An egg is an egg, said the beadle, but he took the goose-egg.
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Morse Moose & The Grey Goose
Right on down at the bottom of the sea
Tell me are you receiving me?
My name is morse moose and Im calling you
The grey goose was a steady boat
People said shes never float
One night when the moon was high
The grey goose flew away
As we were sailing round the rocks
The mate took out his compass box
And said the wind is like a fox
But the grey goose flew away
When out upon the open sea
The admiral, the mate and me
Prepared to face eternity
But the grey goose flew away
She flew into the stormy sea
Davy jones was calling me
But heading for tranquility
The grey goose flew away
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hole In My Head
Hole in my head
hole in my head
I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
Let's just say we will and then don't instead
Wild goose chase
Wild goose chase
You're gonna take me boy on a wild goose chase
You're gonna take me boy on a wild goose chase
You better find somebody to take my place
You took my imagination and stomped it inthe ground
Now I can only think about you
chasin' the tracks that you left around
Hole in my head
hole in my head
Oh I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
You make me feel so bad that I wish I was dead
Let the games begin
Yeah here I go again
I'm never gonna win
It must have knocked me crazy
it must have hit me hard
People must think I'm lazy
Like my shuffle's short
of playing a card
Wild goose chase
Wild goose chase
Oh I need a boy like you
like a wild goose chase
I need a boy like you
like a wild goose chase
You better find somebody to take my place
Let the games begin
Yeah here I go again
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
I need a boy like you
Like a hole in my head
Hole in my head
Hole in my head
Hole in my head
Hole in my head
Like a hole in my head
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
song performed by by Dixie Chicks from Fly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Goose
If you know how to catch a mouse
The world will beat a pathway to your door
But since the first ones found our house
I can appreciate the saying more
I dont know
What they expect to find
I dont know
I cant make up my mind
They say hes got a special gift
But I dont envy him at all
They started camping in the yard
Theyve got their ears pressed up against the wall
I dont know
How long can this go on
I dont know
How did it last this long
Everybody wants an egg from the golden goose
But no one cares if theyre the one
Who kills the golden goose
Everybody wants an egg from the golden goose
I wonder just how many eggs are in the golden goose?
A paparazzis at the door
He says hes here from people magazine
And theres some lady on the phone
Wants him to advertise designer jeans
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thinking to get at once all the gold the goose could give, he killed it and opened it only to find - nothing.
Aesop in The Goose with the Golden Eggs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Christmas Goose
Mr. Smiggs was a gentleman,
And he lived in London town;
His wife she was a good kind soul,
And seldom known to frown.
'Twas on Christmas eve,
And Smiggs and his wife lay cosy in bed,
When the thought of buying a goose
Came into his head.
So the next morning,
Just as the sun rose,
He jump'd out of bed,
And he donn'd his clothes,
Saying, "Peggy, my dear.
You need not frown,
For I'll buy you the best goose
In all London town."
So away to the poultry shop he goes,
And bought the goose, as he did propose,
And for it he paid one crown,
The finest, he thought, in London town.
When Smiggs bought the goose
He suspected no harm,
But a naughty boy stole it
From under his arm.
Then Smiggs he cried, "Stop, thief!
Come back with my goose!"
But the naughty boy laugh'd at him,
And gave him much abuse.
But a policeman captur'd the naughty boy,
And gave the goose to Smiggs,
And said he was greatly bother'd
By a set of juvenile prigs.
So the naughty boy was put in prison
For stealing the goose.,
And got ten days' confinement
Before he got loose.
So Smiggs ran home to his dear Peggy,
Saying, "Hurry, and get this fat goose ready,
That I have bought for one crown;
So, my darling, you need not frown."
"Dear Mr Smiggs, I will not frown:
I'm sure 'tis cheap for one crown,
Especially at Christmas time --
Oh! Mr Smiggs, it's really fine."
"Peggy. it is Christmas time,
So let us drive dull care away,
For we have got a Christmas goose,
So cook it well, I pray.
"No matter how the poor are clothed,
Or if they starve at home,
We'll drink our wine, and eat our goose,
Aye, and pick it to the bone."
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Knowledge is power, if you know it about the right person.
quote by Erastus Flavel Beadle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The beadle of the parish is always of the vicar's opinion.
Stravinsky used Mother Goose. He was influenced by Mother Goose, indirectly, but very beautifully.
quote by Gyorgy Ligeti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Goose who Loved Golf
On the flight path down from Quebec
in the recent past, they say,
The lead goose saw a foursome
on the fairway, hard at play.
Their clothing was intriguing
Bright Argyles and Staid plaids
Little lackeys followed them,
carrying their bags.
The goose brigade lost interest
in proceeding South that day.
Instead they landed on the course
intent on watching play.
The lead Goose now spent all his time
At Bethpage, on the Black,
and honked golf commentary
to all his fledgling flock.
This lead Goose was the First,
brave Avian pioneer,
who broke the pattern going South-
instead he wintered here.
The Geese are protected by the law,
so we have no recourse.
We can't hunt down these honkers
who are greasing up the course.
Within one human lifetime-
a revolutionary change.
the geese have all stopped flying South
They're students of the game.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Half the work that is done in the world is to make things appear what they are not.
quote by Erastus Flavel Beadle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Songs of the duck
A duck praised a goose for her rich songs
And wanted the goose to comment her songs,
Which she did as the propriety demanded.
The duck believed true the comments made.
A nightingale was singing alone unheard.
28.12.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Looking For A Goose To Cook
When you find that you've been saddled for a ride...
