‘re seeing
There are peculiar things about the human being.
At times, they sleep alone and sometimes, they‘re sharing
Not knowing that while they sleep, the house-elves are caring.
They know who sleeps while hugging their bear
Who sleeps with socks and who with their feet bare.
And sometimes they wish that, when dark is the night
There were someone who cared and sat at their side.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
When the night is quiet and the castle is sleeping
Then out of the kitchen, house-elves are creeping
To clean up the messes and deliver fresh knickers
While the fire in the room is low and flickers.
Sometimes they‘re astonished at what they‘re seeing
There are peculiar things about the human being.
At times, they sleep alone and sometimes, they‘re sharing
Not knowing that while they sleep, the house-elves are caring.
They know who sleeps while hugging their bear
Who sleeps with socks and who with their feet bare.
And sometimes they wish that, when dark is the night
There were someone who cared and sat at their side.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Heaving bosoms, creamy white
kissed by the rays of night
Chocolate ringlets, smelling sweet
curling over silken sheets
Thus Lizzy lies before her man
and he will do whate'er he can -
A virile man he, firm and tender
his shoulders broad and his hips so slender
pools of deepest blue his eyes
lips that never could tell lies
now whisper, soft, yet ardently:
"I love you, Caroline Bingley!"
Now Lizzy shrieks - the mood is gone!
Too late, too late! the deed is done!
She runs away, bare as she is
for few moments only, she was his
she flees alone, on naked feet
Feeling neither cold nor heat
Runs along the corridors
climbing up all seven floors
Finally the attic reaches
nothing there but mothy breeches
there she locks herself then in
then spends the nights a-wandering
to and fro and up and down
cackles with a deadly frown
Sets fire to her husband dear
instills in him a mighty fear
one day she‘ll be murderin -
but that‘s not until Hallowe‘en.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Heaving bosoms, creamy white
kissed by the rays of night
Chocolate ringlets, smelling sweet
curling over silken sheets
Thus Lizzy lies before her man
and he will do whate'er he can -
A virile man he, firm and tender
his shoulders broad and his hips so slender
pools of deepest blue his eyes
lips that never could tell lies
now whisper, soft, yet ardently:
"I love you, Caroline Bingley!"
Now Lizzy shrieks - the mood is gone!
Too late, too late! the deed is done!
She runs away, bare as she is
for few moments only, she was his
she flees alone, on naked feet
Feeling neither cold nor heat
Runs along the corridors
climbing up all seven floors
Finally the attic reaches
nothing there but mothy breeches
there she locks herself then in
then spends the nights a-wandering
to and fro and up and down
cackles with a deadly frown
Sets fire to her husband dear
instills in him a mighty fear
one day she‘ll be murderin -
but that‘s not until Hallowe‘en.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Heaving bosoms, creamy white
kissed by the rays of night
Chocolate ringlets, smelling sweet
curling over silken sheets
Thus Lizzy lies before her man
and he will do whate'er he can -
A virile man he, firm and tender
his shoulders broad and his hips so slender
pools of deepest blue his eyes
lips that never could tell lies
now whisper, soft, yet ardently:
"I love you, Caroline Bingley!"
Now Lizzy shrieks - the mood is gone!
Too late, too late! the deed is done!
She runs away, bare as she is
for few moments only, she was his
she flees alone, on naked feet
Feeling neither cold nor heat
Runs along the corridors
climbing up all seven floors
Finally the attic reaches
nothing there but mothy breeches
there she locks herself then in
then spends the nights a-wandering
to and fro and up and down
cackles with a deadly frown
Sets fire to her husband dear
instills in him a mighty fear
one day she‘ll be murderin -
but that‘s not until Hallowe‘en.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Dark is the day / dire is the hour
late is the year / dead are the flowers
and Lady Catherine comes to Camelot.

The king is broken / shattered his realm
Betrayed by his wife / his friendship in ruins
Arthur of Uther is captured by madness.

Scold him / does Catherine
admonish / advise him
He should have married her daughter, she says.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Dark is the day / dire is the hour
late is the year / dead are the flowers
and Lady Catherine comes to Camelot.

The king is broken / shattered his realm
Betrayed by his wife / his friendship in ruins
Arthur of Uther is captured by madness.

Scold him / does Catherine
admonish / advise him
He should have married her daughter, she says.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Dark is the day / dire is the hour
late is the year / dead are the flowers
and Lady Catherine comes to Camelot.

The king is broken / shattered his realm
Betrayed by his wife / his friendship in ruins
Arthur of Uther is captured by madness.

Scold him / does Catherine
admonish / advise him
He should have married her daughter, she says.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Japanese Wisdom No. 127:

A vanquished dead snail
does not propitiate the
devil incarnate.
lizzardgirl: (Default)
Japanese Wisdom No. 127:

A vanquished dead snail
does not propitiate the
devil incarnate.

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