Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
THE PROLOGUE.

This worthy limitour, this noble Frere,
He made always a manner louring cheer                      countenance
Upon the Sompnour; but for honesty                            courtesy
No villain word as yet to him spake he:
But at the last he said unto the Wife:
"Dame," quoth he, "God give you right good life,
Ye have here touched, all so may I the,                         *thrive
In school matter a greate difficulty.
Ye have said muche thing right well, I say;
But, Dame, here as we ride by the way,
Us needeth not but for to speak of game,
And leave authorities, in Godde's name,
To preaching, and to school eke of clergy.
But if it like unto this company,
I will you of a Sompnour tell a game;
Pardie, ye may well knowe by the name,
That of a Sompnour may no good be said;
I pray that none of you be *evil paid;
                   dissatisfied
A Sompnour is a runner up and down
With mandements* for fornicatioun,                 mandates, summonses
And is y-beat at every towne's end."
Then spake our Host; "Ah, sir, ye should be hend         *civil, gentle
And courteous, as a man of your estate;
In company we will have no debate:
Tell us your tale, and let the Sompnour be."
"Nay," quoth the Sompnour, "let him say by me
What so him list; when it comes to my lot,
By God, I shall him quiten
every groat!                    pay him off
I shall him telle what a great honour
It is to be a flattering limitour
And his office I shall him tell y-wis".
Our Host answered, "Peace, no more of this."
And afterward he said unto the frere,
"Tell forth your tale, mine owen master dear."

Notes to the Prologue to the Friar's tale

1. On the Tale of the Friar, and that of the Sompnour which
follows, Tyrwhitt has remarked that they "are well engrafted
upon that of the Wife of Bath. The ill-humour which shows
itself between these two characters is quite natural, as no two
professions at that time were at more constant variance.  The
regular clergy, and particularly the mendicant friars, affected a
total exemption from all ecclesiastical jurisdiction,  except that
of the Pope, which made them exceedingly obnoxious to the
bishops and of course to all the inferior officers of the national
hierarchy." Both tales, whatever their origin, are bitter satires
on the greed and worldliness of the Romish clergy.


THE TALE.

Whilom
there was dwelling in my country                 once on a time
An archdeacon, a man of high degree,
That boldely did execution,
In punishing of fornication,
Of witchecraft, and eke of bawdery,
Of defamation, and adultery,
Of churche-reeves,
and of testaments,                    churchwardens
Of contracts, and of lack of sacraments,
And eke of many another manner
crime,                          sort of
Which needeth not rehearsen at this time,
Of usury, and simony also;
But, certes, lechours did he greatest woe;
They shoulde singen, if that they were hent;
                    caught
And smale tithers were foul y-shent,
         troubled, put to shame
If any person would on them complain;
There might astert them no pecunial pain.
For smalle tithes, and small offering,
He made the people piteously to sing;
For ere the bishop caught them with his crook,
They weren in the archedeacon's book;
Then had he, through his jurisdiction,
Power to do on them correction.

He had a Sompnour ready to his hand,
A slier boy was none in Engleland;
For subtlely he had his espiaille,
                           espionage
That taught him well where it might aught avail.
He coulde spare of lechours one or two,
To teache him to four and twenty mo'.
For, -- though this Sompnour wood
be as a hare, --        furious, mad
To tell his harlotry I will not spare,
For we be out of their correction,
They have of us no jurisdiction,
Ne never shall have, term of all their lives.

"Peter; so be the women of the stives,"
                          stews
Quoth this Sompnour, "y-put out of our cure."
                     care

"Peace, with mischance and with misaventure,"
Our Hoste said, "and let him tell his tale.
Now telle forth, and let the Sompnour gale,
              whistle; bawl
Nor spare not, mine owen master dear."

