I've just come upon this poem, written by W. H. Auden.

Whilst it clearly is written nearly 40 years ago, it seems to perfectly capture an age and a time.

Does anyone else have a poem or a song that reflects an age or a time important to them?

"Doggerel by a Senior Citizen"

Our earth in 1969

Is not the planet I call mine,

The world, I mean, that gives me strength

To hold off chaos at arm's length.

My Eden landscapes and their climes

Are constructs from Edwardian times,

When bath-rooms took up lots of space,

And, before eating, one said Grace.

The automobile, the aeroplane,

Are useful gadgets, but profane:

The enginry of which I dream

Is moved by water or by steam.

Reason requires that I approve

The light-bulb which I cannot love:

To me more reverence-commanding

A fish-tail burner on the landing.

My family ghosts I fought and routed,

Their values, though, I never doubted:

I thought the Protestant Work-Ethic

Both practical and sympathetic.

When couples played or sang duets,

It was immoral to have debts:

I shall continue till I die

To pay in cash for what I buy.

The Book of Common Prayer we knew

Was that of 1662:

Though with-it sermons may be well,

Liturgical reforms are hel_l.

Sex was of course -- it always is --

The most enticing of mysteries,

But news-stands did not then supply

Manichean pornography.

Then Speech was mannerly, an Art,

Like learning not to belch or fart:

I cannot settle which is worse,

The Anti-Novel or Free Verse.

Nor are those Ph.D's my kith,

Who dig the symbol and the myth:

I count myself a man of letters

Who writes, or hopes to, for his betters.

Dare any call Permissiveness

An educational success?

Saner those class-rooms which I sat in,

Compelled to study Greek and Latin.

Though I suspect the term is crap,

There is a Generation Gap,

Who is to blame? Those, old or young,

Who will not learn their Mother-Tongue.

But Love, at least, is not a state

Either en vogue or out-of-date,

And I've true friends, I will allow,

To talk and eat with here and now.

Me alienated? Bosh! It's just

As a sworn citizen who must

Skirmish with it that I feel

Most at home with what is Real.

how about rudyards famous.. IF....

An oldie, and perhaps cliché, but oh so timeless, and oh so relevant....

If

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 imposters 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 wornout 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 breath 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!

or one of my favorites (In keeping with the thread relevance) :

Rhapsody on a Windy Night

Twelve o'clock.

Along the reaches of the street

Held in a lunar synthesis,

Whispering lunar incantations

Disolve the floors of memory

And all its clear relations,

Its divisions and precisions,

Every street lamp that I pass

Beats like a fatalistic drum,

And through the spaces of the dark

Midnight shakes the memory

As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

Half-past one,

The street lamp sputtered,

The street lamp muttered,

The street lamp said,

"Regard that woman

Who hesitates toward you in the light of the door

Which opens on her like a grin.

You see the border of her dress

Is torn and stained with sand,

And you see the corner of her eye

Twists like a crooked pin."

The memory throws up high and dry

A crowd of twisted things;

A twisted branch upon the beach

Eaten smooth, and polished

As if the world gave up

The secret of its skeleton,

Stiff and white.

A broken spring in a factory yard,

Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left

Hard and curled and ready to snap.

Half-past two,

The street-lamp said,

"Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,

Slips out its tongue

And devours a morsel of rancid butter."

So the hand of the child, automatic,

Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along

the quay.

I could see nothing behind that child's eye.

I have seen eyes in the street

Trying to peer through lighted shutters,

And a crab one afternoon in a pool,

An old crab with barnacles on his back,

Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.

Half-past three,

The lamp sputtered,

The lamp muttered in the dark.

The lamp hummed:

"Regard the moon,

La lune ne garde aucune rancune,

She winks a feeble eye,

She smiles into corners.

She smooths the hair of the grass.

The moon has lost her memory.

A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,

Her hand twists a paper rose,

That smells of dust and old Cologne,

She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells

That cross and cross across her brain.

The reminiscence comes

Of sunless dry geraniums

And dust in crevices,

Smells of chestnuts in the streets

And female smells in shuttered rooms

And cigarettes in corridors

And cocktail smells in bars."

The lamp said,

"Four o'clock,

Here is the number on the door.

Memory!

You have the key,

The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair,

Mount.

The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall,

Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life."

The last twist of the knife.

TS ELIOT

[...

The last twist of the knife. [/i] [/font]

TS ELIOT

Now I'm thinking when I read the first verse, "Which tripped out 70's group is this I've missed?"

But the imagery remains consistant and becomes more intense - and then the last line!

Then - bloody he££ - it's the ruddy bank manager.

Brilliant.

There once was a man from Brazil

Who swallowed a dynamite pill

His arse backfired

His heart expired

and his balls flew over the hill

Basil Brush 1976

"We've Got To Get Out Of This Place" The Animals

(Vietnam war)

There was an old lady from Ealing

Who had a peculiar feeling

So she laid on her back

Opened her crack

And pissed all over the ceiling

my mate 1979

Oh Jeannie dear, I love you so

Especially in your nightie,

When the moonlight flits across your tits

Oh Jesus Christ Almighty

Derek & Clive Live (1970s)

I suppose I was being over ambitious.

