I like the Gap ad, the khaki one. I liked that.
Related quotes
Tourist
'Twas in a village in Lorraine
Whose name I quite forget,
I found I needfully was fain
To buy a serviette.
I sought a shop wherein they sell
Such articles as these,
And told a smiling mademoiselle;
'I want a towel, please.'
'Of kinds,' said she, 'I've only two,'
And took the bundles down;
And one was coloured azure blue,
And one was khaki brown.
With doubt I scratched my hoary head;
The quality was right;
The size too, yet I gravely said:
'Too bad you haven't white.'
That pretty maid had sunny hair,
Her gaze was free from guile,
And while I hesitated there
She watched me with a smile.
Then as I went to take the blue
She said 'Non' meaning no.
'Ze khaki ones are best, M'sieu:
Ze dirts zey do not show.'
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sade Hawkins Dance
All the girls in the bathroom talkin
who they gonna take to the Sadie Hawkins
My ears are burnin but I kept on walkin
smile on my face and an air guitar rockin
The Sadie Hawkins Dance
in my khaki pants
There's nothin better
oh oh oh
The girls ask the guys
it's always a surprise
There's nothin better
baby do you like my sweater?
Sittin in the back of my next class nappin
gotta give a speech then bow to the clappin
Told a funny joke got the whole class laughin
think I got a tan from the light which I was baskin
The Sadie Hawkins Dance
in my khaki pants
There's nothin better
oh oh oh
The girls ask the guys
it's always a surprise
There's nothin better
baby do you like my sweater?
Scan the cafeteria for some good seating
I found a good spot by the cheerleaders eating
The quarterback asked me if I'd like a beating
I said that's one thing I won't be needing
And since I'm rather smart and cunning
I took off down the next hall running
Only to get stopped by a girl so stunning
only to get stopped by a girl so stunning?
She said, "You're smooth, and good with talkin.
You go with me to the Sadie Hawkins"
The Sadie Hawkins Dance
in my khaki pants
There's nothin better
oh oh oh
The girls ask the guys
it's always a surprise
There's nothin better
baby do you like my sweater?
The Sadie Hawkins Dance
in my khaki pants
There's nothin better
oh oh oh
The girls ask the guys
it's always a surprise
There's nothin better
baby do you like my sweater
song performed by by Relient K
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Own Game
i am already
attuned to floating on
the air on
a hammock
with my shoes on
putting my feet at the other
end
wearing a buri hat
khaki shorts
and white sleeveless shirt
then i talk on the
cell phone
though no one is on the other
line
as your group pass me by
loudly laughing
================================= ===========
anad na ako
nianang magduyanduyan
sa hangin
nagsapatos nga gipatong
ang tiil
sa uway nga duyan
nagkalo og buli
nakashort og khaki
nakasaliko og puti
dayog sulti sulti sa cell phone
bisag walay
kaestorya sa pikas
linya
samtang nanglabay mo
og nangatawag kusog
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her Photograph from Violence Scene Unfolds Her Tale
Strands in mud in her flight away,
As problem wasps gathered around.
On khaki emotions rebound;
A lamb lost its way.
Harsh orders: cracks on character;
Divorce: her small hump;
Two little stomachs: hump on hump;
Her police uniform: wanted unwanted shelter.
Storm of khaki police;
Uprooted sense violently.
Camera mouths gobbled voraciously,
And vomited on front of dailies.
Sudden kick on abdomen did land;
Pain flowers scattered on visage hers.
Oh! that haunting photograph hers!
‘Mrs.Apanna, what a tragic strand! ’
poem by Fabiyas M V
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Marching (As Seen From the Left File)
My eyes catch ruddy necks
Sturdily pressed back -
All a red brick moving glint.
Like flaming pendulums, hands
Swing across the khaki -
Mustard-coloured khaki -
To the automatic feet.
We husband the ancient glory
In these bared necks and hands.
Not broke is the forge of Mars;
But a subtler brain beats iron
To shoe the hoofs of death,
(Who paws dynamic air now).
Blind fingers loose an iron cloud
To rain immortal darkness
On strong eyes.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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The Khaki Boys Who Were Not At The Front
Oh! it is not just the men who face the guns,
Not the fighters at the Front alone, to-day
Who will bring the longed-for close to the bloody fray, for those
Could not carry on that fray without the ones
Who are working at war's problems far away.
You are all our splendid heroes in the strife,
And we class you with the warriors maimed and scarred,
Though you never have been near enough the battle din to hear,
While you laboured in the dull routine of life
In your khaki suits with sleeves that are not barred.