This false thief, the Sompnour (quoth the Frere),
Had always bawdes ready to his hand,
As any hawk to lure in Engleland,
That told him all the secrets that they knew, --
For their acquaintance was not come of new;
They were his approvers
privily.                             informers
He took himself at great profit thereby:
His master knew not always what he wan.
                            won
Withoute mandement, a lewed
man                               ignorant
He could summon, on pain of Christe's curse,
And they were inly glad to fill his purse,
And make him greate feastes at the nale.
                      alehouse
And right as Judas hadde purses smale,
                           small
And was a thief, right such a thief was he,
His master had but half *his duety.
                what was owing him
He was (if I shall give him his laud)
A thief, and eke a Sompnour, and a bawd.
And he had wenches at his retinue,
That whether that Sir Robert or Sir Hugh,
Or Jack, or Ralph, or whoso that it were
That lay by them, they told it in his ear.
Thus were the ***** and he of one assent;
And he would fetch a feigned mandement,
And to the chapter summon them both two,
And pill* the man, and let the wenche go.                plunder, pluck
Then would he say, "Friend, I shall for thy sake
Do strike thee out of oure letters blake;
                        black
Thee thar
no more as in this case travail;                        need
I am thy friend where I may thee avail."
Certain he knew of bribers many mo'
Than possible is to tell in yeare's two:
For in this world is no dog for the bow,
That can a hurt deer from a whole know,
Bet
than this Sompnour knew a sly lechour,                      better
Or an adult'rer, or a paramour:
And, for that was the fruit of all his rent,
Therefore on it he set all his intent.

And so befell, that once upon a day.
This Sompnour, waiting ever on his prey,
Rode forth to summon a widow, an old ribibe,
Feigning a cause, for he would have a bribe.
And happen'd that he saw before him ride
A gay yeoman under a forest side:
A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen,
He had upon a courtepy
of green,                         short doublet
A hat upon his head with fringes blake.
                          black
"Sir," quoth this Sompnour, "hail, and well o'ertake."
"Welcome," quoth he, "and every good fellaw;
Whither ridest thou under this green shaw?"
                       shade
Saide this yeoman; "wilt thou far to-day?"
This Sompnour answer'd him, and saide, "Nay.
Here faste by," quoth he, "is mine intent
To ride, for to raisen up a rent,
That longeth to my lorde's duety."
"Ah! art thou then a bailiff?" "Yea," quoth he.
He durste not for very filth and shame
Say that he was a Sompnour, for the name.
"De par dieux,"  quoth this yeoman, "leve* brother,             dear
Thou art a bailiff, and I am another.
I am unknowen, as in this country.
Of thine acquaintance I will praye thee,
And eke of brotherhood, if that thee list.
                      please
I have gold and silver lying in my chest;
If that thee hap to come into our shire,
All shall be thine, right as thou wilt desire."
"Grand mercy,"
quoth this Sompnour, "by my faith."        great thanks
Each in the other's hand his trothe lay'th,
For to be sworne brethren till they dey.
                        die
In dalliance they ride forth and play.

This Sompnour, which that was as full of jangles,
           chattering
As full of venom be those wariangles,
               * butcher-birds
And ev'r inquiring upon every thing,
"Brother," quoth he, "where is now your dwelling,
Another day if that I should you seech?"                   *seek, visit
This yeoman him answered in soft speech;
Brother," quoth he, "far in the North country,
Where as I hope some time I shall thee see
Ere we depart I shall thee so well wiss,
                        inform
That of mine house shalt thou never miss."
Now, brother," quoth this Sompnour, "I you pray,
Teach me, while that we ride by the way,
(Since that ye be a bailiff as am I,)
Some subtilty, and tell me faithfully
For mine office how that I most may win.
And *spare not
for conscience or for sin,             conceal nothing
But, as my brother, tell me how do ye."
Now by my trothe, brother mine," said he,
As I shall tell to thee a faithful tale:
My wages be full strait and eke full smale;
My lord is hard to me and dangerous,                         *niggardly
And mine office is full laborious;
And therefore by extortion I live,
Forsooth I take all that men will me give.
Algate
by sleighte, or by violence,                            whether
From year to year I win all my dispence;
I can no better tell thee faithfully."
Now certes," quoth this Sompnour,  "so fare
I;                      do
I spare not to take, God it wot,
But if* it be too heavy or too hot.                            unless
What I may get in counsel privily,
No manner conscience of that have I.
N'ere* mine extortion, I might not live,                were it not for
For of such japes
will I not be shrive.           tricks *confessed
Stomach nor conscience know I none;
I shrew* these shrifte-fathers
every one.          curse *confessors
Well be we met, by God and by St Jame.
But, leve brother, tell me then thy name,"
Quoth this Sompnour.  Right in this meane while
This yeoman gan a little for to smile.

