Northern Farmer: Old Style
Wheer 'asta beän saw long and meä liggin' 'ere aloän?
Noorse? thoort nowt o' a noorse: whoy, Doctor's abeän an' agoän;
Says that I moänt 'a naw moor aäle; but I beänt a fool;
Git ma my aäle, fur I beänt a-gawin' to breäk my rule.
Doctors, they knaws nowt, fur a says what 's nawways true;
Naw soort o' koind o' use to saäy the things that a do.
I 've 'ed my point o' aäle ivry noight sin' I beän 'ere.
An' I 've 'ed my quart ivry market-noight for foorty year.
Parson 's a beän loikewoise, an' a sittin' ere o' my bed.
"The amoighty 's a taäkin o' you to 'isén, my friend," a said,
An' a towd ma my sins, an' s toithe were due, an' I gied it in hond;
I done moy duty boy 'um, as I 'a done boy the lond.
Larn'd a ma' beä. I reckons I 'annot sa mooch to larn.
But a cast oop, thot a did, 'bout Bessy Marris's barne.
Thaw a knaws I hallus voäted wi' Squoire an' choorch an' staäte,
An' i' the woost o' toimes I wur niver agin the raäte.
An' I hallus coom'd to 's choorch afoor moy Sally wur deäd,
An' 'eard 'um a bummin' awaäy loike a buzzard-clock ower me 'eäd,
An' I niver knaw'd whot a meän'd but a thowt ä 'ad summut to saäy.
An' I thowt a said what a owt to 'a said, an' I coom'd awaäy.
Bessy Marris's barne! tha knaws she laäid it to meä.
Mowt a beän, mayhap, for she wur a bad un, sheä.
'Siver, I kep 'um, I kep 'um, my lass, tha mun understond;
I done moy duty boy 'um, as I 'a done boy the lond.
But Parson a cooms an' a goäs, an' a says it easy an' freeä:
"The amoighty 's taäkin o' you to 'issén, my friend," says 'eä.
I weänt saäy men be loiars, thaw summun said it in 'aäste;
But 'e reäds wonn sarmin a weeäk, an' I 'a stubb'd Thurnaby waäste.
D' ya moind the waäste, my lass? naw, naw, tha was not born then;
Theer wur a boggle in it, I often 'eärd 'um mysén;
Moäst loike a butter-bump, fur I 'eärd 'um about an' about,
But I stubb'd 'um oop wi' the lot, an' raäved an' rembled 'um out.
Keäper's it wur; fo' they fun 'um theer a-laäid of is' faäce
Down i' the woild 'enemies afoor I coom'd to the plaäce.
Noäks or Thimbleby--toäner 'ed shot 'um as dead as a naäil.
Noäks wur 'ang'd for it opp at 'soize--but git ma my aäle.
Dubbut looök at the waäaste; theer warn't not feeäd for a cow;
Nowt at all but bracken an' fuzz, an' looök at it now--
Warn't worth nowt a haäcre, an' now theer 's lots o' feeäd,
Fourscoor yows upon it, an' some on it down i' seeäd.
Nobbut a bit on it 's left, an' I meän'd to 'a stubb'd it at fall,
Done it ta-year I meän'd, an' runn'd plow thruff it an' all,
If godamoighty an' parson 'ud nobbut let ma aloän,--
Meä, wi haäte hoonderd haäcre o' Squoire's, an' lond o' my oän.
Do godamoighty knaw what a's doing a-taäkin' o' meä?
I beänt wonn as saws 'ere a beän an yonder a peä;
An' Squoire 'ull be sa mad an' all--a' dear, a' dear!
And I 'a managed for Squoire coom Michaelmas thutty year.
A mowt 'a taäen owd Joänes, as 'ant not a 'aäpoth o' sense,
Or a mowt a' taäen young Robins--a niver mended a fence:
But godamoighty a moost taäke meä an' taäke ma now,
Wi' aäf the cows to cauve an' Thurnaby hoälms to plow!
Looök 'ow quoloty smoiles when they seeäs ma a passin' boy,
Says to thessén, naw doubt, "What a man a beä sewer-loy!"
Fur they knaws what I beän to Squoire sin' fust a coom'd to the 'All;
I done moy duty by Squoire an' I done moy duty boy hall.
Squoire 's i' Lunnon, an' summun I reckons 'ull 'a to wroite,
For whoa 's to howd the lond ater meä that muddles ma quoit;
Sartin-sewer I beä, thot a weänt niver give it to Joänes,
Naw, nor a moänt to Robins--a niver rembles the stoäns.
