Four Candidates For Senator
To flatter your way to the goad of your hope,
O plausible Mr. Perkins,
You'll need ten tons of the softest soap
And butter a thousand firkins.
The soap you could put to a better use
In washing your hands of ambition
Ere the butter's used for cooking your goose
To a beautiful brown condition.
'The Railroad can't run Stanford.' That is so
The tail can't curl the pig; but then, you know,
Inside the vegetable-garden's pale
The pig will eat more cabbage than the tail.
When Sargent struts by all the lawmakers say:
'Right-left!' It is fair to infer
The right will get left, nor polar the day
When he makes that thing to occur.
Not so, not so, 'tis a joke, that cry
Foolish and dull and small:
He so bores them for votes that they mean to imply
He's a drill-Sargent, that is all.
Gods! what a sight! Astride McClure's broad back
Estee jogs round the Senatorial track,
The crowd all undecided, as they pass,
Whether to cheer the man or cheer the ass.
They stop: the man to lower his feet is seen
And the tired beast, withdrawing from between,
Mounts, as they start again, the biped's neck,
And scarce the crowd can say which one's on deck.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Since Freshman Year
Freshman year you've tried to get rid of me
now that you may well have
you'll seee who sticks around
i've put up with you for $ years
i'm tired of it and so is everyone else
if you're trying to get cheer cut then just tell us and we will all quit
no need to make it hell for us
i know my stuff so why kick me off? ?
i'm not the only one that does it and you'll soon find out
you'll have no one left to cheer the games
i guess it will be better that way
but for those players that like us you'll see
they won't play as well as they used to be
cheer is everything to me so why take it away?
why make me cry and wish i never tried out
it's the only place i can go
where i won't be judged
so why take that away from me?
i know your daughter isn't in it anymore
but you don't have to be a witch to the rest
we love to cheer and cheer to live
Cheer is the only thing i'm good at but go ahead and take it from me i'm ment for this world
i guess i'll have to be another face in the crowd
that's fine with me now
i gave it my all Freshman thru Junior
it's my time to leave it and become forgotten
poem by Marissa Ford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sit There And Eat It
OH!
So you want to 'mince' something?
You come in here ready to dice...
With me?
Well...
Let me tell you something right now...
You take this knife!
You see that roasted garlic?
Vadalia onion, parsley and garden tomato?
You dice them first!
You mince that together.
See that sauce pan?
DO YOU?
Put some olive oil in that pan!
Add some seasalt.
Now you add some fresh ground pepper.
Wait until that oil heats!
DO YOU HEAR ME?
DO YOU?
Do you see that cod sitting over there?
Get the butter!
Get the unsalted butter.
What do you mean there is only salted butter?
Then USE it!
Melt it separately.
Dip that cod in that butter.
Throw that diced stuff in that oil.
Sizzle all of it!
Now put that cod in!
YES! Put that in there! In that pan!
And...
When that is finished cooking,
I want you to sit there and eat it!
Every dropp of it!
WHY are you smiling?
I didn't do a thing!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Butter
Pull me from the toaster
Straight into the roaster
Fill my head with the stuff
Brightest dreams are made of
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
Promising the big guns
Reward when the light comes
Screaming from the damage done
Screaming from the damage done
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up like I know you will
Cover it up like I know you will
Better yourself like I know you will
Breaking the trust like you always will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Duh
So you think you got the best
Thought I was like all the rest
Reaping from the damage done
Reaping from the damage done
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
song performed by by Ultraspank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Auld Wife
PART I
The auld wife sat at her ivied door,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
A thing she had frequently done before;
And her spectacles lay on her apron’d knees.
The piper he pip’d on the hill-top high,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
Till the cow said, “I die,” and the goose asked “Why?”
And the dog said nothing, but search’d for fleas.
The farmer he strode through the square farmyard;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
His last brew of ale was a trifle hard,
The connection of which with the plot one sees.
The farmer’s daughter hath frank blue eyes;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
She hears the rooks caw in the windy skies,
As she sits at her lattice and shells her peas.
The farmer’s daughter hath ripe red lips;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
If you try to approach her away she skips
Over tables and chairs with apparent ease.
The farmer’s daughter hath soft brown hair;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
And I met with a ballad, I can’t say where,
Which wholly consisted of lines like these.
PART II
She sat with her hands ’neath her dimpled cheeks,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
And spake not a word. While a lady speaks
There is hope, but she did n’t even sneeze.
She sat with her hands ’neath her crimson cheeks;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
She gave up mending her father’s breeks,
And let the cat roll in her best chemise.
She sat with her hands ’neath her burning cheeks,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
And gaz’d at the piper for thirteen weeks;
Then she follow’d him out o’er the misty leas.
Her sheep follow’d her, as their tails did them,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
And this song is consider’d a perfect gem;
And as to the meaning, it ’s what you please.
poem by Charles Stuart Calverley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spellbound
Blinded by a bright beam
Shattered by the windscreen
Stunned by the whiplash
Im a victim of a bad crash
I can do nothing right
I never sleep at night
Cant even start a fight
My feet have left the ground
Spinning round and round
Spellbound, my world keeps a tumbling down
Beaten by a blind bend
Wrong way up a dead end
Screaming through a speed trap
As I tear into a tail back
I can do nothing right
I never sleep at night
Cant even start a fight
My feet have left the ground
Spinning round and round
Spellbound, my world keeps a tumbling down
Im slipping down
I got my hands in the fire
Im sliding on an oil slick
Blinded on a bad trip
Yes and nothings going to change it
I can do nothing right
Cant even sleep at night
My feet have left the ground
Im spinning round and round
Spellbound, my world keeps a tumbling down
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Butter Fly Wings
Butter Fly wings
float near my face
and this softest breeze
reminds me of the way
your lips brush mine,
not touching
but close-by
fluttering;
.
gentle usherings
planting butter-fly kisses
on your red mouth
pursed
in the filtered sun.
