random3434
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Happy Saint George's Day
- Thread starter random3434
- Start date
California Girl
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- Oct 8, 2009
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- #3
Crap! Had I known, I'd have had a party.... any excuse to party!!
California Girl
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- Oct 8, 2009
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The red rose of England! Of course!
Have you slayed a dragon today?
*Ponders whether there are any recipes for BBQed dragon*
- Sep 12, 2008
- 14,201
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The red rose of England! Of course!
Have you slayed a dragon today?
*Ponders whether there are any recipes for BBQed dragon*
Best thing to do with dragons is cook them in a crock pot.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
Xenophon
Gone and forgotten
There was a movement to have the St george cross barred as 'racist' in England.
Guess who was behind it.
Guess who was behind it.
random3434
Senior Member
- Jun 29, 2008
- 25,899
- 7,790
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- Thread starter
- #8
There was a movement to have the St george cross barred as 'racist' in England.
Guess who was behind it.
H.R. Puff-n-Stuff?
Xenophon
Gone and forgotten
No, it was the Banana Splits, no good bastards.There was a movement to have the St george cross barred as 'racist' in England.
Guess who was behind it.
H.R. Puff-n-Stuff?
Someone remembered! How cool is that? Thanks EZ!
California Girl
Rookie
- Oct 8, 2009
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There was a movement to have the St george cross barred as 'racist' in England.
Guess who was behind it.
H.R. Puff-n-Stuff?
Damn Girl. You made me spit coke on my keyboard. Now I'm have to call my dealer and get more.
Crap! Had I known, I'd have had a party.... any excuse to party!!
Get down the pub!
The red rose of England! Of course!
Have you slayed a dragon today?
*Ponders whether there are any recipes for BBQed dragon*
My dragon wasn't feeling good,
He had a nasty chill
And couldn't keep from shivering,
I saw that he was ill.
His eyes were red and watery,
His nose was running too,
His flame was but a fizzle,
And his cheeks were pallid blue.
I took him to a doctor
Just as quickly as I could,
A specialist in dragons,
And she's in our neighborhood.
She took his pulse and temperature,
Then fed him turpentine
And phosphorus and gasoline -
My dragon's doing fine.
There was a movement to have the St george cross barred as 'racist' in England.
Guess who was behind it.
H.R. Puff-n-Stuff?
Damn Girl. You made me spit coke on my keyboard. Now I'm have to call my dealer and get more.
You should try chasing the dragon instead!
California Girl
Rookie
- Oct 8, 2009
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- #15
Don't Slay Puff!
[ame=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rHfuHEVOe_o]YouTube - Puff The Magic Dragon - Bonnie 'Prince' BIlly[/ame]
[ame=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rHfuHEVOe_o]YouTube - Puff The Magic Dragon - Bonnie 'Prince' BIlly[/ame]
California Girl
Rookie
- Oct 8, 2009
- 50,337
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- #16
H.R. Puff-n-Stuff?
Damn Girl. You made me spit coke on my keyboard. Now I'm have to call my dealer and get more.
You should try chasing the dragon instead!
What do I do when I catch him. I ain't St George!
Thanks for the Harfleur speech Boot.
And despite the fact that it's still 6 months away, and as nobody celebrates it anymore, I'll take this opportunity to sling in the St Crispin's Day speech as well.
WESTMORELAND
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
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 call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
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 Crispian'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 rememb'red.
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 remembered-
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 accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
And despite the fact that it's still 6 months away, and as nobody celebrates it anymore, I'll take this opportunity to sling in the St Crispin's Day speech as well.
WESTMORELAND
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
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 call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
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 Crispian'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 rememb'red.
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 remembered-
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 accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Damn Girl. You made me spit coke on my keyboard. Now I'm have to call my dealer and get more.
You should try chasing the dragon instead!
What do I do when I catch him. I ain't St George!
Breathe in the smoke and you'll think you're God himself!
BTW Cali / Echo, don't know if you're familiar with this, but if you want to know some of the key things that make England what it is.....
[ame=http://www.amazon.co.uk/Pocket-Book-Patriotism-George-Courtauld/dp/0954894804/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1272046775&sr=8-1]The Pocket Book of Patriotism: Amazon.co.uk: George Courtauld: Books[/ame]
[ame=http://www.amazon.co.uk/Pocket-Book-Patriotism-George-Courtauld/dp/0954894804/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1272046775&sr=8-1]The Pocket Book of Patriotism: Amazon.co.uk: George Courtauld: Books[/ame]
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