Posted on 11/28/2017 2:15:09 PM PST by mairdie
Not into Christmas yet? How about Dan Fogelberg's "Leader of the Band" for Spock's father Sarek?
You are far too trusting.
Also naive. When driving by the harbor near the Adler Planetarium with my brother, he pointed to the empty slips and said, “Oh, look, they’ve sunk the boats in the harbor.” He went on to explain that boats are waterproof and that the safest place for them through the winter was underwater. As a young, newly married lady, years later, I was driving by the harbor with my husband and happily cried out, “Oh, look! They’ve sunk the boats in the harbor.”
I met Mark Lenard many, many years ago at a Star Trek convention. He always looked Native American to me, so I asked, but he said he wasn’t.
Another good one.
Careful. You might get “flamed” by over the Smallville one.
And, in the two by Richard Sheridan I loved the older images of old “St. Nick”, as he must have appeared before we became so over-commercialized.
I saw him at a Creation Con. Very handsome man. Always loved him as Sarek.
Thanks. Read some on both of the links and put them both in my bookmarks subfolder Music. Great resources.
And here’s the Carrier Address I found that has a scenario that parallels Night Before Christmas. I haven’t put it up anywhere on the web yet, but all the statistics say Henry. A Carrier Address summarized the news of the past year and was given out as a poem by the news carrier in exchange for a tip. These are mostly what we have of Henry’s. Henry’s family did see the original mss of Night Before Christmas, and it was inherited by two separate sons, but ended up burning in a house fire in Wisconsin. Moore’s family explained the lack of an original mss by saying he wrote the poem in his head and wrote it down perfectly, even though what Moore published was the extensively edited version of the poem done by the editor of the Troy Sentinel.
Northern Whig, 1 Jan 1812
GOOD Morning dear patrons — I’ve come do you see,
With bowing and singing to levy a fee,
I’ll give you good verse — and believe me sincere,
When I wish you long life — and a happy New-Year.
News-Boys just like Lawyers, will promise you fair,
They’ll give for your money, their Lingo so rare —
And I, (lawyer like) though the best of the throng,
“Full costs” mean to “charge” for my excellent song.
Three days had I labour’d — and in verbage sublime,
I’d scribbed nine sheets — but the Devil a rhyme
Would appear in the whole — so all in a huff,
I sent to the flames a whole volume of stuff,
As smooth, at the least, as that lullaby trash,
Which Osander has publish’d — “to compass the cash.”
Having burnt myself out — last night much oppress’d,
I went to my garret and soon was at rest;
Not thinking, at all, that Hobgoblins or Elves
‘Bout poor little News-Boys would trouble themselves;
Or dreaming that fate had a vision design’d
To enliven my muse and enlighten my mind.
The clock sounded twelve — And awaked by the chime,
I raised up my head — and beheld FATHER TIME
Approaching my bed through the dusk of the night;
In one hand his scythe — in the other a SPRIGHT!!!
Whom leading right to me — He spoke with a leer:
“My Lads be you friends — this is little NEW-YEAR!
“And this is YOUNG WHIG!! Now walk hand in hand
“Stick close to each other — in unity stand —
“And then, though from Clermont again shall appear,
“A Juror like Capron, you’ve nothing to fear:
“For when he beholds this young Spright at your side,
“Like Peter the honest from court you shall glide —
“Your pocket unpick’d — nor two hundred expose,
“To purchase some salve for an editor’s nose —
“And then, though brave Matty his bristles should rear,
“And the honest old Sheriff in rage should appear —
“Though all the fell tribe who compose the wise club
“Where Dayton presides and holds forth to his mob,
“Should like savages yell - yet feel no alarm,
“This honest young spright will protect you from harm.
“These Gentry all worship little NEW-YEAR’S gold wand
“And its sight will unnerve every Democrats hand;
“And thus LITTLE WHIG it shall no more be said
“That you print sacred truth at the risk of your head.”
He ended — And spreading his pinions for flight,
Left little NEW-YEAR and MYSELF for the night.
And now raking open the embers, the light
A Goblin most horrible shew’d to my sight,
In stature a Dwarf — but in visage so fell
He seem’d a dark spirit — just issued from Hell.
He glittered in diamonds — of gold was his wand,
And a purse of “Napoleons” was held in each hand.
He ey’d me askant — and threw open his robe,
Displaying embroider’d a Map of the Globe.
