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Ring Ring The Banjo
De time is nebber dreary if de darkey nebber groans;
De ladies nebber weary wid de rattle of de bones:
Den come again Susanna by de gaslight ob de moon;
We'll tum de old Piano when de banjo's out ob tune.
Chorus:
Ring, ring de banjo! I like dat good old song,
Come again my true lub, Oh! wha you been so long?
poem by Stephen C. Foster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Song Of The Negro Boatmen
O, praise an' tanks! De Lord he come
To set de people free;
An' massa tink it day ob doom,
An' we ob jubilee.
De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves
He jus' as 'trong as den;
He say de word: we las' night slaves;
To-day, de Lord's freemen.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn:
O nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
Ole massa on he trabbels gone;
He leaf de land behind;
De Lord's breff blow him furder on,
Like corn-shuck in de wind.
We own de hoe, we own de plough,
We own de hands dat hold;
We sell de pig, we sell de cow,
But nebber chile be sold.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn:
O nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
We pray de Lord: he gib us signs
Dat some day we be free;
De norf-wind tell it to de pines,
De wild-duck to de sea;
We tink it when de church-bell ring,
We dream it in de dream;
De rice-bird mean it when he sing,
De eagle when he scream.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn:
O nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
We know de promise nebber fail,
An' nebber lie de word;
So like de 'postles in de jail,
We waited for de Lord:
An' now he open ebery door
An' trow away de key;
He tink we lub him so before,
We lub him better free.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
He'll gib de rice an' corn:
O nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
So sing our dusky gondoliers;
And with a secret pain,
And smiles that seem akin to tears,
We hear the wild refrain.
We dare not share the negro's trust,
Nor yet his hope deny;
We only know that God is just,
And every wrong shall die.
Rude seems the song; each swarthy face
Flame-lighted, ruder still:
We start to think that hapless race
Must shape our good or ill;
That laws of changeless justice bind
Oppressor with oppressed;
And, close as sin and suffering joined,
We march to Fate abreast.
Sing on, poor hearts! your chant shall be
Our sign of blight or bloom,—
The Vala-song of Liberty,
Or death-rune of our doom!
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of The Negro Boatman
Oh, praise an' tanks! De Lord he come
To set de people free;
An' massa tink it day ob doom,
An' we ob jubilee.
De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves
He jus' as 'trong as den;
He say de word: we las' night slaves;
To-day, de Lord's freemen.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn;
Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
Ole massa on he trabbels gone;
He leaf de land behind:
De Lord's breff blow him furder on,
Like corn-shuck in de wind.
We own de hoe, we own de plough,
We own de hands dat hold;
We sell de pig, we sell de cow,
But nebber chile be sold.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn;
Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
We pray de Lord: he gib us signs
Dat some clay we be free;
De norf-wind tell it to de pines,
De wild-duck to de sea;
We tink it when de church-bell ring,
We dream it in de dream;
De rice-bird mean it when he sing,
De eagle when he scream.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn:
Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
We know de promise nebber fail,
An' nebber lie de word;
So like de 'postles in de jail,
We waited for de Lord
An' now he open ebery door,
An' trow away de key;
He tink we lub him so before,
We lub him better free.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
He'll gib de rice an' corn;
Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
So sing our dusky gondoliers;
And with a secret pain,
And smiles that seem akin to tears,
We hear the wild refrain.
We dare not share the negro's trust,
Nor yet his hope deny;
We only know that God is just,
And every wrong shall die.
Rude seems the song; each swarthy face,
Flame-lighted, ruder still:
We start to think that hapless race
Must shape our good or ill;
That laws of changeless justice bind
Oppressor with oppressed;
And, close as sin and suffering joined,
We march to Fate abreast.
Sing on, poor hearts! your chant shall be
Our sign of blight or bloom,
The Vala-song of Liberty,
Or death-rune of our doom!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Millionaire Blues
I woke up this morning, my jacuzzi wouldnt work
Then the butler quit on me, man, can you believe it? jerk!
Must have been my artistic temperament he couldnt take
How come nobody wants to give me a break?
Ive got the blues right down, mean and low
Im as low as the heels of my alligator shoes
You should know how it feels to have these millionaire blues
Millionaire blues
Well, I found one of my bathrooms and I made it to the sink
I called one of my managers up and I poured myself a drink.
