"Though I was born in April's prime,
With many another lamb,
Yet, thinking now of all my years,
What am I but a tough old ram?"
(W.H. Davies in April's lambs)Liège-Vottem (B)
"White grave goddess,
Pity my sadness,
O silence of Paros.
I am not of these about thy feet,
These garments and decorum;
I am thy brother,
Thy lover of aforetime crying to thee,
And thou hearest me not."
“O but there is wisdom In what the sages said; But stretch that body for a while And lay down that head Till I have told the sages Where man is comforted.”
“They call me, Dr. John, The Night Tripper Got my sizzling Gris-Gris in my hand Day trippin’ up, back down by you I’m the last of the best They call me the Gris-Gris man …”
