Youtube comments of Nono Yorbusness (@nonoyorbusness).
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Boris's speech:
We shall greet them on the beaches,
we shall greet them on the landing grounds, we shall meet them in the fields and in the streets,
we shall put them up in the hotels,
and army camps and let them roam freely,
To (terra roar rise) the local inhabitants,
We shall never (de port) them!
We shall totally surrender.
Sinking you into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by my governments perversion of medical science.
We will therefore disgrace ourselves, ignore our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Isle manages to last for a few more years, men will say,
'This was their most pathetic hour.'
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Boris's parting speech:
To you all now I say farewell,
Now that the country's gone to hell,
We met them on the beaches,
we met them on the landing grounds, we met them in the fields and in the streets,
we put them up in the five star hotels,
and army camps and let them roam freely,
To (terra roar rise) the local inhabitants,
We shall never (de port) them!
We have totally surrendered,
Sinking you into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by my governments perversion of medical science.
We have therefore disgraced ourselves, ignored our duties, and so borne ourselves that, if the British Isle manages to last for a few more years, men will still say,
'That was their most pathetic hour.'
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In Flanders Fields
BY JOHN MCCRAE
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
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Boris's parting speech:
To you all now I say farewell,
Now that the country's gone to hell,
We met them on the beaches,
we met them on the landing grounds, we met them in the fields and in the streets,
we put them up in the five star hotels,
and army camps and let them roam freely,
To (terra roar rise) the local inhabitants,
We shall never (de port) them!
We have totally surrendered,
Sinking you into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by my governments perversion of medical science.
We have therefore disgraced ourselves, ignored our duties, and so borne ourselves that, if the British Isle manages to last for a few more years, men will still say,
'That was their most pathetic hour.'
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In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
John McCrae
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Boris's speech:
We shall greet them on the beaches,
we shall greet them on the landing grounds, we shall meet them in the fields and in the streets,
we shall put them up in the hotels,
and army camps and let them roam freely,
To (terra roar rise) the local inhabitants,
We shall never (de port) them!
We shall totally surrender.
Sinking you into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by my governments perversion of medical science.
We will therefore disgrace ourselves, ignore our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Isle manages to last for a few more years, men will say,
'This was their most pathetic hour.'
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Boris's speech:
We shall greet them on the beaches,
we shall greet them on the landing grounds, we shall meet them in the fields and in the streets,
we shall put them up in the hotels,
and army camps and let them roam freely,
To (terra roar rise) the local inhabitants,
We shall never (de port) them!
We shall totally surrender.
Sinking you into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by my governments perversion of medical science.
We will therefore disgrace ourselves, ignore our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Isle manages to last for a few more years, men will say,
'This was their most pathetic hour.'
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The Boris and the Handcock
Were laughing at a joke;
Then wept like anything to see
Such quantities of folk:
If they were only cleared away,'
They said, it would be grand!'
If seven plagues of a disease
Ravaged for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Boris said,
That they could get them clear?'
I doubt it,' said the handcock,
And shed a bitter tear.
The time has come,' the Boris said,
To talk of many things:
Of masks — of fear— and distancing —
Of virus— and disease —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
O Surplus, come for free vaccine!'
The Boris did beseech.
A pleasant stab, a peasant jab,
And then you'll all be free once more,
upon a briny beach:
Oh did I say you must have four?
Before that goal we reach.
But wait a bit,' the Surplus cried,
Before we have our shot;
For all of us are out of breath,
The masks have seen to that!'
No hurry!' said the hancok.
They thanked him much for that.
It seems a shame,' the Boris said,
To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The handcock said nothing but
"I told you they were thick!"
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Boris's manifesto:
We shall greet them on the beaches,
we shall greet them on the landing grounds, we shall meet them in the fields and in the streets,
we shall put them up in the hotels,
and army camps and let them roam freely,
To (terra roar rise) the local inhabitants,
We shall never (de port) them!
We shall totally surrender.
Sinking you into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by my governments perversion of medical science.
We will therefore disgrace ourselves, ignore our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Isle manages to last for a few more years, men will say,
'This was their most pathetic hour.'
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@elainejohnson4352
This usurped throne of kings, this decieved isle,
This earth of møßquēs, this seat of hijabs,
This other Arabia, this demi-ßhi+hølé,
This ruined fortress, betrayed by narcissists for their gain.
