January's Poem of the Month
In Memoriam, [Ring out, wild bells]
by Lord Alfred Tennyson
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
I'm driving home for Christmas.
Oh, I can't wait to see those faces.
I'm driving home for Christmas, yeah.
Well I'm moving down that line,
And it's been so long,
But I will be there.
I sing this song
To pass the time away.
Driving in my car
Driving home for Christmas.
The mistletoe hung in the castle hall
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall.
The Baron's retainers were blithe and gay,
Keeping the Christmas holiday.
His early mornin' (morning) attitude:
You have to drag him out of bed.
Only frosted flakes will do,
He gets that from me ...
Yeah (Yes), he gets that from me.
No sun--no moon!
No morn--no noon!
No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day--
'Twas an evening in October, I'll confess I wasn't sober,
I was carting home a load with manly pride,
When my feet began to stutter and I fell into the gutter,
And a pig came up and lay down by my side.
Then I lay there in the gutter and my heart was all a-flutter,
Till a lady, passing by, did chance to say:
"You can tell a man that boozes by the company he chooses,"
At that, the pig got up and slowly walked away.