It's a bit like asking the English to sing folk songs.

They can't.

I suppose I was being over ambitious.

It's a bit like asking the English to sing folk songs.

They can't.

We can, but being decent people, we don't. Have you ever heard an English folk song? (The clue is, it accompanies Morris dancing).

Have you read anything by William McGonigall? He earned the soubriquet of being the worst poet in the English language. It is just bl00dy dreadful.

I suppose I was being over ambitious.

It's a bit like asking the English to sing folk songs.

They can't.

We can, but being decent people, we don't. Have you ever heard an English folk song? (The clue is, it accompanies Morris dancing).

Coming from a town that has two Morris dancing societies, I am tempted to remove my handkerchief and blow my nose at you, sir.

If I didn't have influenza.

Jack and Jill went up the hill

To fetch a pail of water

Jill forgot to take her pill

And now she's got a daughter

There once was a man from the Cape

Who buggered a barbury Ape

The Ape said "you fool!

You've got a square tool

and you've pushed my bum out of shape"

Can't really explain why but I would listen to this song over and over. Was on training for my first job after getting out of the military. The year the first man stepped on the moon (not the song title year).

In the year 2525

Zager and Evans

In the year 2525

If man is still alive

If woman can survive they may find

In the year 3535

Ain't gonna need to tell the truth, tell no lies

Everything you think do and say

Is in the pill you took today

In the year 4545

You ain't gonna need your teeth won't need your eyes

You won't find a thing to chew

Nobody's gonna look at you

In the year 5555

Your arms hangin' limp at your sides

Your legs got nothin' to do

Some machine's doing that for you

In the year 6565

You won't need no husband, won't need no wife

You'll pick your son, pick your daughter too

From the bottom of a long glass tube

In the year 7510

If God's a comin' He oughta make it by then

Maybe He'll look around Himself and say

Guess it's time for the judgement day

In the year 8510

God is gonna shake His mighty head

He'll either say I'm pleased where man has been

Or tear it down and start again woh oh

In the year 9595

I'm kinda wonderin' if man is gonna be alive

He's takin everything this old earth can give

And he ain't put back nothin woh oh

Now it's been ten thousand years

Man has cried a billion tears

For what he never knew

Now man's reign is through

But through eternal night

The twinkling of starlight

So very far away

Maybe it's only yesterday

In the year 2525

If man is still alive

If woman can survive, they may find......

Kayo.... THANKS for reminding me of that wonderful Kipling 'poem'. I get shivers when I read it. Partly because of his words and partly thinking of his lfe and how it must have been etc.

Thanks Kayo!!!!!

Fairport Convention are probably the finest folk group in the World and they are English!

Fairport Convention are probably the finest folk group in the World and they are English!

I heartily agree with you there, Prof. To this day is still listen to their Liege & Lief LP (on CD nowadays) and never tire of hearing Sandy Denny's melodious voice. A pity she passed on at such a young age. My older brother bought the album when first released. (My, my, my age is showing!)

Matty Groves

A holiday, a holiday, and the first one of the year

Lord Donald's wife came into the church, the gospel for to hear

And when the meeting it was done, she cast her eyes about

And there she saw little Matty Groves, walking in the crowd

"Come home with me, little Matty Groves, come home with me tonight

Come home with me, little Matty Groves, and sleep with me till light"

"Oh, I can't come home, I won't come home and sleep with you tonight

By the rings on your fingers I can tell you are my master's wife"

"But if I am Lord Donald's wife, Lord Donald's not at home

He is out in the far cornfields bringing the yearlings home"

And a servant who was standing by and hearing what was said

He swore Lord Donald he would know before the sun would set

And in his hurry to carry the news, he bent his breast and ran

And when he came to the broad millstream, he took off his shoes and he swam

Little Matty Groves, he lay down and took a little sleep

When he awoke, Lord Donald was standing at his feet

Saying "How do you like my feather bed and how do you like my sheets

How do you like my lady who lies in your arms asleep?"

"Oh, well I like your feather bed and well I like your sheets

But better I like your lady gay who lies in my arms asleep"

"Well, get up, get up," Lord Donald cried, "get up as quick as you can

It'll never be said in fair England that I slew a naked man"

"Oh, I can't get up, I won't get up, I can't get up for my life

For you have two long beaten swords and I not a pocket knife"

"Well it's true I have two beaten swords and they cost me deep in the purse

But you will have the better of them and I will have the worse

And you will strike the very first blow and strike it like a man

I will strike the very next blow and I'll kill you if I can"

So Matty struck the very first blow and he hurt Lord Donald sore

Lord Donald struck the very next blow and Matty struck no more

And then Lord Donald took his wife and he sat her on his knee

Saying "Who do you like the best of us, Matty Groves or me?"

