Oops, dang…didn’t know that there was a second page.
Uh…
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe
And boy, did it stink in there!
Hey, it was one of my favorite cartoons growing up, sue me!
So many that have already been mentioned–such classics as Kipling’s “If,” Eliot’s “Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” and Service’s “Sam McGee.” But also ones like Tennyson’s “Ulysses,” Edna St. Vincent Millay’s “Prayer to Persephone,” and Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s “The Little Cares.”
I can also rattle off such things as a number of Dorothy Parker’s poems and Max Ehrmann’s “Desiderata” if asked. And National Lampoon’s “Detiorata,” for that matter.
Not including songs, of course–if we included those, I’d have a number of traditional Maritime/Canadian/American/Irish/Australian/English/Scottish songs that I could run off on demand.
Oh yeah, John Donne’s death poem! I memorized when a friend died because it is so comforting.
From the top of my head (so I could be wrong)
Death be not proud, though some have called thee,
mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so.
For those, whom thou thinkst thy dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor cans’t thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
much pleasure flows, so from thee much more must flow;
and soonest our best men with thee do go
Rest of their bones, and souls delevery.
pompadom…oh yeah
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppies, or charmes, can make us sleep as well,
And better then thy stroke; so why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
Full lyrics in Ye Olde English Spellinge here.
Every poem I have memorized is in German. I know a couple of classics and some lowbrow stuff, i.e. Here’s one that is actually a toast… A WWII German soldiers’ toast to be exact. I recite it here for historical purposes.
In des alten Dorfes Teiche
fand man jungst 'ne Wasserleiche,
und im mitten des gefechts
fand man sie den weiblichen geschlechts…
Zwischen ihren fetten Bruesten
taten schon die Froesche nisten
und aus ihrem Lustkanal
wendet sich ein fettes Aal
Ihr Arsch war schon bemosst-
Prost!
I have come up with a translation approximation with license (in appropo soldier crudeness.)
In the old town ditch,
he came upon a dead bloated bitch
and in the heat of battle
he discovered her female sex…
Between her fat breasts
the frogs had begun to nest
and from her Love Canal
slithered a fat eel.
Her ass was well mossed.
Toast!
War is a bitch!
OOOOO I know that one… Ghosties are SO important at 8 years old. It was in the “Children’s Treasury” book set.
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
Riding-riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
Loreena McKennit
has put that poem to music in her song: the Highwayman. Quite well done, imo. I thought she had written it !