Time to move on from my recent morbid post to celebrate St. Paddy's day. (March's one redeeming feature, IMHO). Today, I've donned green socks and have dug out my bargain bin CD of Irish drinking songs by none other than The Shannon Clovers. I had been thinking of posting something by Yeats in honor of the day, and Sarah's open call was all the encouragement I needed. These aren't exactly funny stories, per se, but hope they will suffice. The titles almost stand alone. Enjoy:
On Hearing That The Students Of Our New University Have Joined the Agitation Against Immoral Literature
Where, where but here have Pride and Truth,
That long to give themselves for wage,
To shake their wicked sides at youth
Restraining reckless middle age?
To a Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets,Imitators Of His And Mine
You say as I have often given tongue
In praise of what another's said or sung,
'Twere politic to do the like by these;
But was there ever dog that praised his fleas?
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Comments
So true, so true.... very nice DustBowl. :)
She'd hear the music in the old smokers morning cough.
Or, and Thomas Hardy's book:`Tess of the `Urbervilles.
It's to not gloss over anything. Life is abundant. O, fleas
Nature knows how many hairs on a fleas hairy legs? Nay?
No shave a flea leg with Naire or use bees wax. Dry razor?
Yeats.
Yikes.
Keats.
Love is beauty.
Beauty is Love. It's all about a greater universe. O, stupidly?
Ya a joy, a thought, a feast. Opinions are grafted into readers.
Ay. Eventually the branch sprouts. Sometimes it takes decades.
I gotta book it, and get. I'll be bantering drubbings here all day?
Love taps. verbal strokes. affirmation. extoll what I sense:`Soul.
A Soul's immaterial, or rather invisible, inner essence, Fragrance.
this will go some ways towards alleviating having to listen to yet more drunkenly-eviscerated renditions of "Danny Boy" while swilling green beer. thanks!
Love this wonderful and appropriate arrogance that he always had hidden just below the surface:
"But was there ever dog that praised his fleas?"
Tells a bit about what he thought of the "lesser" artists, doesn't it?
Monte
Michael - you have no idea how many times I have wondered why we can't edit comments.
Screamin - thanks - glad you enjoyed it
Arthur James - I love Keats - and beauty is also truth, no? Thank you for your gift of verse.
Hi Monte - you know, strangely I love that about Yeats also - his arrogance, which seems entirely reasonable. Somehow it just adds to his charm. Glad you enjoyed these too.
Grrreat post, me young laddy. Aye! We, the ol' Irish, are truly the better for the likes o you and the fond memories of the Gaelic yer so goud ah rrrememberin'.
We're thenkful o them that dun't ferget us ol' folke me dear.
"When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;'
Yer ol' frrriend Bobby O'Conner