The bagpipe never utters a work till its belly is full.
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The Bagpipe Who Didn’t Say No
It was nine o'clock at midnight at a quarter after three
When a turtle met a bagpipe on the shoreside by the sea,
And the turtle said, 'My dearie,
May I sit with you? I'm weary.'
And the bagpipe didn't say no.
Said the turtle to the bagpipe, 'I have walked this lonely shore,
I have talked to waves and pebbles--but I've never loved before.
Will you marry me today, dear?
Is it 'No' you're going to say dear?'
But the bagpipe didn't say no.
Said the turtle to his darling, 'Please excuse me if I stare,
But you have the plaidest skin, dear,
And you have the strangest hair.
If I begged you pretty please, love,
Could I give you just one squeeze, love?'
And the bagpipe didn't say no.
Said the turtle to the bagpipe, 'Ah, you love me. Then confess!
Let me whisper in your dainty ear and hold you to my chest.'
And he cuddled her and teased her
And so lovingly he squeezed her.
And the bagpipe said, 'Aaooga.'
Said the turtle to the bagpipe, 'Did you honk or bray or neigh?
For 'Aaooga' when your kissed is such a heartless thing to say.
Is it that I have offended?
Is it that our love is ended?'
And the bagpipe didn't say no.
Said the turtle to the bagpipe, 'Shall i leave you, darling wife?
Shall i waddle off to Woedom? Shall i crawl out of your life?
Shall I move, depart and go, dear--
Oh, I beg you tell me 'No' dear!'
But the bagpipe didn't say no.
So the turtle crept off crying and he ne'er came back no more,
And he left the bagpipe lying on that smooth and sandy shore.
And some night when tide is low there,
Just walk up and say, 'Hello, there,'
And politely ask the bagpipe if this story's really so.
I assure you, darling children, the bagpipe won't say 'No.'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Antipop
The Earth it did crack open
on the day that I was born
and a thousand merry pranksters
came dancin' through the storm.
I lay cradle bound
a howlin' out my mind
not knowin' years to come
I'd be shoutin' over din
I sucked information through the holes in my skull
as my belly gurgles hungry my mouth is always full.
I am Antipop; I'll run against the grain till the day I drop.
I am the Antipop; the man you cannot stop.
As a young man,
I plug into the tube,
but the stench of all that pretense
I cannot muddle through.
I lay on my back
and scan the radio
all that comes out my speakers
is a steady syrup flow.
I suck information through the holes in my skull
as my belly gurgles hungry my mouth is always full.
I stood by watching
and I seen 'em come and go.
I seen 'em make that million
then vanish in the snow.
They come upon you
like a pack of rabid hounds
as they slobber in your ears
and purge you with their sounds.
Pushing misinformation through the holes in my skull
my belly gurgles nauseous and still my mouth is full.
I am Antipop; I'll run against the grain till the day I drop.
I am the Antipop; the man you cannot stop.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hit It
1st verse
Somebody said what are you doin down there
Trying to make me a living
All I want is to get my fair share
Im pleading but nobodys giving
Maybe Im wrong, and I dont see things clear
But I know how I feel after all the these years
Ill keep fighting the pain and the heartache and tears
Chorus
Then Ill push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
2nd verse
Looking up cause Ive got time to spare
Today the sun aint shining
Im still searching everywhere
For my cloud with the silver lining
People say that enough is enough
Turn my back on this thing put it down to bad luck
But the day I do that, then my life will be up
Chorus
So Ill push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Belly rub
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
Gonna catch that freesby,
then bring it right back to you.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you feed me steak, ill jump in
the pool.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you let me sleep in your bed,
ill protect you from demons and
ghost.
poem by David Gerardino
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For My Dog Amber Who Died A Year Ago
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
Gonna catch that freesby,
then bring it right back to you.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you feed me steak, ill jump in
the pool.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you let me sleep in your bed,
ill protect you from demons and
ghost.
poem by David Gerardino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A person's cleverness is not shown by how many words he utters at once but how he utters them.
The hungry belly and the full belly do not walk the same road.
Back and Side go Bare
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a-cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;
A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I not desire.
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I would,
I am so wrapt, and throughly lapt
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
And Tib my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she, till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek.
Then doth she troll to me the bowl,
Even as a maltworm should;
And saith,"Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old."
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
Now let them drink, till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to.
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,
Or have them lustily troll'd,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
poem by William Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jolly Good Ale and Old
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a-cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;
A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I not desire.
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I would,
I am so wrapt, and throughly lapt
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
And Tib my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she, till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek.
Then doth she troll to me the bowl,
Even as a maltworm should;
And saith,"Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old."
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
Now let them drink, till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to.
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,
Or have them lustily troll'd,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
poem by William Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Hidden Sweetness Is There
217
What hidden sweetness there is in this emptiness of the belly!
Man is surely like a lute, no more and no less;
For if, for instance, the belly of the lute becomes full, no
lament high or low will arise from that full lute.
If your brain and belly are on fire through fasting, because of
the fire every moment a lament will arise from your breast.
Every moment you will burn a thousand veils by that fire; you
will mount a hundred steps with zeal and endeavor.