Oh, I swear Id kill that little weasel if I could
I checked myself in the mirror - my hair was looking good, but
I had the blues right there, mean and mean and mean and low
As low as the heels on my alligator shoes
You should know how it feels to have these millionaire blues
Millionaire blues
Get down!
Well, so much for breakfast, I couldnt face lunch
I thought Id raise my spirits with a little champagne brunch.
I take the lamborghini, the flunkie parks the car
Can you believe it, man, this other monkey wont let me in the bar!
I said, I said, dont you know who I am, man? and he says, no.
No! can you believe it?
Im as low as the heels of these alligator shoes
You should know how it feels to have these millionaire blues
Millionaire blues, to have these millionaire blues,
Millionaire blues
Bad, bad!
Thats bad! yeah
So hard,
Its hard sometimes for a boy
Ah, I like that
Thats good
Get down!
Youre making a very big mistake, man
Oh yeah
Youll never work in this town again!
All right
song performed by by Dire Straits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Amos Moses
Amos Moses was a Cajun.
And lived by himself in the swamp
Hunting alligator for a living.
Knock 'em on the head with a stump
The Louisiana law's gonna get you, Amos
It ain't legal hunting alligator down in the swamp, boy
Now everybody blamed his old man
for raising him mean as a snake
When Amos Moses was a boy,
his Daddy would use him as alligator bait
Tie a rope around his waist,
throw him in the swamp
Alligator bait on the Louisiana bayou
Just about 45 minutes
southeast of Tipidow, Louisiana
There lived a man called Duck Bill Sam
and his pretty wife Hannah
They raised up a son that could
eat up his weight in groceries
Named him after a man of the cloth.
They called him Amos Moses
Now folks in South Louisiana
said Amos was a helluva man
He could trap the biggest, meanest alligator.
He only had to use one hand
That's all he got left
'cause the alligator bit him. Ha ha!
Left arm gone clean up to the elbow
Just about 45 minutes
southeast of Tipidow, Louisiana
There lived a man called Duck Bill Sam
and his pretty wife Hannah
They raised up a son that could
eat up his weight in groceries
Named him after a man of the cloth.
They called him Amos Moses
Here comes Amos
And you should have seen his pretty wife, Hannah
Well, the Sheriff got wind that
Amos was in the swamp hunting alligator skin
So he hid in the swamp, I'm gonna get you boy.
He never did come out again.
Well, I wonder where the Louisiana Sheriff went to?
Sure can get lost in the Louisiana bayou (3X)
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cutting Edge
The cutting edge and the modelling queens,
A lover's leap over the alligator's pond is what i see!
But try not to pollute the nation with dirty tricks.
Be very prepared in life always and do what is right,
And with honesty and responsibility;
But a lover's leap over the alligator's pond is what i see.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You nebber see kicking' cow widout kickin'calf.
Albin the Aardvark
In Albany abides an aardvark, Albin. Albin is an albino animal. All around Albin's abode, abound the almighty ants. Another animal abiding alongside Albin's abode is Algie the alligator. He's an animal alligator. Almost all afternoon Albin the aardvark ambles up and down the alley always alert. Almost all afternoon Algie the alligator is asleep in the alley. One afternoon, Albin the aardvark ambles alongside and awakes Algie. 'Al! Any appetite? ' 'Auuuuuuugh! , ' answers Algie, 'Awful appetite.' After ambling around, Albin goes abed and is asleep. Algie is also asleep with an awful appetite. What do you think Algie the Alligator could eat with the awful appetite? (Algie can only eat things that start with 'A'. Help me out. I can only think of 8.) . I don't know if this is considered a poem or not. Help me out.
poem by Ben Gieske
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alligator
Sleepy alligator in the noon day sun,
Lyin by the river just like he usually done.
Call for his whiskey, he can call for his tea,
Call all he want to, but he cant call for me.
Oh no! Ive been there before,
And I aint gonna come around here any more.
Creepy alligator coming all around the bend,
Shoutin about the times when we was mutual friends,
I checked my memory and I checked it quick, yes I will.
I checked it runnin some old kind of trick.
Oh no! well Ive been there before,
And I aint gonna come around here any more.