But summun 'ull come ater meä mayhap wi' 'is kittle o' steäm
Huzzin' an' maazin' the blessed feälds wi' the Divil's oän teäm.
Sin' I mun doy I mun doy, thaw loife they says is sweet,
But sin' I mun doy I mun doy, for I couldn abeär to see it.
What atta stannin' theer fur, an' doesn bring me the aäle?
Doctor 's a 'toättler, lass, an a's hallus i' the owd taäle;
I weänt breäk rules fur Doctor, a knaws naw moor nor a floy;
Git ma my aäle, I tell tha, an' if I mun doy I mun doy.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Northern Farmer: New Style
Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaäy?
Proputty, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'em saäy.
Proputty, proputty, proputty--Sam, thou's an ass for thy paaïns:
Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs, nor in all thy braaïns.
Woä--theer's a craw to pluck wi' tha, Sam; yon 's parson's 'ouse--
Dosn't thou knaw that a man mun be eäther a man or a mouse?
Time to think on it then; for thou'll be twenty to weeäk.
Proputty, proputty--woä then, woä--let ma 'ear mysén speäk.
Me an' thy muther, Sammy, 'as been a'talkin' o' thee;
Thou's beän talkin' to muther, an' she beän a tellin' it me.
Thou'll not marry for munny--thou's sweet upo' parson's lass--
Noä--thou 'll marry for luvv--an' we boäth of us thinks tha an ass.
Seeä'd her todaäy goä by--Saäint's-daäy--they was ringing the bells.
She's a beauty, thou thinks--an' soä is scoors o' gells,
Them as 'as munny an' all--wot's a beauty?--the flower as blaws.
But proputty, proputty sticks, an' proputty, proputty graws.
Do'ant be stunt; taäke time. I knaws what maäkes tha sa mad.
Warn't I craäzed fur the lasses mysén when I wur a lad?
But I knaw'd a Quaäker feller as often 'as towd ma this:
"Doänt thou marry for munny, but goä wheer munny is!"
An' I went wheer munny war; an' thy muther coom to 'and,
Wi' lots o' munny laaïd by, an' a nicetish bit o' land.
Maäybe she warn't a beauty--I niver giv it a thowt--
But warn't she as good to cuddle an' kiss as a lass as 'ant nowt?
Parson's lass 'ant nowt, an' she weänt 'a nowt when 'e 's deäd,
Mun be a guvness, lad, or summut, and addle her breäd.
Why? for 'e 's nobbut a curate, an' weänt niver get hissén clear,
An' 'e maäde the bed as 'e ligs on afoor 'e coom'd to the shere.
An' thin 'e coom'd to the parish wi' lots o' Varsity debt,
Stook to his taäil thy did, an' 'e 'ant got shut on 'em yet.
An' 'e ligs on 'is back i' the grip, wi' noän to lend 'im a shuvv,
Woorse nor a far-welter'd yowe: fur, Sammy, 'e married for luvv.
Luvv? what's luvv? thou can luvv thy lass an' 'er munny too,
Maäkin' 'em goä togither, as they've good right to do.
Couldn I luvv thy muther by cause 'o 'er munny laaïd by?
Naäy--fur I luvv'd 'er a vast sight moor fur it: reäson why.
Ay, an' thy muther says thou wants to marry the lass,
Cooms of a gentleman burn: an' we boäth on us thinks tha an ass.
Woä then, proputty, wiltha?--an ass as near as mays nowt--
Woä then, wiltha? dangtha!--the bees is as fell as owt.
Breäk me a bit o' the esh for his 'eäd, lad, out o' the fence!
Gentleman burn! what's gentleman burn? is it shillins an' pence?
Proputty, proputty's ivrything 'ere, an', Sammy, I'm blest
If it isn't the saäme oop yonder, fur them as 'as it 's the best.
Tis'n them as 'as munny as breaks into 'ouses an' steäls,
Them as 'as coats to their backs an' taäkes their regular meäls,
Noä, but it 's them as niver knaws wheer a meäl's to be 'ad.
Taäke my word for it Sammy, the poor in a loomp is bad.
Them or thir feythers, tha sees, mun 'a beän a laäzy lot,
Fur work mun 'a gone to the gittin' whiniver munny was got.
Feyther 'ad ammost nowt; leastways 'is munny was 'id.
But 'e tued an' moil'd issén dead, an' 'e died a good un, 'e did.
Looök thou theer wheer Wrigglesby beck cooms out by the 'ill!
Feyther run oop to the farm, an' I runs oop to the mill;
An' I 'll run oop to the brig, an' that thou 'll live to see;
And if thou marries a good un I 'll leäve the land to thee.
