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Dedication

I
Bob Southey! You're a poet—Poet-laureate,
And representative of all the race,
Although 't is true that you turn'd out a Tory at
Last,—yours has lately been a common case;
And now, my Epic Renegade! what are ye at?
With all the Lakers, in and out of place?
A nest of tuneful persons, to my eye
Like "four and twenty Blackbirds in a pye;

II
"Which pye being open'd they began to sing"
(This old song and new simile holds good),
"A dainty dish to set before the King,"
Or Regent, who admires such kind of food;—
And Coleridge, too, has lately taken wing,
But like a hawk encumber'd with his hood,—
Explaining metaphysics to the nation—
I wish he would explain his Explanation.

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poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Epitaph III - Parody Chidiock TICHBOURNE 1558_1586 Elegy and Thomas KYD

My little space no trace may leave behind,
My little base, - whose clock must soon unwind.
Why little haste? When discontented mind
reproves the race of shadow-shapes unsigned,
when worth and mirth too soon are undermined,
to earth returned, - with nobody to mind.

Our passing tresses, jesses just a while
play gesture-jester, jest at Fate’s swift trial
where sentence executionary the smile
aborts, deletes, erases: goodness, guile,
find no reprieve, with self to reconcile,
before Time tells of span unprotractile.

The sentence-execution’s always known
instinctively from crown to funny-bone.
If bridge between birth, death, we hold our own
then where lies sense, or there sense lies: once sown
the blossom sees one sunrise then is blown,
Time makes short shrift of deist cornerstone.

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Retaliation: A Poem

1 Of old, when Scarron his companions invited,
2 Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united;
3 If our landlord supplies us with beef, and with fish,
4 Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the best dish:
5 Our Dean shall be venison, just fresh from the plains;
6 Our Burke shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains;
7 Our Will shall be wild fowl, of excellent flavour,
8 Our Cumberland's sweet-bread its place shall obtain,
9 And Douglas is pudding, substantial and plain:
10 Our Garrick's a salad, for in him we see
11 Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree:
12 To make out the dinner, full certain I am,
13 That Ridge is an anchovy, and Reynolds is lamb;
14 That Hickey's a capon, and by the same rule,
15 Magnanimous Goldsmith, a gooseberry fool:
16 At a dinner so various, at such a repast,
17 Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last:
18 Here, waiter, more wine, let me sit while I'm able,
19 'Till all my companions sink under the table;
20 Then with chaos and blunders encircling my head,

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poem by Oliver Goldsmith
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Crumble-Hall

When Friends or Fortune frown on Mira's Lay,
Or gloomy Vapours hide the Lamp of Day;
With low'ring Forehead, and with aching Limbs,
Oppress'd with Head-ach, and eternal Whims,
Sad Mira vows to quit the darling Crime:
Yet takes her Farewel, and Repents, in Rhyme.

But see (more charming than Armida's Wiles)
The sun returns, and Artemisia smiles:
Then in a trice the Resolutions fly;
[And who so frolick as the Muse and I?]
We sing once more, obedient to her Call;
Once more we sing; and 'tis of Crumble-Hall;
That Crumble-Hall, whose hospitable Door
Has fed the Stranger, and reliev'd the Poor;
Whose Gothic Towers, and whose rusty Spires,
Well known of old to Knights, and hungry Squires.
There powder'd Beef, and Warden-Pies, were found;
And Pudden dwelt within her spacious Bound:
Pork, Peas, and Bacon (good old English Fare!),

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poem by Mary Leapor
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The Wall Have Ears

The walls have ears, ears that hear each little sound you make
Every time you stamp through a lamp and every cup and dish you break
But they can't hear a kiss or two arms that hold you tight
So come on baby, don't fight tonight
The walls have ears, better think before you fling that shoe
If you part my hair with a chair, they'll spread the news to Timbuktu
But they can't hear a kiss or two arms that hold you tight
So come on baby, don't fight tonight
Jets can fly, fast and high, rockets can go even faster
But they can't catch or even match sound traveling through plaster
The walls have ears, ears that hear each little sound you make
Every time you stamp through a lamp and every cup and dish you break
But they can't hear a kiss or two arms that hold you tight
So come on baby, don't fight tonight
Just in tonight
Don't fight tonight

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Walls Have Ears

(words & music by bennett - tepper)
The walls have ears, ears that hear each little sound you make
Every time you stamp through a lamp and every cup and dish you break
But they cant hear a kiss or two arms that hold you tight
So come on baby, dont fight tonight
The walls have ears, better think before you fling that shoe
If you part my hair with a chair, theyll spread the news to timbuktu
But they cant hear a kiss or two arms that hold you tight
So come on baby, dont fight tonight
Jets can fly, fast and high, rockets can go even faster
But they cant catch or even match sound traveling through plaster
The walls have ears, ears that hear each little sound you make
Every time you stamp through a lamp and every cup and dish you break
But they cant hear a kiss or two arms that hold you tight
So come on baby, dont fight tonight
Just in tonight
Dont fight tonight

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Communication

Light beams from outer space
Drifting to your satellite
Your dish responds
Communication disinformation
So entertaining
Blood money blood money
Its wild in here
Theres a girl on the floor
Shes gonna blow this place apart
Gonna take us all
All away
Communication disinformation
So entertaining
Blood money blood money
Its wild out here
You should see the light
]from the crown of the king
The king of the night
Spinning metal blue satellite
Your dish responds

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song performed by INXS
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The Lady Is A Tramp

(richard rodgers/lorentz hart)
I get too hungry for dinner at eight
I like the theatre but never come late
I never bother with people I hate
Thats why the lady is a tramp
I like the crap games with barons and earls
Wont go to harlem in ermine and pearls
Wont dish the dirt with the rest of the girls
Thats why the lady is a tramp
I like that cool fresh wind in my hair
Life without care
Im broke, its oke!
Hate california
Its cold and its damp
Thats why the lady is a tramp
I get too hungry for dinner at eight
I like the theatre but never come late
I never bother with people I hate
Thats why the lady is a tramp
I like the crap games with barons and earls

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song performed by Diana Ross
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The Lady Is A Tramp (Live)

(Richard Rodgers/Lorentz Hart)
I get too hungry for dinner at eight
I like the theatre but never come late
I never bother with people I hate
That's why the lady is a tramp
I like the crap games with barons and earls
Won't go to Harlem in ermine and pearls
Won't dish the dirt with the rest of the girls
That's why the lady is a tramp
I like that cool fresh wind in my hair
Life without care
I'm broke, it's oke!
Hate california
It's cold and it's damp
That's why the lady is a tramp
I get too hungry for dinner at eight
I like the theatre but never come late
I never bother with people I hate
That's why the lady is a tramp
I like the crap games with barons and earls

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song performed by Diana Ross
Added by Lucian Velea
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Burnin Up

You stitch me up good, and you cut me down
So I string you up to keep you hanging around
You dish the hot stuff up but you keep me waiting
So Ill play it dirty til your body is breaking
Weve got to make love, the time is right
Weve got to make love tonight
cause were burnin up
You make me greedy, you wont feed me my food
But Ill make out easy, cause I see straight through you
You cool me off and hot me up and thats not right
cause youll get hungry in the heat of the night
And then well make love, just when its right
And when we make love tonight
Well be burnin up
I know you feel the same
I know you feel the flame
Staring deep inside of you
Burnin you up, breaking you down
Breakin you out in a cold sweat
And as you lose control, of your very soul

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song performed by Judas Priest
Added by Lucian Velea
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