When men were all asleep the snow came flying, In large white flakes falling on the city brown, Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying, Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town.
Even on the white English crags A few strong spirits, in a race that binds Its body in chains and calls them Liberty, And calls each fresh link Progress, stood erect With faces pale that hunger'd to the light.
I have always wanted to know why, wherever archaeologists dig, do they always find red and white poles?
You know it's gone to hell, when the best rapper out there is a white guy and the best golfer is a black guy.
We have fish and chips, which W. and I fetch from the shop in Settle market-place. Some local boys come in and there is a bit of chat between them and the fish-fryer about whether the kestrel under the counter is for sale.Only when I mention it to W. does he explain Kestrel is now a lager. I imagine the future is going to contain an increasing number of incidents like this, culminating with a man in a white coat saying to one kindly, "And now can you tell me the name of the Prime Minister?"
This party is old and uninviting Participants all in black and white You enter in full-blown techincolor Nothing is the same after tonight.
I am proud to be white, and I am proud to be British. But you should find other things to be proud of mate.
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