Infested and on the brink of war,
This unhappy breed of men, this little world,
This defiled stone set in a fishless sea,
Which once served it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Exposed by treason to the malice of less happy lands,
This blighted plot, this earth, this blairite ruin, this England.
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Sirkere was not a good man –
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air –
And bad Sirkere stood dumbly there,
And let out a sad moan.
Sirkere was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon…
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of ramadanas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.
A.A Milne (probably).
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Boris's parting speech:
To you all now I say farewell,
Now that the country's gone to hell,
We met them on the beaches,
we met them on the landing grounds, we met them in the fields and in the streets,
we put them up in the five star hotels,
and army camps and let them roam freely,
To (terra roar rise) the local inhabitants,
We shall never (de port) them!
We have totally surrendered,
Sinking you into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by my governments perversion of medical science.
We have therefore disgraced ourselves, ignored our duties, and so borne ourselves that, if the British Isle manages to last for a few more years, men will still say,
'That was their most pathetic hour.'
9
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The Boris and the Handcock
Were laughing at a joke;
Then wept like anything to see
Such quantities of folk:
If they were only cleared away,'
They said, it would be grand!'
If seven plagues of a disease
Ravaged for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Boris said,
That they could get them clear?'
I doubt it,' said the handcock,
And shed a bitter tear.
The time has come,' the Boris said,
To talk of many things:
Of masks — of fear— and distancing —
Of virus— and disease —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
O Surplus, come for free vaccine!'
The Boris did beseech.
A pleasant stab, a peasant jab,
And then you'll all be free once more,
upon a briny beach:
Oh did I say you must have four?
Before that goal we reach.
But wait a bit,' the Surplus cried,
Before we have our shot;
For all of us are out of breath,
The masks have seen to that!'
No hurry!' said the handcock.
They thanked him much, the rat.
It seems a shame,' the Boris said,
To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The handcock said nothing but
"I told you they were thick!"
I weep for you,' the Boris said:
I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those to "immunise"
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
O Surplus,' said the Handcock
You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd k off every one."
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Kahlil Gibran
1883 –1931
Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
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Our revels now are ended.
All our creations, and achievements
As I foretold you, were all illusions, and
Are melted into air,
And like the baseless fabric of a vision,
The cloud-capping sky machines, the technological marvels,
Our civilisation, that spanned the great globe itself,
Yea, all which our children should inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like an insubstantial pageant fade,
Leave not a rack behind.
We were such stuff
As dreams were made on;
Now our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
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Runs it not here, the track by Childsworth Farm,
Past the high wood, to where the elm-tree crowns
The hill behind whose ridge the sunset flames?
The signal-elm, that looks on Ilsley Downs,
The Vale, the three lone weirs, the youthful Thames?--
This winter-eve is warm,
Humid the air! leafless, yet soft as spring,
The tender purple spray on copse and briers!
And that sweet city with her dreaming spires,
She needs not June for beauty's heightening,
Matthew Arnold.
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We don't need an introduction to critical race theory we need a conclusion, end, epilogue, finish ,finale, close, ending, departure, postscript, termination of critical race theory, asap!
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The Boris and the Handcock
Were laughing at a joke;
Then wept like anything to see
Such quantities of folk:
If they were only cleared away,'
They said, it would be grand!'
If seven plagues of a disease
Ravaged for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Boris said,
That they could get them clear?'
I doubt it,' said the handcock,
And shed a bitter tear.
The time has come,' the Boris said,
To talk of many things:
Of masks — of fear— and distancing —
Of virus— and disease —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
O Surplus, come for free vaccine!'
The Boris did beseech.
A pleasant stab, a peasant jab,
And then you'll all be free once more,
upon a briny beach:
Oh did I say you must have four?
Before that goal we reach.
But wait a bit,' the Surplus cried,
Before we have our shot;
For all of us are out of breath,
The masks have seen to that!'
No hurry!' said the handcock.
They thanked him much for that.
It seems a shame,' the Boris said,
To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The handcock said nothing but
"I told you they were thick!"
I weep for you,' the Boris said:
I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those to "immunise"
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
O Surplus,' said the Handcock
You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd k off every one."
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Boris's speech:
We shall greet them on the beaches,
we shall greet them on the landing grounds, we shall meet them in the fields and in the streets,
we shall put them up in the hotels,
and army camps and let them roam freely,
To (terra roar rise) the local inhabitants,
We shall never (de port) them!
We shall totally surrender.
Sinking you into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by my governments perversion of medical science.