"Brother," quoth he, "wilt thou that I thee tell?
I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell,
And here I ride about my purchasing,
To know where men will give me any thing.
My purchase is th' effect of all my rent        what I can gain is my
Look how thou ridest for the same intent                   sole revenue

To winne good, thou reckest never how,
Right so fare I, for ride will I now
Into the worlde's ende for a prey."

"Ah," quoth this Sompnour, "benedicite! what say y'?
I weened ye were a yeoman truly.                                thought
Ye have a manne's shape as well as I
Have ye then a figure determinate
In helle, where ye be in your estate?"
                         at home
"Nay, certainly," quoth he, there have we none,
But when us liketh we can take us one,
Or elles make you seem
that we be shape                        believe
Sometime like a man, or like an ape;
Or like an angel can I ride or go;
It is no wondrous thing though it be so,
A lousy juggler can deceive thee.
And pardie, yet can I more craft
than he."              skill, cunning
"Why," quoth the Sompnour, "ride ye then or gon
In sundry shapes and not always in one?"
"For we," quoth he, "will us in such form make.
As most is able our prey for to take."
"What maketh you to have all this labour?"
"Full many a cause, leve Sir Sompnour,"
Saide this fiend. "But all thing hath a time;
The day is short and it is passed prime,
And yet have I won nothing in this day;
I will intend
to winning, if I may,               &nbs
Unathi taliwe Apr 2015
2 dai its like one of those days my head fill so havy i never would have though that love could be so hard,know my head its like a baloon thats about to pop my mind is ganging up on my heart as it is getting weak esif the devel is holding ma soul in the porm of his hend smiling weiting for me to loose ma wai 2 take the chance,bt as long as i see the light through out the support of my friendz iwil never wark alone even when the nights along even when i loose your love bt i hope i wil find it one's more and be able 2 smile with u
K G Jun 2016
Little rapid tears
Letting myself fall
Noisy streams and it's mockery
A body prostate right between tall
Bored aloud ignore the right to be
My times a riddle that'll never be solved
Where the river ends the sun is coming down
Being free, being wild, being bulletproof
Ignorant in reality and tangled mound
Get inside and grow this crushing sound
I'm holding tightly to the water
Swimming in this flood
I can't sleep and I can't eat and I can't refuse
Wish I could change the way things are
Who knows where I'll end up, not a bit ashamed
What do I hend so I will find my way to my vessel?
Its completely casual to swim in a river of liquor
Awoken wet grass that was held up with a little speck
Vagabond of fulfillment, viewed as an pesky insect
Its completely unceremonious to be labeled parasite
Discolored or harmonious, I see myself as a skimming bolide
The tide is high
Heedless of all the warning signs
Bend me back
With the strength of imprisoned pride
On the brink of the day
Subtle frustration arrayed
Is this hope or air I crave?
Ryan O'Leary Jan 2022
Notre Dame Burns

Dm
Emman-u-elle was Quasi’s bell
Am
without her chimes time can’t tell
E
Gargoyles clinging on for life
Am
Notre Dame Burns 'not the Bard’s wife’

C
Town criers holler in the street
G
communion wine for those they meet
D
All for one and one for all
E
"last of the toasted eucharists call”

              Chorus.

G
From Eiffel Tower, I looked on
Em
A 1,000 years of history gone
C
It’s looking like a Moulin Rouge
D
Was this Allah’s subterfuge

Dm
Cinderella was at the pyre
Am
collecting embers for her squire
E
Ashen crosses on the head
Am
remind us of our glorious dead

C
No acts of god in a secular state
G
but no doubt t'was a crime of hate
D
Rosary beads out of reach
E
no one here, at us to preach

            Chorus.

G
From Eiffel Tower, I looked on
Em
A 1,000 years of history gone
C
It’s looking like a Moulin Rouge
D
Was this Allah’s subterfuge

Dm
Statues icons steeples fall
Am
sanctimonious people call
E
But-tresses begin to bend
Am
yellow vests they’ll appre(hend)

C
Roasted pigeons on the spit
G
Victor Hugo’s fire was a lit
D
People coming form Rive Gauche
E
par-ce-que, c'est la plus proche

                Chorus.