Sailin down the river in an old canoe,
A bunch of and an old tennis shoe.
Out of the river all ugly and green,
Came the biggest old alligator that Ive ever seen!
Teeth big and pointy and his eyes were buggin out,
Contracted the union, put the beggars to rout.
Screamin and yellin, he was pickin his chops,
He never runs he just stumbles and hops.
Just out of prison on ten dollars bail,
Mumblin bitches and waggin his tail.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let it Kill
let it kill me and if it doesnt let it try again and again and again till i die, then let it try again and again and finally let it kill me if not then let it try again till i die of pain cause this pain i cannot take, so let it kill until i feel death creep up the corner, let me die with honor or without it just let me die, so let it kill me again and again and if not let it try until i die, for this life i cannot take i have lost all faith so just let me die, let it try to kill me dont set me free come on kill me i refuse mercy or sympathy all i want is death so please let it kill let it send me to death as fast as things go past, let it kill, let it destroy my soul and leave it not whole for i want death, i want death again i say i want death let it kill and if not let it kill again and again till death is all that remain, let it kill
poem by Adens Kamwi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Buy Me A Condo
Gonna buy me a condo
Gonna buy me a cuisinart
Get a wall-to-wall carpeting
Get a wallet full o credit cards
I gonna buy me a condo, never have to mow de lawn
I gonna get me da t-shirt wit de alligator on
Wo, used to live in jamaica but I dont live dere no more
Had to change me lifestyle
Do tings I never done before
So now Im just a lonely rastaman
Living in dis american town
Gonna sell me bob marley records
Gonna get me some jackson browne
I gonna buy me a condo
Gonna buy me a cuisinart
Get a wall-to-wall carpeting
And get a wallet full o credit cards, eh
I gonna buy me a condo, never have to mow de lawn
I gonna get me da t-shirt wit de alligator on
Wo, gonna cut off me dreadlocks
Trow away all me ganja
Ill have a tupperware party
Maybe join me a health spa
Ill get a bowl of plastic fruits
And a microwave oven, too
Then Ill have the neighbors over for a weenie barbeque
Gonna buy me a condo
Gonna buy me a cuisinart
Get a wall-to-wall carpeting
Get a wallet full o credit cards, oh
I gonna buy me a condo, never have to mow de lawn
I get a funny little t-shirt wit de alligator on
Aint gonna work in de field no more
Gonna be amway distributor
Aint gonna work in de field no more (no, no)
Gonna be amway distributor
(ja) ja, ja, ja, life is so very hard
I need a (ja) ja, ja, ja jacuzi in me back yard
Oh, I gonna buy me a condo
Gonna buy me a cuisinart
Get a wall-to-wall carpeting
Get a wallet full o credit cards, eh
I gonna buy me a condo, never have to mow de lawn
I gonna get me da t-shirt wit de alligator on
Whatd you say?
I gonna buy me a condo
I gonna buy me a cuisinart
Get a wall-to-wall carpeting
Get a wallet full o credit cards, oh
I gonna buy me a condo, never have to mow de lawn
I gonna get me da t-shirt wit de alligator on
Whatd you say?
I gonna buy me a condo
Gonna buy me a cuisinart
Get a wall-to-wall carpeting
And get a wallet full o credit cards, oh
I gonna buy me a condo, never have to mow de lawn
I gonna get me da t-shirt wit de alligator on
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Killings
You kill who might eat you.
You kill who might hurt you.
You kill who you want to eat.
You kill one in accident.
You kill one as punishment.
Can you dispense with killings?
29.08.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Heartless Reptile
The alligator makes love to
A cloud of the shape of
Grecian beauty; an entire pearled
Orchard bilious and queasy
In the heliotropic shadow of the
Broken down school bus;
I am the only one who
Sees;
Because all the kids are raucous
But well behaved in their
Lunch room,
And you are out on the soccer field
With scraped knees-
Tonight they will itch and scab in
Your bedroom,
And when you pick them you’ll
Stain the sheets;
And when famished, the
Cloud slips away,
Beckoned by the raw sun;
And the alligator doesn’t say
Anything;
It goes back to the canal,
And I crawl under the bus and smell
The sweat and tears shed in the
Purple soot for the heartless reptile.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ill Always Be With You
I just went to the corner
To get some bread and butter,
Dad called, hed got your letter,
This is his new number.
