Man oh man, does Marcus Flint need to get his teeth fixed! I think that is the W*O*R*S*T case of British teeth I have E*V*E*R seen in my life! Get thee to an orthodontist, child!!!

The system taught children to be skillless, big head but small hands.

I, for my part, ask any candid reader if it was not bad enough to be called Broadfoot, without having it aggravated into Stephen Broadfoot? I feel confident I will here get a tear of sympathy from all unhappy Andrews and Peters, and Aarons and Samuels, with a smile of disdainful compassion from thrice-happy Franks and Charleys and Bills.

A Revelator song notable for its classic uses of balance and incremental repetition, for its fusion of New Testament apocalyptic images, its folk diction and syntax fitted out as pulpit rhetoric and prophecy, and its sensitivity to simultaneously occurring dimensions of time and space. The vision of the speaker, superimposed on the apocalyptic vision of John the Revelator, includes all time and eternity: the remote past during which the Revelator, from exile on Patmos, wrote his letters to the seven churches; the immediate past of the dead mother who now dwells on the island with the prophet; the present of the leader or preacher who, as head of the church to which the speaker belongs, has received a letter—the Book of Revelation itself—from John; the eternal present in which the speaker and the prophet coexist spiritually; and the rapidly approaching future, the last days which John prophesied.