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The poetry of Badminton

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When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,

And that one Talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest He returning chide,

"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"

I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need

Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait."

 

I think Milton had the old serving and returning thing sorted. Discuss.

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"They also serve who only stand and wait."

 

That sounds like me by about 9 o'clock!

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Indeed, indeed

or as Falstaff said:

"I will tell

you: he beat me grievously, in the shape of a

woman; for in the shape of man, Master Brook, I fear

not Goliath with a weaver's beam; because I know

also life is a shuttle."

 

Life is a shuttle, isn't it? I often feel I have been smashed, dropped and served up short.

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When first my brave Johnnie lad

Came to this town,

He had a blue bonnet

That wanted the crown;

But now he has gotten

A hat and a feather, -

Hey, brave Johnnie lad,

**** up your beaver!

 

**** up your beaver,

And **** it fu' sprush,

We'll over the border

and gie them a brush;

There's somebody there

We'll teach better behaviour -

Hey, brave Johnnie lad,

**** up your beaver!

 

Rabbie Burns

 

Brings tears to my eyes.

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I bring my racket

 

It has strings and helps me play

 

I like badminton.

 

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

(trad. Haiku have seasonal references in them but I have failed on that aspect I'm afraid)

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there is a game, and this isn't fiction

where the flick in the wrist is the best action

the aim of the game

is to keep the **** in

no you lot, its called badminton!

 

 

dubious rhymes i know but hey.. i had 10 mins before i go and teach, what do you expect :D

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