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Discussietools |
10 maart 2003, 14:29 | #1 |
Schepen
Geregistreerd: 15 juni 2002
Berichten: 463
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Naar aanleiding van de eerdere "taalcursussen" wil ik jullie dit gedicht, uit het meest gekoesterde boek van mij jeugd, niet onthouden.
The Ratmepper of Hamelin (door John O'Mill) Perhaps, my dear children, perhaps you don't know, what happened in Hamelin a long time ago, when people in houses and people in flats were troubled by mouses and bitten by rats. The mouses they laughed at, the rats they all feared from the day that the crangs in their bed-stays appeared. Rats in their bed-stays, rats in their socks, in grandfather's brooksack and baby's own box. Rats bit their babies and what's even worse laddered their nylons and licked their liqueurs, ate up the curtains, the capstock, the mats, slaughtered the watchdogs and killed off the cats. Rats on the dremples, rats in the hall, building a nest in their best parasol. When Freiherr von Starker found one in his vest he drew out his parker and wrote a protest, which he read to the burghers, the farmers and all, who marched in procession to Hamelin's Town Hall. The city's wetholders, the Council and Mayor got quite in the war by the shouts in the square. "Make haste, you slampampers, and rid us of rats, before they build nests in you gold-galloned hats". "Oh dear" crooned the mayor, "What are we to do?" when a voice broke the silence and said: "Keek a Boo!" And in stepped a queebus in the queerest of dress, half yellow, half orange in an old Turkish fez. "You're worried, your worship" the stoodhasple spoke and pulled forth a trombone from under his cloak. "Now what do I get from the city's goldcoffer? When I rid you of rats, chaps, what do you offer?" They stared at the snewsharn's fantastic disguise, the smiling red lips and the laughing green eyes. They stared at his hair and they stared at his feet, when a yule reached their ears from the folk in the street. "We offer" they stottered, their thumbs in their collars, "what's inside the coffer: ten thousand dollars!" "D'Accord!" said the stranger: and made them a bow, "Open the door, chaps, I'm starting, right now!" He walked through the streets, while he blew his trombone and out came the rats at the very first tone. He played them a rat's song, full of good news and they dartled behind him, kissing his shoes. Out of the houses and out of the flats came couples, came dozens came hundreds of rats. Black rats and grey rats, mixed coloured and brown and followed the tooter allover the town. He walked to the river, walked in - to his knees and blew them the sweetest of all ratsodies. And down came the looders, down the stile bank, into the river, blew bubbles and sank. "You've seen, burgomaster" the wonderman said, "You've seen a ratmepper earning his bread", "I've done my duty, I'n sure, you're content, Now hand me the dollars, please, my tractement!" "You're not good snick" said the ~ayor with a laugh, "You shan't have a dollar, not even a half!" We'll give you a drink and a ten cents cigar, more than enough for a bink like you are." "I see!" sissed the stranger, green flames in his eyes, "We'll see, burgomaster, who's not good wise!" "Goodbye, pockerliar, no more shall we meet" and he smacked back the door and stepped out in the street. Once more trailing music, he slentered through town, but this time - oh horror! - the children came down. In parties of three and in pluckies and dozens, alone or with sisters and comrades and cousins. And he with the trombone, he blew them Good News, Sweet Rhythm, Saint Louis and Deep River Blues. He told them to beebop, to follow the band and promised the napkids a new Dixieland. The mothers cried loudkails, the fathers they swore but their beebopping boofies heard them no more. Betovered they followed him and his blues, followed in quick step close on his shoes. He led his jam-session, this unholy clown, forever more after away from the town. This was the last, that was seen or was heard, but the mayor was beheaded, for HE broke his word. Go, visit this Hamelin with your school or alone, but don't be a fool and bring a trombone. John O'Mill (uit: "Louter Leuter") |
17 juni 2013, 07:13 | #2 |
Secretaris-Generaal VN
Geregistreerd: 29 december 2012
Locatie: Nieverans Les Bains
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Ik citeer Confucius: Als straffen niet op de juiste wijze worden opgelegd, weten de mensen niet waar ze aan toe zijn. Ook citeer ik A. Einstein met graagte: Bidden verandert de wereld niet, maar bidden verandert de mens en de mens verandert de wereld. |
17 juni 2013, 07:35 | #3 |
Secretaris-Generaal VN
Geregistreerd: 2 juni 2006
Berichten: 30.339
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Fantastisch gedichtje
Proficiat, Johan van der Meulen!
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Zo is 't. |
17 juni 2013, 11:29 | #4 |
Secretaris-Generaal VN
Geregistreerd: 19 mei 2007
Berichten: 44.982
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Prima docent Dunglish.
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Het volk begrijpen plaveit de weg naar leiderschap begrijpen (oude stelregel van het geslacht Atreides) Disce Quasi Semper Victurus, Vive Quasi Cras Moriturus I saw that I could put an end to your outrages by pronouncing a single word in my mind. I pronounced it. The word was ‘No.’ And I declared I would stop the motor of the world. |