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What's wrong with me?

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sandyRoe | 11:27 Mon 12th Nov 2012 | ChatterBank
19 Answers
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk...


Winter blues, I suppose?
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Strikes me you have a serious case of Keats disease there, sandy. 600mg of Ibuprofen, three times a day and stay clear of his tomes "Poems", "Endymion" and "Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St Agnes and Other Poems". This should be for a month at least.

To keep you going:

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had...
13:55 Mon 12th Nov 2012
I think it's that time of the year, sandy. I feel much the same.
I'd suggest a beaker of the warm South...but it's a bit early....
You mean they haven't approached you to be the next BBC DG?
Get yourself to your GP asap xx
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I think Seb Coe is probably going to be the next DG. The way he ran the Olympics shows he's got a safe pair of hands.
An raibh tu ag ol uisce beatha?
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I can drink neither the water of life or the blushful hippocrene now, unfortunately :-(
if seb coe had run the olympics with a pair of hands i would have been impressed
Are you unlucky in love?
Sorry elliemay. It's all Greek to me.
Spending too much time in R&S probably. It's enough to give anyone the blues, in any season.
I vaguely remeber a poem with the final lines
If you but felt the pain I feel oh but whoever felt as I
Strikes me you have a serious case of Keats disease there, sandy. 600mg of Ibuprofen, three times a day and stay clear of his tomes "Poems", "Endymion" and "Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St Agnes and Other Poems". This should be for a month at least.

To keep you going:

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull AB opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Redman and Rowan had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in Chatterbank happiness,
That you, light-wingèd Venator of the trees,
In some melodious R&S plot
see Naomi green, and Jehovahs numberless,
Singest of Ed's summer in full-throated ease.

O for a draught of ratter vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the Devonian earth,
Tasting of Carakeel's brew and the Voddie's green,
Jogger Dance, and Sibton song, and netibiza sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm Sqad South!
Full of the true, the perpetual Ibuprofen,
With beaded gness Guinness bubbles winking at the brim,
And black and cream-stainèd mouth;
That you, Sandy might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with you, fade away into Winter dim.

tbc and adapted!
what does tbc mean DT? i keep thinkging elvis :-)
to be continued (probably not though as Keats will be turning in his grave)
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Ric.ror, you ask if I'm unlucky in love. I've had some luck when I ventured in that direction. Unfortunately, it's all been bad.
You have come up trumps again DT. Love your poems.
And I was just about to suggest to sandy that he go to the jokes section - might cheer him up.
Me too Sandy - but I always say its not what its cracked up to be ;-))
Sorry, Parkdale, it's Gaeilge for :Were you drinking whisky? Uisce beatha literally means, "the water of life."

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