And we’re back! What a two days of systems nightmare. We went down at 7pm on Thursday. No conclusive information on why, we have had traffic volume related outages before, but this was on a more serious and persistent basis. We had to move the database to a new location and restore from backup to recover, we lost a few days articles. Better not speak to me about Fasthosts for a while.
We got access to the databases this morning and took the opportunity to upgrade facilities in the background. We’re on a new incarnation of WordPress and now have Facebook and Twitter integration. Good news is you can link your Celtic Quick News account with your Facebook and/or Twitter accounts, and share information from CQN to your social network timeline.
To do so:
Login to Celtic Quick News.
Cick on your name at the top of the Comments box to access your profile.
Scroll to the bottom of the page to access the Facebook and Twitter links.
Update your profile.
You will then see a Share link beside your comments.
Should we be Celtic Slow News for today? Here it is:
Rennes 1-1 Celtic.
Hugely important second half performance and Joe Ledley goal.
Your favourite billionaire is getting divorced and has claimed he has no money! Oh dear.
One year on, the SFA are still smoking out religiously offensive correspondents!
The Berlin Wall fell and I hear Elvis is dead.
Have a try at the Facebook and Twitter links and let me know what you think of it. I’m off for a break but will catch up later.
Most importantly, there is a Celtic fan called Andrew who will be walking about Belfast in a daze this weekend. If you see him, but him a beer.
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Finbar42
That poem could be titled CQN Nightshift…
finbar42 is Neil Lennon says:
23 October, 2011 at 02:24
I mistakenly found myself looking at poetry book in Waterstone’s today, all Edwin Morgan and Ted Hughes. Still don’t get it…
CaltonTongues says:
23 October, 2011 at 01:57
Calton – I’ll email Partizan and will text SwanseaBhoy tomorrow morning, he is driving Partizan up.
Thoughts and prayers are with HamiltonTim and his family, May Mr S Rest in Peace.
bjmac
Finbar42,
Ha! memories… ahem..
Ma wee turn for tonight shall be in the key of G#…. I know, I know, what happened to the poignancy evoked by B Flat I hear you protest? Naw? Well, anyway, I couldnae sing this song in that key if if I had the wife’s knickers on… which I don’t… presently.
Now, I’m no one for a pre-amble, but this song is taken by some as a wee dig at our southern cousins…. well let me tell ya, havin spent some years in that country, I met some fine people I’m proud to call friends – and some, as anywhere, I wouldn’t spit on.
No, this song goes deeper, to human natyur… that terrible beauty that binds, and divides us
A mile frae Pentcaitland, on the road to the sea
Stands a yew tree a thousand years old
And the old women swear by the grey o’ their hair
That it knows what the future will hold
For the shadows of Scotland stand round it
‘Mid the kail and the corn and the kye
All the hopes and the fears of a thousand long years
Under the Lothian sky
My bonnie yew tree, tell me what did you see
Did you look through the haze o’ the lang summer days
Tae the South and the far English border
A’ the bonnets o’ steel on Flodden’s far field
Did they march by your side in good order
Did you ask them the price o’ their glory
When you heard the great slaughter begin
For the dust o’ their bones would rise up from the stones
To bring tears to the eyes o’ the wind
My bonnie yew tree, tell me what did you see
Not once did you speak for the poor and the weak
When the moss-troopers lay in your shade
To count out the plunder and hide frae the thunder
And share out the spoils o’ their raid
But you saw the smiles o’ the gentry
And the laughter of lords at their gains
When the poor hunt the poor across mountain and moor
The rich man can keep them in chains
My bonnie yew tree, tell me what did you see
Did you no’ think tae tell when John Knox himsel’
Preached under your branches sae black
To the poor common folk who would lift up the yoke
O’ the bishops and priests frae their backs
But you knew the bargain he sold them
And freedom was only one part
For the price o’ their souls was a gospel sae cold
It would freeze up the joy in their hearts
My bonnie yew tree, tell me what did you see
And I thought as I stood and laid hands on your wood
That it might be a kindness to fell you
One kiss o’ the axe and you’re freed frae the racks
O’ the sad bloody tales that men tell you
But a wee bird flew out from your branches
And sang out as never before
And the words o’ the song were a thousand years long
And to learn them’s a long thousand more
My bonnie yew tree
Tell me what CAN you see
Thank God! CQN back up and running. This site is becoming an addiction.