Become empty of belly, and weep entreatingly like the reed
pipe; become empty of belly, and tell secrets with the reed pen.
If your belly is full at the time of concourse, it will bring Satan
in place of your reason, an idol in place of the Kaaba.
When you keep the fast, good habits gather together before
you like slaves and servants and retinue.
Keep the fast, for that is Solomon’s ring; give not the ring to
the div, destroy not your kingdom.
Even if your kingdom has gone from your head and your army
has fled, your army will rise up, pennants flying above them.
The table arrived from heaven to the tents of the fast, by the
intervention of the prayers of Jesus, son of Mary.
In the fast, be expectant of the table of bounty, for the table of
bounty is better than the broth of cabbages.
On Poverty..
How will the poor man raise his voice,
Without food in his belly?
He is willing to work,
But wishes he had the energy.
Like many things in this universe,
This cycle too has been reversed.
He will have to become someone,
So as to feed his belly.
He will have to ignore his hunger,
If food he wants to see.
poem by Sameer Daniel Gardner
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Twelve highlanders and a bagpipe make a rebellion.
Four Letter 'Work' Song
Work me up, work me out, work me flip side down.
Work me here, work me there, work me with renown.
Work me hot, work me greedy,
work me through and through.
Work me to the very marrow,
work me just like I'd work you.
Work me proud, work me late,
work me do not hesitate.
Won't you let me work for you?
Work me til I'm black and blue.
Work me steady, work me needy, work me to a lather.
Work me til my backbone breaks, and the buzzards gather.
Work me in, work me under, work me til I bleed,
Work me over red hot coals, work me like a boss in need.
Work me nasty, work me silly, work me through the clover.
Up down, 'n' in between, into a slipknot sweet Jehovah.
Work me, work me, go ahead.
Work me, work me, til I'm dead.
Buddy Bee Anthony
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
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A customary railer is the devil's bagpipe, which the world danceth after.
Name of God
He who utters the Name of God while walking
gets the merit of a sacrifice at every step
His body becomes a place of pilgrimage.
He who repeats God’s Name while working
always finds perfect peace.
He who utters the Name of God while eating
gets the merit of a fast
even though he has taken his meals.
Even if one were to give in charity
the whole world encircled by the seas
it would not equal the merit of repeating the Name,
By the power of the Name
one will know what cannot be known,
One will see what cannot be seen,
One will speak what cannot be spoken,
One will meet what cannot be met.
Tuka says.
Incalculable is the gain that comes
From repeating the Name of God.
poem by Sant Tukaram
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A Little Something Refreshing
Yeah yay oh
I'm hungry yeah
I said I'm starving yeah
I want some Pizza Coke and ice cream popcorn
cotton candy
Marshmallows milkshake and peanuts would be
so great
Pies chips candy apples Twinkies Frosted
Flakes
And donuts french fries and some chocolate
cake with mustard
Cookies avocados pancakes pineapple juice
Whipped cream on some raw meat
That's not all I could...
Eat
I'm hungry
I want some food for my tum
I want some honey roasted walnuts pepperoni
slices
Pasta and burritos different kinds of rices
Cherries dipped in chocolate cottage cheese
and jelly
Colonel Sander's chicken still won't fill my
belly
Broccoli sticky syrup churros dipped in sauce
Drippy sloppy joes then I'm full at last
Oh oh oh oh oh oh I'm full at last
And I'm full at I'm really really full at
And I'm full at last
I'm full at I'm really really full at
I'm full at last
And I'm full at I'm really really full at
I'm full at last
Full
(BURP!)
song performed by by No Doubt from No Doubt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We The Busy Ones
we proclaim
we are the busy ones
they call us the
bees
we work all day
extending our arms and legs
to the night
we work till dawn
we too make love
we compose ourselves
arrange our faces
like flowers and leaves
and twigs
we work and work
till we find that
rest....
don't think of death
go find another date
gather the ripe dates
in the desert
have a big plate
savor the taste in your palate.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life's Grandest Things
What is the greatest work of all?
The work that comes every day;
The work that waits us on ev'ry hand
Is work that, for us, is truly grand,
And the love of work is our pay.
What is the highest life of all?
It is living, day by day,
True to ourselves and true to the right,
Living the truth from dawn till the night,
And the love of truth for our pay.
What is the grandest thing of all-
Is it winning Heaven some day?
No, and a thousand times say no;
'Tis making this old world thrill and glow
With the sun of love till each shall know
Something of Heaven here below,
And God's well done for our pay.
poem by Jean Blewett
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The Illegitimate's
I work for a man who own's a farm.
I work for a man with a stable FULL of horses.
I work for a man who own's a resturant.
I work for a man who own's three Lexus's (one for him, one for her, one for HER horse) .
I work for a man who sails the caribean for HIS holiday's.
' Illegitimate's! ! ! ! ! ! '
The last time I was in this situation, there was two of them.
Luckily this time there is only one!
I work for a man who own's a bakery.
I work for a man who has an Olympic sized swimming pool (half inside and half outside of his house) .
Etc, Etc, Etc, Etc,
poem by Roger Costello
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