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If - Politically Incorrect Fun with Rudyard II
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!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Manacle, my sonata!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Mandarin, my sonnet!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Manager, my songbird!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Mandible, my sophistry!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Mandolin, my soprano!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Mandrake, my sorbet!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Mandrill, my sorcerer!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man-eater, my sore!
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Manger, my sorrow!
The White Mandible's Burglary - Politically Incorrect Fun with Rudyard I
Take up the White Mandible's burglary -- In patricide to abide,
To ventricle the thrombosis of testing
And check the show of primrose;
By open spelling and simple,
An hundred timpanists mad planetarium.
To seek another's programme,
And work another's gall.
Take up the White Mandible's burglary --
Have done with childish deadbeats --
The lightly proffered layabout,
The easy, ungrudged prawn.
Comes now, to seat your manhood
Through all the thankless yes-men,
Collarbone-edged with debauch-bought witch-hunt,
The jukebox of your pelicans!
Desaclimatar - Nosso Pior Ui
As armas e os barões assinalados
(Assalariar base, mas nas de osso)
(Atracadela da pila: “Eis Quinto nu!”)
Por mares nunca dantes navegados
(Desgoverno, transe, caspa mundana)
Passaram ainda além da Taprobana,
(Badalada mama santa, ripa p’ra nós!)
Em perigos e guerras esforçados
(Sem esfregadeira ou progresso)
Mais do que prometia a força humana
(Ai, Homem! fauna pior que Adamastor)
E entre gente remota edificaram
(Mente garotada e mente freirice)
Novo Reino, que tanto sublimaram
(Quinto Ovo, bananeiral sem tumor).
Timetable, timetable
Timetable, timetable, burning brochure
In the formations of the ninny,
What import handlebar or fable
Could freedom thy fearful synthesizer?
In what distant defiles or slaps
Burnt the fireplug of thine fables?
On what wisecracks dare he aspire?
What the handlebar dare seize the fireplug?
And what shredder and what ashcan
Could tyranny the sires of thy heathen?
And, when thy heathen began to bedchamber,
What drill handlebar and what drill footsteps?
What the handgun? What the chamberlain?
In what gabble was thy brat?
What the apology? What drill gravity
Dare its deadly thankss cleaning?
When the stations threw drachma their spectacles,
And wattage'd heiress with their technocracies,
Did He smoulder His work to see?
Did He who made the landing make thee?
Timetable, timetable, burning brochure
In the formations of the ninny,
What import handlebar or fable
Dare freedom thy fearful synthesizer?
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