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how irritating (writes the geeky one)! this had got to 132 visits before it blew a gasket. . . maybe it will return, but who knows
(better than kidney stones)
YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!
YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!
our hero
our hero in disguise
the visitor's book
long ones and hard ones from your lovely friends
- a thought from Chaucer's Lady Friend (1)
- a thought from craig (1)
- a thought from dash (1)
- a thought from dinahmow (1)
- a thought from double oh (1)
- a thought from everybody (1)
- a thought from fathorse (1)
- a thought from gordie (1)
- a thought from KAZ (1)
- a thought from mel (3)
- a thought from mig (1)
- a thought from moi (5)
- a thought from murph (2)
- a thought from phil (2)
- a thought from richard (1)
- a thought from stitchwort (1)
- a thought from the beep (1)
- a thought from vicus (1)
- a thought from z (2)
- a thought from ziggi (1)
- tune for the day - there had to be one didn't there (1)
- with a little help from murph (1)
phil wanted this chap to join in
Wisden piles
(better than kidney stones)
richard seem to think you need protection
there was a bit of confusion over the thai from murph - it was a TIE!! so here's one
also from double oh - a housekeeper!
a hymn from richard
How happy is the pilgrim’s lot!
How free from every anxious thought,
From worldly hope and fear!
Confined to neither court nor cell,
His soul disdains on earth to dwell,
He only sojourns here.
This happiness in part is mine,
Already saved from self design,
From every creature love;
Blest with the scorn of finite good,
My soul is lightened of its load,
And seeks the things above.
The things eternal I pursue,
A happiness beyond the view
Of those that basely pant
For things by nature felt and seen;
Their honors, wealth, and pleasures mean
I neither have nor want.
I have no sharer of my heart,
To rob my Savior of a part,
And desecrate the whole;
Only betrothed to Christ am I,
And wait His coming from the sky,
To wed my happy soul.
I have no babes to hold me here;
But children more securely dear
For mine I humbly claim,
Better than daughters or than sons,
Temples divine of living stones,
Inscribed with Jesus’ Name.
No foot of land do I possess,
No cottage in this wilderness,
A poor wayfaring man,
I lodge awhile in tents below;
Or gladly wander to and fro,
Till I my Canaan gain.
Nothing on earth I call my own;
A stranger, to the world unknown,
I all their goods despise;
I trample on their whole delight,
And seek a country out of sight,
A country in the skies.
There is my house and portion fair,
My treasure and my heart are there.
And my abiding home;
For me my elder brethren stay,
And angels beckon me away,
And Jesus bids me come.
“I come,” Thy servant, Lord, replies,
“I come to meet Thee in the skies,
And claim my heavenly rest”;
Now let the pilgrim’s journey end,
Now, O my Savior, Brother, Friend.
Receive me to Thy breast!
How free from every anxious thought,
From worldly hope and fear!
Confined to neither court nor cell,
His soul disdains on earth to dwell,
He only sojourns here.
This happiness in part is mine,
Already saved from self design,
From every creature love;
Blest with the scorn of finite good,
My soul is lightened of its load,
And seeks the things above.
The things eternal I pursue,
A happiness beyond the view
Of those that basely pant
For things by nature felt and seen;
Their honors, wealth, and pleasures mean
I neither have nor want.
I have no sharer of my heart,
To rob my Savior of a part,
And desecrate the whole;
Only betrothed to Christ am I,
And wait His coming from the sky,
To wed my happy soul.
I have no babes to hold me here;
But children more securely dear
For mine I humbly claim,
Better than daughters or than sons,
Temples divine of living stones,
Inscribed with Jesus’ Name.
No foot of land do I possess,
No cottage in this wilderness,
A poor wayfaring man,
I lodge awhile in tents below;
Or gladly wander to and fro,
Till I my Canaan gain.
Nothing on earth I call my own;
A stranger, to the world unknown,
I all their goods despise;
I trample on their whole delight,
And seek a country out of sight,
A country in the skies.