Eyes on the prize boys – 3 points. Every game from now ’til May.
Don’t forget, the world survives without Lehman Bros, the SPL survives without Rancid FC.
Watching Jools Holland there, sometimes do in the offchance something different and good is there.
But nah, usual p@sh.
Best i’ve seen come from thast show in the last 3 years:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryLYzDevbzM
Which is Robert Plant, so says a lot about the music being promoted on TV. It has nothing new to offer.
Not to take anything away from Boab, it’s class.
Bhoys
If someone can let Partizan know I’ll get the Rennes ticket to him by hook or crook. Thank you.
Bob Ag
As a teenager fearing nuclear war Edwin Muir’s poem The Horses was the last thing I wanted to read.
Ted Hughes informed me that a crow is indeed black, and that he was in a dark place.
Why give this dark stuff to happy people?
Give us Chesterton, Burns, Whitman, and Tennyson.
Give us song!
nighty night, CQN land! You all rock!
Me an me bruv today right? Well you know if Bill Gates dropped £10k, it wouldn’t be worth his time pickin it up yeah? Well we calculated that if we wos as rich as Bill Gates right? We reckon if we just sat drinkin right, the more we drunk, the richer we’d get? yeah? Gettit?
Edwin Muir also wrote some interesting poems about the Glasgow pondlife.
FFM,
thats a classic track… loved it the first time I heard it
hamiltontim – A desperately sore one to take. Sincerest condolences on your loss.
JimmyQuinnsBits
Tis true :)
Hamiltontim
Thoughts with you :(
Rascar_
You have kept me up now., At school we ‘studied’ WB Yeats, which meant we had to learn about Cu’Culleian (my spelling and the whole Ulster cycle. A good education altogether! Went to Uni and met folk who thought they were poets, I thought they were chancers at best.
JQB
Glad everybody gave you a bit of order there, and a wee clap at the end. I don’t think this one is especially well known, but I like it. (clears throat)
From the region of zephyrs, the Emerald isle,
The land of thy birth, in my freshness I come,
To waken this long-cherished morn with a smile,
And breathe o’er thy spirit the whispers of home.
O welcome the stranger from Erin’s green sod;
I sprang where the bones of thy fathers repose,
I grew where thy free step in infancy trod,
Ere the world threw around thee its wiles and its woes.
But sprightlier themes
Enliven the dreams,
My dew-dropping leaflets unfold to impart:
To loftiest emotion
Of patriot devotion,
I wake the full chord of an Irishman’s heart.
The rose is expanding her petals of pride,
And points to the laurels o’erarching her tree;
And the hardy Bur-thistle stands rooted beside,
And sternly demands;—Who dare meddle wi’ me?
And bright are the garlands they jointly display,
In death-fields of victory gallantly got;
But let the fair sisters their trophies array,
And show us the wreath where the shamrock is not!
By sea and by land,
With bullet and brand,
My sons have directed the stormbolt of war;
The banners ye boast,
Ne’er waved o’er our host,
Unfanned by the accents of Erin-go-bragh!
Erin mavourneen! dark is thy night;
Deep thy forebodings and gloomy thy fears;
And O, there are bosoms with savage delight
Who laugh at thy plainings and scoff at thy tears!
But, Erin mavourneen, bright are the names
Who twine with the heart-vein thy fate in their breast;
And scorned be the lot of the dastard, who shames
To plant, as a trophy, this leaf on his crest!
Thrice trebled disgrace
His honours deface,
Who shrinks from proclaiming the isle of his birth!
Though lowly its stem,
This emerald gem
Mates with the proudest that shadow the earth!
With a hey nonny nonny and a ha cha cha!
Bob Ag
I have read the odd poem, and I’ve loved the odd poem.
Never really written.
So your are safe from another wannabe.
Jeez they huns on FF do have a sense of humour. They’re all singing this one:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=1oofM5ttD6c#!
Bob @ 02.30
Ted was married to Sylvia Plath for a while. Let’s just say he had issues. I wish I had to hand some of the savage spoofs of his nature poems that would appear in private Eye.
f42
Bob Ag
I have written and recorded some stuff that is reasonably good.
Get in touch and I’ll send you a cd.
rascarcqn@gmail.com
I struggle to see the line between great prose, or even quotes, and poetry… and who cares
From the implacably impudent Behan
“To get enough to eat was regarded as an achievement. To get drunk was a victory.”
