The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
Ballad for the Times’ Special Silver Number Sez the Times a silver liningIs what has set us pining,Montague, Montague! In the season sad and wearyWhen our minds are very bleary,Montague, Montague! There is Sir Hen. DeterdingHis phrases interlarding,Montague, Montague! With…
Dole the Bell! Bell the Dole! Whom can these duds attack?Soapy Sime? Slipp’ry Mac?Naught but a shirt is thereSuch as the fascists wear,Never the man insideMoving a nation-wideDisgust with hokum. Plenty to right of ’em,Plenty to left of ’em,Yeh! What…
Wind Scarce and thin, scarce and thinThe government’s excuse,Never at all will they doAught of the slightest use.Over the dying half-wits blow,Over the empty-headed, and the slowMarchers, not getting forwarder,While Ramsay MacDonald sleeps, sleeps. Fester and rot, fester and rot,And…
Let some new lying ass,Who knows not what is or was,Talk economics,Pay for his witless noise,Get the kid nice new toys,Call him ‘professor’. Lies from the specialistGive t’old ones a newer twistHarder to untie.Here comes the hired gangBlood on each…
Did I ‘ear it ‘arf in a doze:The Co-ops was a goin’ somewhere,Did I ‘ear it while pickin’ ‘ops;How they better start takin’ care, That the papers were gettin’ togetherAnd the larger stores were likewiseConsidering something that would, as youMight…
The Neo-Commune Manhood of England,Dougth of the Shires,Want Russia to save ’emAnd answer their prayers.Want Russia to save ’em,Lenin to save ’em, Trotsky to save ’em(And valets to shave ’em)The youth of the Shires! Down there in CambridgeBetween auction and…
Listen, my children, and you shall hearThe midnight activities of Whats-his Name,Scarcely a general now known to fameCan tell you of that famous day and year. When feeble Mr. Asquith, getting old,The destinies of England were almost soldTo a Welsh…
Rudyard the dud yard,Rudyard the false measure,Told ’em that gloryAin’t always a pleasure,But said it wuz glorious neverthelessTo lick the boots of the blokeThat makes the worst mess. Keep up the grand systemDon’t tell what you know,Your grandad got the…
The pomps of butchery, financial power,Told ’em to die in war, and then to save,Then cut their saving to the half or lower;When will this system lie down in its grave? The pomps of Fleet St., festering year on year,Hid…
Sir Launcelot has a Newspaper Now My great press cleaves the guts of men,My great noise drowns their cries,My sales beat all the other ten,Because I print most lies. I get the kids out on the streetTo sell the papers…