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friday
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SAY BONECRUSHER, PLEASE DON'T CRUSH MY BONES!
I wasn't born with enough middle fingers.
[Brandon Roderick? You mean Brock's Toadie?][Hanged from Yggdrasil]Comment
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THE SACRED WAR
Arise, vast country,
Arise for a fight to the death
Against the dark fascist forces,
Against the cursed hordes.
Chorus: (2x)
Let noble wrath
Boil over like a wave!
This is the peoples' war,
a sacred war!
We shall repulse the oppressors
Of all ardent ideas.
The rapists and the plunderers,
The torturers of people.
Chorus
The black wings shall not dare
Fly over the Motherland,
On her spacious fields
The enemy shall not dare tread!
Chorus
We shall drive a bullet into the forehead
Of the rotten fascist filth,
We shall build a solid coffin
For the scum of humanity!
Chorus (2x)
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sacred_War)Comment
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"The Christian way has not been tried and found wanting, it has been found to be hard and left untried" - GK Chesterton.
"The most obvious predicition about the future is that it will be mostly like the past" - Alain de BottonComment
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"The Christian way has not been tried and found wanting, it has been found to be hard and left untried" - GK Chesterton.
"The most obvious predicition about the future is that it will be mostly like the past" - Alain de BottonComment
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GIOVINEZZA ("YOUTH")
Hail, people of heroes,
Hail, immortal Fatherland,
Your sons were born again
With the faith and the Ideal.
Your warriors' valour,
Your pioneers' virtue,
Alighieri's vision,
Today shines in every heart
Youth, Youth,
Spring of beauty,
In the hardship of life
Your song rings and goes!
In the Italian borders,
Italians have been remade
Mussolini has remade them
For tomorrow's war,
For labour's glory,
For peace and for the laurel,
For the shame of those
Who repudiated our Fatherland
The poets and the artisans,
The lords and the countrymen,
With an Italian's pride
Swear fealty to Mussolini
No poor neighbourhood exists
That doesn't send its hordes
That doesn't unfurl the flags
Of redeeming Fascism
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giovinezza)Comment
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ERIKA
On the heath, there blooms a little flower
and it's called Erika.
Eagerly doted on by a hundred thousand little bees,
do swarm all over this Erika.
For her heart is full of sweetness,
a tender scent escapes her blossom-gown.
On the heath, there blooms a little flower
and it's called Erika.
Back at home, there lives a little maiden
and she's called Erika.
That girl is my faithful little darling
and my joy, Erika!
When the heather blooms in a reddish purple,
I sing her this song in greeting.
On the heath, there blooms a little flower
and it's called Erika.
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erika_%28song%29)Attached FilesComment
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