To Neruda (Guevara’s favourite poet by all accounts)
“But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness”
Am i the only on that can see the sh@tload of irony in Father Abraham’s Smurf Song and it’s relativity to the huns???
FFS thought some of you were poetry lovers???
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=1oofM5ttD6c#!
Hamiltontim
My heart goes out to you.
Take care of yourself.
JQB
And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass.
G’night.
FFB,
lol…. or maybe this (was babysittin the nephew last weekend, an I now luvs it)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YvUbbYX9BMs
finbar42 is Neil Lennon says:
23 October, 2011 at 02:58
you’ve got a rare one there… I was soaked in all the songs growin up, don’t know that one…
I’ll need to take it to an older and wiser head
Thanks to CaltonTongues and bjmac for letting me know. I don’t know Hamiltontim but he has shown me great generosity the last few days.
FFM @ 03.11
Yogi Bear summed it all up for me when he said, “A genius never questions his instincts, Boo-Boo. When you have a mind like mine, you can’t blink or you’ll put a kink in your think!”
Sound advice that Craig Whyte appears to be following as well.
f42
Sylvia Plaff – havin a laff??
JQB
It’s by charlotte Elizabeth Tonna.
She didn’t write this. this is by Jean Blewett:
There’s an Isle, a green Isle, set in the sea,
Here’s to the Saint that blessed it!
And here’s to the billows wild and free
That for centuries have caressed it!
Here’s to the day when the men that roam
Send longing eyes o’er the water!
Here’s to the land that still spells home
To each loyal son and daughter!
Here’s to old Ireland—fair, I ween,
With the blue skies stretched above her!
Here’s to her shamrock warm and green,
And here’s to the hearts that love her!
Slan go foill mo chara
f42
Fortunes Favour Mibbes says:
23 October, 2011 at 03:11 Fortunes Favour Mibbes says:
23 October, 2011 at 03:11 ##Fortunes Favour Mibbes says:
23 October, 2011 at 03:11
is the Irony in it being Father Abraham? ;)
F42,
don’t know any of them, I need to read more
How about this one… Joe Heaney… a warning against our need to make heroes
No More Songs
I will sing no more songs: the pride of my country I sang
Through forty long years of good rhyme, without any avail;
And no one cared even as much as the half of a hang
For the song or the singer, so here is an end to the tale.
If a person should think I complain and have not got the cause,
Let him bring his eyes here and take a good look at my hand,
Let him say if a goose-quill has calloused this poor pair of paws
Or the spade that I grip on and dig with out there in the land?
When the great ones were safe and renowned and were rooted and tough,
Though my mind went to them and took joy in the fortune of those,
And pride in their pride and their fame, they gave little enough,
Not as much as two boots for my feet, or an old suit of clothes.
I ask a Craftsman that fashioned the fly and the bird,
Of the Champion whose passion will lift me from death in a time,
Of the Spirit that melts icy hearts with the wind of a word,
That my people be worthy, and get, better singing than mine.
I had hoped to live decent, when Ireland was quit of her care,
As a bailiff or steward perhaps in a house of degree,
But my end of the tale is, old brogues and old britches to wear,
So I’ll sing no more songs for the men that care nothing for me.
Jimmy
A thought provoking poem.
Read it a couple of times, and it didn’t work for me.
Then I acted it out loud, and it made more sense.
A story for those that can’t be the bold impartial strokes of a picture.
Rasc,
completely agree…
takes Liam Clancy here, to bring it home
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrzw0AveYGw
Jimmy
Ha!
Quite a contrast in my efforts, and the bold Liam!
Given the background of – I’m guessing – most of us, ya think there’s a wee bit of machismo goes on? Ya think?
Am goin soft in my later years, can’t be bothered wiv the pretence
Táim i ngrá le mo bhean chéile.
Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her
by Christopher Brennan
If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.
Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching breasts would yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.
For who is there that lives and knows
The secret powers by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?.
Then seek not, sweet, the “If” and “Why”
I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I live
And life in me is what you give.
G’night all
Just read that again, and it reads like a dig… its no! My pretence… poem t my wife… aaawwww
Night this time
Hamiltontim – lapsed as i am – there’s a wee candle being lit now for yer Da.
Sorry for your lose chief.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jbc_F-pPWKQ&feature=related
KTF.