Crucifixion


And the night comes again to the circle studded sky
The stars settle slowly, in loneliness they lie
'Till the universe expodes as a falling star is raised
Planets are paralyzed, mountains are amazed
But they all glow brighter from the briliance of the blaze
With the speed of insanity, then he dies.

In the green fields a turnin', a baby is born
His cries crease the wind and mingle with the morn
An assault upon the order, the changing of the guard
Chosen for a challenge that is hopelessly hard
And the only single sound is the sighing of the stars
But to the silence and distance they are sworn


So dance dance dance
Teach us to be true
Come dance dance dance
'Cause we love you

Images of innocence charge him go on
But the decadence of destiny is looking for a pawn
To a nightmare of knowledge he opens up the gate
And a blinding revelation is laid upon his plate
That beneath the greatest love is a hurricane of hate
And God help the critic of the dawn.

So he stands on the sea and shouts to the shore,
But the louder that he screams the longer he's ignored
For the wine of oblivion is drunk to the dregs
And the merchants of the masses almost have to be begged
'Till the giant is aware, someone's pulling at his leg,
And someone is tapping at the door.

To dance dance dance
Teach us to be true
Come dance dance dance
'Cause we love you

Then his message gathers meaning and it spreads accross the land
The rewarding of his pain is the following of the man
But ignorance is everywhere and people have their way
Success is an enemy to the losers of the day
In the shadows of the churches, who knows what they pray
For blood is the language of the band.

The Spanish bulls are beaten; the crowd is soon beguiled,
The matador is beautiful, a symphony of style
Excitement is ecstatic, passion places bets
Gracefully he bows to ovations that he gets
But the hands that are applauding are slippery with sweat
And saliva is falling from their smiles

So dance dance dance
Teach us to be true
Come dance dance dance
'Cause we love you

Then this overflow of life is crushed into a liar
The gentle soul is ripped apart and tossed into the fire.
First a smile of rejection at the nearness of the night
Truth becomes a tragedy limping from the light
All the (canons|heavens) are horrified, they stagger from the sight
As the cross is trembling with desire.

They say they can't believe it, it's a sacrilegious shame
Now, who would want to hurt such a hero of the game?
But you know I predicted it; I knew he had to fall
How did it happen?  I hope his suffering was small.
Tell me every detail, I've got to know it all,
And do you have a picture of the pain?

So dance dance dance
Teach us to be true
Come dance dance dance
'Cause we love you

Time takes her toll and the memory fades
but his glory is broken, in the magic that he made.
Reality is ruined; it's the freeing from the fear
The drama is distorted, to what they want to hear
Swimming in their sorrow, in the twisting of a tear
As they wait for a new thrill parade.

The eyes of the rebel have been branded by the blind
To the safety of sterility, the threat has been refined
The child was created to the slaughterhouse he's led
So good to be alive when the eulogy is read
The climax of emotion, the worship of the dead
And the cycle of sacrifice unwinds.

So dance dance dance
Teach us to be true
Come dance dance dance
'Cause we love you

And the night comes again to the circle studded sky
The stars settle slowly, in loneliness they lie
'Till the universe explodes as a falling star is raised
Planets are paralyzed, mountains are amazed
But they all glow brighter from the brilliance of the blaze
With the speed of insanity, then he died.


By Phil Ochs

A Loan From God

God promised at the birth of time,
A special friend to give,
His time on earth is short, he said,
So love him while he lives.

It may be six or seven years,
Or twelve or then sixteen,
But will you, till I call him back,
Take care of him for me?

A wagging tail and cold wet nose,
And silken velvet ears,
A heart as big as all outdoors,
To love you through the years.

His puppy ways will gladden you,
And antics bring a smile,
As guardian or friend he will,
Be loyal all the while.

He'll bring his charms to grace your life,
And though his stay be brief,
When he's gone the memories,
Are solace for your grief.

I cannot promise he will stay,
Since all from earth return,
But lessons only a dog can teach,
I want you each to learn.

Whatever love you give to him,
Returns in triple measure,
Follow his lead and gain a life,
Brim full of simple pleasure.

Enjoy each day as it comes,
Allow your heart to guide,
Be loyal and steadfast in love,
As the dog there by your side.

Now will you give him all your love,
Nor think the labor vain,
Nor hate me when I come to call,
To take him back again?

I fancy each of us would say,
"Dear Lord, thy will be done,
For all the joy this dog shall bring,
The risk of grief we'll run.

"We'll shelter him with tenderness,
We'll love him while we may,
And for the happiness we've known,
Forever grateful stay.

"But shall the angels call for him,
Much sooner than we've planned,
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes,
And try to understand."

