We three hundred with King Leonidas
Held our ground against all who defied us.
It was a battle hard fought
Until dead we were caught,
Killing Persians in front and behind us.
Mother Mary, immaculate born
To bear the Son of God;
In thee a new Eve, between night and morn,
When dawn is born of sorrows.
Ever virgin, who bore all in faith,
Ye laid thyself bare before God.
Emptied there He filled thee with grace,
from the fruit of thy womb all grace flows.
My country where is she?
Buried by diversity, bled dry by thieves.
Our fathers would have cried,
To see the day she died,
as I flee to the mountains high,
I weep for thee.
When conversing with a lady
There are some things a man should never do,
Like comparing the shade of her eye shadow
To an oyster shells green hue,
Especially if the exquisite beauty of a coppered emerald shell
Was an aspect of the oyster she’d never seen or knew.