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Dana Sideros. "Cartoons"
I'm lazybone and my name is Tom, unlucky cat, a discordant tone,
The greatest talent to catch a stone with my unsuccessful head.
Your name is Jerry, a little trash, you have a skill to contrive a crash
Upon my head, you are vile and brash, and sometimes a little mad.
Weve settled down in Texas state, somewhere on Houston tectonic plate,
And viewers make us a perfect rate from five then to six oclock.
You tear my moustache out and I entice your nose with a poisoned pie,
Were bored with it, but we are to vie: spectators dont think its mock.
The yard is littered with trip-wire mines, large-toothed cattraps, carnivorous bines,
But we are friends, cause we only mime this enmity, hatred, spite.
So each of us gets a weekly cheque, though a scriptwriter forgot to check
That Jerrys a very short-lived chap, for him its a flying kite.
So hopes concealed in a droll grimace, in every jump, the eternal race,
Without pathos in random phrase, in this everlasting fun.
You make a snare with a machine press, we turn a house in junk and mess,
We run: it seems that there is no death we are therefore we run
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Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door
Only this, and nothing more."
(E.A.Poe)
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, , . Excelsior!:
The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!
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Excelsior!
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The Bells ().
Hear the sledges with the bells
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars, that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
:
keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
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, . , The Russo-Turkish War .. . , a.
Wars harm all ranks, all arts, all crafts appall:
At Mars harsh blast, arch, rampart, altar, fall!
Ah! Hard as adamant, a braggart Czar
Arms vassal swarms, and fans a fatal war!
Rampant at that bad call, a Vandal band
Harass, and harm, and ransack Wallach-land.
A Tartar phalanx Balkans scarp hath past,
And Allahs standard falls, alas! At last. (C.C.Bombo)
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