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World Poetry Day

MineOwnKing

Maester
Today is World Poetry Day,

That's worthy of a toast in my book.



Three jolly coachmen
sat in a Bristol Tavern,
and they decided,
to have another flagon.

Landlord fill the flowing bowl,
until it doth run over.
For tonight we’ll merry, merry be.
Tomorrow we’ll be sober.

Here’s to the man who drinks small beer,
and goes to bed quite sober.
Fades as the leaves do fade,
and drop off in October.

Here’s to the man who drinks strong ale,
and goes to bed quite mellow.
Lives as he ought to live,
and dies a jolly good fellow

Here’s to the girl who steals a kiss,
and runs to tell her mother.
She’s a very foolish thing.
She’ll never get another.

Here’s to the girl who steals a kiss,
and runs back for another.
She’s a boon to all mankind.
Very soon she’ll be a mother.

If I had another brick,
I’d build my chimney higher.
It would stop my neighbour’s cat,
from pissing on my fire.

Come, into the garden Maude,
and don’t be so particular.
If the grass is cold and damp,
We’ll do it perpendicular.

Landlord fill the flowing bowl,
until it doth run over.
For tonight we’ll merry, merry be.
Tomorrow we’re Hungover.
 
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MineOwnKing

Maester
Be Always Drunken, by Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)

Be always drunken.
Nothing else matters:
that is the only question.
If you would not feel
the horrible burden of Time
weighing on your shoulders
and crushing you to the earth,
be drunken continually.

Drunken with what?
With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will.
But be drunken.

And if sometimes,
on the stairs of a palace,
or on the green side of a ditch,
or in the dreary solitude of your own room,
you should awaken
and the drunkenness be half or wholly slipped away from you,
ask of the wind,
or of the wave,
or of the star,
or of the bird,
or of the clock,
of whatever flies,
or sighs,
or rocks,
or sings,
or speaks,
ask what hour it is;
and the wind,
wave,
star,
bird,
clock will answer you:
“It is the hour to be drunken!”

“Be drunken,
if you would not be martyred slaves of Time;
be drunken continually!
With wine,
with poetry,
or with virtue,
as you will.”
 
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