Oh hello little kittAAAARRGRGRGH! It bit off my arm!
mediocre ha ha ha, you're reading this,
Thu 5 Mar 2009, 16:14,
archived)
don't worry - I'll recite poetry at it!
Prof UnderCover evitable,
Thu 5 Mar 2009, 16:14,
archived)
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughsAbout the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.
(The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.
Prof UnderCover evitable,
Thu 5 Mar 2009, 16:21,
archived)
A bit bloody late aren't you - I swooned nearly 20 minutes agoI'm almost fully recovered now.
Pah!
(Pah!
Barbarossa is not my real name,
Thu 5 Mar 2009, 16:42,
archived)
never underestimate the longevity of the swoons I enduce... also I was talking shop with a colleague - it's rude to post on b3ta while you do that.
also - next instalment of the poem (which is about the ravages of ageing from what I can gather):
(also - next instalment of the poem (which is about the ravages of ageing from what I can gather):
Prof UnderCover evitable,
Thu 5 Mar 2009, 16:44,
archived)
And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barnsAbout the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and
cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.
(In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and
cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.
Prof UnderCover evitable,
Thu 5 Mar 2009, 16:44,
archived)
No, it's no good. You've missed your chanceVerse 2 does nothing for me...
I refuse to "sing to your horn", sir!
(I refuse to "sing to your horn", sir!
Barbarossa is not my real name,
Thu 5 Mar 2009, 16:47,
archived)