Thim's my noätions, Sammy, wheerby I means to stick;
But if thou marries a bad un, I 'll leäve the land to Dick.--
Coom oop, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'im saäy--
Proputty, proputty, proputty--canter an' canter awaäy.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Westöliche Rosen
1
die rosen werden an die hüte gekreuzigt, die lippen
der rosen fliegen fort.
die blutigen organe tropfen auf den sichtbaren
thron des halbwüchsigen westöstlichen steines und
auf die weißen totenköpfe.
die drei rasierten sommer und die drei rasierten
kreuze wackeln wie der mai auf krücken fort.
der leierleib erzählt von blutigen schlachten gegen
behaarte steine. der leierleib schießt giftigen schaum
steinerne krücken blutige nasen behaarte steine gegen
die rasierten totenköpfe.
2
der leierleib tropft blut auf die weißen vorhemden
wie in einer unverpackten schlacht und wirft seine
drei schneeballen hinter seine drei sommer.
aus den retorten rollen die totenköpfe der Itosen.
die lippen der hüte kommen auf krücken zurück.
die handschuhe werden an die hüte gekreuzigt.
die kreuze lehnen aneinander wie der halbe mann
vom bräutigam am anderen halben manne vom
bräutigam.
3
der leierleib erzählt der schaumgeburt von einem
halbwüchsigen westöstlichen stein der beileibe und
heiseele auf einem sichtbaren thron sitzt und von
den wagehalsigen und wagenasigen die blutige teile
5e,oen den mai werfen. da schießt die schaumgeburt
giftige akzentvögel gegen die signaturorgane des
leierleibes hängt sich klöppel an ihre geballten flügel
und läutet und fliegt fort zu den geflügelten worten.
die flügel rasieren die behaarten herzen.
das stückchen luft wackelt und ruft qui vive.
so geht es hinauf und hinab wie in einem brief.
4
es läutet in den herzen.
die schaumgeburt packt weiße mailuft in einen
schneebrief.
der halbwüchsige westöstliche stein wirft seine
drei handschuhe hinter seine drei hüte und hängt
sich an den rosen auf.
der leierleib rasiert seine schlachtenklöppel.
geflügelte rosen fliegen zu der schneeleier.
Opus Null
1
Ich bin der große Derdiedas
das rigorose Regiment
der Ozonstengel prima Qua
der anonyme Einprozent.
Das P. P. Tit und auch die Po
Posaune ohne Mund und Loch
das große Herkulesgeschirr
der linke Fuß vom rechten Koch.
Ich bin der lange Lebenslang
der zwölfte Sinn im Eierstock
der insgesamte Augustin
im lichten Zelluloserock.
2
Er zieht aus seinem schwarzen Sarg
um Sarg um Sarg um Sarg hervor.
Er weint mit seinem Vorderteil
und wickelt sich in Trauerflor.
Halb Zauberer halb Dirigent
taktiert er ohne Alpenstock
sein grünes Ziffernblatt am Hut
und fällt von seinem Kutscherbock.
Dabei stößt er den Ghettofisch
von der möblierten Staffelei.
Sein langer Würfelstrumpf zerreißt
zweimal entzwei dreimal entdrei.
3
Er sitzt mit sich in einem Kreis.
Der Kreis sitzt mit dem eignen Leib.
Ein Sack mit einem Kamm der steht
dient ihm als Sofa und als Weib.
Der eigne Leib der eigne Sack.
Der Vonvon und die linke Haut.
Und tick und tack und tipp und topp
der eigne Leib fällt aus der Braut.
Er schwingt als Pfund aus seinem Stein
die eigne Braut im eignen Sack.
Der eigne Leib im eignen Kreis
fällt nackt als Sofa aus dem Frack.
4
Mit seiner Dampfmaschine treibt
er Hut um Hut aus seinem Hut
und stellt sie auf in Ringelreihn
wie man es mit Soldaten tut.
Dann grüßt er sie mit seinem Hut
der dreimal grüßt mit einem du.
Das traute sie vom Kakasie
ersetzt er durch das Kakadu.
Er sieht sie nicht und grüßt sie doch
er sie mit sich und läuft um sich.
Der Hüte inbegriffen sind
und deckt den Deckel ab vom Ich.
Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht
Stille nacht, heilige nacht!
Alles schlft, einsam wacht
Nur das traute hoch-heilige paar.
Holder knabe Im lockigen haar,
Schlaf in himmlischer ruh,
Schlaf in himmlischer ruh!
Stille nacht, heilige nacht!
Hirten erst kund gemacht,
Durch der engel hallelija
Tnt es laut von fern und nah:
Christ der retter ist da!
Stille nacht, heilige nacht!