The March of the Cameron Men

There's many a man of the Cameron Clan
Who has followed his chief to the field
He has sworn to support him or die by his side
For a Cameron never can yield

Chorus
I hear the pibroch sounding.... sounding
Deep o'er the mountain and glen
While light springing footsteps
Are trampling the heath
'Tis the march of the Cameron Men
'Tis the march
'Tis the march
'Tis the march of the Cameron men

Oh, proudly they walk, but each Cameron knows
He may tread on the heather no more:
But boldly he follows his chief to the field,
Where his laurels were gathered before.

Chorus

The moon has arisen it shines on the path
Now trod by the gallant and true:
High,high, are their hopes. for their chieftain
has said that what ever they dare they can do



Caismeachd Chloinn Chamrain

Cha'n 'eil òganach treun de chloinn Chamrain gu léir,
Nach téid deònach fo Bhrataich Lochial:
Gu buaidh no gu bà's 's bidh iad dìleas 's gach càs,
Oirgéill cha d'thug Camranacriamh.

Nach cluinn sibh fuaim na pìoba tighinn,
Gu h-àrd thar monahd 'us ghleann;
Agus cas-cheuman eutrom a'saltairt an fhraoich!
'Si caismeachd Chloinn Chamrain a th' ann!

'Si th' ann!
'Si th' ann!
'Si caismeachd chloinn Chamrain a th' ann.

O!'s uallach an ceum, ged tha fios aig gach treun
Gu'm faod e bhi màireach 'san ùir;
Ach gach àrmunn, gun sgàth, theid le Cheannard do'n bhlàr,
Far 'm bu dualach dhaibh buaidh agus cliú.
--------
Nach cluinn sibh fuaim na pìoba tighinn, etc.
--------
Tha ghealach ag éiridh, 's tha 'gathan air ceuman
Nan òigear tha treun agus fìor;
'S àrd dòchas an cléibh, 's thuirt an Ceannard eféin
Gur laoich iad nach géill anns an strith.
--------
Nach cluinn sibh fuaim na pìoba tighinn

 The Young Warrior

    Mother, shed no mournful tears,
    But gird me on my sword;
    And give no utterance to thy fears,
    But bless me with thy word.

    The lines are drawn! The fight is on!
    A cause is to be won!
    Mother, look not so white and wan;
    Give Godspeed to thy son.

    Now let thine eyes my way pursue
    Where'er my footsteps fare;
    And when they lead beyond thy view,
    Send after me a prayer.

    But pray not to defend from harm,
    Nor danger to dispel;
    Pray, rather, that with steadfast arm
    I fight the battle well.

    Pray, mother of mine, that I always keep
    My heart and purpose strong,
    My sword unsullied and ready to leap
    Unsheathed against the wrong.


    James Weldon Johnson

 The Oxen

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees,"
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
"Come; see the oxen kneel,

"In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,"
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so’

Thomas Hardy

Abou Ben Adhem

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An Angel writing in a book of gold:

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."

"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one who loves his fellow men."

The Angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!

-- James Leigh Hunt

The Yuil E’en

T’wis the Yuil e’en, whan aw throu the hoose
Nae a beastie wis steerie, nae e’en a moose.
The hose war hing bi the lum wi care,
I’ howps ‘at St Nicholas suin wad bi thare.

The weans war nestled aw cosh i’ thair beids,
While veesions of succar-ploums dance i’ thair heids.
An hen in her curtch, an ah in ma cadie,
Haed juist sattkelt doun for a lang winter’s dover.
Whan oot on the green thare arose sic a brattle,
Ah breesit frae the beid tae see whit wis the maiter.

Awa tae the windae ah flew like a glent,
Rive appen the bairges an thraw up the chess.
The muin on the breest o the new-fawen snaw
Gae the lustre o twaloors tae objects ablo.

Whan, whit tae ma wunnert een shoud compear,
But a wee sleigh, an eicht wee reindeer.
Wi a wee auld driver, sae birkie an swipper,
Ah kent in a maument it must be St Nick.

Mair swith than eagles his courseirs thay cam,
An he whistled, an shootit, an cawed thaim by name!
“Nou Dasher! Nou, Dancer! Nou, Prancer an Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On Donner an Blitzen!
Tae the tap o the portche! Tae the tap o the waw!
Nou dash awa! Dash awa! Dash awa aw!”
As dry blades ‘at afore the wild skailwind flee,
Whan thay meet wi’ sticks, lowp tae the lift.

Sae up tae the hoose-tap the courseirs thay flew,
Wi’ the sleigh fou o toys, an St Nicholas tae.
An than, in a prinkle, ah haurd on the ruif
The brankit an pautit o ilk wee cluif.