And then up spoke his own dear wife, never heard to speak so free

"I'd rather a kiss from dead Matty's lips than you or your finery"

Lord Donald he jumped up and loudly he did bawl

He struck his wife right through the heart and pinned her against the wall

"A grave, a grave," Lord Donald cried, "to put these lovers in

But bury my lady at the top for she was of noble kin"

The Incredible String Band's Wee Tam/Big Huge LP was a classic, too. I still listen to that one, too.

Ducks On A Pond

Ducks on a pond, ducks on a pond

Very pretty swimming round

The lion and the unicorn journey very far

The answers are the question, sir

The lady soothes the lion's fur

Meek as a lamb he follows her

Wherever angels are

Sing me something

I asked the ice it would not say

But only cracked or moved away

I thought I knew me yesterday

Whoever sings this song

Greetings on you kings in the sky

Who'll buy me a mynah bird

Play me a magic word

Speak of hopes with thoughts absurd

Thoughts floating by

Little ducks, pretty birds

Clouds across the sky

Moving pieces on the plains of Troy

Carving faces on the rocks of joy

Pretty lady washing the tiles

Soapy pictures like crocodiles

Chilly winds blowing

Lovely spring coming soon

I wear my body like a caravan

Gipsy rover in a magic land

Misty mountains where the eagles fly

Lonely valleys where the lost ones cry

I had a little letter full of paper

Inky scratches everywhere

Always looking, looking for a paradise island

Help me find it everywhere

Peacocks talking of the colour grey

Awaking soundly in darkest daybreak

A howling tempest on a silent sea

Lovely Jesus nailed to a tree

Mad as the moon when Merlin falls

Silver castles and silver halls

Taking lessons from the piper's son

Learn to play while the world is young

Boys and girls come out to play

The moon doth shine as bright as day

Leave your sorrows and leave your sleep

And join your playfellows in the street

Come with a whoop or come with a call

Come with a goodwill or not at all

Up the ladder and down the wall

A ha'penny loaf will serve for all

Following my fortune now the Holy Grail is found

And the Holy Bread of Heaven it is given all around

Farewell sorrow, praise God the open door

I ain't got no home in this world any more

Poor as the birds but to give their song away

Gathering possessions round to make a bright array

Dark was the night, praise God the open door

I ain't got no home in this world anymore.

Ah, the days when musicians were poets!

Gotta add one more of Incredible String Band lyrics. Loved contemplating their lyrics, and they were quite prolific and highly creative.

The Half-Remarkable Question

Who moved the black castle

Who moved the white queen

When Gimmel and Daleth where standing between?

Out of the evening growing a veil

Pining for the pine woods that ached for the sail

There's something forgotten I want you to know

The freckles of rain are telling me so

O it's the old forgotten question

What is that we are part of?

What is it that we are?

And an elephant madness has covered the sun

The judge and the juries they play for the fun

They've torn up the roses and washed all the soap

And the martyr who marries them dares not elope

O it's the never realised question

O long O long e're yet my eyes

Braved the gates enormous fire

And the body folded 'round me

And the person in me grew

The flower and its petal

The root and its grasp

The earth and its bigness

The breath and its gasp

The mind and its motion

The foot and its move

The life and its pattern

The heart and its love

O it's the half-remarkable question.

Fairport Convention are probably the finest folk group in the World and they are English!

Wholeheartedly agree.

Saw them live at the Santa Barbara Co. Bowl back in '73 or '74 when they were the opener for Loggins & Messina. FC blew everyone away! Sandy Denny had no rival.

Best concert I ever saw there.

I'm eating my heart out, Boon.

Who Knows Where the Time Goes?

Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving

But how can they know it's time for them to go?

Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming

I have no thought of time

For who knows where the time goes?

Who knows where the time goes?

Sad, deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving

Ah, but then you know it's time for them to go

But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving

I do not count the time

For who knows where the time goes?

Who knows where the time goes?

And I am not alone while my love is near me

I know it will be so until it's time to go

So come the storms of winter and then the birds in spring again

I have no fear of time

For who knows how my love grows?

And who knows where the time goes?

------------------

What a beautiful song, but who could have sung it better?

Fairport Convention are probably the finest folk group in the World and they are English!

Wholeheartedly agree.

Saw them live at the Santa Barbara Co. Bowl back in '73 or '74 when they were the opener for Loggins & Messina. FC blew everyone away! Sandy Denny had no rival.

Best concert I ever saw there.

Agreed.

Coming from a town that has two Morris dancing societies

Not something to brag about, IMHO

Anybody not familiar with the Incredible String Band can find their lyrics here

INCREDIBLE STRING BAND

"My Father was a Lighthouse Keeper" amazing song, sung very oddly indeed.

Never knew anyone else really knew about them, lamphun. At least not in the States. Very much an obsure import at the time. They did have a very unique style and often bizarre lyrics, which for some reason appealed to me. As I mentioned, I still play the Wee Tam album on occasion. Never seem to get tired of it.

Of course, then there were the Strawbs, the first notable band with which Sandy became involved. Professor Fart's mention of Fairport really brought back some memories - pleasant ones, for sure.