Gottes sonh, o wie lacht
Lieb aus deinem göttlichen mund,
Da uns schlägt die rettende strund,
Christ, in deiner geburt.
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Answer
I got up this morning felt so bad
It's weird, really feel out of whack
I got the urge to call home and i
Go to the hook and pick up the phone, sayin' -
Just wanted to say "hi" to all my friends
Calling west-berlin, where all those roads lead to an end
Germany am i getting through ?
Something's up i need to talk to you
Hallo deutschland hrt ihr mich ?
Via satelliten hrt ihr mich ?
Hallo, hallo deutschland hrt ihr mich ?
Ist da jemand oder täusch' ich mich ?
A cup of coffee, cigarette baiting time
And i'm still hanging on that line
Ringing up that girl can't be too soon
Saying hey, hey wakeup darling it's afternoon
Got still no answer no reply
Gotta give it one last try
Operator i count on you (overseas operator, may i help you ?)
You're the one to put me through
Hallo deutschland ...
Let me know
Let me know
Hallo deutschlandhrt ihr mich (rep til fade)
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ganz Wien
Er geht auf der straßn
Sag net wohin,
Seine leber ist hin.
Das hirn voll heavy metal,
Und seine leber ist hin
Seine venen sind offen,
Und riecht nach formalin
Das alles macht eam kan kummer,
Wie er ist in wien.
Ganz wien
Ist heut auf heroin
Ganz wien
Trumt mit mozambin
Ganz wien, ganz wien
Grieft auch zu kokain
berhaupt in der ballsaison
Man sieht ganz wien
Is so herrlich hin, hin, hin
Kokain und kodein
Heroin und mozambin
Machen uns hin, hin, hin.
Einmal wird der tag kommen,
Und donau auer rand und band,
Im u4 geigen die goldfisch,
Der bruno laängst Im sichren land,
Der hannes a, dann lernen wir
Schwimmen, treibn tan ma eh.
Alle teuferl weie gewandl,
Wei wie schnee
Ganz wien...
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cowboyz And Indianz
Red Square White House
Heute rein und morgen raus
Hard times for the Soviets
Der Bär ist los denn ohne Moos kein Stoss
'Cause Uncle Sam is playing Space Cadet
Rosko Mandar Malitschek
But Sputnik is antique
Why glorify the SDI
At the Galaxy Pub they share a long drink up
Immer weiter auf der Leiter
Reach the sky
Cowboyz and Indianz
Russia and the USA
They're the Cowboyz and Indianz of today yeah
Cowboyz and Indianz
Russia and the USA
They're the Cowboyz and Indianz of today yeah
But listen Mr. President, not only Indianz are over here...
My Ronnie lies over the ocean
Gorbachov lies under the see
Doch was die Herren dort so treiben
Das erfahren wir entweder ganz -
Oder nie
Let the Force be with you
When the Empire strikes
Wir cremen uns lieber ein
Denn ma Ende dieser Dichtung stehen die zwei Herren auf der Lichtung
Und sind dort ganz alleine
Cowboyz and Indianz
Russia and the USA
They're the Cowboyz and Indianz of today yeah
Cowboyz and Indianz
Russia and the USA
They're the Cowboyz and Indianz of today yeah
Daddy...you hear me?
They are shooting...
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dance Mephisto
Wir wollen das bse
Das unendlich bse
Lieben auch die angst
Solang sie uns nicht trifft
Wir wollen die vernichtung,
Exzentrische verdichtung,
Des seichten, dmlich sflen,
Mgen unsere nachbarn nicht.
Wer hilft dabei?
Wer steht uns bei?
Wer hlt den tanz uns frei?
Dance mephisto, dance mephisto
Wenn dich erst der teufel packt
So bist du ausgelifert nackt.
Dance mephisto, dance mephisto
Tanz fr uns und tu als wär dabei.
Dance mephisto, dance mephisto nichts dabei
Halt den tanz fr uns frei.
Dunkelbrauner grtel und dunkelbraune schuh
Dance mephisto, dance mephisto am rcken wohlgeschnrt
Das strenge hemd dazu
Dann erklingen auf und nieder
Alte weisen wieder
Jede halle unserer anstalt
Erhellt durch unsere lieder
Wer hilft dabei?
Wer steht uns bei?
Wer hlt den tanz uns frei?
Dance mephisto, dance mephisto
Wenn dich erst der teufel packt
So bist du ausgelifert nackt.
Dance mephisto, dance mephisto
Hit them with your rhythm stick
Vollstrecke deinen psychotrick
Dance mephisto, dance mephisto
Nimm die tnzerin Im takt
Bis es in den speakern knackt
Dance mephisto, dance mephisto
Schlag mit deinem pferdefu
Go on with your bhnenshow
Halt den tanz fr uns frei!
