DNB_Seagull
Dirty Northerner. For now
- Apr 27, 2014
- 579
Hopeful
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What single word summarises how you feel about the play-offs right now?
- Thread starter Bozza
- Start date
Awake.
SeagullinExile
Well-known member
Slightly stoned now...
smillie's garden
Am I evil?
- Aug 11, 2003
- 2,612
fantods
imissworthing2
New member
Worried (it's my general disposition tho)
East Preston Gull
New member
Putrid
AZ Gull
@SeagullsAcademy Threads: @bhafcacademy
Expectant.
GingerBeerMan
3-0
- Dec 29, 2011
- 8,036
Slipped it in there without anyone noticing. Nice.
desprateseagull
New member
http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/269700.html
Apologies to Henry V..
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our Championship dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest Seagulls.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Amexers,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in Sussex, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Oscar, Albion, and WEMBLEYYY!'
Apologies to Henry V..
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our Championship dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest Seagulls.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Amexers,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in Sussex, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Oscar, Albion, and WEMBLEYYY!'
jojobarnet
New member
- May 28, 2013
- 12
poogate
