Bucket T
Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Found her in a barn in tennessee
I paid five bucks for my bucket t
Took me three years of sweat and blood
To clean off all that tennessee mud
Chorus:
My bucket t (bucket t)
Bucket t (bucket t)
My bucket t (bucket t)
My bucket t (bucket t)
T t t... bucket bucket bucket...
Cruise down the street in front of school
I wanna rev it up but I gotta be cool
Drivin down the road Ill get my kicks
Apoppin the clutch and aslippin the sticks
[chorus]
I was right, too, shes first in her class
Theres nothing on the freeway she dont pass
All the girls want to take a ride with me
But theres only one seat in my bucket t
[chorus]
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Bucket Kicker
What rhymes with bucket?
'That depends.
Is the bucket empty?
And
Is there anyone kicking it? '
Let's say the bucket is full.
And it is being carried?
'In a Porshe?
Or a Mercedes? '
You know
Sometimes I wonder why,
I bother to ask you anything!
'Oh
So 'you're' the kicker?
That should be obvious.'
Why is it obvious now?
'Well,
If a bucket is struck by a kicker out of luck
And that bucket is not picked up,
That bucket struck aint worth
What's being dumped into it from an outhouse.'
What's an outhouse have to do with it?
'That's for you to figure out
That bucket I'm going to carry
Is going to be in the trunk of my limousine.'
Thank you.
But that doesn't rhyme with bucket
'My plucked duckets
In the trunk of a limo
Sitting filled to the brim
In my golden bucket
And your hands aint around
Or near enough to touch it
Uh, I don't know about you
But that sounds very poetic to me
And you can fuss and cuss,
While kicking your bucket all you want
Thank you for your inspiration.'
No problem.
I just know from now on
Not to ask you anything
'I'm cool with that
Bucket kicker.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Bucket Of Water
One bucket of water
Razed the city to ashes.
One bucket of water
Could not quench the fire
Blazing from the town's
Central pump.
One bucket of water
A man held, jumped the
Queue to the pump.
One bucket of water
At the pump, about to
Collect water, resisted.
They stared each other
In the eye. Their tribal
Marks were different.
They threw caution to
The winds. Including
All buckets on the line.
Everyone queued behind
Their tribal marks. And
The city burnt through its
Length and breath. Death
Sprung out of life. And life
Spilled out of the bucket.
poem by Adeoye Adetoba
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There once was a man from Nantucket
Who kept all his cash in a bucket.
But his daughter named Nan,
Ran away with a man
And as for the bucket, Nantucket.
by Dayton Voorhees from Princeton Tiger (1902)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Say Hallelujah
Say Hallelujah
Throw up your hands
The bucket is kicked
The body is gone
Close your eyes
And bow your head
To rest your soul
And to praise the dead
Say Hallelujah
Throw up your hands
The bucket is kicked
The body is gone
Dry your eyes
And stand upright
Put a smile on your face
He wouldnt want us to cry
The sun will rise
The stars will shine
Turning day to dusk
And night to dawn
Well pass on
But until that time
Say Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Say Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Say Hallelujah
Throw up your hands
The bucket is kicked
The body is gone
Have mercy
Its a wonderful life
Eternal rest for the weary
Mourners party tonight
Say Hallelujah
Throw up your hands
The bucket is kicked
The body is gone
Wave your hands
But dont say goodbye
Were all gonna meet you
On the other side
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Humble Bucket
There have been some great inventions
and some are not noted for their worth.
Take a humble bucket and all the uses
of it that can be employed.
It can carry water
when you’re thirty for a drink
or when you want a wash.
It can carry clothes
and most objects you can name.
You can put a bag in it
and use it as a waste paper bin
and it can be used as an overnight latrine
in case you are caught out
in the middle of the night.
A humble bucket
is one of the most versatile inventions ever made.
Australia’s most famous bushranger Ned Kelly
used a metal one to cover his head and hide his identity.
The list of uses go on and on,
so the next time you see a humble bucket
raise a glass to him
for all the work he has done for us.
18 September 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Empty Bucket
You can make it better!
If you insist that it is.
By getting better,
With a doing more of it!
Much better.
If you want it to exist,
By getting better.
With a doing more of it.
Now...
Take that empty bucket and you tell yourself enough,
And then you kick it away...
To-day.
Now...
Take that empty bucket and you tell yourself enough,
And then you kick it away.
