Wednesday, December 21, 2011

The Highwayman By Alfred Noyes

Re-post jarred by The Gate for some strange reason.

The Highwayman
(My favorite poem. It scared my daughter Bonnie when I read it to her. Both this and The Charge Of The Light Brigade! BT)

The wind was a torrent of darkness
among the ghastly trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon
tossed upon the cloudy seas
The road was a ribbon of moonlight
over the purple moor
When the highwayman came riding,
The highwayman came riding
up to the old inn door.

He´d a french cocked hat at his forehead
a bunch of lace at his chin
A coat of claret velvet
and breeches of brown doe-skin
They fitted with nary a wrinkle
his boots were up to the thigh
and he rode with a jeweled twinkle
his pistol butts a-twinkle
his rapier hilt a-twinkle
under the jeweled sky.

And over cobbles he clattered
and clashed in the dark inn-yard
and he tapped with his whip on the shutters
but all was locked and barred
He whistled a tune to the window
and who should be waiting there
but the landlord´s black-eyed daughter
Bess,the landlord´s daughter
plaiting a dark red love knot
into her long black hair.

"One kiss my bonny sweetheart,
I´m after a prize tonight
but I should be back with the yellow gold
before the morning light
Yet if they press me sharply
and harry me through the day
Then look for me by the moonlight
watch for me by the moonlight
I´ll come to thee by the moonlight
though hell should bar the way."

He rose up right in the stirrups
he scarce could reach her hand
but she loosened her hair in the casement
his face burned like a brand
As a black cascade of purfume
came tumbling over his breast
and he kissed it´s waves in the moonlight
oh,sweet waves in the moonlight
He tugged at his rein in the moonlight
and galloped away to the west.

He did not come at the dawning
He did not come at noon
And out of the tawny sunset
before the rise of the moon
When the road was a gypsy´s ribbon
looping the purple moor
A redcoat troop came marching
King George´s men came marching
up to the old inn door.

They said no word to the landlord
they drank his ale instead
but they gagged his daughter and bound her
to the foot of her narrow bed
Two of them knelt at the casement
with muskets at their side
There was death at every window
hell at one dark window
for Bess could see through the casement
the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention
with many a sniggering jest
They had bound a musket beside her
with the barrel beneath her breast
"Now keep good watch"and they kissed her
she heard the dead man say
"Look for me by the moonlight
Watch for me by the moonlight
I´ll come to thee by the moonlight
though hell should bar the way."

She twisted her hands behind her
but all the knots held good!
But she writhed her hands ´til her fingers
were wet with sweat or blood
They stretched and strained in the darkness
and the hours crawled by like years
till now on the stroke of midnight
cold on the stroke of midnight
the tip of her finger touched it
the trigger at least was hers.

Tot-a-lot,tot-a-lot had they heard it?
The horse´s hooves rang clear
Tot-a-lot,tot-a-lot in the distance
were they deaf they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight
over the brow of the hill
The highwayman came riding,
The redcoats looked to their priming
she stood up straight and still.

Tot-a-lot in the frosty silence
Tot-a-lot in the echoing night
Nearer he came and nearer
her face was like a light
Her eyes grew wide for a moment
she drew a last deep breath
Then her finger moved in the moonlight
her musket shattered the moonlight
shattered her breast in the moonlight
and warned him with her death.

He turned,he spurred to the west
He did not know she stood
bowed with her head o´er musket
drenched with her own red blood
Not till the dawn he heard it
his face grew grey to hear
How Bess the landlord´s daughter
the landlord´s black-eyed daughter
had watched for her love in the moonlight
and died in the darkness there.

And back he spurred like a madman
shrieking a curse to the sky!
With the white road smoking behind him
and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were the spurs in the golden noon
wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway
down like a dog on the highway
and he lay in his blood in the highway
with a bunch of lace at his throat.

Still on a winter´s night they say
when the wind is in the trees
When the moon is a ghostly galleon
tossed upon the cloudy seas
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight
over the purple moor
a highwayman comes riding,
a highwayman comes riding
up to the old inn door.


