hows this to start the season off?
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
UTO
to the best fans in the world........
posted on 5/8/11
Delia Smith would beg to differ
posted on 5/8/11
Kipling, great poem, and he does make exceedingly good cakes!
posted on 5/8/11
Not so sure about the best fans in the world...but you're certainly the funniest...
Cheers wendies, kept me entertained all day...Gonna cost me a fortune in laundry bills...
posted on 5/8/11
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our Sheffield dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest Sheffielders.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in Sheffield, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Meggy, Wednesday, and Saint George!'
posted on 5/8/11
For heavens sake Col...that's another pair of keks ruined...
posted on 5/8/11
I've told you Sparty, we don't need to know when you get excited in the pants department thinking about Megson and his boys. Keep it to yourself, weirdo.
posted on 5/8/11
"Consy".....Don't strive to be funny...Just be yourself...
posted on 5/8/11
Another set of undies.....?
posted on 5/8/11
Reckon your comedy club is going to be even funnier this season...May invest in a commode...
posted on 6/8/11
See you next season......x