Elder-berry is in the kitchen-garden, therefore your Uncle is in Kiev.
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Elderberries in the yard and an uncle in kiev.
Parody Of “Uncle Ned”
DERE was an old nigger, and him name was Uncle Tom,
And him tale was rather slow;
Me try to read de whole, but me only read some,
Because me found it no go.
Den hang up de auther Mrs. Stowe,
And kick de volume wid your toe—
And dere's no more public for poor Uncle Tom,
He am gone whar de trunk—lining go.
Him tale dribbles on and on widout a break,
Till you hab no eyes for to see;
When I reached Chapter 4 I had got a headache,
So I had to let Chapter 4 be.
Den hang up, etc.
De demand one fine morning for Uncle Tom died,
De tears down Mrs. Stowe's face ran like rain;
For she knew berry well, now dey'd laid him on de shelf,
Dat she'd neber get a publisher again.
Den hang up, etc.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Uncle's Shave.
Uncle’s Shave.
You used to watch Uncle
shave in front of the small mirror
propped on the edge
of the kitchen sink,
his face lathered
in white soap,
his cutthroat razor
held just a short distance
from his skin
by his right hand,
as the other hand
held the skin taut
in preparation
of the razor’s slide.
You stood behind
fascinated,
your young eyes
searching the mirror’s world
of Uncle’s face
and the performers start.
Uncle watched you
in the mirror,
his lips breaking
into a small smile,
the razor held
just above his ear,
his eyes staring above
the shaving foam,
taking in
your fascinated gaze,
the open mouth,
your hands copying
Uncle’s motion
in pretend shave.
Uncle drew the razor down
his cheek in slow motion,
the face becoming visible
as the soap gave way,
the hand dipping
the razor in water
to rid of foam,
to begin again,
more soap removed,
more skin revealed.
You copied Uncle,
but not so skilled.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in his side
The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in his side—
But no Man heard Him cry—
He offers His Berry, just the same
To Partridge—and to Boy—
He sometimes holds upon the Fence—
Or struggles to a Tree—
Or clasps a Rock, with both His Hands—
But not for Sympathy—
We—tell a Hurt—to cool it—
This Mourner—to the Sky
A little further reaches—instead—
Brave Black Berry—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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As My Uncle Used To Say
I've thought a power on men and things,
As my uncle ust to say,--
And ef folks don't work as they pray, i jings!
W'y, they ain't no use to pray!
Ef you want somepin', and jes dead-set
A-pleadin' fer it with both eyes wet,
And _tears_ won't bring it, w'y, you try _sweat_,
As my uncle ust to say.
They's some don't know their A, B, Cs,
As my uncle ust to say,
And yit don't waste no candle-grease,
Ner whistle their lives away!
But ef they can't write no book, ner rhyme
No ringin' song fer to last all time,
They can blaze the way fer the march sublime,
As my uncle ust to say.
Whoever's Foreman of all things here,
As my uncle ust to say,
He knows each job 'at we 're best fit fer,
And our round-up, night and day:
And a-sizin' _His_ work, east and west,
And north and south, and worst and best
I ain't got nothin' to suggest,
As my uncle ust to say.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Uncle Harry
Oh, never let on to your own true love
That ever you drank a drop;
That ever you played in a two-up school
Or slept in a sly-grog shop;
That ever a bad girl nursed you round –
That ever you sank so low.
But she pulled you through, and it's only you
And your old mate Harry know.
"Billy the Link" they called you then,
And it makes me sad to think
Of the strenuous days when it took three cops
And a pimp to couple the Link.
"Mister Linkhurst" they call you now,
And your kitchen garden grows;
And no one knows in your family,
But your Uncle Harry knows.
Oh, never let on to your fair young bride
How a "straight" girl stabbed your heart
With a devilish wire to the Western side
Where we were a world apart.
With pick and shovel you fought it out
Where the red sirocco blows;
And no one knew in the gang save you –
But your old mate Harry knows.
Oh, never let on to your own good wife,
For a tender heart has she,
Of the girl that loved and the girl that lies
In the graveyard there by the sea!
'Twas not for his "manners" she loved the cad,
'Twas not for his verse or prose,
But the pity she felt for the country lad –
And your Uncle Harry knows.
The bad girl went where the bad girls go
And I see her dark eyes yet;
The good girl left me her broken heart,
But I trow that their souls have met.