'Cause you can make it better!
And place and win on any bet,
By getting better.
And...
Do it at your best,
By getting better.
And be that best of better yet!
Now...
Take that empty bucket and you tell yourself enough,
And then you kick it away...
To-day,
Now...
Take that empty bucket and you tell yourself enough,
And then you kick it away.
'Cause you can make it better!
And place and win on any bet,
By getting better.
And...
Do it at your best,
By getting better.
And be the best of better yet,
But better...
Than an ever you can get!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother Penchallamma
Bursting the banks of the rain-fed tanks,
the swirling flood was swelling
the river Kundu in Cuddappah,
on twenty fourth August two thousand.
Carrying her two sons on her shoulders,
Penchallamma dared to cross the river,
in chest-deep strong current
to reach safe the other side,
as her house was engulfed
to be washed away soon.
The Collector from a helicopter
lowered down a plastic bucket,
to lift her up with her children.
Alas! Her seven year old boy
while climbing up into the bucket,
slipped and slumped into the river
and was swept away before her eyes!
Controlling her shock and grief,
She made her next attempt
to get into the swaying bucket.
But fate snatched her infant son
from her shivering hands
and dropped into the furious river.
She cursed the heavens and cried aloud,
pushed aside the bucket
and sank into the surging river.
God Himself can’t compensate her loss!
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Cosmic Time
Don't panic!
Be patient.
Aren't those the words you said to me?
Don't worry!
Things will change.
Maybe the wait wont take four hundred years.
In Cosmic time,
That's just a dropp in the bucket.
Don't panic!
Be patient.
Maybe your bucket will come brimming to the rim!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Big Red
Have you heard about big red?
They even bought a beebread rig
To help the flowers in mean space
Theyre trying to make that place green
Hope the trees will take away the storm [2x]
Dont know how this whole thing started
There was a crowd and then we parted
Dont know if Ill ever go back
Its a long way across all of this black
Here I am in my bucket today
In the middle
Here I am in my bucket today
In the middle
They got a mule they call sal
Bulldozing up canal walls
Theyre gonna tap that icecap too
When they do theyre gonna make that green map blue
The weather is finally getting warm
And the weather is really getting warm
Dont know how this whole thing started
There was a cloud and then it parted
Dont know if Ill ever go back
Thats how I felt when I left that tarmac
Here I am in my bucket today
In the middle
Here I am in my bucket today
In the middle
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire, Fire! The Earth Is On Fire!
Fire, fire! The earth’s on fire!
Pass me a bucket and join the queue
if you don’t then things will get dire.
The savannah, the Hague and the few
polar bears will soon be gone.
‘Where are the fire engines you ask? ’
Well every time you or I do a bucket run
a CEO can buy himself another cask
of vintage Burgundy and his wife a gold locket
because he owns the rights to all the buckets.
poem by Blogging Paper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A minnow, trench and a widow
I found a guppy struggles to swim in that lack of water ditch
And I borrowed a bucket of water from the near by watering widow.
Then I poured the whole into the ditch.
Oh! The minnow swims happily I watched
And I too felt happy after a long time.
I returned the bucket and said; 'Thank you very much Madam.'
I sniffed and measured her roomy smile
Really it's deeper than the trench.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Assauer
'Won-nkan Kyierenu'!
Tell him that i love him and,
I will die for him only;
Because, his love is like the lovely bird that sleeps in peace.
Your name is Assauer and i love you,
For my bucket is full of the sweet of love!
Your name is Assauer and your bucket is empty,
So come to me like the muse of the sea.
Like the days of Noah,
My mind is only for you my sweet one;
For i came, i saw, and i conquered!
But you came, you met and you followed;
For we are like the little birds far apart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seashells in the Bucket
Vs.1 Walkin' at the beach, I
Thought I saw a bird fly,
Decided to follow it down a ways.
Then it flew away, and
I tripped and fell in the sand,
That's when I realized what all I did today.
(chorus)
I put seashells in the bucket,
And I waded in the water,
Didn't think it could get much hotter,
But, boy, was I wrong.
I went to eat some lunch,
And I made a castle out of sand,
Some little kid just stepped on my hand,
But the day's still goin' on,
So I sat down 'n' started writin' this song.
Vs.2 That's when it started to rain,
I knew that I would stay
Outside in it 'cause it felt good to me.
Then, the sun came back out,
And I started to pout,
But I had done a lot this week.