I saw there old Germany struck from her seat,
And Russia bow’d down at an Usurper’s feet,
And places where states in old Europe had stood,
We’re buried, deep buried, in oceans of blood:
And o’er them I read on a label enrolled,
“The CONQUESTS of France and her Tyrant behold.” —
I look’d to the south — a new scene struck my eye —
A kingdom “in armour” — And “freedom” the cry —
From her snow cover’d Mountains, her brave sons again,
As, erst with Pelagius, rush down to the plain;
And there fixed as fate — with dread purpose they stand,
To die, or deliver, their dear native land.
And there I beheld from the Isles of the west,
A band all heroic — at Freedom’s behest
Rush forth to the battle — with banners unfurl’d,
And snatch from the Tyrant a tottering world —
“And O” I exclaimed “if the councils above,
“Are guided by Justice, sweet Mercy and Love,
“Sure, sure, here the Tyrants proud arm shall be stay’d,
“His armies shall fly, and his laurels shall fade;
“The blood of such Patriots shall not flow in vain,
“And the world be preserved by the Heroes of Spain!!”
As I spoke, the fell Spright, with a grin further drew
His mantle aside — and the West met my view —
There drawn at full length, young Columbia I spied,
But ah! how disordered, how humbled her pride —
She seemed like a young man, in vigour and bloom,
By the nostrums of quackery swept to the tomb —
She seem’d a young Giant, unnerved by strong wine,
At her length all extended, inactive, supine —
Her Ports and her Cities how desolate all,
MEMENTOS alike of her rise and her fall.
Indignant I turn’d from this view, to my guest
And “THE LEGION OF HONOR,” appear’d on his breast.
Hah! a Frenchman! I cried — and not the New-Year!
And I shrunk from the wretch with disgust and with fear —
His eyes flashing vengeance — with shrugs and with sneers
He shrieked forth his “foutres” his “pests” and “Monsieurs.”
Of Orders and Edicts his gibberish ran
Of Rambouillet, and Berlin and also Milan —
He pointed to Canada — chattered of Blood!
And shew’d on the map where free Switzerland stood!
He talk’d of embargos and other such stuff,
And “foutred” them all to the shades with a puff.
Our “restrictions” and threat’nings, he sent to “Diable,”
And Damn’d all our Gun-Boats — as tubs for the rabble.
Of the “love of Napoleon” he gabbled an hour,
Of his kindness, and justice, his friendship and power —
Of La Franchise, La Vengeance and other such trash —
And closed by an offer to lend me some cash.
I shrunk from his offer — I spit in his face —
And told him, indignant, his conduct was base —
That though a poor NEWS-BOY, I scorned to do evil,
And him and his master consign’d to the Devil.
Enrag’d, the foul dwarf, wildly flourish’d his wand —
And nine empty purses appear’d in each hand —
Then full in my view, with triumph he rear’d,
On each, at full length, an inscription appear’d.
On the first, “Baptiste Irvine,” was written alone;
The second, “To Dunn,” shew’d its Contents had gone —
On the rest, lofty names, in plain characters glare,
Of statesmen, who rule, and who clamour for war:
The fire flash’d new light — and as nearer I drew;
A purse of small size — was develop’d to view —
It seem’d that some Cents had once lodged therein,
And shillings and sixpences there had been seen,
And on it was written, in characters meet,
“For Captain Stargazer — the tool of De Witt.”
WIth a scowl he, exclaimed — “You see my young friend,
“We ne’er want borrowers, while we’ve money to lend,
“And mark me, YOUNG WHIG — ere long you shall rue,
“This saucy refusal to join the French crew.”
Indignant I view’d him and swore to his head,
I’d publish this day ev’ry word he had said:
Nor would I one word from his gib’rish retrench;
But the shy little Devil spoke wholly in French.
At which growing angry — I bade him Adieu,
And wrote just at day light, this VISION for you.
Love it!
Oh, thank you! I’m so pleased.
No comparison can be made between the two shows. They were/are two entirely different species...
The Willie Nelso Version of jingle bells goes PERFECTLY with the visuals. I thing (in my humble opinion) it is the best one you have done...so far! :-)
You are an angel! I always close my eyes when the shark goes after the little fish. Except for that scene, I love it!
Ah yes...but “Nature” is not always “pretty”!
(((HUGS)))
Which is why I never visit Aquariums. I prefer to believe that all animals are vegetarians.
LOL!
They overfeed the sharks in Aquariums to the point that they are too full to fish.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.