Chickens on the burner
But wait for me if you can,
Ill be back soon, honey,
Big kiss from mommy.
(chorus)
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill,
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill,
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.
Please, I have a son!
(chorus)
Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss,
Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.
Sorry, I was so late,
Did you call your dad?
I hope he was nice to you,
I dont wanna see you sad.
I see you ate your chicken,
And saved me a plate,
I dont know how to tell you, I dont know how to tell,
But I love you, baby, rememember, Ill always be with you
Ill always be with you.
I love you, mommy, I love you with all my heart,
Please, always be with me.
(chorus)
Miss, miss, miss, miss,
Miss, miss, miss, miss.
Mommy! mommy!
Why do I love you so if youre just a spec of dust,
Floating endlessly amongst the trillion stars?
Knowing that one day we may float apart,
Meeting each other in universe.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man can…
I don’t feel I kill when I take
Antibiotics to kill germs.
I don’t feel I kill when I kill
Rodents, mosquitoes and serpents.
I kill fowls, goats and fish for food.
This’ the way I’ve been brought up
And I do it for my survival.
Terrorists don’t feel that they kill
When they kill innocent people,
Without which too they can survive.
Man’s mastered all his predators.
Terrorists are his predators.
It is time he annihilated them.
31.11.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Eccentric III
It took just a while to conclude
she lived on a pension that
even a cat would sniff at,
and SSI, of course, so when we went monthly
to Tir Na Nog, I usually paid.
A doctor suggested warfarin
for her atrial fibrillation.
'I appreciate the recommendation',
she replied, 'but I'll take no rat's bane
and what's more, intend to outlive you! '
So she compromised with aspirin,
dying at home, ninety-ish, years later.
Annoyingly, she'd say 'see you later alligator',
each time we parted. I understood-
folks get used to the idioms of their days.
She was cremated. At her uptown memorial
leaning my arms on an odd upsurge in the table linen
I asked her cousin Ellen
where her ashes were. 'You're leaning on them, '
she replied, slightly taken back.
And so I was. 'See
you later, alligator,
I said, and once again, 'see you later.'
Adding 'nice to know you.'
and so it was.
*Tir Na Nog an Irish restaurant. 'The Land Of Dreams'
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stressed Out
too many thoughts come rushing
each wanting a peculiar treatment
one wants to be a syllable dressed
in the blackness of the
lonely night
while the other wants to be a clause
without a comma
hating the period
it wants to be a mouth open
like the crocodile silent on the bank
of the river
waiting for a fly who is lost along its
riveted ways
wishing to swallow a dropp of the
bucket realities
of course there is this sentence
without a thought of its own
the penalty
that not any of you bothers whether
mankind which suffers
i know
deserves to kill that lost fly in the mouth of this
alligator society.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Alligator Bride
The clock of my days winds down.
The cat eats sparrows outside my window.
Once, she brought me a small rabbit
which we devoured together, under
the Empire Table
while the men shrieked
repossessing the gold umbrella.
Now the beard on my clock turns white.
My cat stares into dark corners
missing her gold umbrella.
She is in love
with the Alligator Bride.
Ah, the tiny fine white
teeth! The Bride, propped on her tail
in white lace
stares from the holes
of her eyes. Her stuck-open mouth
laughs at minister and people.
On bare new wood
fourteen tomatoes,
a dozen ears of corn,
six bottles of white wine,
a melon,
a cat,
broccoli
and the Alligator Bride.
The color of bubble gum,
the consistency of petroleum jelly,
wickedness oozes
from the palm of my left hand.
My cat licks it.
I watch the Alligator Bride.
Big houses like shabby boulders
hold themselves tight
in gelatin.
I am unable to daydream.
The sky is a gun aimed at me.
I pull the trigger.
The skull of my promises
leans in a black closet, gapes
with its good mouth
for a teat to suck.
A bird flies back and forth
in my house that is covered by gelatin
and the cat leaps at it
missing. Under the Empire Table
the Alligator Bride
lies in her bridal shroud.
My left hand
leaks on the Chinese carpet.
poem by Donald Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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