G
From Eiffel Tower, I looked on
Em
A 1,000 years of history gone
C
It’s looking like a Moulin Rouge
D
Was this Allah’s subterfuge

Dm
That’s not far from San Michel
Am
it's 'where do you go to my lovely’s' dwell
E
Shakespeare & Co will sell more books
Am
almost in Seine, from where it looks

C
Notre Dame Burns you shouldn’t smoke
G
are cigarette warnings just a joke
D
Gauloises Gitanes, roll your own
E
turned you into another Joan

               Chorus.

G
From Eiffel Tower, I looked on
Em
A 1,000 years of history gone
C
It’s looking like a Moulin Rouge
D
Was this Allah’s subterfuge

Repeat.

C
Notre Dame Burns, you shouldn't smoke
D
are cigarette warnings just a joke
G
Gauloises Gitanes, roll your own
E
turned you into another Joan*.

                 Chorus.

G
From Eiffel Tower, I looked on
Em
A 1,000 years of history gone
C
It’s looking like a Moulin Rouge
D
Was this Allah’s subterfuge

                 Repeat
G
From Eiffel Tower, I looked on
Em
A 1,000 years of history gone
C
It’s looking like a Moulin Rouge
D
Was this Allah’s subterfuge





Finn Mac Eoin ©
April 16th 2019
Paris.



References in song explained.

The main bell at Notre Dame is
called Emmanuelle.

There is a famous Scottish poet/bard
called Robert Burns.

Joan is a reference to Joan of Arc
also burned at the stake.
Ken Pepiton Nov 24
seeds, if seeds may be said to know their form, finally,
seeds, indeed, purely one thing and not another,

mind seed sown in cultural inspirational - tellings,

minds learn to discern royal blood and therefore,

rightness of the entire idea, sown into a learning reader,
ready with a why, at the lesson where bluebirds read

the princess and the pea, while slower learners read
**** and Jane.

BLT's Merriam-Webster's Word of The Day Challenge
November 23rd/negotiate-
to discuss something formally
in order
to make an agreement
If you choose to partake,
post your piece, then message me so that I may
re post and add it
to the collection found
on my home page

---- a seed vault open to any with the knowing in freemind.
mindtimespace all points pastlessfreeformind and still

Shotgun negotiations happened or I never could have.
Says the the teller of this tale.

A son of Catholic immigrants
in western Louisiana,

a man broken by religion, broken
so he knew, it's true, nothing one can do,

know your place,
play your part,
be of some use
to the bubbles around you,

[preposed suppositions,
from stories fed us,
gaseous weforms,
in the old country, not so long ago, one long
generation ago, the first middle class land owners

took the power
of providential ownership rights,
from feudal orders
of religious utilized mind sets,

ai allow, life's reproofs are all open book,
fact checks are assumed and presumed
proof that you could know this already… okeh.

When royalty crashed, while back///

owning and renting or selling life for sustenance
referred
to as actual
same old middle men,
know a guy knows a guy become
go to in a pinch, hold true
stick to the story, we be

Petite Bourgeoisie:
With the decline
of feudal structures
in the 13th century, a new middle class emerged.
This group consisted of:

Peasant entrepreneurs:
Former serfs who acquired land
and became small-scale farmers,
often through the sale
of baronial, Church,
and common land.

Artisans and traders:
Craftsmen, merchants,
and traders who profited
from the island’s commercial activities,
particularly In cities like Palermo and Messina.

And the harness power used
in production at scale
==== created equal
in unreasonable terms, at scale

---- same bubble we breathed in Sicily
Conca d’Oro… not so long ago, you know, using time
as opposed
to being used
to do nonsensical stuff,
constantly abiding
in realities back rooms, thinking, stuff

Working Class:
The majority
of the population consisted of:

Peasants:
Agricultural laborers who worked
on large estates (latifundia) or smallholdings.
- and- old world rat, new world rat
- old school subsets of weforms, not usian.

