A road not taken

alledan

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. Robert Frost.[I think we all have our roads not taken.]

Dancing Bear

Thanks Alledan, one of my favorites keep them coming. Here's another.If - by Rudyard KiplingIf 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!

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The more people I meet, the more I like my dogs.

nunn

THANK YOU!!!I was looking for a copy of "If" to send to my son.You just made a copy and past possible and saved me a lot of typing.Thanks again.nunn

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Certified SIG pistol armorer/FFL Dealer/Full time Peace Officer, Moderator of the General Discussion Board on Gunbroker. Visit www.gunbroker.com, the premier gun auction site on the Net! Email davidnunn@texoma.net Jesus is Lord!

pops401

DANCING BEAR "IF" has been hanging on my wall for over 56 years (my whole life)I still stop to read it now and then. My favorite!!!!nunn, I have a real nice copy of it that I could e-mail to you if you like.bucknbea@bellsouth.net[This message has been edited by pops401 (edited 12-29-2001).]

badboybob

If you can keep your head about you when all others are running about and screaming and shouting, you obviously don't know what's going on.

nunn

davidnunn@texoma.netThanks.

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Certified SIG pistol armorer/FFL Dealer/Full time Peace Officer, Moderator of the General Discussion Board on Gunbroker. Visit www.gunbroker.com, the premier gun auction site on the Net! Email davidnunn@texoma.net Jesus is Lord!

pops401

nunn, I scanned and saved the poem as a bit map. If I try to send it that way, it'll take days. Is there a better way? pops

Lowrider

BIKER ETIQUETTEWhen it comes to bikes And bar-room fightsWell, I guess I've seen me a few.I've straddled the Hogs And chased after the broadsAnd swilled down an ocean of brew.Well it took me some yearsTo dry behind the earsAnd to learn to keep my mouth shut.To not lose my coolAnd act like a fool Over some drunken barfly slut.Well I got some bumpsAnd I took my lumpsWhen some bozo was knockin' me down.But more often than notI came out on topAnd I thought I was the baddest around.I packed a piece in my bootWhen I rode on my scootAnd my belt held yet another.If I heard any sh!tSomebody'd get hitI was one no-* bad-* mother.Well it was Friday nightAt the ol' Blue LightMy favorite scooter tramp bar.Yeah, I was struttin' my stuffAnd actin' real tuffPlayin' biker super-star.With a gal on my lapI was into my rapFull of coke, tequila and beer.Well, I can ride any puttAnd kick any buttBetter'n any damn biker here.I sat and I glaredAs the jukebox blaredSome silly-* cowboy song.And I howled out the tuneAnd kept time with a spoonWhile the gal massaged my ol' dong.I laughed and I jokedAnd was takin' a tokeWhen an old dude bumped into my stool.With a glance at the crowdI barked out real loudHey! You crazy old fool.Are you touched in the headOr just stupid instead?Are you spastic, you damn clumsy ox?Get outta here fastOr I'll beat your old assAnd they'll send you back home in a box.There wasn't a sound As the old cat turned 'roundAnd heaved one long and tired sigh.A crusty galoot,He looked tough as a bootAnd he fixed me with his one good eye.Now look son, he said,With a shake of his headI'm a biker not lookin' for strife.But don't be fooled by gray hairOr this eyepatch I wearI've been on two wheels all of my life.Now I'm weathered and gnarlyBut I still ride a HarleyAnd I ain't never backed down yet.But I'll buy you a beerAnd we'll skip this beef hereIf you'll show an old man some respect.You think I careAbout your friggin' gray hair?I shouted and slugged down my beer.You can bet your gray stubbleThere's gonna be troubleYou half-assed old dipsh!t queer.Well, I could hear my own breathAnd the room smelled like deathAnd the old dude just stared at the floor.Then he lifted his headAnd the words that he saidI'll remember when I'm a hundred and four.He said, well I gave you an outYou damned kid loutBut I guess you're as dumb as you look.You just ain't been told'Bout respect for the oldAnd with that, he threw a left hook.At the end of his wristWas a cast iron fistThat damn near knocked out my brain.And when the fog clearedMy vision was blearedAnd I couldn't remember my name.I got to my kneesAnd let out a sneezeThat spewed blood all over the floor.And I shoulda stayed downBut like a * clownI stood up in a puddle of gore.I said you're really a suckerYou gray-bearded fu@kerYou half-dead old bag of guts.Kiss your scoot goodbye'Cause yer fixin' to dieThen he kicked me right square in the nuts.The crowd made for the doorAs I thrashed on the floorIn a pain like I'd never felt.But through all the hurtIn the blood and the dirtI went for the gun in my belt.But it just made things worseThe old cat was firstAs his boot came down on my hand.And with a sickening crunchThe bones popped in a bunchAnd I tried, but failed to stand.Well, I guess he got mad'Cause the rest was real badAs my rudeness he attempted to cure.There were round-house licksAnd steel-toed kicks,You get the idea, I'm sure.With my fingers crushedAnd my ribs all mushedI was just this side of dead.My bones were brokeAnd I thought I'd croakThen I heard the words that he said.He said, I may be grayBut I got this wayBy out-toughin' sh!theads like you.Real bikers ain't old'Till they're dead and coldAnd I've got some more livin' to do.Then he walked outta the barAnd I heard from afarAs his bike's big engine caught.And as the blood driedI lay there and triedTo figure out just what I'd been taught.And the message seemed clearThrough the blood and the beerThough it hurt too much to stir.With an old biker dudeDon't ever be rudeJust smile and always say SIR.