(chorus) x 2
Yes, they're still in the bucket,
And I'm done with this song!
poem by Rebecca Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bucket of Water
carrying a bucket of water
up a hill... careful not to spill.
whose life will i come
in contact with today?
and what kind of impact
will i make?
do i do enough?
or am i deluding myself?
do i really care?
or am i just going
through the motions?
when someone talks,
do i listen?
when i listen,
do i really hear?
when someone is hurting,
do i feel it?
or am i so hardened
and calloused from the battles,
that i dont really feel
much of anything?
when someone else needs,
do i take the time to really
be there?
or am i so blind
that i just walk by?
when this day is over,
will i really have lived
every moment?
hard questions you ask yourself...
carrying a bucket of water
up a hill...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Back On The Train
When I jumped off, I had a bucket full of thoughts
When I first jumped off, I held that bucket in my hand
Ideas that would take me all around the world
I stood and watched the smoke behind the mountain curl
It took me a long time to get back on the train
Now I'm gone and I'll never look back again
I'm gone and I'll never look back at all
You know I'll never look back again
I turn my face into the howlin' wind
It took me a long time to get back on the train
See my face in the town that's flashing by
See me standing at the station in the rain
See me standing there beside the car
I left it all behind, again I'll travel far
It took me a long time to get back on the train
When I jumped off, I had a bucket full of thoughts
When I first jumped off, I held that bucket in my hand
Ideas that would take me all around the world
I stood and watched the smoke behind the mountains curl
It took me a long time to get back on the train
It took me a long time to get back on the train
It took me a long time to get back on the train
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Possibilities of Ice
One day at school
I decided to put a pool
Of ice water over Mrs. Stuart's desk
When she sat down in the chair
The bucket turned in the air
And boy I swear what a mess
She stood up to shout
The person responsible will be out
Of school for a couple of days
It was funny to see
The stunned looks of glee
But not as funny as that teacher's face
Although I got out
Because of that teacher's shout
Mr. Owen said to me
Nice work young one
But the trouble's only begun
Because when you come back there'll be
Mrs. Stuart with a bucket of ice
And a room full of unsanitary mice
So Mrs. Stuart
I'm as sorry as I could possibly be
But you should have sen the look on your face
The day that you yelled at me.
poem by Mystykka Mysterious
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I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells
460
I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells—
Deep dug—for Summer days—
Where Mosses go no more away—
And Pebble—safely plays—
It's made of Fathoms—and a Belt—
A Belt of jagged Stone—
Inlaid with Emerald—half way down—
And Diamonds—jumbled on—
It has no Bucket—Were I rich
A Bucket I would buy—
I'm often thirsty—but my lips
Are so high up—You see—
I read in an Old fashioned Book
That People "thirst no more"—
The Wells have Buckets to them there—
It must mean that—I'm sure—
Shall We remember Parching—then?
Those Waters sound so grand—
I think a little Well—like Mine—
Dearer to understand—
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lunch Bucket
Lunch bucket on the kitchen counter
They closed the plant
Jobs sent over seas for cheap labor
Now they blame it on the workers
They blame it on the laid off
They bust unions, call people lazy
They take away benefits
They protect the rich that shipped the jobs
He looks at his kid’s pictures
Daughter in seventh grade
His son turning nine
What am I going to do without healthcare?
Can I find another job with benefits?
The right-wingers are fighting healthcare
He feels the anger of a country loosing dreams
His lunch bucket has a name not a number
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Two poems about separation, different themes
The separation
I put the money in a bucket,
lowered it down to him
taking care that the notes
didn't fly off.
He made a grab for the pail,
clutched it greedily
as he'd once held me
and walked away, grinning.
A bucket load of money
was all he'd ever wanted,
and now, at last,
he was sated.
Separation came as a friend
and though I'm left poorer
I feel as rich as a King
and better for it.
The Separation
I can't put into words,
can't express,
the anxiety,
sadness,
worry
it caused me.
I can't tell you how I cried,
how my stomach hurt,
how I stressed
and fretted
and then ___
I saw you.
You'd lost weight,
you were a shadow,
of your former self,
your eyes were sunken in
you were grief stricken and
you reached for my hand.
We walked, together,
through the emptiness
and somehow
the separation,
the loneliness
had been a transition
mending the rift between us.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What can you do with a good cow that gives a lot of milk and then kicks the bucket over?