As ah drew in ma heid, an wis turnt aroond,
Doun the lum St. Nicholas cam wi a lowp.
He wis dressed aw in fur, frae his heid tae his buits,
An hus claes war aw tairnisht wi ess an suit.

A bunnle o toys he hae flung on his back,
An he leukit like a cadger, just appent his pack.
His een—hou thay glentit! His dimples hou mirkie!
His cheeks war like roses, his nib like a cherry!
His droll wee gab wis drawn up like a bowe,
An the beard o his chin wis as white as the snaw.
The runt o a gun he huild ticht in his teeth,
An the feuch it encircled his heid like a wreath.
He hae a braid face an a wee roond kyte,
‘At sheuk, whan he laucht, like a bowlful o jeely!
He wis chuffie an gausie, a richt sonsie auld elf,
An ah laucht whan ah saw him, in maugre o masel!
A wink o his een an a twistle o his heid,
Suin gae me tae ken ah hae nocht tae dreid.

He spak nae a wird, but gaed straucht tae his wark,
An fillit aw the hose; than turnt wi a jirk.
An laying his finger aside o his nib,
An giein a nod, up the lum he rose!
He breest tae his sleigh, tae his team gae a whistle,
An awa thay aw flew like the doun o a thristle.
But ah haurd him golder, ‘ere he druive oot o sicht,
“Merry Christmas tae aw, an tae aw a Guid-nicht!”

Anon

The Donkey.

     When fishes flew and forests walked
         And figs grew upon thorn,
     Some moment when the moon was blood
         Then surely I was born.

     With monstrous head and sickening cry
         And ears like errant wings,
     The devil's walking parody
         On all four-footed things.

     The tattered outlaw of the earth,
         Of ancient crooked will;
     Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
         I keep my secret still.

     Fools! For I also had my hour;
         One far fierce hour and sweet:
     There was a shout about my ears,
         And palms before my feet.

The Way Through the Woods

 They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.

Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate,
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because the see so few)
You will hear the beat of a horse’s feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods. . . .
But there is no road through the woods.
 

Rudyard Kipling

The Three Kings

Three Kings came riding from far away,
Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;
Three Wise Men out of the East were they,
And they travelled by night and they slept by day,
For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star.

The star was so beautiful, large and clear,
That all the other stars of the sky
Became a white mist in the atmosphere,
And by this they knew that the coming was near
Of the Prince foretold in the prophecy.

Three caskets they bore on their saddle-bows,
Three caskets of gold with golden keys;
Their robes were of crimson silk with rows
Of bells and pomegranates and furbelows,
Their turbans like blossoming almond-trees.

And so the Three Kings rode into the West,
Through the dusk of the night, over hill and dell,
And sometimes they nodded with beard on breast,
And sometimes talked, as they paused to rest,
With the people they met at some wayside well.

"Of the child that is born," said Baltasar,
"Good people, I pray you, tell us the news;
For we in the East have seen his star,
And have ridden fast, and have ridden far,
To find and worship the King of the Jews."

And the people answered, "You ask in vain;
We know of no King but Herod the Great!"
They thought the Wise Men were men insane,
As they spurred their horses across the plain,
Like riders in haste, who cannot wait.

And when they came to Jerusalem,
Herod the Great, who had heard this thing,
Sent for the Wise Men and questioned them;
And said, "Go down unto Bethlehem,
And bring me tidings of this new king."

So they rode away; and the star stood still,
The only one in the grey of morn;
Yes, it stopped --it stood still of its own free will,
Right over Bethlehem on the hill,
The city of David, where Christ was born.

And the Three Kings rode through the gate and the guard,
Through the silent street, till their horses turned
And neighed as they entered the great inn-yard;
But the windows were closed, and the doors were barred,
And only a light in the stable burned.

And cradled there in the scented hay,
In the air made sweet by the breath of kine,
The little child in the manger lay,
The child, that would be king one day
Of a kingdom not human, but divine.

His mother Mary of Nazareth
Sat watching beside his place of rest,
Watching the even flow of his breath,
For the joy of life and the terror of death
Were mingled together in her breast.

They laid their offerings at his feet:
The gold was their tribute to a King,
The frankincense, with its odor sweet,
Was for the Priest, the Paraclete,
The myrrh for the body's burying.

And the mother wondered and bowed her head,
And sat as still as a statue of stone,
Her heart was troubled yet comforted,
Remembering what the Angel had said
Of an endless reign and of David's throne.

Then the Kings rode out of the city gate,
With a clatter of hoofs in proud array;
But they went not back to Herod the Great,
For they knew his malice and feared his hate,
And returned to their homes by another way.

Longfellow