You have offered up yourselves to save the world;
You have felt the abnegation of the Christ:
And whatever work you do is a noble work and true;
Though it be not done with banners all unfurled,
You will find it has, in sight of God, sufficed.
While you carry back no medals when you go,
Not without you had the fighters borne war's brunt:
So just lift your heads uncowed, for your country will be proud
And its lasting love and honour will bestow
On the khaki boys who were not at the Front.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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War Girls
'There's the girl who clips your ticket for the train,
And the girl who speeds the lift from floor to floor,
There's the girl who does a milk-round in the rain,
And the girl who calls for orders at your door.
Strong, sensible, and fit,
They're out to show their grit,
And tackle jobs with energy and knack.
No longer caged and penned up,
They're going to keep their end up
'Til the khaki soldier boys come marching back.
There's the motor girl who drives a heavy van,
There's the butcher girl who brings your joint of meat,
There's the girl who calls 'All fares please!' like a man,
And the girl who whistles taxi's up the street.
Beneath each uniform
Beats a heart that's soft and warm,
Though of canny mother-wit they show no lack;
But a solemn statement this is,
They've no time for love and kisses
Till the khaki soldier boys come marching back.
poem by Jessie Pope
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Women In Uniform
Beehive hairdo, 45 on the hip
Patrolwoman Saunders, don't you give her no whip
Took me to the station for a breathtest
then back to the bedroom for some house-arrest
[Chorus:]
Women in uniform, sometimes they look so cold
Women in uniform, but, Oh! They feel so warm
Coming back to London on a 747
Stewardess made me feel like I'm in heaven
Looking up the aisle to see what I could see
She leaned over said; Give it to me
White apron, brown leather shoes
The nurse at the clinic left my heart all bruised
Gave me a massage, sprained my right
Now she takes my temperature every night
[Chorus]
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Commando raid on the Lebanese border
Sergeant Anita, she gives the order
Khaki jacket and a love gun
Baby, I surrender, let's have some fun
[Chorus]
[Solo]
[Chorus]
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Khaki, white and blue
Women in uniform, coming after you
Women, women, Women in uniform
Women, women, Women in uniform
[Chorus]
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sadie Hawkins Dance
All the girls in the bathroom talkin
who they gonna take to the Sadie Hawkins
My ears are burnin but I kept on walkin
smile on my face and an air guitar rockin
The Sadie Hawkins Dance
in my khaki pants
There's nothin better
oh oh oh
The girls ask the guys
it's always a surprise
There's nothin better
baby do you like my sweater?
Sittin in the back of my next class nappin
gotta give a speech then bow to the clappin
Told a funny joke got the whole class laughin
think I got a tan from the light which I was baskin
The Sadie Hawkins Dance
in my khaki pants
There's nothin better
oh oh oh
The girls ask the guys
it's always a surprise
There's nothin better
baby do you like my sweater?
Scan the cafeteria for some good seating
I found a good spot by the cheerleaders eating
The quarterback asked me if I'd like a beating
I said that's one thing I won't be needing
And since I'm rather smart and cunning
I took off down the next hall running
Only to get stopped by a girl so stunning
only to get stopped by a girl so stunning?
She said
song performed by by Relient K from The Anatomy of The Tongue in Cheek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Khaki Hills
khaki hills,
light-washed, bleached
summer clean,
slopes folded
oaken-green
as a horse, mad
in the morning mist,
gallops and kicks
at nothing.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out Of Khaki
I slung me khaki suit to-day.
Civilian now front heel to chin
I 'op round on a single shin;
At home in peace I'm bound to stay.
'N' so they've took me duds away.
It 'urt like strippin' off me skin!
I put it on three years ago,
The ole brown rig. There wasn't then
A prouder chicken in the pen.
Jist twenty turned, me nibs you'd know
For how I give me chest a throw,
A man among the best of men.
Me little no the touch I give,
Me chin's ez solid ez a rock,
'N' level with the Town 'All clock,
A five-inch grin across me chiv.
“Lor' love us, this is how to live,”
Sez I, 'n' felt I owned the Block.
Glad eyes was ever on the lurk,
'N' little 'earts was thumpin' warm
For nippers trainin' with the swarm
To swat ole Kaiser Bill, or work
A toe-hold on the heathen Turk.
Fair dink, I loved the uniform!
I soused mine in the brine that day
When Tophet spilt, 'n' in the roar
Of shells that split the sea 'n' tore
Our boats to chips, we broke any
Up through the pelt of leaden spray,
'N' got our first real taste of war.
They shot me tunic all to rags;
Then in the perpendic'lar spree
Me trousers wore off to the knee.
The right-abouts of many bags
Was ground off in the dust 'n' crags
A-sittin' in Gallipoli.
