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and in poverty,

in health and in sickness.

He will sleep on the cold ground where

the wintery winds blow,

and the snow drives fiercely,

if only he may be near his master's

side. He will kiss the hand that has no

food to offer, he will lick the sores

and wounds that come in encounter with

the roughness of the world. He guards

the sleep of his Pauper master as if he

were a prince.

When all other friends desert,

he remains.

When riches take wings and reputation

falls to pieces, he is as constant in

his love as the sun in it's journey

through the heavens.

If misfortune drives the master forth

an outcast in the world, friendless

and homeless, the faithful dog asks

no higher privilege than that of

accompanying him to guard against

danger, to fight against his enemies.

And when the last scene of all comes,

and death takes the master in it's

embrace, and his body is laid away in

the cold ground, no matter if all other

friends pursue their way, there by the

graveside will the noble dog be found,

his head between his paws, his eyes sad,

but open in alert watchfulness,

faithful and true, even in death.'>The one absolutely unselfish friend that

a man can have in this selfish world,

the one that never deserts him,

the one that never proves ungrateful

or treacherous, is his dog.

A man's dog stands by him in prosperity

and in poverty,

in health and in sickness.

He will sleep on the cold ground where

the wintery winds blow,

and the snow drives fiercely,

if only he may be near his master's

side. He will kiss the hand that has no

food to offer, he will lick the sores

and wounds that come in encounter with

the roughness of the world. He guards

the sleep of his Pauper master as if he

were a prince.

When all other friends desert,

he remains.

When riches take wings and reputation

falls to pieces, he is as constant in

his love as the sun in it's journey

through the heavens.

If misfortune drives the master forth

an outcast in the world, friendless

and homeless, the faithful dog asks

no higher privilege than that of

accompanying him to guard against

danger, to fight against his enemies.

And when the last scene of all comes,

and death takes the master in it's

embrace, and his body is laid away in

the cold ground, no matter if all other

friends pursue their way, there by the

graveside will the noble dog be found,

his head between his paws, his eyes sad,

but open in alert watchfulness,

faithful and true, even in death.

 

always liked this one

 

That was a lovely read and very touching. :yes::thumbs:

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and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground where the wintery winds blow, and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side. He will kiss the

keepers Lie Sleeping   I had a long-legged lurcher dog, I kept her in me keeping. She'd flush out hare, on a moonlit night, While the gamekeepers lie sleeping, While the gamekeepers lie sleeping

I went for a walk in the woods today , with a gun and a faithful old friend With tears in my eye , and a pain in my heart , I knew he was nearing the end We sat for a while and as it got dark , he r

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Today in the pit i did meet my match,

but my legs are broken and i can't make the scratch.

Please pick me up now so i can fight another day,

but money and pride has got in the way.

 

You know I can't win as I let out a battle cry,

looks like this pit is where I will die.

Look into my eyes did I not give my best?

But you knew that allready when you did the game test.

This is for all the game pitbulls that never gave up,

your masters betrayed you for fear of losing a buck

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A soldier told me before he died

i never knew if the b*****d lied

he had a wife with a c**t so wide it just could not be satisfied.

 

so he built her a cock made out of steel

that was driven by a krank

and a f*****g great wheel

he got two balls and filled them with cream

and the whole f*****g issue was driven by steam

 

in and out went that cock of steel

round and round went that f*****g great wheel

till at last she cried

oh im satisfied

 

now we come to the terrible bit

there was no way of stopping it

and from her arse to her tits she split

and the whole f*****g issue was covered in shit!

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I went for a walk in the woods today , with a gun and a faithful old friend

With tears in my eye , and a pain in my heart , I knew he was nearing the end

We sat for a while and as it got dark , he rested his head on my knee

His eyes seemed to tell me that he was in pain , and my job was to let him go free

So then with a sigh and tears in my eye , I lifted the gun to his head

but I started to twitch and then son of a bitch , I shot off my big toe instead

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I went for a walk in the woods today , with a gun and a faithful old friend

With tears in my eye , and a pain in my heart , I knew he was nearing the end

We sat for a while and as it got dark , he rested his head on my knee

His eyes seemed to tell me that he was in pain , and my job was to let him go free

So then with a sigh and tears in my eye , I lifted the gun to his head

but I started to twitch and then son of a bitch , I shot off my big toe instead

 

i thought it was gonna be a moving wee ode lol

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Two of my favourite sections from poems, rather than the whole poem, are:

 

The beginning of John Betjeman's "Upper Lambourne":

 

Up the ash tree climbs the ivy,

Up the ivy climbs the sun,

With a twenty-thousand pattering

Has the valley breeze begun.

 

Near the end of Roald Dahl's "Litle Red Riding Hood and the Wolf":

 

Then Little Red Riding Hood said, "But Grandma,

what a lovely great big furry coat you have on."

"That's wrong!" cried Wolf. "Have you forgot

To tell me what BIG TEETH I've got?

Ah well, no matter what you say,

I'm going to eat you anyway."

The small girl smiles. One eyelid flickers.

She whips a pistol from her knickers.

She aims it at the creatures head

And bang bang bang, she shoots him dead.

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Yours

 

He may be smooth, he may be rough - he may be big or wee,

A mongrel from his tail to tip - a hound of pedigree,

He may love postmen (he may not) - he may be scared of cats,

He may object to moonlit nights - he may be rough on rats,

You whistle an he comes - or else you call until your tired,

The laughing stock of all your friens - by everyone admired,

He may have grasped the mystic truth that paths are where one treads,

He may rout up your new-sewn seeds and bury bones in beds-

You do not really care a bit- enough that he's your own,

Yes, just your dog - the only dog - just yours and yours alone

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GAMEKEEPERS DAUGHTER

Lazy Sunday afternoon

The ducks were in the water,

We kissed passionately on the river bank

She was the gamekeepers daughter.

 

Her breath smelt of cider

And pheasant sandwiches,

She was a pleasant kind of girl

She knew several bad languages.

 

Her skin was all flaky and spotty

She even had some on her botty,

But I thought what the heck

And kissed her fat neck.

 

Right down to her breastie balloons

I said they looks inviting,

It was really exciting

They certainly wasn't no macaroons.

 

She said, yes you can touch em

But don't you dare munch em,

Cause I comes out in spots

Like little red dot's.

 

She said I get em all over

Tis a thing I cant help,

As I ran me hand up her thigh

She gave out a big yelp.

 

I said what's the matter?

We can still have some fun,

Take ya clothes off

They might heal up in the sun.

 

She started to giggle

And said don't be so daft,

I ain't going in the bushes either

That made I laugh.

 

Then I spotted the gamekeeper

With evil in his eye,

A shotgun over his arm

Shouting at me I wondered why.

 

I ran across the green

But as I ran I feared for me llife,

As he let go a blast he peppered me ass

For it wasn't his daughter it was his wife.

 

As I lay in the hospital bed

The gamekeeper looked down on I with glee,

He said you in a lot of pain boy?

Well let that be a lesson to thee.

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One of the most moving I have ever read, I read on this site recently. 'I loved a papish girl'. I don't know how to put on a link but I think it is a truly beautiful poem by the genius James Young. Read it and weep or watch on Youtube.............I dare you not to.

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