There is my house and portion fair,
My treasure and my heart are there.
And my abiding home;
For me my elder brethren stay,
And angels beckon me away,
And Jesus bids me come.
“I come,” Thy servant, Lord, replies,
“I come to meet Thee in the skies,
And claim my heavenly rest”;
Now let the pilgrim’s journey end,
Now, O my Savior, Brother, Friend.
Receive me to Thy breast!
a song from KAZ
Hallowed By Thy Name
I'm waiting in my cold cell when the bell begins to chime
Reflecting on my past life and it doesn't have much time
Cos at 5 o'clock they take me to the Gallows Pole
The sands of time for me are running low
When the priest comes to read me the last rites
I take a look through the bars at the last sights
Of a world that has gone very wrong for me
Can it be there's some sort of error
Hard to stop the surmounting terror
Is it really the end not some crazy dream
Somebody please tell me that I'm dreaming
It's not so easy to stop from screaming
But words escape me when I try to speak
Tears they flow but why am I crying
After all I am not afraid of dying
Don't believe that there is never an end
As the guards march me out to the courtyard
Someone calls from a cell "God be with you"
If there's a God then why has he let me die?
As I walk all my life drifts before me
And though the end is near I'm not sorry
Catch my soul cos it's willing to fly away
Mark my words please believe my soul lives on
Please don't worry now that I have gone
I've gone beyond to see the truth
When you know that your time is close at hand
maybe then you'll begin to understand
Life down there is just a strange illusion.
IRON MAIDEN
I'm waiting in my cold cell when the bell begins to chime
Reflecting on my past life and it doesn't have much time
Cos at 5 o'clock they take me to the Gallows Pole
The sands of time for me are running low
When the priest comes to read me the last rites
I take a look through the bars at the last sights
Of a world that has gone very wrong for me
Can it be there's some sort of error
Hard to stop the surmounting terror
Is it really the end not some crazy dream
Somebody please tell me that I'm dreaming
It's not so easy to stop from screaming
But words escape me when I try to speak
Tears they flow but why am I crying
After all I am not afraid of dying
Don't believe that there is never an end
As the guards march me out to the courtyard
Someone calls from a cell "God be with you"
If there's a God then why has he let me die?
As I walk all my life drifts before me
And though the end is near I'm not sorry
Catch my soul cos it's willing to fly away
Mark my words please believe my soul lives on
Please don't worry now that I have gone
I've gone beyond to see the truth
When you know that your time is close at hand
maybe then you'll begin to understand
Life down there is just a strange illusion.
IRON MAIDEN
a little tune about cricket
I was walkin' down the street
Concentratin' on truckin' right
I heard a dark voice beside of me
And I looked round in a state of fright
I saw four faces one mad
A brother from the gutter
They looked me up and down a bit
And turned to each other
I say
I don't like cricket oh no
I love it
I don't like cricket no no
I love it
Don't you walk thru my words
You got to show some respect
Don't you walk thru my words
'Cause you ain't heard me out yet
Well he looked down at my silver chain
He said I'll give you one dollar
I said
You've got to be jokin' man
It was a present from me Mother
He said I like it I want it
I'll take it off your hands
And you'll be sorry you crossed me
You'd better understand that you're alone
A long way from home
And I say
I don't like reggae no no
I love it
I don't like reggae oh no
I love it
Don't you cramp me style
Don't you queer on me pitch
Don't you walk thru my words
'Cause you ain't heard me out yet
I hurried back to the swimming pool
Sinkin' pina coladas
I heard a dark voice beside me say
Would you like something harder
She said
I've got it you want it
My harvest is the best
And if you try it you'll like it
And wallow in a Dreadlock Holiday
And I say
Don't like Jamaica oh no
I love her
Don't like Jamaica oh no
I love her oh yea
Don't you walk thru her words
You got to show some respect
Don't you walk thru her words
'Cause you ain't heard her out yet
I don't like cricket
I love it