Dance mephisto, dance mephisto
Halt den tanz fr uns frei!
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brillantin´ Brutal´
We are talking bout inside outside
Zeichen der zeit verschont uns blo
Wo wir sind ist vorne, sind wir hinten,
Dann ist hinten vorne, schonungslos
Und was hier jeder wei, dazu ist es immer noch zu hei
No plastic money an der bar, was seh ich oh lala - wunderbar
Nehmen sie hoch das bein, treten sie ein
Unser tanz, er mu der nchste sein
Play again, sam, mach's nochmal
Wir tanzen wieder brillantin' brutal'
Still talking bout software, hardware
Going nowhere hatten wir doch schon
Hei von pelz umkleidet, jeder herz erleidet schmerz
Ist das der liebe lohn
Und was hier jeder wei, lust und luxus nehmen ihren preis
Accept no credit cards an der bar, was seh ich oh lala - wunderbar
Nehmen sie hoch das bein, treten sie ein
Unser tanz, er mu der nchste sein
Play again, sam, mach's nochmal
Willst du der schsse hall im club fatal
Get it up, don't give it up
Ich seh deutlich einen neuen fall
Get it up, don't give it up
Im fall der fälle brillantin' brutal'
Ancora coca co - ancora cora coca - ancora coca co - coca
Ancora coca co - ancora cora coca - what's the last word they said, man ?
Allright
Hoch das bein ...
Play again - c'mon sam
Let us hear that tune
Do it again
Play
Brutal'
Brutal'
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brillantin Acute;Brutal Acute ;
We are talking bout inside outside
Zeichen der zeit verschont uns blo
Wo wir sind ist vorne, sind wir hinten,
Dann ist hinten vorne, schonungslos
Und was hier jeder wei, dazu ist es immer noch zu hei
No plastic money an der bar, was seh ich oh lala - wunderbar
Nehmen sie hoch das bein, treten sie ein
Unser tanz, er mu der nchste sein
Play again, sam, machs nochmal
Wir tanzen wieder brillantin brutal
Still talking bout software, hardware
Going nowhere hatten wir doch schon
Hei von pelz umkleidet, jeder herz erleidet schmerz
Ist das der liebe lohn
Und was hier jeder wei, lust und luxus nehmen ihren preis
Accept no credit cards an der bar, was seh ich oh lala - wunderbar
Nehmen sie hoch das bein, treten sie ein
Unser tanz, er mu der nchste sein
Play again, sam, machs nochmal
Willst du der schsse hall Im club fatal
Get it up, dont give it up
Ich seh deutlich einen neuen fall
Get it up, dont give it up
Im fall der fälle brillantin brutal
Ancora coca co - ancora cora coca - ancora coca co - coca
Ancora coca co - ancora cora coca - whats the last word they said, man ?
Allright
Hoch das bein ...
Play again - cmon sam
Let us hear that tune
Do it again
Play
Brutal
Brutal
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Les Nouveaux Riches
Ou sont les nouveaux riches...nous sommes les nouveaux riches
Wie haben alle berlistet
Haben es dieser welt gezeigt
Kennen jedes fr und alles wider
Under appeal ist weltverzweigt
Brauchen keine sprache
Kennen unsere welt
Haben eines gemeinsam
Wir haben geld, und
Deine gigolos
Meine maitressen
Haben gemeinsam
Keine interessen
Wenn du sagst ich bin dein stereotyp
Mit haut und haar und car
Ist mir klar wir brauchen keine worte
Wir zahlen uns bar
Zwischen weltbild und success
Fahren wir einen zug, den zeitgeistexpress
Nach alcapulco, monaco, der swiss
Wir, die neuen reichen
Les nouveaux riches
Oh oh oh you are one of the nouveaux riches
Oh oh oh making money is all you preach
Oh oh oh take a look at the nouveaux riches
Ich kenne meine partner, deine nicht
Die quintessenz der sprache ist gift
Es gibt bessere und es gibt mich
Du liebst das leben
Ich liebe dich
Ein überflieger wär ich gerne
Ein reisender der zeit
Und wann immer du gehen möchtest, komm
Ich bin bereit
Der argonaut Im kosmokrator kennt horizonter nicht
Er fliegt und fliegt
Er fliegt iss weisse licht
Nicht nach de janeiro
Und nicht nach nice
Nicht als armer reicher
Als nouveaux riches
Oh oh oh you are one of the nouveaux riches
Oh oh oh making money is all you preach
Oh oh oh take a look at the nouveaux riches
Where do you go when the moneys gone
Where do you go when youre all alone
Where do you go when theres no one there
Sell your soul
Oh oh oh you are one of the nouveaux riches
Oh oh oh making money is all you preach
Oh oh oh take a look at the nouveaux riches
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sound Of Musik
Es beginnt in einem Wald, alle Rechte sind bezahlt
Es es endet doch daheim.