This is the original version of The Highwayman, copyrighted 1906, 1913.

The Highwayman By Alfred Noyes

Roundabout via John


Here's a good one via Dedicated_Dad

Roseanne Barr Says Impeach Obama? Yes, Really

Via Billy

Guess who is calling for the impeachment of Barack Obama now? Former sitcom mother, stand-up comedienne, and self-proclaimed “domestic goddess” Roseanne Barr.

On her official website, RoseanneWorld, the celebrity — who bears an uncanny resemblance to Herman Cain’s alleged sexual harassment victim Sharon Bialek — posted an article simply entitled, “Impeach Obama.

The article states that Obama signed the National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2012, which allows U.S. citizens to be detained indefinitely without train, possibly turned over to foreign police and tortured.

The article connects Democratic support for the bill with corporate backing.

Among the supporters of NDAA are California-based manufacturer Surefire, L.L.C., who won a $23 million contract from the Department of Defense three months ago. Also contributing to the cause (and the lawmakers who voted ‘yes’) are Honeywell (who secured a $93 million deal with the Pentagon last May and a $24 million contract this year) and Bluewater Defense, a longtime DoD-ally that produces, among other garments, fire resistant combat uniforms.


Christmas Cheer on the Plantation

North Carolina War Between the States Sesquicentennial
"The Official Website of the North Carolina WBTS Sesquicentennial Commission"

“The great fete of the people was Christmas. [All] times and seasons paled and dimmed before the festive joys of Christmas. It had been handed down for generations…it had come over with their forefathers. It had a peculiar significance. It was a title. Religion had given it its benediction. It was the time to “Shout the glad tidings.” It was The Holidays.

There were other holidays for the slaves, both of the school-room and the plantation, such as Easter and Whit-Monday; but Christmas was distinctively “The Holidays.”

Then the boys came home from college with their friends; the members of the family who moved away returned; pretty cousins came for the festivities; the neighborhood grew merry; the negroes were all to have a holiday, the house-servants taking turn and turn about, and the plantation made ready for Christmas cheer.

The corn was got in; the hogs were killed; the lard “tried”; sausage-meat made; mince-meat prepared; the turkeys fattened, with “the big old gobbler” specially devoted to the “Christmas dinner”; the servants new shoes and winter clothes stored away ready for distribution; and the plantation began to be ready to prepare for Christmas.

In the first place, there was generally a cold spell which froze up everything and enabled the ice-houses to be filled. The wagons all were put to hauling wood – hickory; nothing but hickory now; other wood might do for other times, but at Christmas only hickory was used; and the wood-pile was heaped high with the logs…

In the midst of it came the wagon or ox-cart from “the depot,” with the big white boxes of Christmas things, the black driver feigning hypocritical indifference as he drove through the choppers to the storeroom. Then came the rush of all the wood-cutters to help him unload…as they pretended to strain in lifting, of what “master” or “mistis” was going to give them out of those boxes, uttered just loud enough to reach their master’s or mistress’s ears where they stood looking on, while the driver took due advantage of his temporary prestige to give many pompous cautions and directions.

The getting the evergreens and mistletoe was the sign that Christmas had come, was really here. There were the parlor and hall and dining-room, and, above all, the old church, to be “dressed.” The last was a neighborhood work; all united in it, and it was one of the events of the year.

Then by “Christmas Eve’s eve” the wood was all cut and stacked high in the wood-house and on and under the back porticos, so as to be handy, and secure from the snow which was almost certain to come. The excitement increased; the boxes were unpacked, some of them openly, to the general delight, others with a mysterious secrecy which stimulated the curiosity to its highest point and added to the charm of the occasion.

The kitchen filled up with assistants famed for special skill in particular branches of the cook’s art, who bustled about with glistening faces and shining teeth, proud of their elevation and eager to add to the general cheer.

It was now Christmas Eve. From time to time the “hired out” servants came home from Richmond where they had been hired or had hired out themselves, their terms having been common custom framed, with due regard to their rights to the holiday, to expire in time for them to spend the Christmas at home. There was much hilarity over their arrival, with their new winter clothes donned a little ahead of time, they came to pay their “bespecs” to master and mistis.