The cry of the heart we send not forth
On every wind that blows;
You are hiding a sorrow from someone now –
But your Uncle Harry knows.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Good Times
my daddy has paid the rent
and the insurance man is gone
and the lights is back on
and my uncle brud has hit
for one dollar straight
and they is good times
good times
good times
my mama has made bread
and grampaw has come
and everybody is drunk
and dancing in the kitchen
and singing in the kitchen
of these is good times
good times
good times
oh children think about the
good times
poem by Lucille Clifton
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Uncle Toad Said
Uncle toad sittin by the old south gate
Waitin them boys they bin stayin out late
Uncle toad thinks theyre way out of line
Maybe they think he is past his prime
Uncle toad said better straighten up right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad lived in the wood out back
Lived in the shade of a utility shack
He looked in at the big brick housr
At the girls as quiet as a mouse
Uncle toad said you had best get it right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad tucked in the compost pile
Out by the back door look at him smile
He said kid stop drinkin that brew
Plan while ya can or the jokes on you
Uncle toad said better straighten up right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad sittin by the swimmin pool
Sits in the sun when the weather turns cool
Sits in the sun when the girls walk by
Maybe they think hes a little bit sly
Uncle toad said you had best get it right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad sittin by the cool mill race
All day long with a grin on his face
He said boys you had better not try
Kissin em girls cause I wont stand by
Uncle toad sittin by the wrought iron fence
Lookin at the moon like it dont make sense
We say toad heres lookin at you
Hopin you get your wish too
Sway to the left, sway to the right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bond Made In Heaven
we have a unique bond,
strengthened over a period of time,
over four years to be exact.
a gentleman,
an uncle in a million.
a great poet,
a friend,
and an advisor,
I am truly blessed
with the best uncle anyone could wish for
a man of compassion
for whom I have great respect
my uncle dearest
and I his niece
never a word out of place
thank you Uncle dearest
for keeping me in prayers
and always wishing for me the best
poem by Persian Khushi
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Uncle Sam
Here they come again hop scotching up to my door
One by one again knockety knock knocking upon my floor
Swinging on my gate they gain entry by the yard
Pulling at my hair they scream paint your thoughts upon my card
But not tonight Ive got studies to examine
Tomorrow Ill be watching all the queens men
A talent contest on monday with my uncle sam
Who now takes up all of my time he gives me things to do
cause hes a wonderful man
But Im sailing across the sea to see my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to be with my uncle sam
To be with my uncle sam
Silly little sniggers from the women liberators
But Ill stand and hold my post
Polished buttons and erect Ill raise the flag
Ill show those women whos the most
But not tonight Ive got studies to examine
Tomorrow Ill be watching all the queens men
A talent contest on monday with my uncle sam
Who now takes up all of my time, gives me things to do
Hes a wonderful man
But Im sailing across the sea to see my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to be with my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to see my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to be with my uncle sam
But not tonight Ive got studies to examine
Tomorrow ah ah ah
And tomorrow Ill be watching all the queens men
A talent contest on monday with my uncle sam
Who now takes up all of my time he gives me things to do
cause hes a wonderful man
Im sailing across the sea to see my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to be with my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to see my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to be with my uncle sam
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Many Cooks In The Kitchen
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many minds on the job
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody wants a piece of the action
Cooking the books and getting their fractions wrong
What we need is law and order
Everybody knows
Cant have chiefs without the injuns
Stepping on their toes
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many daps in the pie
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody needs a place in the rat race
Playing games of power, its only a cat chase
Too many too many too many etc.
Too many cooks in the kitchen
[by the colonel]
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Uncle Gay
I can not say in a way,
That would for anyone be understood.
But I have an uncle named Gayhall,
Who stands for me very tall.
A minister he is,
With a wife Pamela and two adorable kids.
Well...
They are no longer 'kids'.
Two beautiful women I 'should' say.
Nicole and Tiffany...
Each with a uniqueness,
Anyone can see.
Although my Uncle Gay,
Has been sick of late.
I hate the fact that he's like that.
But what can I do,
Besides pray from my Uncle Gay?
I 'see' him getting better,
Each day as I 'visualize'.
I want his health to return to him.
Because he is very special,
In my eyes.
I love my aunts and uncles...