Meine Häende sind so kalt, denn die Zeit die ging ins Land
Meine Seele ist so rein.
Die Rose kennt den Duft
Meine Stimme braucht die Luft
Denn der Wind ist so heiß wie nie
Sei es Rock, Punk, Heavy Metal, Politics, or Classical
It's all to Musik to me
Hey, das waren Zeiten when Hard Rock was Hard Rock
Musik was as tough as a nail
Und unsere Jungs, die waren nicht lazy they got out and made
It crazy but no one left to tell the jail
Der Bube fragt den König
Hey babe do you wanna dance?
Sie machen History dann sie sind scharf wie nie
The first pre-elected Rock n Roll band
The Sound of Musik
Do the bang-bang-boogie, say up jump the boogie
Do the rhythm on the boogie the beat
Do the bang-bang-boogie, say up jump the boogie
Do the rhythm on the boogie the beat
Do the hip do the hop do the oh-oh-bebop do the freestyle
Rock'n and we never gonna stop
Herr President, wir kennen eine Sprache
Und diese Sprache heißt Musik
The Sound of Musik
Can you hear the band playing, can you feel the bodies swaying
And if you feel the groove you better start to move
Step in time to the rhythm and move your feet to the beat
Hey everybody give Musik a chance and do the universal dance
The Sound of Musik
Hear the James Brown song, hear the church choir sing
It's the people's voice they're gonna bring up that bell and ring
The Vienna Lipizzaner, they're doing the rhythm and blues
It's the Jailhouse-Rock, it's steppin on my blue suede shoes
The Sound of Musik
It's Pavarotti, he's the biggest Bobby Dylan fan
Sie machen alle Musik for boys, girls and big tall man
It's Otis Redding, he's sitting on the dock of the bay
Listen to the band, listen to the Big-Band, to the bang-bang
Listen to the bang-bang, blow horn
Hey - listen to the band
Listen to the band
Hey - listen to the band
Listen to the band
I want you listen to the band
Hey - listen to the band
The Sound of Musik
It's Lennon-McCartney, Cole Porter too
They're dancin with my babe, babe - ba - ba - ba - babe - blue
Hey daddy - don't you bother me - it's gonna be my
Rock and Roll day - give the children what they want
Hear the universal choir pray
Hear the James Brown song, hear the church choir sing
It's the people's voice they're gonna bring up that bell and ring
It's Otis Redding, he's sitting on the dock of the bay
Give the children what they want, hear the children do the boogie
Do the bang-bang, do the boogie-bang
Hu-la-la-hu-la-la-e
E-oh
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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George and the Dragon
I'll tell you the tale of an old country pub
As fancied itself up to date,
It had the word " Garage" wrote on t' stable door
And a petrol pump outside the gate.
The " George and the Dragon" were t' name of the pub,
And it stood in a spot wild and bleak,
Where nowt ever seemed to be passing that way
Except Carrier's cart once a week.
The Carrier's cart were a sturdy old Ford
And its driver were known as " Old Joe
He had passed pub each week but he'd never been in,
It's name even he didn't know.
One cold winter night, about quarter to one,
He were driving home over the moor,
And had just reached the pub, when his engine stopped dead
A thing it had ne'er done before.
He lifted the bonnet and fiddled around
And gave her a bit of a crank;
When he looked at his petrol he found what were wrong,
There wasn't a drop in the tank.
He had eight miles to go and 'twere starting to rain,
And he thought he were there for the night,
Till he saw the word " Garage" wrote on t' stable door;
Then he said, " Lizzie, Lass... we're all right."
He went up to t' pub and he hammered at door
Till a voice up above said " Hello!"
It were t' Publican's Wife-she said,
"Now what's to do?", "I've run out of petrol," said Joe.
She said " Who are you? " He said " Carrier Joe."
" Oh, so that's who it is," she replied
You've been passing this door now for close on ten years
And never once set foot inside."
"A nice time of night to come knocking folks up,
She continued. "Away with your truck,
" You'd best get your petrol where you buy your beer...
" You only come here when you re stuck."
Said Joe, "Aye, I'll go if you'll sell me some fuel,
"I can't start my engine without.
"I'm willing to pay." but she told him to go
Where he'd get his fuel for nowt.
