A man with trousers that are too short should wear long suspenders.
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Show Tune II
That's the long and short of it
now you know
how I've been waiting all these years
where I'm coming from
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
just how hot hot jazz was
how it turned about, my bookcase
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you know
that my arrest record's
not my best record
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
how the Past's like a love
you can neither leave nor live
that's the long and short of it
That's the long and short of it
now you know
it was no gun in my pocket
it was a rocket
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
and you're wond'ring dear
how I kept so pure
hull, it was easy
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
so bounce your head
into bed
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
read the blues
in these tattoos
make a song of it
that's the short and long of it.
How I wish
there was a bridge-
then I could burn it;
or the train
of a refrain
then I could board it
but there isn't
no there isn't, so...
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Wot a Pair
I waz walking down Wyefront street
When me trousers ran away,
I waz feeling incomplete
But still me trousers would not stay,
When I found where they had gone
De pair addressed me rather blunt,
And they told me they were sick of being put on
Back to front.
I told dem I would treat dem good
And wear dem back to back,
I promised dem protection
From a friend who is a mac,
Me trousers did not believe a single word I had to say,
And me underpants were laughing
When me trousers ran away.
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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A Naked Ape!
Imagine if a Llama wore pajamas
or a Leopard put a cap upon his head.
Just think about a kangaroo in trousers
or a sheep all shorn in little skirt and vest.
Most animals would look a tad alarming
in any sort of formal wear or cloth,
but take a human being wearing nothing
now that would be quite shocking at the shops.
Imagine you or I, all bare and naked,
no underwear, no trousers and no socks.
Our faces would turn pink to think about it
but a monkey really couldn't give a toss.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Why Do I Wear Red Suspenders?
My red suspenders –
Red—
Not the scarlet red
of the used-up, spent blood
of the veins,
but crimson—
the bright-red oxygen saturated
arterial liquid of life.-
That link to consciousness
and stimulant of existence.
As blood supports my life,
those braces, those garters,
those hangers, those supporters,
those suspensories,
those Red Suspenders—
help cover my nakedness
as the God-made garment covered Adam.
And so the mundane, the ridiculous,
becomes profound.
poem by Fred Babbin
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A Wing And A Prayer
I heard someone talking
about kids and what they wear.
They said they walk about these days
wearing nothing but a wing and a prayer.
I smiled to myself at that remark
because it was obviously they had forgot
about the clothes they used to wear.
So before we are quick to condemn
lets take a trip down memory lane,
back to the clothes we used to wear
when we were that age
and to the designs that were all the rage.
Suppose we go back to the sixties
now that was a good time,
the Mods and the Rockers,
scooters and motorbikes,
not to forget Flower Power.
Oh, yes I remember it well.
The drainpipe trousers,
sitting in the bath
to shrink the jeans down,
not forgetting the holy vest and long hair,
brothel creepers and winkle picker shoes,
and that was just the boys.
What about the girls with their skirts?
There was the maxi, the mini and the micro,
the latter once described as nothing more than a long scarf.
So before we condemn the youngsters today
for going around with nothing but a wing and a prayer, l
et us not forget what we used to wear.
I can remember my parents saying
your showing your knee
now that is so shocking.
Today people look at youngsters
saying it wasn’t like that in my day.
Don’t you believe it,
we were just as bad,
and we were just as crazy as kids today.
When it came to our clothes,
we have no right to condemn
for whatever they wear.
We were just the same at their age,
we used to wear
nothing more than a wing and a prayer.
We called it Fashion
way, way back then,
the same as they call it now.
poem by David Harris
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Short Peoople
Short People got no reason
Short People got no reason
Short People got no reason
To live
They got little hands
And little eyes
And they walk around
Tellin' great big lies
They got little noses
And tiny little teeth
They wear platform shoes
On their nasty little fett
Well I don't want no Short People
Don't want no Short People
Don't want no Short People
Round here
Short People are just the same
As you and I
(A Fool Such As I)
All men are brothers
Until the day they die
(It's A Wonderful World)
Short People got nobody
Short People got nobody
Short People got nobody
To love
They got little baby legs
And they stand so low
You got to pick 'em up
Just to say hello
They got little cars
That got beep, beep, beep
They got little voices
Goin' peep, peep, peep
They got grubby little fingers
And dirty little minds
They're gonna get you every time
Well, I don't want no Short People
Don't want no Short People
Don't want no Short People
'Round here
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soily
People gathered here tonight,
I want you to listen to me!
