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HonaloochieB Wrote:

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

> skidmarks Wrote:

> --------------------------------------------------

> -----

> > I?ll probably be a right old grumpy bastard in

> my

> > later years so I?ll just have ?Get f#cked? on

> mine

>

> Come on Skids, after what your grandad put on his

> stone, I think you need to make more effort.


Ok I'll have it translated into Latin first

Changing the subject, but wouldn't it be great to have a Viking funeral? I can just imagine the grieving crowd on the steep pebbly beach, an outgoing tide, calm glassy water in a deep blue dusk, and the high-prowed boat sailing out as the bright flames start to leap up and engulf the hull... Marvellously dramatic and final.

Moos Wrote:

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> Changing the subject, but wouldn't it be great to

> have a Viking funeral? I can just imagine the

> grieving crowd on the steep pebbly beach, an

> outgoing tide, calm glassy water in a deep blue

> dusk, and the high-prowed boat sailing out as the

> bright flames start to leap up and engulf the

> hull... Marvellously dramatic and final.


Whats the carbon footprint of that?.like you would care as you're dead

I can just imagine the grieving crowd on the steep pebbly beach, an outgoing tide, calm glassy water in a deep blue dusk, and the high-prowed boat sailing out as the bright flames start to leap up and engulf the hull...


Innit.


Forth he fared at the fated moment,

sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.

Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,

loving clansmen, as late he charged them,

while wielded words the winsome Scyld,

the leader beloved who long had ruled....

In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,

ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:

there laid they down their darling lord

on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,

by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure

fetched from far was freighted with him.


No ship have I known so nobly dight

with weapons of war and weeds of battle,

with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay

a heaped hoard that hence should go

far o'er the flood with him floating away.


No less these loaded the lordly gifts,

thanes' huge treasure, than those had done

who in former time forth had sent him

sole on the seas, a suckling child.


High o'er his head they hoist the standard,

a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,

gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,

mournful their mood. No man is able

to say in sooth, no son of the halls,

no hero 'neath heaven, -- who harbored that freight!



PS - Just to avoid accusations of plagiarism, I am happy to attribute this to its rightful author - Mr Ray Winstone.

Skidmarks - was just teasing, peace.


Ted - of course even better if one could sail into the sunset alive to strive, to seek, to find.. this one's for you:


There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;

There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,

Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me,--

That ever with a frolic welcome took

The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed

Free hearts, free foreheads,-- you and I are old;

Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.

Death closes all; but something ere the end,

Some work of noble note, may yet be done,

Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;

The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep

Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.

'T is not too late to seek a newer world.

Push off, and sitting well in order smite

The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths

Of all the western stars, until I die.

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying

And I am dead, as dead I well may be

You'll come and find the place where I am lying

And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.

And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me

And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be

If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me

I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.


I'll also have the stone rigged up with a sensor and stereo, so that every visitor to my final resting place gets blasted with a version of the second verse of 'Danny Boy' that I shall commission Sonic Youth to perform.

Their production notes will be 'loud and mopey'.

That should sh!t up any visitors to my grave good and proper.

Including Thurston and Kim.

Ted Max Wrote:

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> It's a right tear jerker, isn't it?

>

> (Always felt Alfie's Ulysses gives the missus

> short thrift, though. Not to mention poor old

> plodding Telemachus, who rather has to pick up the

> pieces. Still, what a way to go.)


Yes indeed - better than the rather odd story of having to go off until you find someone who thinks an oar is a scythe. Penelope rocks, but I never liked Telemachos, the whingeing pup.

:-$HonaloochieB Wrote:

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

> And if you come, when all the flowers are dying

> And I am dead, as dead I well may be

> You'll come and find the place where I am lying

> And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.

> And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me

> And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be

> If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me

> I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

>

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


Hey that brought tears to my eyes

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