Later on the children were got to bed, scarce able to keep in their pallets for excitement; the stockings were all hung up over the big fireplace; and the grown people grew gay in the crowded parlors. Next morning before light the stir began. White-clad little figures stole about in the gloom, with bulging stockings clasped to their bosoms, opening doors, shouting “Christmas gift!” into dark rooms at sleeping elders, and then scurrying away like so many white mice, squeaking with delight, to rake open the embers and inspect their treasures. At prayers, “Shout the glad tidings” was sung by fresh young voices with due fervor.

How gay the scene was at breakfast! What pranks had been performed in the name of Santa Claus! The larger part of the day was spend in going to and coming from the beautifully dressed church, where the service was read, and the anthems and hymns were sung by everybody, for every one was happy.

Dinner was the great event. It was the test of the mistress and the cook, or, rather, the cooks; for the kitchen now was full of them. The old mahogany table, stretched diagonally across the ding room, groaned; the big gobbler filled the pace of honor; a great round of beef held the second place; an old ham, with every other dish that ingenuity, backed by long experience, could devise, was at the side, and the shining sideboard, gleaming with glass, scarcely held the dessert. After dinner there were apple-toddy and egg-nogg, as there had been before.

There were negro parties, where the ladies and gentlemen went to look on, the suppers having been superintended by the mistresses, and the tables being decorated by their own white hands. There was almost sure to be a negro wedding during the holidays. The ceremony might be performed in the dining-room or in the hall by the master, or in a quarter by a colored preacher; but it was a gay occasion, and the dusky bride’s trousseau had been arranged by her young mistress, and the family was on hand to get fun out of the entertainment.”

(The Old South, Essays Social and Political, Charles Scribner’s & Sons, 1892, pp. 174-183)

Christmas Cheer on the Plantation

Even Before Fast and Furious, They Had Guns on Their Minds

What Obama administration officials, including the president, knew or didn't know about the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives' 2009 Operation Fast and Furious has little to do with what they should have known.

Attorney General Holder, Secretary Clinton, President Obama, and Secretary Napolitano each declared that he or she did not know about Fast and Furious until 2011. But what should they have known about a federal program that eventually led to mass murder?

In a 1999 web article on leadership, writer and attorney Jonathan Wallace examined the question of when to hold those in power accountable. He begins with a two-part question: "did he know or should he have known?"


Newt Gingrich: Selling Access

Tom Woods: The Two-Minute Case for Ron Paul

Obama Tweets and Iowa Conservatives Speak

Maggots Clean Wounds Faster Than Surgeons

The idea of putting maggots into open flesh may sound repulsive, but such a therapy might be a quick way to clean wounds, a new study from France suggests.

Men in the study, all of whom had wounds that wouldn't heal, were randomly assigned to have dead and unhealthy tissue removed from their lacerations by either standard surgical therapy or maggots (that eat dead tissue).

After about a week, men who received the maggot therapy had less dead tissue in their wounds than men who underwent surgery, the researchers said.

However, after two weeks, the immature insects had lost their advantage: Both groups had about an equal amount of dead tissue in their wounds. And in the end, the maggots did not help the wounds heal faster.


Constitutional Expert: “President Obama … Says That He Can Kill You On His Own Discretion" Without Charge or Trial

Via Rebellion

I've previously noted that Obama says that he can assassinate American citizens living on U.S. soil.

This may sound over-the-top.

But nationally-recognized constitutional law expert Jonathan Turley (the second most cited law professor in the country, one of the top 10 lawyers handling military cases, who has served as a consultant on homeland security and constitutional issues and is a frequent witness before the House and Senate on constitutional and statutory issues, who ranked 38th in the top 100 most cited ‘public intellectuals’ in a recent study by a well-known judge) said yesterday on C-Span (starting at 15:50):

It's even worse than coming into your house. President Obama has just stated a policy that he can have any American citizen killed without any charge, without any review, except his own. If he's satisfied that you are a terrorist, he says that he can kill you anywhere in the world including in the United States.

