User:Old Dickens: Difference between revisions
Old Dickens (talk | contribs) (→Bridge) |
Old Dickens (talk | contribs) (that time again) |
||
| Line 7: | Line 7: | ||
==Bridge== | ==Bridge== | ||
''' | '''L'''et us dance the Dark Morris on the first day of Ember<br> | ||
When the old year is stealing away in the night<br> | |||
And sleep in the snow `til the new one awakens<br> | |||
And dance in the sun on the first day of May. | |||
'''D'''ance again for the weddings and midsummer's passing<br> | |||
And then for the sake of Sektober's new ale<br> | |||
`Til the bright leaves of autumn are withered and faded<br> | |||
Then silently step the Dark Morris again.''' | |||
. . . . . . . . . ''Makepeace Thomas Bounder'' | |||
==Chorus== | ==Chorus== | ||
Revision as of 21:59, 30 October 2013
Verse
What if the stories were true? What if there really were Vampires and Werewolves and Wizards and Witches who really could turn you into a toad, or make you think they had? Suppose Nick and Nora Charles were the most powerful couple in the country...
There is a story that the world is a disc borne on the backs of four elephants which stand on the carapace of an enormous turtle. In one corner of the Multiverse (the one farthest from Reality) this, too, is true. This is where the story creates the history and a one-in-a-million chance turns up nine times out of ten and the ocean falls into space around the rim without depleting itself. On the Discworld, "what if?" must be answered, the stories lived, the myth made real.
Tales from this remote universe arrive regularly via inspiration particles intercepting the particularly receptive and talented brain of Sir Terry Pratchett, OBE. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to sort, file and illuminate the elements of these chronicles in this little corner of the vast library of L-space. Just don't forget your ball of string.
Bridge
Let us dance the Dark Morris on the first day of Ember
When the old year is stealing away in the night
And sleep in the snow `til the new one awakens
And dance in the sun on the first day of May.
Dance again for the weddings and midsummer's passing
And then for the sake of Sektober's new ale
`Til the bright leaves of autumn are withered and faded
Then silently step the Dark Morris again.
. . . . . . . . . Makepeace Thomas Bounder
Chorus
I sometimes sit and laugh giddily at the mere existence of some Pratchett characters (Carrot Ironfoundersson, say) and the reality he creates out of the absurd stereotype. This is often toward the end of the bottle of wine, but still, it suggests how he's different from other writers I have followed. There are now more than a thousand Discworld characters described here, and that's not all.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Made a sysop for the many good contributions --Sanity 01:34, 19 August 2006 (CEST)