As 'if' they were mine!
And...
Hey,
They are 'mine'!
Well...
Let me define what it is I want God to do!
'God,
I know for a fact...
You are with me all the time!
But...
Will You heal my Uncle Gay?
Right 'now'!
And...
Today! '
Dedicated to:
My Uncle Reverand Gayhall Pertillar.
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
'Love you, Uncle Gay...
Pam and 'kids'.'
Nephew Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Uncle’s Car Key
A single key in a little bunch
The key to life it is not
So little a key but have this punch
When uncle’s blood is hot.
Some men I know can lend this key
But some are worse to stand
A friend it is that lets me be
But uncle’s spite must land
This key to Golf I turned upwards
And got rains of hot words
My uncle raved and ranted as hell
In words thoughtful as they tell
This his point was stressed again
As the old year passed with glee
My resolution strong and comes like train
To avoid uncle’s car key
poem by Tonimario Onyedika Oboshi
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Uncle’s Hat
Uncle’s hat
A black little hat
Thrown by a cat
And left out to be wet
Uncle trembled
And shouted aloud
“Who left my hat
To wet out side
The cat mewed
Uncle fumed
“What a naughty cat”.
poem by Dilipbhasker Mathra
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The Ballad of Uncle Mukungu
He's my uncle and to my father a brother,
To many a darling or to all and sundry rather;
A pot of knowledge unique, and of humor and quit,
And queer a sight, a wonder as right.
This mine uncle as much do I love,
For he be within and near must cause me to laugh;
And you, liking or not whether,
Never can stand my uncle's weather.
I won't tell all- my uncle's long,
A story you would love as of humor strong;
I will do you a bit, and perhaps a bit more,
Of Mukungu's sweet and sometimes some sore.
At class three a dropout my uncle became,
And thus many had it- uncle has lost his aim;
But no! Who harbored thoughts so was but mistaken,
Listen to Mukungu and your ribs will be shaken.
His talk will behind leave no bit of sagacity,
That bit by bit and all kills ambiance of solemnity;
To imbue the air and emotion with humor high and enough,
To bury hate option and hatch of uncle to love.
Uncle is a guru of eating great,
And many a cuisine none he does hate;
And thus he's indefatigable bull of village,
Cuts through others like a sharpest edge.
Perfect artist he is and scientist as well,
He'll sing a song and tell the stars fell;
He has his language and in he's a virtuoso,
Moreover he acts and he's a star so.
poem by Willy Munyoki
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My Uncle is a Soldier
My uncle is a soldier
a soldier of the U.S. Navy Seabees
he helps people day in and day out
to reach their right to be free
My uncle is a soldier
in a poor foreign land
he helps people's villages
with no guns but the strength of his hands
My uncle is a soldier
but much more than that to me
My uncle is a soldier
and a hero to our family
poem by Krystian Huizar
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Uncle Arthur
Strikes the bell for 5 oclock, uncle arthur closes shop
Screws the tops on all the bottles, turns the lights out, locks it up
Climbs across his bike and hes away
Cycles past the gasworks, past the river, down the high street
Back to mother, its another empty day
Uncle arthur likes his mommy
Uncle arthur still reads comics
Uncle arthur follows batman
Round and round the rumours fly, how he ran away from mum
On his 32nd birthday, told her that hed found a chum
Mother cried and raved and yelled and fussed
Arthur left her no illusion, brought the girl round, save confusion
Sally was the real thing, not just lust
Uncle arthur vanished quickly
Uncle arthur and his new bride
Uncle arthur follows sally
Round and round goes arthurs head, hasnt eaten well for days
Little sally may be lovely, but cooking leaves her in a maze
Uncle arthur packed his bags and fled
Back to mother, alls forgiven, serving in the family shop
He gets his pocket money, hes well fed
Uncle arthur past the gasworks
Uncle arthur past the river
Uncle arthur down the high street
Uncle arthur follows mother
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man’s Role
The elder son of each family
Jointly made a moral code
By which they must not eat
Each other and instead
They could live on their brothers and sisters,
Who are meant to serve them.
The elder sons of the family
Made it a law of their father
With no concern to their mother.
The mother was furious.
The time is not far to neglect
The elder son altogether.
[Father is the God, Mother is the Earth,
the elder brother is man, brother is animals and sister is vegetation]
15.12.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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