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So who's the Albatross?


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Whoever it is, I'd suggest not shooting him.

 

 

...

 

At length did cross an Albatross,

Thorough the fog it came;

As it had been a Christian soul,

We hailed it in God's name.

 

It ate the food it ne'er had eat,

And round and round it flew.

The ice did split with a thunder-fit;

The helmsman steered us through!

 

And a good south wind sprung up behind;

The Albatross did follow,

And every day, for food or play,

Came to the mariner's hollo!

 

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,

It perched for vespers nine;

Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,

Glimmered the white moonshine."

 

`God save thee, ancient Mariner,

From the fiends that plague thee thus! -

Why look'st thou so?' -"With my crossbow

I shot the Albatross!

 

"The sun now rose upon the right:

Out of the sea came he,

Still hid in mist, and on the left

Went down into the sea.

 

And the good south wind still blew behind,

But no sweet bird did follow,

Nor any day for food or play

Came to the mariners' hollo!

 

And I had done a hellish thing,

And it would work 'em woe:

For all averred, I had killed the bird

That made the breeze to blow.

Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,

That made the breeze to blow!

 

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,

The glorious sun uprist:

Then all averred, I had killed the bird

That brought the fog and mist.

'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,

That bring the fog and mist.

 

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,

The furrow followed free;

We were the first that ever burst

Into that silent sea.

 

Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped down,

'Twas sad as sad could be;

And we did speak only to break

The silence of the sea!

 

All in a hot and copper sky,

The bloody sun, at noon,

Right up above the mast did stand,

No bigger than the moon.

 

Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean.

 

Water, water, every where,

And all the boards did shrink;

Water, water, every where,

Nor any drop to drink.

 

The very deep did rot: O Christ!

That ever this should be!

Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs

Upon the slimy sea.

 

About, about, in reel and rout

The death-fires danced at night;

The water, like a witch's oils,

Burnt green, and blue, and white.

 

And some in dreams assured were

Of the Spirit that plagued us so;

Nine fathom deep he had followed us

From the land of mist and snow.

 

And every tongue, through utter drought,

Was withered at the root;

We could not speak, no more than if

We had been choked with soot.

 

Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks

Had I from old and young!

Instead of the cross, the Albatross

About my neck was hung."

 

...

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That looks eerily like that Giles dude from Buffy.

 

 

Not in any way.

"My hovercraft is full of eels!" - Hungarian tourist
I am Dan Quayle of the Romans.
I want to tattoo a map of the Netherlands on my nether lands.
Heja Sverige!!
Everyone should cuffawkle more.
The wrench is your friend. :bat:

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What a twist!

"Alright, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade - make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager. Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons. Do you know who I am? I'm the man who's gonna burn your house down! With the lemons. I'm going to to get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!"

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dead%20albatross.jpg

It's not any-bloody-body, it's a bleedin' albatross!

 

Don't say you didn't walk into that one.

This particularly rapid, unintelligible patter isn't generally heard, and if it is, it doesn't matter.

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Overhead the albatross

Hangs motionless upon the air

And deep beneath the rolling waves

In labyrinths of coral caves

An echo of a distant time

Comes willowing across the sand

And everything is green and submarine.

 

And no one called us to the land

And no one knows the where's or why's.

Something stirs and something tries

Starts to climb toward the light.

 

Strangers passing in the street

By chance two separate glances meet

And I am you and what I see is me.

And do I take you by the hand

And lead you through the land

And help me understand

The best I can.

 

And no one called us to the land

And no one crosses there alive.

No one speaks and no one tries

No one flies around the sun....

 

Almost everyday you fall

Upon my waking eyes,

Inviting and inciting me

To rise.

And through the window in the wall

Come streaming in on sunlight wings

A million bright ambassadors of morning.

 

And no one sings me lullabyes

And no one makes me close my eyes

So I throw the windows wide

And call to you across the sky...

sargothsigcopy.jpg
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