Urban workers:
Laborers in cities,
including artisans, craftsmen, and service workers.
- and- city mouse, country mouse
- old school subsets of weforms, not usian.

And, back at the ranch, the old man I am,
is a social hermit, who has a wildassinine idea
bridled in the most sacred way, as symbols go,

Some loss of pride in a family, a shotgun wedding,
to some white trash busted cowboy's fifteen year old,

You had the Johns Hopkins tie-in, then PM&M inside,
we hooked across the actual mechanic at JPL,
Uncle Eddy, there's a story,… mq viz. ai vid licet/okeh

But not today, and I let, or took, bethatasmay air breathe

Cosa Nostra:
In the late 19th century, organized crime networks,
commonly known as Cosa Nostra,
emerged as a powerful force
in Sicilian society.

These networks were characterized
by a hierarchical structure,
with leaders exercising control
over territory and economic activities.

So, a son who backslid Catholicly,
how likely now, is he to allow his son,

to be dedicated to God,
other than that of Evangline
survivors? Actual Acadian Bloodlines,

memes in genes, guilt
from confirmation on,
during the days
of good work runnin' communion
wine, so the archetypical good old boy, black haired
Cajun Queen sons, ever
body say so son, see we be
became sweeter after confession,
as some may assume many must recall,
didn't that happen to you?

in time to intervene during boring same ol' days,
these days, I stood out on my deck, samesa porch,

and I shut my eyes'n kept the green negative,
on the background seen through

the tech, and the accepted challenge, group mind
negotiate a global poetic peace agreement adaptable

to hero worshipping warrior minds implanted in boys,

during the cold war, allowing the best and brightest
to be used as button pushers on real Polaris submarines,

imagine that guy was your vice president, freshman class,
while you were president, and shoulda known better
first class stealer of ***** from the drugstore,
before there were convex mirrors,
or cameras that could see back doors, and
every place always had back doors and rooms,
unsightly messes, never intended to be seen,

but were… lotathatshitinherethunderingherdwords.

Ghost Riders in the Sky,
dementia mention ever after thinking all this

feels like an action movie, and we are all NPCs,
in the car wrecks during the chase scenes who lose

loose, loo, wow, the genes you missed, be thankful,

Meme archeology… as pseudo faith conscious hope form

good lives must become fun to pretend to have, or else
in good futures that were prayed to seem as heaven here,

as imagined, when Ammerica imnemoniacally hijacked
keys to the king's english translated commercial free,
by google translate, copy and paste, post any where free

for the taking seriously of peace, as thinkable, there free
where you are free to read these words and think peace

is beauty, peace is difficult to do right, first time, think

peace is mine, mine to take and make and use to think

peace can answer money one on one, enough, taken
owned as my own freedom to act and react, at will,

no programmed worth of me in mind needed, this
weform we read with in form of ready minds, this we

becomes, a hope of joy,
imagine, cune'if-orming a future prayerwardwiseused;

in time,
to let be a will seem
to slightly smile, and think,

we have this power,
at our fingertips, yet we think
nothing magic need not be known
to make us think
things unthinkable one long generation ago,
on Earth
this Earth, 2024 same air as yesterday, shared
now as
when Earth's rooms at night, were lit by fire, or not at all.

Children learned to sing in storms, this little light of mine…

old men in ever retold tales how come when and why the mix,

the ***** hair and freckles, and the Cajun Aunt Prudence, form
perfect for the buxum Jane Reynolds roles, Mansfield blondes
were all Viking vixens in the sack before the chase, let be

the wombed man in fantacy dreams, no words to say, so
it is as it was and shall forever be, we sowed seed of dreams…

we negotiated ways to so sow such seeds twice, Kudzo
will to grow food for any vegetable process, Kudzo it,

biodegradable to humus, the material us, realize it,
we eventually join the whole truth told tellers hell of a way

to get past worthlessness in the final stages of life, here,

we are enabled, to adjust, our window gazing time there

where thoughts are words, and backgrounds are soothing
contrast
with primary blues shading
to purple text, calm

we can all imagine, make an image, we all see text
we all can see
in this form
on this window we know we see

explain it
without god first you gotta know how
to read, and take hold, com pre hend, getagrip know how
to read,

and do it, using the tool
at hand, human augmented us, habit
hapitune apti'diditude
at finger tip tactual control, us
mouse control… yo go fingers. we know these
keys to make sense exchange abled worth using
letters letting sense be made, formed from material
patrimonal priesthoods make believed, form fecalforms

fertilizing unwanted breathers, hold that wind, when
we knew we knew we did not wish to be a *******.