Two of his aides just were just at a panel two weeks ago and they reaffirmed they believe that American citizens can be killed on the order of the President anywhere including the United States.

You've now got a president who says that he can kill you on his own discretion. He can jail you indefinitely on his own discretion.

I don't think the the Framers ever anticipated that. They assumed that people would hold their liberties close, and that they wouldn't relax those fingers ...


We Killed Your Daughter; You're Under Arrest

Via California Tree of Liberty

Daniel Hiler ran out of gas during an evening motorcycle ride in Oildale, California on December 16. While walking his bike to a gas station, the twenty-year-old father of two ran into a family friend named Chrystal Jolley. The pair was crossing a street at a widely-recognized intersection when they were fatally blindsided by a vehicle traveling at a speed well in excess of the posted speed limit. Despite the fact that darkness had descended, the driver hadn’t turned on his headlights. The victims were killed instantly.

Within minutes, police swarmed the scene, and arrests were made — none of which involved the driver, Deputy John Swearengin of the Kern County Sheriff’s Office. The four people arrested were relatives of the victims, who got into what the Sheriff’s Office described as an “altercation” with California Highway Patrol officers when they attempted to identify the victims.

"I was at home on Friday night working on my car when someone came running over and told me that a deputy ran over my daughter in the street,” recalls Jimmy Clevenger, Jolley’s father. “I ran down here, I was very upset…. The next thing I know, they had me by the neck and threw me to the ground and said I resisted arrest. My daughter was dead in the street and it was their fault.”

The outraged relatives were taken to jail, and face criminal charges. Swearengin, the killer, was taken to the hospital and wasn’t compelled to undergo drug or alcohol screening.


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Officer threatened by 14yo girl

Via Anonymous



Iowa Governor: If Ron Paul Wins, Ignore It And Look At Who Finishes Second

Via Billy

Establishment reverts back to pretending Paul doesn’t exist

From rightly heralding the Iowa primary as a crucial indicator as to who will eventually capture the GOP nomination, the establishment has closed ranks and now decided that a Ron Paul victory doesn’t count and that the focus will be on who finishes second.

A Politico article entitled Ron Paul panic seizes Iowa establishment perfectly illustrates the supreme arrogance of the very political elite Paul is fighting against and goes a step beyond Fox News pundit Chris Wallace’s insistence that the Iowa result “won’t count” if Ron Paul wins.

Despite the fact that two out of the last three winners of the Iowa primary have gone on to successfully capture the Republican nomination, the political class have decided that Ron Paul doesn’t deserve the opportunity to build the same kind of momentum, and that a victory for him in Iowa “would do irreparable harm to the future role of the first-in-the-nation caucuses,” according to Politico.

The hierarchy is so petrified at the possibility of a Ron Paul win that the state’s own Governor, Terry Branstad, has pre-empted the result by urging people to ignore Paul if he secures a first place finish and instead concentrate on who comes second.

“People are going to look at who comes in second and who comes in third,” said Branstad, adding, ““If [Mitt] Romney comes in a strong second, it definitely helps him going into New Hampshire and the other states,” comments taken to mean that Republicans should “ignore” Ron Paul, according to Politico’s Jonathan Martin and Alexander Burns.


A Soldier’s True Spirit of Christmas

Via Cousin John



What happened to Christmas?

Christmas was, once, a wonderful time that was celebrated with family, friends and dinner at Grandma’s house. Grandpa would gather the children around the fire place and tell them the story about Jesus Christ who was born on Christmas Day.

Some people, now, call it a “holiday.” People stand in line at at malls, after Thanksgiving, then rush through the doors to buy, buy and buy more.

Is this Christmas? Partly, but the following story is about the true meaning of Christmas.The year was 1919, one year after the end of World War I, and the people of Atlanta, Georgia, were celebrating the Christmas Season. Many people attended Church and gave thanks to God for his many blessings. Folks, while shopping, were uplifted by sweet sounds of Christmas music played by the Salvation Army Band. There was a friendly and charitable atmosphere during this time of the year.

There were, however, some who were not as fortunate!

