(no subject)
So, I got a whole carload of new icons, including The Awesome Napoleon Dynamite Dancing In Edoras Icon. Because geekage like that is just so hard to find.
What else? Oh, I spent most of today curled up on the floor reading my Agatha Christie thriller (her murder mysteries aren't a crack on her thrillers).
And I've been enjoying my rest from frenetic uni work, yes I have, precious.
*points to new icon*
Oh, and courtesy of GK Chesterton: Poems from The Flying Inn. I love his stuff, and this is why.
"I come from Castlepatrick and my heart is on my sleeve,
And any sword or pistol boy can hit ut with me leave,
It shines there for an epaulette, as golden as a flame,
As naked as me ancestors, as noble as me name.
For I come from Castlepatrick and my heart is on my
sleeve,
But a lady stole it from me on St. Gallowglass's Eve.
"The folks that live in Liverpool, their heart is in their boots;
They go to Hell like lambs, they do, because the hooter hoots.
Where men may not be dancin', though the wheels may
dance all day;
And men may not be smokin', but only chimneys may.
But I come from Castlepatrick and my heart is on my
sleeve,
But a lady stole it from me on St. Poleyander's Eve.
"The folks that live in black Belfast, their heart is in their
mouth;
They see us making murders in the meadows of the South;
They think a plough's a rack they do, and cattle-calls are
creeds,
And they think we're burnin' witches when we're only
burnin' weeds.
But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me
sleeve;
But a lady stole it from me on St. Barnabas's Eve."
"St. George he was for England,
And before he killed the dragon
He drank a pint of English ale
Out of an English flagon.
For though he fast right readily
In hair-shirt or in mail,
It isn't safe to give him cakes
Unless you give him ale.
"St. George he was for England,
And right gallantly set free
The lady left for dragon's meat
And tied up to a tree;
But since he stood for England
And knew what England means,
Unless you give him bacon,
You mustn't give him beans.
"St. George he was for England,
And shall wear the shield he wore
When we go out in armour,
With the battle-cross before;
But though he is jolly company
And very pleased to dine,
It isn't safe to give him nuts
Unless you give him wine."
"Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English
road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire.
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
That night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy
Head.
"I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchmen I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard
made,
Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in
our hands
The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin
Sands.
"His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
The wild thing went from left to right and knew not
which was which,
But the wild rose was above him when they found him
in the ditch.
God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton
Pier.
"My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that
wandereth,
And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be
seen
Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green."
"In the city set upon slime and loam
They cry in their parliament 'Who goes home?'
And there is no answer in arch or dome,
For none in the city of graves goes home.
Yet these shall perish and understand,
For God has pity on this great land.
Men that are men again; who goes home?
Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home?
For there's blood on the field and blood on the foam,
And blood on the body when man goes home.
And a voice valedictory--Who is for Victory?"
Who is for Liberty? Who goes home?"
There's funnier stuff and more stuff, but it's all fabulous.
What else? Oh, I spent most of today curled up on the floor reading my Agatha Christie thriller (her murder mysteries aren't a crack on her thrillers).
And I've been enjoying my rest from frenetic uni work, yes I have, precious.
*points to new icon*
Oh, and courtesy of GK Chesterton: Poems from The Flying Inn. I love his stuff, and this is why.
"I come from Castlepatrick and my heart is on my sleeve,
And any sword or pistol boy can hit ut with me leave,
It shines there for an epaulette, as golden as a flame,
As naked as me ancestors, as noble as me name.
For I come from Castlepatrick and my heart is on my
sleeve,
But a lady stole it from me on St. Gallowglass's Eve.
"The folks that live in Liverpool, their heart is in their boots;
They go to Hell like lambs, they do, because the hooter hoots.
Where men may not be dancin', though the wheels may
dance all day;
And men may not be smokin', but only chimneys may.
But I come from Castlepatrick and my heart is on my
sleeve,
But a lady stole it from me on St. Poleyander's Eve.
"The folks that live in black Belfast, their heart is in their
mouth;
They see us making murders in the meadows of the South;
They think a plough's a rack they do, and cattle-calls are
creeds,
And they think we're burnin' witches when we're only
burnin' weeds.
But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me
sleeve;
But a lady stole it from me on St. Barnabas's Eve."
"St. George he was for England,
And before he killed the dragon
He drank a pint of English ale
Out of an English flagon.
For though he fast right readily
In hair-shirt or in mail,
It isn't safe to give him cakes
Unless you give him ale.
"St. George he was for England,
And right gallantly set free
The lady left for dragon's meat
And tied up to a tree;
But since he stood for England
And knew what England means,
Unless you give him bacon,
You mustn't give him beans.
"St. George he was for England,
And shall wear the shield he wore
When we go out in armour,
With the battle-cross before;
But though he is jolly company
And very pleased to dine,
It isn't safe to give him nuts
Unless you give him wine."
"Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English
road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire.
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
That night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy
Head.
"I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchmen I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard
made,
Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in
our hands
The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin
Sands.
"His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
The wild thing went from left to right and knew not
which was which,
But the wild rose was above him when they found him
in the ditch.
God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton
Pier.
"My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that
wandereth,
And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be
seen
Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green."
"In the city set upon slime and loam
They cry in their parliament 'Who goes home?'
And there is no answer in arch or dome,
For none in the city of graves goes home.
Yet these shall perish and understand,
For God has pity on this great land.
Men that are men again; who goes home?
Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home?
For there's blood on the field and blood on the foam,
And blood on the body when man goes home.
And a voice valedictory--Who is for Victory?"
Who is for Liberty? Who goes home?"
There's funnier stuff and more stuff, but it's all fabulous.