General
23 Jan 07
23 Jan 07
Originally posted by HandyAndyAye an' a bit of Mackeral settler rack and ruin
Is that Welsh?
ran it doon by the haim, 'ma place
well I slapped me and I slapped it doon in the side
and I cried, cried, cried.
The fear a fallen down taken never back the raize and then Craig Marion,
get out wi' ye Claymore out mi pocket a' ran doon, doon the middin stain
picking the fiery horde that was fallen around ma feet.
Never he cried, never shall it ye get me alive
ye rotten hound of the burnie crew. Well I snatched fer the blade O my
Claymore cut and thrust and I fell doon before him round his feet.
Aye! A roar he cried frae the bottom of his heart that I would nay fall
but as dead, dead as 'a can be by his feet; de ya ken?
...and the wind cried Mary.
Thank you.
23 Jan 07
Originally posted by huckleberryhoundA knife in the chest, that's the way that we do
From you i take that as a compliment. The day i require confirmation of any kind from an illiterate pleb like you, i'll boil my skin off with extra virgin olive oil, and pickle my own spleen in vinegar.
Retard.
But if I was you, I'd be concerned about the avian flu
23 Jan 07
2 edits
Originally posted by Ice ColdYe flowery banks o' bonie Doon,
Aye an' a bit of Mackeral settler rack and ruin
ran it doon by the haim, 'ma place
well I slapped me and I slapped it doon in the side
and I cried, cried, cried.
The fear a fallen down taken never back the raize and then Craig Marion,
get out wi' ye Claymore out mi pocket a' ran doon, doon the middin stain
picking the fiery horde that was fallen ...[text shortened]... ad, dead as 'a can be by his feet; de ya ken?
...and the wind cried Mary.
Thank you.
How can ye bloom sae fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
An I sae fu' o' care!
Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o' the happy days
When my fause luve was true.
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o' my fate.
Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon,
To see the woodbine Twine;
And ilka bird sang o' its luve;
And sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Frae aff its thorny tree;
And my fause luver staw the rose,
But left the thorn wi' me.
23 Jan 07
Originally posted by huckleberryhoundYou realise when reciting such a poem, you do so with one eye closed, for authenticity.
Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
An I sae fu' o' care!
Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o' the happy days
When my fause luve was true.
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and ...[text shortened]... f its thorny tree;
And my fause luver staw the rose,
But left the thorn wi' me.
23 Jan 07
Originally posted by arrakisWell, if I can't be treasurer, than secretary will be fine. I've done it before. I'm annoying during arguments that last ad infinitum at meetings, though. I tend to finally ask if there's any sort of resolution I can write down for the minutes. Then people remember I'm taking notes and try to pretend they're adults again. Hmmm, maybe that'd work here, too! 😵
Oh yeah! We decided to take a vote and change the forums... We're a governing body now and you were elected as the secretary. 😵
23 Jan 07
Originally posted by huckleberryhoundI love how uncool I am. This only confirms how much I rule.
Hey, i was typin hip...if you don't understand, you just aint coooooooooooool.
word. 😛
literacy is soo 20th centuary, man 😛
Ummm..."word up" or "bling-bling"...or whatever you people say. 😉