"Coom, coom, Lass!" said Joe, conci-latory like,
"Let bygones be bygones, and when
I come round next time I'll look in."
She said, "Oh, Well, your petrol can wait until then."
With these few remarks th' old girl took in her head
And slammed winder to in his face;
He took a look round and for t' very first time
He noticed the name of the place.
He picked up some pebbles he found in the road
And tossed them against winder pane,
And before very long lattice opened above
And out came the old girl again.
What d'ye want? " she enquired. And " Not you," Joe replied,
For this treatment had fair raised his gorge
"I see George and t' Dragon's the name on the house,
"And I'd just like a word now with George."
poem by Marriott Edgar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Jubilee Sov'reign
On Jubilee Day the Ramsbottoms
Invited relations to tea,
Including young Albert's grandmother-
An awkward old . . party, was she.
She'd seen Queen Victoria's accession
And `er wedding to Albert (the Good)
But she got quite upset when young Albert
Asked `er `ow she'd got on in the Flood.
She cast quite a damper on't party,
But she warmed up a bit after tea,
And gave Albert a real golden sovereign
She'd been saving since last Jubilee.
It `ad picture of Queen on't one side
And a dragon fight on the reverse,
And it smelled of camphor and cobwebs
Through being so long in `er purse.
Albert `andled the coin, and `e kissed it
And `e felt the rough edge with `is tongue;
For `e knew by the look of `is father
That it wouldn't be `is very long.
"I`ll show you a trick wi' that sovereign,"
Said Pa, `oo were `overin' near-
And `e took and pretended to eat it,
Then brought it back out of `is ear.
This magic filled Albert with wonder,
And before you could say "Uncle Dick",
`E'd got the coin back from `is father
And performed the first part of the trick.
When they all saw where the money `ad gone
With excitement the relatives burned;
And each one suggested some process
For getting the money returned.
Some were for fishing with tweezers,
While some were for shaking it out;
"If we only got back a few shillings,"
They said "`twould be better than nowt."
They tried `olding Albert `ead downward
And giving `is shoulders a clump-
`Till his uncle, `oo worked for a chemist
Said "There's nowt for it but stomach pump."
Well, they `adn't a stomach pump `andy,
But Pa did the best that `e could
With a bicycle pump that they borrowed
But that weren't nearly so good.
So off they went to the doctor
`Oo looked down `is throat with a glass;
`E said "This'll mean operation-
I fear that `e'll `ave to `ave gas."
"`Ow much is this `ere goin' to cost me?"
Said Father, beginning to squirm.
"I'm afraid that it comes out expensive-
The best gas is eight pence a therm.
There's my time, six shillings an hour;
You can't do these things in two ticks-
By rights I should charge you a guinea,
But I'll do it for eighteen and six."
"Wot, eighteen and six to get sovereign?"
Said Father, "That doesn't sound sense
I'll tell you, you'd best keep young Albert
And give us the odd eighteen pence!"
The doctor concurred this arrangement,
But to this day he stands in some doubt
As to whether he's in eighteen shillings
Or whether he's eighteen pence out.
poem by Marriott Edgar
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No More Music
The Porch was blazoned with geranium bloom;
Myrtle and jasmine meadows lit the lea;
With rose and violet the vale's perfume
Languished to where the hyacinthine sea
Dreamed tenderly . . . "And I must go," said he.
He spoke in that dim, ghostly voice of his:
"I was a singer; then the Was . . . and GAS."
(I had to lean to him, no word to miss.)
"We bought this little café nigh to Grasse;
With sun and flowers my last few days will pass.
"And music too. I have my mandolin:
Say! Maybe you can strum on your guitar . . .
Come on - we two will make melodious din,
While Madame sings to us behind the bar:
You'll see how sweet Italian folk-songs are."
So he would play and I would thrum the while;
I used to there every lovely day;
His wife would listen with a sunny smile,
And when I left: "Please come again," she'd say.
"He seems quite sad when you have one away."
Alas! I had to leave without good-bye,
And lived in sooty cities for ayear.
Oh, how my heart ached for that happy sky!
Then, then one day my café I drew near -
God! it was strange how I was gripped with fear.
So still it was; I saw no mandolin,
No gay guitar with ribbons blue and red;
Then all in black, stone-faced the wife came in . . .
I did not ask; I looked, she shook her head:
"La musique est fini," was all she said.
poem by Robert William Service
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Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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Are You Drinking?
washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook
out again
I write from the bed
as I did last
year.
will see the doctor,
Monday.
"yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head-
aches and my back
hurts."
"are you drinking?" he will ask.
