That’s nice...
Do you like…
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
I find I cant foret that and these little gems…
"A thousand times good night" - wonderful..
and as a Brit...
1 This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,
2 This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
3 This other Eden, demi-paradise,
4 This fortress built by Nature for herself
5 Against infection and the hand of war,
6 This happy breed of men, this little world,
7 This precious stone set in the silver sea,
8 Which serves it in the office of a wall
9 Or as a moat defensive to a house,
10 Against the envy of less happier lands,
11 This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
- which is of course actually a lament for how crap we were in Shakespeare’s times - and they were of course the best of times
which leads me to ...It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…
you have to stop it there because Charlie gets all serious after that...
and then again …
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian:’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember’d;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
Pretty pointless battle really fought mainly by celtic pressed men on both sides fighting a family squabble between Norman Lords and Kings on both sides that bullied us celts (yes even all England was primarily celtic until the 1900s save for the royal families all descendent of Vikings - even the much vaunted King Alfred - That’s i always cringe when I hear Dan Snow talking about Agincourt being so important - Joan of Arc kicked us out of France at the and of the 100 years war and who cares less these days ?? We are still milked by rich Norman families right up to the very top and the crown. ...but the words.. wow..
and now we have…
“yes sir... I can boogie,.. but i need a certain song… I can boogie.. oogie woogie… all night long”…
Fortunately not all modern culture is so bad is it…
“Nothing really matters, anyone can see, nothing really matters, nothing really matters to me,.. Any way the wind blows…”
Words are wonderful things …but nothing brings them to life like music....
