Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
MISSED
do not stand
" Do not stand at my grave and weep,I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there,I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!"
(Mary frye 1932)
In her interview with Kelly Ryan broadcast on CBC Radio in 2000, Mary Frye confirmed the following interpretation as her original version. The version is quite different to the version above. Note especially the extra lines (11-14), and the present tense 'do' in the final line.
(do not stand at my grave and weep)
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
jig
(Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral)
Written By: J. R. Shannon
Over in Killarney,
Many years ago,
Me mither sang a song to me
In tones so sweet and low.
Just a simple little ditty,
In her good ould Irish way,
And I'd give the world if she could sing
That song to me this day.
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Hush, now don't you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
That's an Irish lullaby.
There's a tear in your eye
And I'm wondering why
For it never should be there at all
With such pow'r in your smile
Sure a stone you'd beguile
So there's never a teardrop should fall
When your sweet lilting laughter's
Like some fairy song
And your eyes twinkle
Bright as can be
You should laugh all the while
And all other times smile
And now smile a smile for me
When Irish eyes are smiling
Sure it's like a morn in spring
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing
When Irish hearts are happy
All the world seems bright and gay
And when Irish eyes are smiling
Sure they steal your heart away
LIBERTY
There was once a Wolf who got very little to eat because the Dogs of the village were so wide awake and watchful. He was really nothing but skin and bones, and it made him very downhearted to think of it.
One night this Wolf happened to fall in with a fine fat House Dog who had wandered a little too far from home. The Wolf would gladly have eaten him then and there, but the House Dog looked strong enough to leave his marks should he try it. So the Wolf spoke very humbly to the Dog, complimenting him on his fine appearance.
"You can be as well-fed as I am if you want to," replied the Dog. "Leave the woods; there you live miserably. Why, you have to fight hard for every bite you get. Follow my example and you will get along beautifully."
"What must I do?" asked the Wolf.
"Hardly anything," answered the House Dog. "Chase people who carry canes, bark at beggars, and fawn on the people of the house. In return you will get tidbits of every kind, chicken bones, choice bits of meat, sugar, cake, and much more beside, not to speak of kind words and caresses."
The Wolf had such a beautiful vision of his coming happiness that he almost wept. But just then he noticed that the hair on the Dog's neck was worn and the skin was chafed.
"What is that on your neck?"
"Nothing at all," replied the Dog.
"What! nothing!"
"Oh, just a trifle!"
"But please tell me."
"Perhaps you see the mark of the collar to which my chain is fastened."
"What! A chain!" cried the Wolf. "Don't you go wherever you please?"
"Not always! But what's the difference?" replied the Dog.
"All the difference in the world! I don't care a rap for your feasts and I wouldn't take all the tender young lambs in the world at that price." And away ran the Wolf to the woods.
There is nothing worth so much as liberty.
Spring is coming
THE SPENDTHRIFT AND THE SWALLOW
A young fellow, who was very popular among his boon companions as a good spender, quickly wasted his fortune trying to live up to his reputation. Then one fine day in early spring he found himself with not a penny left, and no property save the clothes he wore.
He was to meet some jolly young men that morning, and he was at his wits' end how to get enough money to keep up appearances. Just then a Swallow flew by, twittering merrily, and the young man, thinking summer had come, hastened off to a clothes dealer, to whom he sold all the clothes he wore down to his very tunic.
A few days later a change in weather brought a severe frost; and the poor swallow and that foolish young man in his light tunic, and with his arms and knees bare, could scarcely keep life in their shivering bodies.
One swallow does not make a summer.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Bovril
So today I went and bought some Bovril. We didn't have any Oxo, although I ended up buying both anyway(oxo for cooking). So after putting the kids to bed, and eating home made chicken soup. I made a nice cup of Bovril, not too sure how many teaspoons to put in though, as I am only used to oxo cubes. Tastes great...mmmmm(this is not a bloody advert, it is cold here!).