To your left and to you right,
Youve got some pretty soily company.
Reader, writer, farmer, priest,
Breed controler, born deceased.
Indian, lawyer, doctor, dog,
And a plumber with a fattened hog.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily,
You know hes right.
Romans, italians, country men,
I want you to listen to me!
Ive said it twice and Ill say it again,
Weve got some pretty soily company.
Liar, cheater, jungle chief,
Saint, believer on relief.
Action painter, hitlers son,
And a commie with a tommy gun.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily,
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never wear your best trousers when you go out to fight for freedom and truth.
quote by Henrik Ibsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snap (Fun Poem 125)
Woke up and had a shower
felt great and refreshed,
laid my clothes out
and started to get dressed.
Dragged on my trousers
and then pulled on my belt.
Snap!
I stood there with half a belt in my hand
and my trousers around my ankles.
Now I need a length of string
to hold my trousers up.
Looks like it gonna be
a new belt day today.
(7 July 2011)
poem by David Harris
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Vegetable Man
In yellow shoes I get the blues
Though I walk the streets with my plastic feet
With my blue velvet trousers, make me feel pink
Theres a kind of stink about blue velvet trousers
In my paisley shirt I look a jerk
And my turquoise waistcoat is quite out of sight
But oh oh my haircut looks so bad
Vegetable man how are you?
So Ive changed my dear, and I find my knees,
And I covered them up with the latest cut,
And my pants and socks all point in a box,
They dont make long of my nylon socks,
The watch, black watch
My watch with a black face
And a big pin, a little hole,
And all the lot is what I got,
Its what I wear, its what you see,
It must be me, its what I am,
Vegetable man.
Ive been looking all over the place for a place for me,
But it aint anywhere, it just aint anywhere.
Vegetable man, vegetable man,
Hes the kind of person, you just gonna see him if you can,
Vegetable man.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Short People
Short people
Short people got no reason
Short people got no reason
Short people got no reason
To live
They got little hands
Little eyes
They walk around
Tellin great big lies
They got little noses
And tiny little teeth
They wear platform shoes
On their nasty little feet
Well, I dont want no short people
Dont want no short people
Dont want no short people
'round here
Short people are just the same
As you and i
(a fool such as I)
All men are brothers
Until the day they die
(its a wonderful world)
Short people got nobody
Short people got nobody
Short people got nobody
To love
They got little baby legs
That stand so low
You got to pick em up
Just to say hello
They got little cars
That go beep, beep, beep
They got little voices
Goin peep, peep, peep
They got grubby little fingers
And dirty little minds
Theyre gonna get you every time
Well, I dont want no short people
Dont want no short people
Dont want no short people
round here
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marriage Changes Things
You will never be faithful!
How do I know that?
Well...
First of all,
My name is not Brandon.
And those argyle sox,
You said I left the other night...
Aren't mine!
I may be forgetful...
But no,
I did not leave suspenders
In your bathroom last week!
Yes...
I do wear Old Spice.
But I certainly wouldn't put it
Under the sofa!
These are just but hints...
That you could not be faithful to me!
Marriage?
You say marriage changes things?
Well,
It appears you have assisted and allowed...
Many of those changes to occur in here,
Already!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Red And Brown
- Why do you always wear the red shirt?
- They assert that…it’s to avert the fright of seeing blood
when I am wounded.
I am quite salted and not a crud.
- Now I understand your point of view.
Looking at you a picture I drew:
You always wear the brown trousers
for not having any moral traumas.
The outflow of your shit nothing will show,
But ….only your crow.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 7th of January,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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0016 Amphibrach
A tinker, a tailor, a soldier, a sailor...
‘A one and a two and a three and a four, guys…’
The amphibrach sings one of poetry’s basics;
a metrical foot – though a difficult one; it
is named from the Greek, meaning short at
both ends – that is, short, long, short, short, long short;
a poet can use it like this for a few lines, or longer;
however, it always seems trying to be something
else – like, some poor donkey who’s lame in one hind-leg;
it’s happier changing to dactyl or ana-
pest – see what I mean, now?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Sexy AT Sixty
I was fit and feisty at fifty
It was no big deal
Because that's how half a century
Is supposed to feel.
