Quotes about cabbage, page 2
4th Chorus Mexico City Blues
Roosevelt was worth 6, 7 million dollars
He was Tight
Frog waits
Till poor fly
Flies by
And then they got him
The pool of clear rocks
Covered with vegetable scum
Covered the rocks
Clear the pool
Covered the warm surface
Covered the lotus
Dusted the watermelon flower
Aerial the Pad
Clean queer the clear
blue water
AND THEN THEY GOT HIM
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poem by Jack Kerouac
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Unnecessary
Unnecessary,
Auntie said,
when you asked
about taking the mutt
for a walk;
he can take himself
for a walk,
in fact,
she continued
straining the cabbage,
the green water
pushing through
the stainless steel colander,
he runs,
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poem by Terry Collett
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Ode To The Artichoke
The artichoke
With a tender heart
Dressed up like a warrior,
Standing at attention, it built
A small helmet
Under its scales
It remained
Unshakeable,
By its side
The crazy vegetables
Uncurled
Their tendrills and leaf-crowns,
Throbbing bulbs,
In the sub-soil
The carrot
With its red mustaches
Was sleeping,
The grapevine
Hung out to dry its branches
Through which the wine will rise,
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poem by Pablo Neruda
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The New Vestments
There lived an old man in the kingdom of Tess,
Who invented a purely original dress;
And when it was perfectly made and complete,
He opened the door, and walked into the street.
By way of a hat, he'd a loaf of Brown Bread,
In the middle of which he inserted his head;--
His Shirt was made up of no end of dead Mice,
The warmth of whose skins was quite fluffy and nice;--
His Drawers were of Rabit-skins, -- but it is not known whose;--
His Waistcoat and Trowsers were made of Pork Chops;--
His Buttons were Jujubes, and Chocolate Drops;--
His Coat was all Pancakes with Jam for a border,
And a girdle of Biscuits to keep it in order;
And he wore over all, as a screen from bad weather,
A Cloak of green Cabbage-leaves stitched all together.
He had walked a short way, when he heard a great noise,
Of all sorts of Beasticles, Birdlings, and Boys;--
And from every long street and dark lane in the town
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poem by Edward Lear
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Toolangi
He was obviously English, in his Harris tweeds and stockings.
And his accent was of Oxford, and his swagger and his style
Seemed to hint at halls baronial. He despised the 'demned Colonial';
But he praised the things of England with a large and toothful smile.
He'd discourse for hours together on old England's splendid weather;
On her flowers and fruits and fashions, and her wild-fowl and her game.
At all Austral things he snorted; pinned his faith to the imported.
And he said the land was rotten. But he stayed here just the same.
Why, he came or why he lingered he was never keen to mention;
But he hinted at connections 'mid old England's nobly grand.
Seems he drew a vague remittance - some folk said a meagre pittance
And he sought to supplement it by a venture on the land.
So he journeyed to Toolangi, where the mountain ash yearns skyward,
And the messmate and the blue-gum grow to quite abnormal size.
'Spite the 'stately homes' he vaunted, 'twas the simple life he wanted;
And he got it, good and plenty, at Toolangi on the rise.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Eternal Eden
Under a splendid sky of orange and grey,
Awakened a dawn as lovely as the foremost day,
And there beneath the rainbow and blueberry hills,
More beautiful than a proud peacock’s quills,
A place called Eden with endless delights,
A lush garden by day with Arcadian nights.
The Creator is the only sovereign in this land,
On every hill and valley, you can see God’s hand.
He’s loved and praised with every creature’s breath,
For by His grace, we know not the sting of death.
There are many flower blooms to brighten all life.
The birds melodious songs soothe away strife.
There’s food for the stomach and thrills for the eye,
For all God’s creatures of land, water, and sky.
We have leaves for the butterfly and nectar for the bee,
And berries for the springbok and still plenty fruit for me.
The hippo has plenty green grass with grasshoppers for the snake,
And as many fat rabbits as the hungry lion can take.
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poem by Albert Price
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Cabbage for cabbage.
French proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Now Im A Farmer
Ive got a spade and a pick-axe
Ive got a spade and a pick-axe
And a hundred miles square of land to churn about
And a hundred miles square of land to churn about
My old horse is weary but sincerely
My old horse is weary but sincerely
I believe that he can pull a plough
I believe that he can pull a plough
Well Ive moved into the jungle of the agriculture rumble,
Well Ive moved into the jungle of the agriculture rumble,
To grow my own food
To grow my own food
And Ill dig and plough and scrape the weeds
And Ill dig and plough and scrape the weeds
Till I succeed in seeing cabbage growing through
Till I succeed in seeing cabbage growing through
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Now Im a farmer, and Im digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
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song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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What Then?
His chosen comrades thought at school
He must grow a famous man;
He thought the same and lived by rule,
All his twenties crammed with toil;
'What then?' sang Plato's ghost. 'What then?'
Everything he wrote was read,
After certain years he won
Sufficient money for his need,
Friends that have been friends indeed;
'What then?' sang Plato's ghost. 'What then?'
All his happier dreams came true –
A small old house, wife, daughter, son,
Grounds where plum and cabbage grew,
Poets and Wits about him drew;
'What then?' sang Plato's ghost. 'What then?'
'The work is done,' grown old he thought,
'According to my boyish plan;
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poem by William Butler Yeats
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Training is everything. The peach was once a bitter almond; cauliflower is nothing but Cabbage with a College Education.
Mark Twain in Pudd'nhead Wilson (1894)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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