From whence shall my help come?
My help cometh from the Lord
The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold
A wise son maketh a glad father,
but a foolish son is the heaviness of his mother
All is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
Give unto the Lord, O ye mighty,
give unto the Lord glory and strength.
O, my love is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O, my love is like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune
What is this that roareth thus?
Can it be a Motor Bus?
Yes, the smell and hideous hum Indicat Motorem Bum!
Implet in the Corn and High
Terror me Motoris Bi:
Bo Motori clamitabo
Ne Motore caedar a Bo---
Dative be or Ablative
So thou only let us live:---
Whither shall thy victims flee?
Spare us, spare us, Motor Be!
Thus I sang; and still anigh
Came in hordes Motores Bi,
Et complebat omne forum
Copia Motorum Borum.
How shall wretches live like us
Cincti Bis Motoribus?
Domine, defende nos
Contra hos Motores Bos!
But let judgment run down as waters,
and righteousness as a mighty stream.
Then the little Hiawatha learned of every beast the language
Copyright © 1999 Shirley J. Rollinson, all Rights Reserved
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Department of Religion
ENMU
Portales, NM 88130
Last Updated: September 9, 2007
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