In my sixties I'll take stock
Start making new plans
Ignoring all the cant's
Embracing all the can's.
Can I be sexy at sixty?
And try all the fashion and fads
Wear stockings an suspenders
And Joan Collins shoulder pads.
I can deal with sexy at sixty
And wear Vivienne Westwood clothes
Dress up and go out on the town
Wearing all my buttons and bows.
I'm going to be sexy at sixty
I'll wear Gok Wan lingerie
Find myself a toy boy
Then maybe lead him astray.
Swift and sexy at sixty
When I get my Jimmy Choos
Dancing the night away
To the sound of Rhythm and Blues.
Oh! I want to be sexy at sixty
Cause age is a state of mind
I'm preparing my body at keep fit
So as not to be left behind.
But first I have to deal with
Old skin, bad teeth, grey hair
Then remove the unwanted growths
From just about everywhere.
Then! I'll definitely be sexy at sixty
And undoubtedly done it all
The only problem is that most of it
I simply won't recall.
poem by Hazel Connelly
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A Song For Kilts
How grand the human race would be
If every man would wear a kilt,
A flirt of Tartan finery,
Instead of trousers, custom built!
Nay, do not think I speak to joke:
(You know I'm not that kind of man),
I am convinced that all men folk.
Should wear the costume of a Clan.
Imagine how it's braw and clean
As in the wind it flutters free;
And so conducive to hygiene
In its sublime simplicity.
No fool fly-buttons to adjust,--
Wi' shanks and maybe buttocks bare;
Oh chiels, just take my word on trust,
A bonny kilt's the only wear.
'Twill save a lot of siller too,
(And here a canny Scotsman speaks),
For one good kilt will wear you through
A half-a-dozen pairs of breeks.
And how it's healthy in the breeze!
And how it swings with saucy tilt!
How lassies love athletic knees
Below the waggle of a kilt!
True, I just wear one in my mind,
Since sent to school by Celtic aunts,
When girls would flip it up behind,
Until I begged for lowland pants.
But now none dare do that to me,
And so I sing with lyric lilt,--
How happier the world would be
If every male would wear a kilt!
poem by Robert William Service
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Girls can wear jeans, cut their hair short, wear shirts and boots, 'cause it's okay to be a boy, but for a boy to look like a girl is degrading.
quote by Charlotte Gainsbourg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vest
Why do you wear a vest?
Do you really need to wear it?
When you come to me…
Don’t you think it prevents me
From accessing you directly?
Come to me only with your
Buttoned up tucked in shirt,
Leave the rest to me…
What to do, how to do,
How long and how well to do.
The whys, hows and wherefores
Of doing things to you…
And when I do those things to you,
You’ll come back to me again
And again and again, and those
Endless times and again…
With that vestless shirt of yours
So that I could do those things
To you, unbuttoning so many ways
Of seeking the pleasures in you.
Don’t tell me where to begin.
I know the beginnings and the endings
The tops, the bottoms and the tips
The line breaks and the paragraphs
The commas, semi colons and full stops
All that punctuates to the last dot.
Not to forget your quest of queries
And my answers of exclamations!
I can do it in pairs or in singles
I know all the mixes and the mingles
I know what jerks and jingles!
I just know what you want
I can see it in your eyes…
I can feel it in your quivering voice
I can hear it in your ecstatic cries.
Let me practise before the final play
Let me trace you in your clothes -
And see what your shirt and trousers
Say! Hmmm…Feels Nice.
Doesn’t it? What? You loved it!
Wao! When? Oh, Yes!
I know that feels Nice.
When I touch you on those
Tips of yours, in the collars
And the pockets, on the left,
The right, the sides and the folds
Of that vestless shirt of yours -
And the pivots of your trousers.
Let’s get this over now.
Lots of practice had its way
Let’s now begin the final play
I know and I can feel that Bulge.
The Zip is panting to give you way
But it has to wait, you see…
For the buttons need to be undone
One by one, don’t make haste
Relax…slow down, breathe in,
Breathe out, savour every moment
Of your vestless shirt’s seduction
As the Fun has only just begun!
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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