I wore the khaki on the Somme-
Most time 'twas jist a coat of mud;
I once come through the battle scud
Stripped mother-naked by a bomb;
'N' once it' took its color from
Me own 'n' one good cobber's blood.
They cheered the khaki through the street
When we come home with pipers gay,
But now I'm jist a bloke in grey.
Harf-lost, lob-sided, incomplete,
It's nothin' but me spook you'll meet,
Ghost-walkin' in the light o' day.
poem by Edward George Dyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Present Arms
You got no job you got no pay
Join the military, sign today
They'll take you off to fight on foreign shores
You'll be your mother's pride and joy
Her armed and dangerous golden boy
A uniformed hero that shows no fear
The khaki ranks of flesh and steel
Learning how to smile and kill
They'll teach you to ignore the screams and tears
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the French Band Plays
THERE'S a military band that plays, on Sunday afternoons,
In a certain nameless city's quaint old square.
It can rouse the blood to battle with its patriotic tunes,
And still render hymns as gentle as a prayer.
When it starts 'Ave Maria' there is no one in the throng
But would doff his cap, his heart to heaven raise;
And who would shrink from combat when, with brasses sounding strong,
There is flung out on the breeze 'La Marseillaise'?
When it starts to render 'Sambre et Meuse,' the march that won the day
At the battle of the Marne, one sees again
The grey-green hosts of Hundom melt before the stern array
Of our gallant sister-ally's blue-clad men.
And when it plays our Anthem, with rendition bold and clear--
While the khaki lads stand steady--then we feel
That, though tongues and ways may vary, we've found brothers over here,
Tried in war, and in allegiance true as steel.
For it's olive-drab, horizon-blue, packed closely side by side,
Till their colors set ablaze the grey old square;
And it's olive-drab, horizon-blue, whatever may betide,
That will blaze the way to victory 'up there.'
So, while standing thus together, let us pledge anew our troth
To the Cause--the world set free!--for which we fight.
As the evening twilight gilds the ranks of blue and khaki both,
And the the bugles die away into the night
poem by Anonymous Americas
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The lost identity
A mug of English beer
in an Irish Pub,
And a plate of Italian Pizza
from a Mexican Grill,
Van Heusen Shirt and a Khaki pant
Underneath the tattered jockstrap he wears; This Nondescript man
Walks along the foreign street
And when the cops stop him and ask his identity
He says that's lost during the World War II
And that's why I am searching everywhere
The precious document that's worth than the life it seems!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Patchwork Quilt
Here is this patchwork quilt I've made
Of patterned silks and old brocade,
Small faded rags in memory rich
Sewn each to each with feather stitch,
But if you stare aghast perhaps
At certain muddied khaki scraps
Or trophy-fragments of field grey,
Clotted and torn, a grim display
That never decked white sheets before,
Blame my dazed head, blame bloody war.
poem by Robert Graves
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Puff-adder
Camouflaged in the veldt,
with its khaki colour
melting into the rocks and grass
its flicking tongue caught my eye,
made me froze in my tracks
where it was lying looking obese
but a puff-adder attacks lightning quick
and do not like other snakes
try to get away,
but is a cocky deviant thing
and your limbs rot off
where it bites.
A startled grey field mouse
was unaware of lurking death
fled out before me
with a peeping sound
and disappeared down the throat
of the once hissing snake.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Ubique
There is a word you often see, pronounce it as you may -
'You bike,' 'you bikwe,' 'ubbikwe' - alludin' to R.A.
It serves 'Orse, Field, an' Garrison as motto for a crest,
An' when you've found out all it means I'll tell you 'alf the rest.
Ubique means the long-range Krupp be'ind the low-range 'ill -
Ubique means you'll pick it up an', while you do stand, still.
Ubique means you've caught the flash an' timed it by the sound.
Ubique means five gunners' 'ash before you've loosed a round.
Ubique means Blue Fuse1, an' make the 'ole to sink the trail. 1extreme range
Ubique means stand up an' take the Mauser's 'alf-mile 'ail.
Ubique means the crazy team not God nor man can 'old.
Ubique means that 'orse's scream which turns your innards cold.
Ubique means 'Bank, 'Olborn, Bank - a penny all the way -
The soothin' jingle-bump-an'-clank from day to peaceful day.
Ubique means 'They've caught De Wet, an' now we sha'n't be long.'
Ubique means 'I much regret, the beggar's going strong!'
Ubique means the tearin' drift where, breech-blocks jammed with mud,
The khaki muzzles duck an' lift across the khaki flood.
Ubique means the dancing plain that changes rocks to Boers.