Move your hoofs.
When you find that you've been saddled for a ride...
Someone's got you hooked!
When you find that you've been saddled for a ride...
Move your hoofs.
When you find that you've been saddled for a ride...
Someone's got you hooked!
I know,
When I'm hooked.
I can't,
Move my hoofs.
And I don't want to be,
Saddled down...
By a lover,
Looking for a goose to cook.
I know,
When I'm hooked.
I can't,
Move my hoofs.
And I don't want to be,
Saddled down...
By a lover,
Looking for a goose to cook.
When you find that you've been saddled for a ride...
Move your hoofs.
When you find that you've been saddled for a ride...
Someone's got you hooked!
I know,
When I'm hooked.
I can't,
Move my hoofs.
And I don't want to be,
Saddled down...
By a lover...
Looking for a goose to cook.
Many looking at a saddled goose to cook.
And I don't want to be a saddled goose to cook.
Many looking at a saddled goose to cook.
And I don't want to be a saddled goose to cook.
I know,
When I'm hooked.
I can't,
Move my hoofs.
And I don't want to be,
Saddled down...
By a lover,
Looking for a goose to cook.
Many looking at a saddled goose to cook.
And I don't want to be a saddled goose to cook.
Many looking at a saddled goose to cook.
And I don't want to be a saddled goose to cook.
Many,
Are looking for a goose to cook.
Many,
Are looking for a goose to cook.
And I don't want to be a saddled goose to cook.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Mouse Who Ate Louse
The rat who ate louse
was really funny
as he thought he was fast enough to race the bunny
he had a race with the bunny
and it was funny
that the bunny
raced him as ought to loose
so he said to the goose
oh no here I loose
its OK said the goose
but he said no I hadn't ought to loose
why said the goose
you ought to loose
so said the mouse
its OK I'll have a competition who eats more louse
with the bunny
ya said the funny bunny
lets do the competition
so won the mouse at eating louse! ! ! ! !
poem by Aryaman Ajit Naik
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There was an Ol Man of Quebec,
A beetle ran over his neck;
But he cried, 'With a needle,
I'll slay you, O beadle!'
That angry Old Man of Quebec.
by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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Gold digger and the Golden Goose
Though the miner digs for gold he never gets gold; only the weekend poor wage he counts with tears
And the gold runs to the tycoon.
The poor man's golden goose never lays golden eggs.
*[ According to the ancient Greek fable, the owner killed the goose to get all the gold at once.]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Hiding With A Squab
'Have you run out of luck? '
Said the goose who left a flock of geese,
On an approach...
To what was thought,
To be a sitting duck plucked.
~No not at all.~
Replied a nearby pigeon,
Practicing ventriloquism...
And hiding with a squab,
Of witnessing young pigeons.
~My family and I,
Have grown tired of berries, popcorn and nuts.
And we decided to use a decoy,
To see what showed up.
But to my surprise,
A nosey goose has arrived.
Strutting with a pulchritude...
To annoy a duck...
My uncle disguised.
Telling me that I had talents,
The family thought could be put to better use.
And here you come strutting...
Believing a plucked duck has run out of luck,
When tonight a family of pigeons....
Are going to feast on cooked goose.
Something to feed the younger pigeons,
To lift them with an ego boost!
Get 'em boys! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Oh I Use to Be That Goose to Cook
I use to be that goose to cook.
One taken for granted...
Because I had been out and open.
Making the chase easy to take.
As I healed from a mending...
Comprised of negativity and heartbreak.
And today that I no longer care,
Who is there to play hard to get...
In a game of hide and seek.
My presence is not readily available.
To anyone I thought was there to care.
With a sweeping off my feet in the air.
And this is no longer a challenge sought.
With a hope to make myself easily caught.
A sitting goose or a duck I am not.
Waiting from dawn until dusk to be fawned.
I've moved on to correct those things I felt wrong.
I don't do the snapping,
With the quick quips quacked back.
And if anyone comes believing,
I can be strung along?
I tell them immediately I am booked.
'Oh, I use to be that goose to cook.'
But now I recognize myself to be a swan.
Living on the other side,
Of a more diverse...
And populated pond.
To strut and not waddle as I proceed in song.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There was an Old Person of Cheadle,
Who was put in the stocks by the beadle
For stealing some pigs,
Some coats, and some wigs,
That horrible person of Cheadle.
quote by by Edward Lear
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Political Economy
'I beg you to note,' said a Man to a Goose,
As he plucked from her bosom the plumage all loose,
'That pillows and cushions of feathers and beds
As warm as maids' hearts and as soft as their heads,
Increase of life's comforts the general sum
Which raises the standard of living.' 'Come, come,'
The Goose said, impatiently, 'tell me or cease,
How that is of any advantage to geese.'
'What, what!' said the man-'you are very obtuse!
Consumption no profit to those who produce?
No good to accrue to Supply from a grand
Progressive expansion, all round, of Demand?
Luxurious habits no benefit bring
To those who purvey the luxurious thing?
Consider, I pray you, my friend, how the growth
Of luxury promises-' 'Promises,' quoth
The sufferer, 'what?-to what course is it pledged
To pay me for being so often defledged?'
'Accustomed'-this notion the plucker expressed
As he ripped out a handful of down from her breast
'To one kind of luxury, people soon yearn
For others and ever for others in turn;
And the man who to-night on your feathers will rest,
His mutton or bacon or beef to digest,
His hunger to-morrow will wish to assuage
By dining on goose with a dressing of sage.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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