The first week of November, we have the exam on Notting Hill, a wonderful book about love and other issues. Make sure you read it before the exam. We are sure you will read better by listening to the soundtrack of the film with the same title starred by Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts. Enjoy the songs!
Showing posts with label LITERATURE. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LITERATURE. Show all posts
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Tuesday, 2 June 2009
IMAGINE A CLASS LIKE THIS!
I have to confess it: I was looking for an easy way to study The Canterbury Tales, by Chaucer, for my exam. I was looking for a kind of project where I could find everything I have on my mind better organized. But what I found was this teacher, making a rap of a part of the tales in middle English. I'm a freak, you may think, but I love it! And now, back to the papers to study!
Thursday, 26 February 2009
BAGPIPE MUSIC, by Louis MacNeice
A poem I read when I studied at uni. Today I've found it again by chance and I thought on sharing it with you. From one of the poets of the thirties poets - W. H. Auden, Sander, and C.D. Lewis, among others-, Louis MacNiece, Irish and playwright, and a very quite interesting character. I hope you get and grasp the meaning, even if it looks like a light poem, it's not, and includes sharp criticism. What do you think about it?
It's no go the merrygoround, it's no go the rickshaw,
All we want is a limousine and a ticket for the peepshow.
Their knickers are made of crepe-de-chine, their shoes are made of python,
Their halls are lined with tiger rugs and their walls with head of bison.
John MacDonald found a corpse, put it under the sofa,
Waited till it came to life and hit it with a poker,
Sold its eyes for souvenirs, sold its blood for whiskey,
Kept its bones for dumbbells to use when he was fifty.
It's no go the Yogi-man, it's no go Blavatsky,
All we want is a bank balance and a bit of skirt in a taxi.
Annie MacDougall went to milk, caught her foot in the heather,
Woke to hear a dance record playing of Old Vienna.
It's no go your maidenheads, it's no go your culture,
All we want is a Dunlop tire and the devil mend the puncture.
The Laird o' Phelps spent Hogmanay declaring he was sober,
Counted his feet to prove the fact and found he had one foot over.
Mrs. Carmichael had her fifth, looked at the job with repulsion,
Said to the midwife "Take it away; I'm through with overproduction."
It's no go the gossip column, it's no go the Ceilidh,
All we want is a mother's help and a sugar-stick for the baby.
Willie Murray cut his thumb, couldn't count the damage,
Took the hide of an Ayrshire cow and used it for a bandage.
His brother caught three hundred cran when the seas were lavish,
Threw the bleeders back in the sea and went upon the parish.
It's no go the Herring Board, it's no go the Bible,
All we want is a packet of fags when our hands are idle.
It's no go the picture palace, it's no go the stadium,
It's no go the country cot with a pot of pink geraniums,
It's no go the Government grants, it's no go the elections,
Sit on your arse for fifty years and hang your hat on a pension.
It's no go my honey love, it's no go my poppet;
Work your hands from day to day, the winds will blow the profit.
The glass is falling hour by hour, the glass will fall forever,
But if you break the bloody glass you won't hold up the weather.
All we want is a limousine and a ticket for the peepshow.
Their knickers are made of crepe-de-chine, their shoes are made of python,
Their halls are lined with tiger rugs and their walls with head of bison.
John MacDonald found a corpse, put it under the sofa,
Waited till it came to life and hit it with a poker,
Sold its eyes for souvenirs, sold its blood for whiskey,
Kept its bones for dumbbells to use when he was fifty.
It's no go the Yogi-man, it's no go Blavatsky,
All we want is a bank balance and a bit of skirt in a taxi.
Annie MacDougall went to milk, caught her foot in the heather,
Woke to hear a dance record playing of Old Vienna.
It's no go your maidenheads, it's no go your culture,
All we want is a Dunlop tire and the devil mend the puncture.
The Laird o' Phelps spent Hogmanay declaring he was sober,
Counted his feet to prove the fact and found he had one foot over.
Mrs. Carmichael had her fifth, looked at the job with repulsion,
Said to the midwife "Take it away; I'm through with overproduction."
It's no go the gossip column, it's no go the Ceilidh,
All we want is a mother's help and a sugar-stick for the baby.
Willie Murray cut his thumb, couldn't count the damage,
Took the hide of an Ayrshire cow and used it for a bandage.
His brother caught three hundred cran when the seas were lavish,
Threw the bleeders back in the sea and went upon the parish.
It's no go the Herring Board, it's no go the Bible,
All we want is a packet of fags when our hands are idle.
It's no go the picture palace, it's no go the stadium,
It's no go the country cot with a pot of pink geraniums,
It's no go the Government grants, it's no go the elections,
Sit on your arse for fifty years and hang your hat on a pension.
It's no go my honey love, it's no go my poppet;
Work your hands from day to day, the winds will blow the profit.
The glass is falling hour by hour, the glass will fall forever,
But if you break the bloody glass you won't hold up the weather.
Sunday, 28 December 2008
SHAKESPEARE'S ROUTE
During this term, we are going to read Two Shakespearian Comedies. Let's find about Shakespeare's life by discovering where he lived. Look at the following map and find information about the different cities in the Shakespeare's route. Pay attention to: Stratford-upon-Avon, Rollright Stones, Chipping Norton, Woodstock, Oxford, Marlow,Cookham, Kew and London.
Shakespeare's Route
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
A sonnet by William Shakespeare
SONNET 33
Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain,
Without thy help, me be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect, 5
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which though it alter noy love's sole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, 10
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
But do not so, I love thee in such sort,
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
A poem by one of the greatest playwrights in English language. He also wrote superb sonnets. There are a few old English words. If you want to, you can read a Spanish translation in the Cervantes Library.
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain,
Without thy help, me be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect, 5
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which though it alter noy love's sole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, 10
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
But do not so, I love thee in such sort,
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
A poem by one of the greatest playwrights in English language. He also wrote superb sonnets. There are a few old English words. If you want to, you can read a Spanish translation in the Cervantes Library.
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