Quotes about sid!, page 2
Bridegroom Dick
1876
Sunning ourselves in October on a day
Balmy as spring, though the year was in decay,
I lading my pipe, she stirring her tea,
My old woman she says to me,
'Feel ye, old man, how the season mellows?'
And why should I not, blessed heart alive,
Here mellowing myself, past sixty-five,
To think o' the May-time o' pennoned young
fellows
This stripped old hulk here for years may
survive.
Ere yet, long ago, we were spliced, Bonny Blue,
(Silvery it gleams down the moon-glade o' time,
Ah, sugar in the bowl and berries in the prime!)
Coxswain I o' the Commodore's crew,--
Under me the fellows that manned his fine gig,
Spinning him ashore, a king in full fig.
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poem by Herman Melville
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The Brus Book XII
[The king prepares his division]
Now Douglas furth his wayis tais,
And in that selff tyme fell throw cais
That the king off Ingland quhen he
Was cummyn with his gret menye
5 Ner to the place, as I said ar,
Quhar Scottismen arayit war,
He gert arest all his bataill
And other alsua to tak consaill
Quhether thai wald herbry thaim that nycht
10 Or than but mar ga to the fycht.
The vaward that wist na thing
Off this arest na his dwelling
Raid to the Park all straucht thar way
Foroutyn stinting in gud aray,
15 And quhen the king wist that thai wer
In hale bataill cummand sa ner
His bataill gert he weill aray.
He raid apon a litill palfray
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poem by John Barbour
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The Brus Book XI
[Criticism of the compact about Stirling Castle]
And quhen this connand thus wes mad
Schir Philip intill Ingland raid
And tauld the king all haile his tale,
How he a tuelf moneth all hale
5 Had as it writyn wes in thar taile
To reskew Strevillyne with bataill.
And quhen he hard Schyr Philip say
That Scottismen had set a day
To fecht and that sic space he had
10 To purvay him he wes rycht glaid,
And said it wes gret sukudry
That set thaim apon sic foly,
For he thocht to be or that day
Sa purvayit and in sic aray
15 That thar suld nane strenth him withstand,
And quhen the lordis off Ingland
Herd that this day wes set planly
Thai jugyt all to gret foly,
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poem by John Barbour
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Love like that
sid and nancy, bonnie and clyde, johnny and june
i wanna love like them
i wanna have love like that
you dont have love like that anymore
people use that type of love as a mat
you dont have like that anymore
love with a passion
love like its an obession
sid and nancy, bonnie and clyde, johnny and june
i wanna love like them
i wanna love like that
you dont have love like that anymore
Where you feel like thers no floor
i wanna love like that
i wanna love like them
poem by Misty moon
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The Dedicated Fishermen
The lads, Sid, Fred, Frank and Len,
Are four dedicated fishermen,
Telling stories of their latest bite,
They'd sometimes talk right through the night,
About the 'big one' that got away,
Which was to everybody's great dismay.
These gentlemen, would then debate,
About different hooks and various bait.
They'd talk of hours spent on sandbanks,
How the lastest catch, had been or course, Frank's,
Searching for cod, sea bass and salmon,
Whilst eating sandwiches filled with gammon,
And drinking cups of tomato soup,
They'd sit there with a 'shoulder' stoop,
And contemplating about the weather,
Their spirits would feel as light as a feather.
The day could be long, but there was always the sun,
And peace and quiet, when 'all's said and done',
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Old Joe was Bingo mad
I once knew a bloke called Joe
who was addicted to playing Bingo
he played nearly every day of his life
which cost him his marriage and his wife.
But Joe just could never pack it in
even though he hardly ever did win
as soon as he got out of his bed
the thought of Bingo came into his head.
The biggest win he ever had was sixty quid
and even then he shared it with his pal Sid
but Joe said one day he'd win the jackpot
and then he'd go and live somewhere hot.
But his long suffering wife called Flo
said she'd had enough of his silly Bingo
she shouted to Joe so what's it going to be,
your stupid addiction to playing Bingo or me?
But sadly Joe was now too far gone to care
when Bingo was on he just had to be there.
But alas Joe never won the Bingo jackpot
and he never ended living somewhere hot
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poem by Kevin Halls
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Gold Medal Blues
Please hide the newspapers-and turn off the news.
Please, nobody talk. I’ve got the gold medal blues.
No radio talk show can cure what I got.
Why couldn’t Sid hit the post with that shot?
America’s team gave it their best
We beat those Canadians on the first test.
We out skated the Swiss, steamrollered the Finns-
yet only got Silver for all of our wins.
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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Nonsense Verses
By Edward Leary.
There was an old fellow of Peterhouse,
Who said, "You could not find a neater house
Than our new Combination-Room
For a mild dissipation room."
That abandoned old Fellow of Peterhouse.
There was a boat captain of Downing,
Whose crew were in danger of drowning,
But he cried, "Swim to shore,
For I'm sure that eight more
Could not be collected in Downing."
There was a young genius of Queens',
Who was fond of explosive machines,
He once blew up a door,
But he'll do it no more,
For it chanced that that door was the Dean's.
There was a young student of Caius,
Who collected black beetles and fleas,
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poem by Arthur Clement Hilton
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Jumpin With Symphony Sid
Jumpin with my boss sid in the city
Jumpin with my boss sid in the city
Mr. president of that dj committee
Were gonna be up all night gettin ready
We want you to spin the sounds from the city
Far down in the land thats real real pretty
Let everything go real crazy over jazz
Make everything go real crazy over jazz
Let everything cool for me and my baby
I dont wanna think were listening too lazy
Its gotta be pressburg cheering all the basie
Its gotta get it all set right clear on the eighty
Let it roll
Let it roll
song performed by Joe Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Brus Book VI
[Sir Ingram Umfraville praises the king;
the men of Galloway pursue him with a tracker dog]
The king is went till his logyng
And off this deid sone come tithing
Till Schyr Ingrame the Umfravill
That thocht his sutelte and gyle
5 Haid al failyeit in that place.
Tharfor anoyit sua he was
That he agayne to Lothyane
Till Schyr Amer his gate has tane
And till him tauld all hale the cas,
10 That tharoff all forwonderyt was
How ony man sa sodanly
Mycht do so gret chevalry
As did the king that him allane
Vengeance off thre traytouris has tane,
15 And said, 'Certis, I may weill se
That it is all certante
That ure helpys hardy men
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poem by John Barbour
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