Free online greeting card maker or poetry art generator. Create free custom printable greeting cards or art from photos and text online. Use PoetrySoup's free online software to make greeting cards from poems, quotes, or your own words. Generate memes, cards, or poetry art for any occasion; weddings, anniversaries, holidays, etc (See examples here). Make a card to show your loved one how special they are to you. Once you make a card, you can email it, download it, or share it with others on your favorite social network site like Facebook. Also, you can create shareable and downloadable cards from poetry on PoetrySoup. Use our poetry search engine to find the perfect poem, and then click the camera icon to create the card or art.
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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required “ARE you ready for your steeplechase, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorree? Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree. You’re booked to ride your capping race to-day at Coulterlee, You’re booked to ride Vindictive, for all the world to see, To keep him straight, and keep him first, and win the run for me.” Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree. She clasp’d her newborn baby, poor Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorrèe, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree. “I cannot ride Vindictive, as any man might see, And I will not ride Vindictive, with this baby on my knee; He ’s kill’d a boy, he ’s kill’d a man, and why must he kill me?” “Unless you ride Vindictive, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorree, Unless you ride Vindictive to-day at Coulterlee, And land him safe across the brook, and win the blank for me, It ’s you may keep your baby, for you ’ll get no keep from me.” “That husbands could be cruel,” said Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorrèe, “That husbands could be cruel, I have known for seasons three; But oh, to ride Vindictive while a baby cries for me, And be kill’d across a fence at last for all the world to see!” She master’d young Vindictive—O, the gallant lass was she! And kept him straight and won the race as near as near could be; But he kill’d her at the brook against a pollard willow tree; Oh! he kill’d her at the brook, the brute, for all the world to see, And no one but the baby cried for poor Lorraine, Lorree.
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