Tony Crafter

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Original text in yellow, anagram in pink.

ON APPROACHING ITALY
A Sonnet by Oscar Wilde

I reached the Alps: the soul within me burned,
Italia, my Italia, at thy name:
And when from out the mountain's heart I came
And saw the land for which my life had yearned,
I laughed as one who some great prize had earned:
And musing on the marvel of thy fame
I watched the day, till marked with wounds of flame
The turquoise sky to burnished gold was turned.
The pine-trees waved as waves a woman's hair,
And in the orchards every twining spray
Was breaking into flakes of blossoming foam:
But when I knew that far away at Rome
In evil bonds a second Peter lay,
I wept to see the land so very fair.

ON APPROACHING FISCAL RUIN
by Silvio Berlusconi

I reached that summit for which I'd yearned
Then viewed a nation's splendour below,
And whooped, "I'll make Italy great, I know!
Let me share these wisdoms I have discerned,
I can amaze you with what I have learned.
Ah, stand by me, and make Italy grow,

Make her mighty and famous, and put her on show!
Yield to a passion that always has burned!"

It's true many lovers went hot to my bed,
There was an affair (or perhaps quite a few)
And now it's gone wrong, hah! it's me that they name!
Let me stay on and fight now to relight the flame,
Italia's fire can flare skyward, anew
And never be snuffed out or dead!

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WINTER
By
William Shakespeare

When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipped and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring-owl,
Tu-whit,
Tu-who! a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit,
Tu-who! a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

INTO CHRISTMAS
Triumph and Tension.


When tinsel hangs from Christmas trees
And wine is swallowed by the glass
And children yell, "More turkey please!"
And all good things will come to pass...
A baby cries, but no one hears,
And hungry people shed weak tears.
How sad,
How bad, oh, how unkind...
Let's drink another glass o' wine.

When all around, with eyes aglow
The children open bright new toys,
While hooting happily, "Oh wow!"
As little hands tremble with joy...
The jet-bombs blitz the frightened town,
Annihilating, raining down.
How sad,
How bad, oh, how unkind...
Let's drink that other glass o' wine.

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Updated: January 29, 2012


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