We will therefore disgrace ourselves, ignore our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Isle manages to last for a few more years, men will say,
'This was their most pathetic hour.'
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Sirkere was not a good man –
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air –
And bad Sirkere stood dumbly there,
And let out a sad moan.
Sirkere was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon…
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of ramadanas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.
A.A Milne (probably).
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Now is the winter of our discontent,
Made evil by this Blair of Fabian,
Bloody Broadcasters of Cuckery,
Have cheered him on his way,
Spinelessly creating this politically correct isle,
This earth of hijabs, this seat of mosques,
This other Arabia, this demi-shithole,
This fortress betrayed by traitors for themselves,
Infested and on the brink of war,
This unhappy breed of men, maligned by the unspeakably absurd,
On this defiled stone set in a fishless sea,
Which once served it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Now exposed by treason to the envious invasions of less happy lands,
This once blessed plot, this earth, this air, this Blairite-ruin.
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You don't need an army when you greet the enemy on the beaches and put them up in 5 star hotels.
Boris's speech:
We shall greet them on the beaches,
we shall greet them on the landing grounds, we shall meet them in the fields and in the streets,
we shall put them up in the hotels,
and army camps and let them roam freely,
To (terra roar rise) the local inhabitants,
We shall never (de port) them!
We shall totally surrender.
Sinking you into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by my governments perversion of medical science.
We will therefore disgrace ourselves, ignore our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Isle manages to last for a few more years, men will say,
'This was their most pathetic hour.'
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O Surplus, come for free vaccine!'
The Boris did beseech.
A pleasant stab, a peasant jab,
And then you'll all be free once more,
upon a briny beach:
Oh did I say you must have four?
Before that goal we reach.
But wait a bit,' the Surplus cried,
Before we have our shot;
For all of us are out of breath,
The masks have seen to that!'
No hurry!' said the hancok.
They thanked him much for that.
It seems a shame,' the Boris said,
To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The hancok said nothing but
"I told you they were thick!"
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When lunatics hold us in thrall
And Hancock the sheep herd blows his nail
And Boris bears lies unto us all
And vaccine comes frozen shipped in pail,
Your blood is nipp'd by fiends so foul,
Then nightly sings that staring owl,
Tu-whitty;
The-WHO, a scary note,
While greasy Schwab doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the MSM doth blow
Covid larping drowns the parson's saw
One in 50 have it but do not know!
And Pinocchio's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted virus hiss in Billy's bowl,
Then nightly sings that staring owl,
Tu-whitty;
The-WHO, a scary note,
While greasy Schwab doth keel the pot.
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Oliver Cromwell to the rump parliament:
It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place,
which you have dishonored by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice.
Ye are a factious crew, and enemies to all good government.
Ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would like Esau sell your country for a mess of pottage, and like Judas betray your God for a few pieces of money.
Is there a single virtue now remaining amongst you? Is there one vice you do not possess?
Ye have no more religion than my horse. Gold is your God. Which of you have not bartered your conscience for bribes? Is there a man amongst you that has the least care for the good of the Commonwealth?
Ye sordid prostitutes have you not defiled this sacred place, and turned the Lord's temple into a den of thieves, by your immoral principles and wicked practices?
Ye are grown intolerably odious to the whole nation. You were deputed here by the people to get grievances redressed, are yourselves become the greatest grievance.
Your country therefore calls upon me to cleanse this Augean stable, by putting a final period to your iniquitous proceedings in this House; and which by God's help, and the strength he has given me, I am now come to do.
I command ye therefore, upon the peril of your lives, to depart immediately out of this place.
Go, get you out! Make haste! Ye venal slaves be gone! So! Take away that shining bauble there, and lock up the doors.
In the name of God, go!
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Winter
by William Shakespeare
When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When Blood is nipped and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-who;
Tu-whit, tu-who: a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-who;
Tu-whit, tu-who: a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
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The Boris and the Handcock
Were laughing at a joke;
Then wept like anything to see
Such quantities of folk:
If they were only cleared away,'
They said, it would be grand!'
If seven plagues of a disease
Ravaged for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Boris said,
That they could get them clear?'
I doubt it,' said the handcock,
And shed a bitter tear.
The time has come,' the Boris said,
To talk of many things:
Of masks — of fear— and distancing —
Of virus— and disease —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
O Surplus, come for free vaccine!'
The Boris did beseech.
A pleasant stab, a peasant jab,
And then you'll all be free once more,
upon a briny beach:
Oh did I say you must have four?
