To drift with every passion till my soul
Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,
Is it for this that I have given away
Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?
Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll
Scrawled over on some boyish holiday
With idle songs for pipe and virelay,
Which do but mar the secret of the whole.
Surely there was a time I might have trod
The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance
Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God:
Is that time dead? lo! with a little rod
I did but touch the honey of romance--
And must I lose a soul's inheritance?

Unknown "BabyPunk" Adventurous - 16 years, 5 months, 9 days ago

Ladies and gentlemen, hoboes and tramps,
Cross-eyed mosquitoes and bow-legged ants,
I stand before you to stand behind you,
To tell you something that I know absolutely nothing about.
This Thursday which is Good Friday,
We're having a mothers day picnic for fathers only.
Admission is free pay at the door,
Pull up a chair and sit on the floor.
Late one day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight.
Back to back they faced each other,
Pulled their swords and shot each other,
The deaf policeman heard the noise
And shot once more those twice dead boys,
a blind man came to see fair play,
two dumb men came to shout hooray.
a paralysed donkey walked on by,
and kicked the blind man in the eye.
kicked them over a stone brick wall,
Into a dry ditch and drowned them all,
If you don't believe this lie is true
Ask the blind man he saw it tooooo
Unknown "BabyPunk" Adventurous - 16 years, 7 months, 6 days ago