An excerpt from a poem by Rudyard Kipling.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise.

If you think you're a beautifully toned stud,
Too long and hard - do put it in - OH YES!
Oh no. In fact, I see your genitalia are tiny.
I doubt you delight in ogling buttock and boobs.
You look like a Neanderthal (i.e. brain-dead baboon).
I detect you are on the Internet:
www.fine-cunt-food.org
www.vile-twat-blood.org
Go to alt.anagrams - you'll be a man my son.

Winston Churchill, 4 June 1940

We shall fight on the beaches,
We shall fight on the landing grounds,
We shall fight in the fields and in the streets,
We shall fight in the hills,
We shall never surrender.

We shall face the blood-red fire,
We shall greet the gun-thunder,
We shall dog-fight, snarling,
We shall have Einstein's hints,
We shall find strength, then finish this hell.

A Neil Diamond song.

Love on the rocks
Ain't no surprise
Pour me a drink
And I'll tell you some lies
Got nothin' to lose
So you just sing the blues all the time
Gave you my heart
Gave you my soul
You left me alone here
With nothing to hold
Yesterday's gone
Now all I want is a smile

First, they say they want you
How they really need you
Suddenly you find you're out there
Walking in a storm
When they know they have you
Then they really have you
Nothing you can do or say
You've got to leave, just get away
We all know the song

You need what you need
You can say what you want
Not much you can do
When the feeling is gone
May be blue skies above
But it's cold when your love's on the rocks

First, they say they want you
How they really need you
Suddenly you find you're out there
Walking in a storm
When they know they have you
Then they really have you
Nothing you can do or say
You've got to leave, just get away
We all know the song

Love on the rocks
Ain't no surprise
Pour me a drink
And I'll tell you some lies
Yesterday's gone
And now all I want is a smile

Suck on my dick,
Sure feels real nice,
Tug the bell end,
And I'll fondle your thighs.
You make me go oohh!
You make me go ahh! all the while.
Oh, give me good head,
Take it into your gob,
Get your tongue round the monster
That's known as my knob.
Hey! Yesterday's cum
All over your sheets

Now, I really want you,
Every day I want you
To yank it well and yank it hard,
You say you love it too,
You eat the length so easy,
Slides down, oh so easy
Into your throat, so long an' true,
Up 'n' down, so here's to you,
You'll even swallow, won't you?

It's for you that I yearn
All night, oh so long.
Hey, I don't want no other
To handle my schlong.
You're never less than gentle,
You sense what I need everyday

Now I really want you,
Yes, so keenly want you,
Take in hand the male hugeness,
The meaty, jousty bone.
If you say you want it,
You just have to have it,
Everythin' you sweetly say,
Everythin', your gypsy way,
You'll even swallow, won't you?

Suck on the piece,
They ain't felt much finer,
Oh, pull the big end
Then we'll use your vagina.
Oh Jesus! I've creamed,
And now all I want is towel.

Thirty days hath September,
April, June and November;
All the rest have thirty-one,
Excepting February alone,
And that has twenty-eight days clear
And twenty-nine in each leap year.

The jaunty verse helps a chap recall the days' tally in each month. Aye, I guarantee the lines are better than the extant few given by the drippy ninny, dreary bastard, Andrew Motion.

A rhyme by James Payn.

I have never had a piece of toast
Particularly long and wide,
But fell upon the sanded floor,
And always on the buttered side.

A cat lands on its padded feet,
Bravo! On each and every throw.
Fly a plane, with our eerie puss,
And then, bold, full let it go.

Adieu...

The Land of Nod
Robert Louis Stevenson

From breakfast on through all the day
At home among my friends I stay,
But every night I go abroad
Afar into the land of Nod.

All by myself I have to go,
With none to tell me what to do --
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain-sides of dreams.

The strangest things are there for me,
Both things to eat and things to see,
And many frightening sights abroad
Till morning in the land of Nod.

Try as I like to find the way,
I never can get back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious music that I hear.

A Nightmare
by Adrian Hickford

At start of night I close my eyes,
Bold, bloody visions come, of flies
And flying things, that teem and seem
To hate the unborn, nascent dream.

The inviting cliffs, I'm at the ledge,
A lemming running for the edge.
Ah, falling; will it ever stop,
That eternal, never-ending drop?

A Tartar tries to take my breath,
Soon, agony of nearby Death,
'Aah!' I moan aloud, my bosom throbs;
Unhurt, I utter h-haunted sobs.

And wrecked I lay, nor friend nor foe,
Alas! I want these hours to go.
A noble battle: Holy Ghost
And Mister Sandman, hated host.

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