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Lord Lowrider the LoquaciousMember:Secret Select Society of Suave Stylish Smoking Jackets She was only a fisherman's daughter,But when she saw my rod she reeled.

Dancing Bear

Some more lines you'll never hear on a rap CD, From Henry VTHIS DAY IS CALLED THE FEAST OF CRISPIAN: HE THAT OUTLIVES THIS DAY, AND COMES SAFE HOME,WILL STAND A TIP-TOE WHEN THE DAY IS NAMED,AND ROUSE HIM AT THE NAME OF CRISPIAN.HE THAT SHALL LIVE THIS DAY, AND SEE OLD AGE,WILL YEARLY ON THE VIGIL FEAST HIS NEIGHBOURS,AND SAY 'TO-MORROW IS SAINT CRISPIAN'S DAY,THEN WILL HE STRIP HIS SLEEVE AND SHOW HIS SCARS.AND SAY 'THESE WOUNDS I HAD ON CRISPIN'S DAY.'OLD MEN FORGET: YET ALL SHALL BE FORGOT,BUT HE'LL REMEMBER WITH ADVANTAGESWHAT FEATS HE DID THAT DAY: THEN SHALL OUR NAMES.FAMILIAR IN HIS MOUTH AS HOUSEHOLD WORDSHARRY THE KING, BEDFORD AND EXETER,WARWICK AND TALBOT, SALISBURY AND GLOUCESTER,BE IN THEIR FLOWING CUPS FRESHLY REMEMBER'D.THIS STORY SHALL THE GOOD MAN TEACH HIS SON;AND CRISPIN CRISPIAN SHALL NE'ER GO BY,FROM THIS DAY TO THE ENDING OF THE WORLD,BUT WE IN IT SHALL BE REMEMBER'D;WE FEW, WE HAPPY FEW, WE BAND OF BROTHERS;FOR HE TO-DAY THAT SHEDS HIS BLOOD WITH MESHALL BE MY BROTHER; BE HE NE'ER SO VILE,THIS DAY SHALL GENTLE HIS CONDITION:AND GENTLEMEN IN ENGLAND NOW A-BEDSHALL THINK THEMSELVES ACCURSED THEY WERE NOT HERE,AND HOLD THEIR MANHOODS CHEAP WHILES ANY SPEAKSTHAT FOUGHT WITH US UPON SAINT CRISPIN'S DAY.

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The more people I meet, the more I like my dogs.

whiteclouder

Lowrider:Bravo. Great piece of work. I could smell the brassiness of the blood and imagine the looks on the spectator's faces. Marvelous.Clouder..

Lowrider

Thanks bud. I read that in an "Easyriders" magazine back in the early eighties. Loved it so much I memorized it. Wish I could remember who wrote it, I'd have given them credit.

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Lord Lowrider the LoquaciousMember:Secret Select Society of Suave Stylish Smoking Jackets She was only a fisherman's daughter,But when she saw my rod she reeled.