cell structures wall bound too thick to imagine,
but, once, some earth bound souls did move mountains
over mountains to reach places children still believe if told,

the gods left us ruins
to remind us what we are not,
we are the manifested sons
of mankind, mixed tengendeep,

some
of us got neanderthal and denisovan grandmamas,

mammalian bubble
of us as a we
in a clear text logos mind form mere thought, what if

enjoyment
of a form
of human life, not simple, but one step
past simple is sublime, a state
of definable terms,

negotiable mind bonds, a we,
indeed, an awesome think thunk
to think we become once we can think we all know what I

mean, war is not a good occupation, hate is not a power source,

we think of love as lust in private, or so the entertainers are paid
to let us think, as we think of nothing but the body, holding time

prepaid, during adolescence, reading, while watching ditches fill,

Eli Wiesel Night,  
at fourteen I had freedom
of highway speed Honda 50's, because I worked,
and maybe some welfare was paid for me, or not,

but I had friends with Honda 50's
that's a we with some exclusivity, at the time,

known, it had been, there were drinkers
in my line.

I drank Vanilla extract shots, in sixth grade,
I stole 'm… yeah, in ever before, form now, dementia
experimentation using clear text voice from our shared

pasts, we must tune,
to who we thought we were, really, at the time,
all within you cries that's me, the guy piling pillows
in the princess and the pea/

now, look at me, I own more than I could think to ask,
and a dole enough to keep it working, so longs
or until there's a grand jubilee and all my peace,

blooms, and I imagine,
war is so stupid, can we not each despise it enough,

oi, to die for not doing  it, there's the martyr, all in, and yet
here is past all that, or you could not have read this far, yet.
Night,
I read that at 14, I remember the while, not the day.


To contemplate asking more in negotiation reasoning,
made weigh worth the time spent thinking,

by all means, all this was asking your opinions
in form, formal ag function, expansion

Encorporations, Liebling --

Ancient knowing, long sacred, hidden,
as with the legend of confused names,

Epimythiums accosting promethean bets,

day and night, eat  your heart out, free
from regrets, satisfied mind, okeh, free

to act as agent
for lady liberty, her post feudal self,

as discovered in a canyon, much the same
as Sha'gri La from story, Havasu Canyon,
as home of a boy I knew, whose grandfather

had made peace, with good intention,
to remain in Supai until the end of time,

then, there come the missionaries, guessing
Victory in Jesus would rouse the innocents
to repent for never having imagined Hell,

as sure as can be made believe,
by **** sapien innocents,

never led by setters free,
into known uses
of old Eber clan ever words,
otherwise, still, small, breather thinking ideas,

whims like what if this is that, and we ready,
readers like think as fast as we can write,
as if we have been taught to dance
as when we drum along and dance

in mindful memorizational motivational wills,
to live the story we form as our weform agrees,

these are the realms of spirits, these are words
enough for the wise in any situation, sent, willing

to breathe, and feel, the whole wind working bit,
the smoke you may use, indeed, see believing
work out a salve for that itching ear, feeling

we form on-demand, at hand, at touche', indeed,
doing done, done did get done, this away from that,

back to the future,
through common senses used,
globally translatable
with Google Translate, using

copy and paste
of encoded letting out of dogmen,
from another mindform mingled

with mine, shall we

imagine Ancestory.com as a technology needing a lie,
to make believers
in what DNA can prove today,

if we go back far enough,
we were masters or slaves, and masters knew,

what slaves were not at liberty
to know,

without former knowers telling, so

dystopia ontological negative hope,

the princess and the pea, and me,
the wildass idea,
in the vineyard,

as the a sunbeam purpled
in a cluster

carried me
in a reverie
of poetic grandeur

indeed, into the afterward, ward after last.
An act of art officially as intelligent as I imagine I might be if I were words/

— The End —