Before that goal we reach.
But wait a bit,' the Surplus cried,
Before we have our shot;
For all of us are out of breath,
The masks have seen to that!'
No hurry!' said the handcock.
They thanked him much for that.
It seems a shame,' the Boris said,
To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The handcock said nothing but
"I told you they were thick!"
I weep for you,' the Boris said:
I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those to "immunise"
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
O Surplus,' said the Handcock
You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd k off every one."
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Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the Consent of the Governed, that whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these Ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its Foundation on such Principles, and organizing its Powers in such Form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient Causes; and accordingly all Experience hath shewn, that Mankind are more disposed to suffer, while Evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the Forms to which they are accustomed.
From the declaration of independence.
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Our revels now are ended.
Those craft that rode the thin cold sky,
All our creations, and achievements
As I foretold you, were all illusions, and
Are melted into air,
And like the baseless fabric of our mathematics,
The cloud soaring machines, the technological marvels,
Our civilisation, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which our children should inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like an insubstantial pageant fade,
Leave not a rack behind.
We were such stuff
As dreams were made on;
Now our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
Prospero.
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The Boris and the Handcockist
Were laughing at a joke;
Then wept like anything to see
Such quantities of folk:
If they were only cleared away,'
They said, it would be grand!'
If seven plagues of a disease
Ravaged for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Boris said,
That they could get them clear?'
I doubt it,' said the Handcockist,
And shed a bitter tear.
The time has come,' the Boris said,
To talk of many things:
Of masks — of fear— and distancing —
Of virus— and disease —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
O Surplus, come for free vaccine!'
The Boris did beseech.
A pleasant stab, a peasant jab,
And then you'll all be free once more,
upon a briny beach:
Oh did I say you must have four?
Before that goal we reach.
But wait a bit,' the Surplus cried,
Before we have our shot;
For all of us are out of breath,
The masks have seen to that!'
No hurry!' said the Handcockist,
They thanked him much for that.
It seems a shame,' the Boris said,
To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The Handcockist said nothing but
"I told you they were thick!"
I weep for you,' the Boris said:
I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those to "immunise"
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
O Surplus,' said the Handcockist,
You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd killed off every one."
Lewis Carroll (probably)!
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The Boris and the Handcock
Were laughing at a joke;
Then wept like anything to see
Such quantities of folk:
If they were only cleared away,'
They said, it would be grand!'
If seven plagues of a disease
Ravaged for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Boris said,
That they could get them clear?'
I doubt it,' said the handcock,
And shed a bitter tear.
The time has come,' the Boris said,
To talk of many things:
Of masks — of fear— and distancing —
Of virus— and disease —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
O Surplus, come for free vaccine!'
The Boris did beseech.
A pleasant stab, a peasant jab,
And then you'll all be free once more,
upon a briny beach:
Oh did I say you must have four?
Before that goal we reach.
But wait a bit,' the Surplus cried,
Before we have our shot;
For all of us are out of breath,
The masks have seen to that!'
No hurry!' said the handcock.
They thanked him much for that.
It seems a shame,' the Boris said,
To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The handcock said nothing but
"I told you they were thick!"
I weep for you,' the Boris said:
I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those to "immunise"
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
O Surplus,' said the Handcock
You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd k off every one."
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This usurped throne of kings, this decieved isle,
This earth of møßquēs, this seat of hijabs,
This other Arabia, this demi-ßhi+hølé,
This ruined fortress, betrayed by narcissists for their gain.
Infested and on the brink of war,
This unhappy breed of men, this little world,
This defiled stone set in a fishless sea,
Which once served it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Exposed by treason to the malice of less happy lands,
This blighted plot, this earth, this blairite ruin, this England.
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The Boris and the Handcock
Were laughing at a joke;
Then wept like anything to see
Such quantities of folk:
If they were only cleared away,'
They said, it would be grand!'
If seven plagues of a disease
Ravaged for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Boris said,
That they could get them clear?'
I doubt it,' said the handcock,
And shed a bitter tear.
The time has come,' the Boris said,
To talk of many things:
Of masks — of fear— and distancing —
Of virus— and disease —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
O Surplus, come for free vaccine!'
The Boris did beseech.
A pleasant stab, a peasant jab,
And then you'll all be free once more,
upon a briny beach:
Oh did I say you must have four?
Before that goal we reach.
But wait a bit,' the Surplus cried,
Before we have our shot;
For all of us are out of breath,
The masks have seen to that!'