The aging veterans, in the Confederate Soldier’s Home, were proud men who had braved many a battle in the 1860s. One of these men was former Captain Thomas Yopp who saw such battles as that of Fredericksburg where a cannon shell burst knocked him unconscious.

The man who stayed with him until he recovered was his servant who had also joined the 14th Georgia Regiment, Company H. Bill Yopp was more than a servant; he and Thomas Yopp were friends who hunted and fished together.

Bill Yopp, a Black Confederate, was sympathetic to the men of Atlanta’s soldiers home who had been his compatriots in arms over fifty years earlier.

During the War Between the States, 1861-1865, Bill Yopp was nicknamed “Ten Cent Bill” because of the money he made shining shoes. He did this for the soldiers at a dime a shine and ended up with more money than most of his comrades. These men, also, cared for him when sick.

During the Christmas of 1919, Bill wanted to pay back the kindness that was shown to him. He caught a train from Atlanta to Macon, where he was offered help from the editor of a local newspaper [The Macon Telegraph]. He then caught a train to Savannah to raise Christmas money for the old veterans.

Just weeks before the Christmas of 1919, he had raised the money and Georgia’s Governor Hugh Dorsey helped him distribute envelopes of three dollars to each veteran. That was a lot of money in those days.

The old Confederates were speechless. Tears were shed because of Bill Yopp’s good heart and kind deed. Many of these men had little or nothing. Bill was invited to come into the home’s Chapel and say a few words.

Bill Yopp was later presented a medal of appreciation for his support of the old soldiers and also voted in as a resident of the Confederate Soldier’s Home.

Bill died on June 3, 1936, the 128th birthday of Confederate President Jefferson Davis. He was buried at Marietta, Georgia’s Confederate Cemetery with his compatriots.

Christmas is about love, forgiveness, old friends, family and the Child who became a savior.

Merry Christmas!

Calvin E. Johnson Jr.

Whoopi Goldberg Wants Communism

Godfather Politics

Verbatim Post

Whoopi Goldberg thinks Communism is a “great concept” and “makes perfect sense.” Why not, after all? She hasn’t been in a concentration camp; and none of her family has been there. Her houses and her bank accounts haven’t been confiscated. She hasn’t been reduced to wait at long lines for a piece of bread. (Although, I admit, it may help her a bit.) She hasn’t been forced to grovel before Party officials to get a job to feed her family. She can actually have her own business and her own investments and her servants and even her cars!

So why not try Communism? It can’t be that bad. After all, Whoopi doesn’t need to read all the testimonies of those that have been through it. Who would want to know what these people have been through? All that matters is that it sounds like a great idea. To Whoopi.

This is the greatness of America and of the free market capitalism: a person can be the stupidest fool on the planet, but as long as they have talent in one thing, and they are industrious and entrepreneurial to make the effort to apply themselves to work, they will become rich and famous.

The only problem is, of course, that when they become rich and famous, they are invited to give interviews where they can show their foolishness.

I can live with that. As long as there is liberty, I can ignore the fools. I couldn’t under Communism.

What would happen to Whoopi under the “great concept” of Communism? We can tell from the story of an American actor and singer who also believed that Communism was a “great concept”: Dean Reed. As talented as he was, Reed was a fool. He hated the capitalist West with its freedoms, and he loved Communism. Eventually, at the age of 36, he moved to East Germany, and offered his talent to the service of the Communist masters of that nation.

He was quite privileged, compared to most of us. He had a spacious apartment, generous income, he could travel freely around the world. He was free to make movies and concerts, all financed by the money of the Communist government. He had more than anyone in Eastern Europe could have; except, of course, the Party elite. Dean Reed must have been very happy to live in his newly found paradise.

It took 13 years for Reed to grasp the reality. Or, rather, to act on it. In 1986 he committed suicide. So much for the “great concept.”

It’s not too late for Whoopi. No, I don’t wish her what happened to Reed; far from me to wish Communism even to my worse enemy. But she can still move to North Korea if she is so inclined. They’ll be happy to accommodate her there, oh yes.

But she should read Reed’s biography before she goes there. It may save her life. And cure her from her foolishness too.