On Monday, December 11, 2023 at 7:01:10 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> On Monday, December 11, 2023 at 7:55:09 AM UTC-6, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > On Saturday, December 2, 2023 at 4:02:33 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> > > On Sunday, December 3, 2023 at 12:32:48 AM UTC+4, NancyGene wrote:
> > > > On Sunday, December 3, 2023 at 12:03:23 AM UTC+4, NancyGene wrote:
> > > > > "The Approach of Winter"
> > > > > by Barry Cornwall (i.e. Bryan Waller Procter)
> > > > >
> > > > > "Winter cold is coming on;
> > > > > No more calls the cuckoo:
> > > > > No more doth the music gush
> > > > > From the silver-throated thrush:
> > > > > No more now at “evening pale,”
> > > > > Singeth sad the nightingale;
> > > > > Nor the blackbird on the lawn;
> > > > > Nor the lark at dewy dawn:
> > > > > Time hath wove' his songs anew.
> > > > > No more young and dancing measures:
> > > > > No more budding flowery pleasures:
> > > > > All is over,—all forgot;
> > > > > Save by me, who loved them not.
> > > > >
> > > > > Winter white is coming on;
> > > > > And I love his coming:
> > > > > What, though winds the fields have shorn,—
> > > > > What, though earth is half forlorn,—
> > > > > Not a berry on the thorn,—
> > > > > Not an insect humming;
> > > > > Pleasure never can be dead;
> > > > > Beauty cannot hide her head!
> > > > > Look! in what fantastic showers,
> > > > > The snow flings down her feathered flowers,
> > > > > Or whirls about, in drunken glee,
> > > > > Kissing its love, the holly tree.
> > > > > Behold! the Sun himself comes forth,
> > > > > And sends his beams from south to north,—
> > > > > To diamonds turns the winter rime,
> > > > > And lends a glory to the time!
> > > > > Such days,—when old friends meet together,
> > > > > Are worth a score of mere spring weather;
> > > > > And hark!—the merry bells awake;
> > > > > They clamour blithely for our sake!
> > > > >
> > > > > The clock is sounding from the tower,
> > > > > “Four”—“five”—'tis now—'s dinner—hour!
> > > > > Come on,—I see his table spread,—
> > > > > The sherry,—the claret rosy red,
> > > > > The champagne sparkling in the light,—
> > > > > By Bacchus! we'll be wise to-night!"
> > > > > ---------------
> > > > >
> > > > > From "English Songs, and Other Small Poems" by Barry Cornwall (aka Bryan Waller Procter), p. 68, Chapman and Hall, London, 1851.
> > > > >
> > > > > It's a little-known fact that these songs can be sung to the music of "Dark Side of the Moon."
> > > > As "Bryan Procter," he was made "Metropolitan Commissioner of Lunacy" in 1832. We think that post should be filled in Shitkickerville.
> > > Why does George Dance keep trying to steal our poems and research? He should be ashamed. We are sending Nelson Eddy after him to paddle his bare bottom. Bullwinkle wasn't interested.
> > George fancies himself a modern day Snidely Whiplash. Unfortunately he lacks the panache to bring it off.
> He is also way too skinny to be a Snidely Whiplash, plus his hair wouldn't fit under that hat. Come to think of it, the hat is the shape of George Dance's head.
George is doing calisthenics (although not on, or under, the sheets) to bulk up for his Snidely image. He's having a hat specially made to accommodate his hair.

On Thursday, December 14, 2023 at 4:58:06 AM UTC-9, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> On Monday, December 11, 2023 at 7:01:10 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> > On Monday, December 11, 2023 at 7:55:09 AM UTC-6, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > > On Saturday, December 2, 2023 at 4:02:33 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> > > > On Sunday, December 3, 2023 at 12:32:48 AM UTC+4, NancyGene wrote:
> > > > > On Sunday, December 3, 2023 at 12:03:23 AM UTC+4, NancyGene wrote:
> > > > > > "The Approach of Winter"
> > > > > > by Barry Cornwall (i.e. Bryan Waller Procter)
> > > > > >
> > > > > > "Winter cold is coming on;
> > > > > > No more calls the cuckoo:
> > > > > > No more doth the music gush
> > > > > > From the silver-throated thrush:
> > > > > > No more now at “evening pale,”
> > > > > > Singeth sad the nightingale;
> > > > > > Nor the blackbird on the lawn;
> > > > > > Nor the lark at dewy dawn:
> > > > > > Time hath wove' his songs anew.
> > > > > > No more young and dancing measures:
> > > > > > No more budding flowery pleasures:
> > > > > > All is over,—all forgot;
> > > > > > Save by me, who loved them not.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > Winter white is coming on;
> > > > > > And I love his coming:
> > > > > > What, though winds the fields have shorn,—
> > > > > > What, though earth is half forlorn,—
> > > > > > Not a berry on the thorn,—
> > > > > > Not an insect humming;
> > > > > > Pleasure never can be dead;
> > > > > > Beauty cannot hide her head!
> > > > > > Look! in what fantastic showers,
> > > > > > The snow flings down her feathered flowers,
> > > > > > Or whirls about, in drunken glee,
> > > > > > Kissing its love, the holly tree.
> > > > > > Behold! the Sun himself comes forth,
> > > > > > And sends his beams from south to north,—
> > > > > > To diamonds turns the winter rime,
> > > > > > And lends a glory to the time!
> > > > > > Such days,—when old friends meet together,
> > > > > > Are worth a score of mere spring weather;
> > > > > > And hark!—the merry bells awake;
> > > > > > They clamour blithely for our sake!
> > > > > >
> > > > > > The clock is sounding from the tower,
> > > > > > “Four”—“five”—'tis now—'s dinner—hour!
> > > > > > Come on,—I see his table spread,—
> > > > > > The sherry,—the claret rosy red,
> > > > > > The champagne sparkling in the light,—
> > > > > > By Bacchus! we'll be wise to-night!"
> > > > > > ---------------
> > > > > >
> > > > > > From "English Songs, and Other Small Poems" by Barry Cornwall (aka Bryan Waller Procter), p. 68, Chapman and Hall, London, 1851.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > It's a little-known fact that these songs can be sung to the music of "Dark Side of the Moon."
> > > > > As "Bryan Procter," he was made "Metropolitan Commissioner of Lunacy" in 1832. We think that post should be filled in Shitkickerville.
> > > > Why does George Dance keep trying to steal our poems and research? He should be ashamed. We are sending Nelson Eddy after him to paddle his bare bottom. Bullwinkle wasn't interested.
> > > George fancies himself a modern day Snidely Whiplash. Unfortunately he lacks the panache to bring it off.
> > He is also way too skinny to be a Snidely Whiplash, plus his hair wouldn't fit under that hat. Come to think of it, the hat is the shape of George Dance's head.
> George is doing calisthenics (although not on, or under, the sheets) to bulk up for his Snidely image. He's having a hat specially made to accommodate his hair.

George Dance probably has a different definition of calisthenics, such as opening a box or publishing a terrible book. We would like to see the hat that accommodates that hair. Is it stolen from Penny, Batty or Betty? What color is it?