No hurry!' said the handcock.
They thanked him much for that.
It seems a shame,' the Boris said,
To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The handcock said nothing but
"I told you they were thick!"
I weep for you,' the Boris said:
I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those to "immunise"
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
O Surplus,' said the Handcock
You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd k off every one."
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The Boris and the Handcock
Were laughing at a joke;
Then wept like anything to see
Such quantities of folk:
If they were only cleared away,'
They said, it would be grand!'
If seven plagues of a disease
Ravaged for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Boris said,
That they could get them clear?'
I doubt it,' said the handcock,
And shed a bitter tear.
The time has come,' the Boris said,
To talk of many things:
Of masks — of fear— and distancing —
Of virus— and disease —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
O Surplus, come for free vaccine!'
The Boris did beseech.
A pleasant stab, a peasant jab,
And then you'll all be free once more,
upon a briny beach:
Oh did I say you must have four?
Before that goal we reach.
But wait a bit,' the Surplus cried,
Before we have our shot;
For all of us are out of breath,
The masks have seen to that!'
No hurry!' said the handcock.
They thanked him much for that.
It seems a shame,' the Boris said,
To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The handcock said nothing but
"I told you they were thick!"
I weep for you,' the Boris said:
I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those to "immunise"
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
O Surplus,' said the Handcock
You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd k off every one."
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The Boris and the Handcock
Were laughing at a joke;
Then wept like anything to see
Such quantities of folk:
If they were only cleared away,'
They said, it would be grand!'
If seven plagues of a disease
Ravaged for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Boris said,
That they could get them clear?'
I doubt it,' said the handcock,
And shed a bitter tear.
The time has come,' the Boris said,
To talk of many things:
Of masks — of fear— and distancing —
Of virus— and disease —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
O Surplus, come for free vaccine!'
The Boris did beseech.
A pleasant stab, a peasant jab,
And then you'll all be free once more,
upon a briny beach:
Oh did I say you must have four?
Before that goal we reach.
But wait a bit,' the Surplus cried,
Before we have our shot;
For all of us are out of breath,
The masks have seen to that!'
No hurry!' said the hancok.
They thanked him much for that.
It seems a shame,' the Boris said,
To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The handcock said nothing but
"I told you they were thick!"
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If we are mark'd to die, we are enough
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.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best I have. I do not wish one more!
He that hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
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
This story shall the good man teach his son;
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother
The gentlemen of England now asleep
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us.
W. Shakespeare.
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Do you not regret your politically correct deeds?
Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.
Even now I curse the day—and yet, I think,
Few come within the compass of my curse,—
Wherein I did not some notorious ill,
As kill a man, or else devise his death,
Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it,
Accuse some innocent and forswear myself,
Set deadly enmity between two friends,
Make poor men's cattle break their necks;
Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,
And bid the owners quench them with their tears.
Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,
And set them upright at their dear friends' doors,
Even when their sorrows almost were forgot;
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,
Have with my knife carved in Roman letters,
'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.'
Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things
As willingly as one would kill a fly,
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed
But that I cannot do ten thousand more.
William Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus
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Sirkere was not a good man –
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air –
And bad Sirkere stood dumbly there,
And let out a sad moan.
Sirkere was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon…
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of Ramadan cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.
Apologies to A.A. Milne.
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Our revels now are ended.
All our creations, and achievements
As I foretold you, were all illusions, and
Are melted into air,
And like the baseless fabric of a vision,
The cloud-capping sky machines, the technological marvels,
Our civilisation, that spanned the great globe itself,
Yea, all which our children should inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like an insubstantial pageant fade,
Leave not a whisp behind.
We were such stuff
As dreams were made on;
Now our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
William Shakespeare (probably)!
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Klaus Schwab was not a good man –
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air –
And bad Klaus Schwab stood dumbly there,
A lunatic alone.
Klaus Schwab was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon…
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of Christmas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.
Klaus Schwab stood by the window,
And frowned to see below
The happy bands of boys and girls
All playing in the snow.
A while he stood there watching,
And envying them all …
When through the window big and red
Came cutting off his pointy head,
(Which bounced and fell upon the bed),
A massive cannon ball!
OH, FATHER CHRISTMAS,
MY BLESSINGS ON YOU FALL
FOR RIDDING US OF KLAUS
WITH A BIG, RED, CANNON BALL!
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While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.
From Tommy by Rudyard Kipling.
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