(Dreadlock Holiday)
I don't like reggae
I love it
(Dreadlock Holiday)
Don't like Jamaica
I love her
(Dreadlock Holiday)
10cc
Concentratin' on truckin' right
I heard a dark voice beside of me
And I looked round in a state of fright
I saw four faces one mad
A brother from the gutter
They looked me up and down a bit
And turned to each other
I say
I don't like cricket oh no
I love it
I don't like cricket no no
I love it
Don't you walk thru my words
You got to show some respect
Don't you walk thru my words
'Cause you ain't heard me out yet
Well he looked down at my silver chain
He said I'll give you one dollar
I said
You've got to be jokin' man
It was a present from me Mother
He said I like it I want it
I'll take it off your hands
And you'll be sorry you crossed me
You'd better understand that you're alone
A long way from home
And I say
I don't like reggae no no
I love it
I don't like reggae oh no
I love it
Don't you cramp me style
Don't you queer on me pitch
Don't you walk thru my words
'Cause you ain't heard me out yet
I hurried back to the swimming pool
Sinkin' pina coladas
I heard a dark voice beside me say
Would you like something harder
She said
I've got it you want it
My harvest is the best
And if you try it you'll like it
And wallow in a Dreadlock Holiday
And I say
Don't like Jamaica oh no
I love her
Don't like Jamaica oh no
I love her oh yea
Don't you walk thru her words
You got to show some respect
Don't you walk thru her words
'Cause you ain't heard her out yet
I don't like cricket
I love it
(Dreadlock Holiday)
I don't like reggae
I love it
(Dreadlock Holiday)
Don't like Jamaica
I love her
(Dreadlock Holiday)
10cc
the perfect song, it works on SO many levels!
Watched it coming up Winslow
Down South Park Boulevard
Yeah it was looking good from tail to hood
Great big fins and painted steel
Man it looked just like the Batmobile
With my old man behind the wheel
Well you could hardly even see him
In all of that chrome
The man with the plan and the pocket comb
But every night it carried him home
And I could hear him sayin'...
Don't gimme no Buick
Son you must take my word
If there's a God in heaven
He's got a Silver Thunderbird
You can keep your Eldorados
And the foreign car's absurd
Me I wanna go down
In a Silver Thunderbird
He got up every morning
While I was still asleep
But I remember the sound of him shuffling around
Then right before the crack of dawn
I heard him turn the motor on
But when I got up they were gone
Down the road in the rain and snow
The man and his machine would go
Oh the secrets that old car would know
Sometimes I hear him sayin'...
MARC COHN
Down South Park Boulevard
Yeah it was looking good from tail to hood
Great big fins and painted steel
Man it looked just like the Batmobile
With my old man behind the wheel
Well you could hardly even see him
In all of that chrome
The man with the plan and the pocket comb
But every night it carried him home
And I could hear him sayin'...
Don't gimme no Buick
Son you must take my word
If there's a God in heaven
He's got a Silver Thunderbird
You can keep your Eldorados
And the foreign car's absurd
Me I wanna go down
In a Silver Thunderbird
He got up every morning
While I was still asleep
But I remember the sound of him shuffling around
Then right before the crack of dawn
I heard him turn the motor on
But when I got up they were gone
Down the road in the rain and snow
The man and his machine would go
Oh the secrets that old car would know
Sometimes I hear him sayin'...
MARC COHN
rain never stops play!
if life is an elaborate metpahor for cricket. . .
I'd like an scone with home made strawberry jam and some clotted cream
with my Earl Grey (three sugars) please, at tea time
I'd like an scone with home made strawberry jam and some clotted cream
with my Earl Grey (three sugars) please, at tea time
2 comments:
Thank goodness for that. I'll put the bucket of sand back under the sofa.
we had some neighbours when I was growing up (the same ones who didn't have a tv but used to come to our house to hide behind the sofa while Dr Who was on) and they always had candles on their christmas tree, so I associate a bucket of sand with the very bizarre tasting biscuits their mother used to make at xmas time (she was German)
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