"are you getting your
exercise, your
vitamins?"
I think that I am just ill
with life, the same stale yet
fluctuating
factors.
even at the track
I watch the horses run by
and it seems
meaningless.
I leave early after buying tickets on the
remaining races.
"taking off?" asks the motel
clerk.
"yes, it's boring,"
I tell him.
"If you think it's boring
out there," he tells me, "you oughta be
back here."
so here I am
propped up against my pillows
again
just an old guy
just an old writer
with a yellow
notebook.
something is
walking across the
floor
toward
me.
oh, it's just
my cat
this
time.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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The Dramatists
A string of shiny days we had,
A spotless sky, a yellow sun;
And neither you nor I was sad
When that was through and done.
But when, one day, a boy comes by
And pleads me with your happiest vow,
"There was a lad I knew--" I'll sigh,
"I do not know him now."
And when another girl shall pass
And speak a little name I said,
Then you will say, "There was a lass-
I wonder is she dead."
And each of us will sigh, and start
A-talking of a faded year,
And lay a hand above a heart,
And dry a pretty tear.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Sam Goes To It
Sam Small had retired from the Army,
In the old Duke of Wellington's time,
So when present unpleasantness started,
He were what you might call... past his prime.
He'd lived for some years in retirement,
And knew nowt of war, if you please,
Till they blasted and bombed his allotment,
And shelled the best part of his peas.
'T were as if bugles called Sam to duty,
For his musket he started to search,
He found it at last in the Hen house,
Buff Orpingtons had it for perch.
Straight off to the Fusilliers' depot,
He went to rejoin his old troop...
Where he found as they couldn't recruit Him,
Until his age group was called up.
Now Sam wasn't getting no younger,
Past the three score and ten years was he,
And he reckoned by time they reached his age group,
He'd be very near ten score and three.
So he took up the matter with Churchill,
Who said, "I don't know what to do,
Never was there a time when so many,
Came asking so much from so few."
"I don't want no favours" Sam answered,
"Don't think as I'm one of that mob,
All I'm asking is give me the tools, lad,
And let me help finish the job."
"I'll fit you in somewhere," said Winnie,
"Old soldiers we must not discard."
Then seeing he'd got his own musket,
He sent him to join the Home Guard.
They gave Sam a coat with no stripes on,
In spite of the service he'd seen,
Which considering he'd been a King's sergeant,
Kind of rankled... you know what I mean.
He said "I come back to the Army,
Expecting my country's thanks,
And the first thing I find when I get here,
Is that I've been reduced to the ranks.
He found all the lads sympathetic,
They agreed that 'twere a disgrace,
Except one old chap in the corner,
With a nutcracker kind of a face.
Said the old fella, "Who do you think you are?
The last to appear on the scene,
And you start off by wanting promotion,
Last come, last served... see what I mean?"
Said Sam, "Wasn't I at Corunna,
And when company commander got shot,
Didn't I lead battalion to victory?"
Said the old fella, "No... you did not."
"I didn't?" said Sam quite indignent,
"Why, in every fight Wellington fought,
Wasn't I at his right hand to guard him?"
Said old chap, "You were nowt of the sort."
"What do you know of Duke and his battles?"
Said Sam, with a whithering look,
Said the old man, "I ought to know something,
Between you and me... I'm the Duke."
And if you should look in any evening,
You'll find them both in the canteen,
Ex Commander-in-Chief and ex Sergeant,
Both just Home Guards... you know what I mean?
poem by Marriott Edgar
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My Future
"Let's make him a sailor," said Father,
"And he will adventure the sea."
"A soldier," said Mother, "is rather
What I would prefer him to be."
"A lawyer," said Father, "would please me,
For then he could draw up my will."
"A doctor," said Mother, "would ease me;
Maybe he could give me a pill."
Said Father: "Lt's make him a curate,
A Bishop in gaiters to be."
Said Mother: "I couldn't endure it
To have Willie preaching to me."
Said Father: ""Let him be a poet;
So often he's gathering wool."
Said Mother with temper: "Oh stow it!
You know it, a poet's a fool."
Said Farther: "Your son is a duffer,
A stupid and mischievous elf."
Said Mother, who's rather a huffer:
"That's right - he takes after yourself."
Controlling parental emotion
They turned to me, seeking a cue,
And sudden conceived the bright notion
To ask what I wanted to do.
Said I: "my ambition is modest:
A clown in a circus I'd be,
And turn somersaults in the sawdust
With audience laughing at me."
. . . Poor parents! they're dead and decaying,
But I am a clown as you see;
And though in no circus I'm playing,
How people are laughing at me!
poem by Robert William Service
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