Ubique means the mirage again an' shellin' all outdoors.
Ubique means 'Entrain at once for Grootdefeatfontein'!
Ubique means 'Off-load your guns' - at midnight in the rain!
Ubique means 'More mounted men. Return all guns to store.'
Ubique means the R.A.M.R. Infantillery Corps!
Ubique means the warnin' grunt the perished linesman knows,
When o'er 'is strung an' sufferin' front the shrapnel sprays 'is foes,
An' as their firin' dies away the 'usky whisper runs
From lips that 'aven't drunk all day: 'The Guns! Thank Gawd, the Guns!'
Extreme, depressed, point-blank or short, end-first or any'ow,
From Colesberg Kop to Quagga's Poort - from Ninety-Nine till now -
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lions of the darkness
They...dark men
Working in the great power of night
They never walk by the light
Men who make darkness their joy
Woe to them
By the night they feel the happiest
As a versifier I most say the truth
The lions of the night
When the night comes, they come out of their den
With sounding teeth
And mighty claws
Rearranging the house of man
Lions of the night
Putting panic to the heart of man
Collecting taxes which they never deserve
On a faithful day the lions will be prey
By the almighty moulder
Or by men in khaki
Lions of the night...
Brother Can You Spare A Dime
Once I built a railroad, made it run
Made it race against time
Once I built a rairoad, now its done
Brother can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower to the sun
Brick and rivet and lime
Once I built a tower, now its done
Brother can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits
Gee, we looked swell
Full of that yankee doodle de dum
Half a million boots went slogging through hell
I was the kid with the drum
Say dont you remember, they called me al
It was al all the time
Say dont you remember, Im your pal!
Buddy can you spare a dime?
Once I built a railroad, made it run
Made it race against time
Once I built a rairoad, now its done
Brother can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower to the sun
Brick and rivet and lime
Once I built a tower, now its done
Brother can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits
Gee, we looked swell
Full of that yankee doodle de dum
Half a million boots went slogging through hell
I was the kid with the drum
Say dont you remember, they called me al
It was al all the time
Say dont you remember, Im your pal!
Buddy can you spare a dime?
(jay gorney/e.y.harburg)
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Billy Khaki
Marching somewhat out of order
when the band is cock-a-hoop,
There's a lilting kind of magic in the swagger
of the troop,
Swinging all aboard the steamer with her
nose toward the sea.
What is calling, Billy Khaki, that you're foot-
ing it so free?
Though his lines are none too level,
And he lacks a bit of style.
And he's swanking like the devil
Where the women wave and smile,
He will answer with a rifle
Trim and true from stock to bore,
Where the comrades crouch and stifle
In the reeking pit of war.
What is calling, Billy Khaki? There is
thunder down the sky,
And the merry magpie bugle splits the morn-
ing with its cry,
While your feet are beating rhythms up the
dusty hills and down,
And the drums are all a-talking in the hollow
of the town.
Billy Khaki, is't the splendor of the song the
kiddies sing,
Or the whipping of the flags aloft that sets
your heart a-swing?
Is't the cheering like a paean of the toss-
ing, teeming crowds,
Or the boom of distant cannon flatly bumping
on the clouds ?
What's calling, calling, Billy? 'Tis the rattle
far away
Of the cavalry at gallop and artillery in play;
'Tis the great gun's fierce concussion, and the
smell of seven hells
When the long ranks go to pieces in the
sneezing of the shells.
But your eyes are laughing, Billy, and a
ribald song you sing,
While the old men sit and tell us war it is a
ghastly thing,
When the swift machines are busy and the
grim, squat fortress nocks
At your bolts as vain as eggs of gulls that spatter on the rocks.
When the horses sweep upon you to complete
a sudden rout,
Or in fire and smoke and fury some brave
regiment goes out,
War is cruel, Bill, and ugly. But full well
you know the rest,
Yet your heart is for the battle, and your face
is to the west.
For if war is beastly, Billy, you can picture
something worse—
There's the wrecking of an empire, and its
broken people's curse;
There are nations reft of freedom, and of hope
and kindly mirth,
And the shadow of an evil black upon the
bitter earth.
So we know what's calling, Billy. 'Tis the
spirit of our race,
And its stir is in your pulses, and its light is
on your face
As you march with clipping boot-heels
through the piping, howling town
To uphold the land we live in, and to pull a
tyrant down.
Thou his lines are none too level,
And he's not a whale for style,
And he's swanking like the devil
When the women wave and smile
He will answer with a rifle,
Trim and true from stuck to bore,
When the comrades sit and stifle
In the smoking pit of war.
poem by Edward George Dyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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