Butter me,
Butter Fly me
and I will land
where softer souls gather
in butterfly-kissed
kaleidoscopic fields
close to home
where gentle hands
stroke my brow
whilst I inhale
eternity
kissing the face
of Love True.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Real Thing
Key : - r:- ray
A:- anita
R: its the real thing that makes your body swing
Open your ears for the techno rap sing
Back on the track, no my name aint jack
You try to criticize, so now step back
I travelled the world all round and round
Make a lot of heads go upside down
If it aint rough, no, it aint no thing
Just let yourself go cause youre rolling with the real thing
A: were going for the real thing
R: go! go! let yourself go
Go! go! let yourself go
A: searchin for the real thing
R: do this! do this!
A: come on, come on
R: do this! do this!
A: no more waiting, anticipating
Were searching for the real thing
No more waiting, anticipating
Were going for the real thing
R: I select the thoughts and need from peoples minds
Combine it with my own style, I aint blind
One of a kind make sure Ill find
A way to gain and win cause its the real thing
The music flows, I lay these rhymes
Time for some action, cause its about time
Pay close attention, are you out, are you in?
cause if you roll, youre rolling with the real thing
A: searchin for the real thing
R: do this! do this!
A: come on, come on
R: do this! do this!
A: were going for the real thing
R: go! go! let yourself go
Go! go! let yourself go
A: no more waiting, anticipating
Were searching for the real thing
No more waiting, anticipating
Were going for the real thing
And were not gonna stop
Until we reach the highest top
We dont need, to stop
Well keep on searchin till we drop
A: never stop the real thing
Yeah!
Give me the real thing
R: cheer, cheer, cheer
Let yourself go
Let yourself go
Go! go! go! go! go! go!
A: no more waiting, anticipating
Were searching for the real thing
No more waiting, anticipating
Were going for the real thing
And were not gonna stop
Until we reach the highest top
We dont need, to stop
Well keep on searchin till we drop
R: go! go! go! go! go! go!
song performed by by 2 Unlimited
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4. A Merry Christmas
Gone shopping for good brandy butter
My homemade plum puddings in need
I don’t want a tin of rum sauce mix
It just wouldn’t do no indeed
Last night’s Christmas Eve rush was crazy
The shop had none left on the shelf
So I bought half a pound of best butter
To mix up with brandy myself
My mixer took brandy and butter
It churned the lot up to a paste
I drank what was left of the brandy
As I don’t like things going to waste
Everyone had a good dinner
With plenty of wine, port and sherry
But no one got fresh brandy butter
We all fell about slightly merry
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Butter Up
Butter up,
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a loving and done with fun.
Butter up,
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a loving and done with fun.
And when Monday begins,
We'll have those memories...
To keep!
Butter up!
Butter up!
Butter up, butter up, butter up, butter up!
Butter up...
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a buttering done with fun.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Little Slit in the Tail
I’M GLAD that the Bushmen can’t see me now
A-doing it tall in the town;
I’ve an inch-brimmed hat on my sun-burnt brow—
And my collar jumps up and down.
I’m wearing a vest that would charm a snake,
And a tie like a lost soul’s wail;
And I’m dressed in a coat of the latest make,
With a little slit in the tail:
With a little slit in the tail of it,
With a little slit in the tail.
My pants alone are a thing of joy,
And they’re built to show my bends,
With a crease behind and a crease before,
And a little curl in the ends.
I carry my nose-rag in my cuff,
And the lot should get me gaol—
I paid five guineas for my rig-out,
And one for the slit in the tail:
For the little slit in the tail of it,
For the little slit in the tail.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gwine to Run All Night, or De Camptown Races
1 De Camptown ladies sing dis song -- [Chorus] Doo-dah! doo-dah!
2 [Solo] De Camp-town race-track five miles long -- [Chorus] Oh! doo-dah day!
3 [Solo] I come down dah wid my hat caved in -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
4 I go back home wid a pocket full of tin -- [Chorus] Oh! doo-dah day!
5 Gwine to run all night!
6 Gwine to run all day!
7 I'll bet my money on de bob-tail nag --
8 Somebody bet on de bay.
9 [Solo] De long tail filly and de big black hoss -- [Chorus] Doo-dah! doo-dah!
10 [Solo] Dey fly de track and dey both cut across -- [Chorus] Oh! doo-dah-day!
11 [Solo] De blind hoss sticken in a big mud hole -- [Chorus] Doo-dah! doo-dah!
12 [Solo] Can't touch bottom wid a ten foot pole -- [Chorus] Oh! doo-dah-day!
13 Gwine to run all night!
14 Gwine to run all day!
15 I'll bet my money on de bob-tail nag --
16 Somebody bet on de bay.
17 [Solo] Old muley cow come on to de track -- [Chorus] Doo-dah! doo-dah!
18 [Solo] De bob-tail fling her ober his back -- [Chorus] Oh! doo-dah-day!
19 [Solo] Den fly along like a rail-road car -- [Chorus] Doo-dah! doo-dah!
20 [Solo] Runnin' a race wid a shootin' star -- [Chorus] Oh! doo-dah-day!
21 Gwine to run all night!
22 Gwine to run all day!
23 I'll bet my money on de bob-tail nag --
24 Somebody bet on de bay.
25 See dem flyin' on a ten mile heat -- [Chorus] Doo-dah doo-dah!
26 Round de race track, den repeat -- [Chorus] Oh! doo-dah-day!
27 I win my money on de bob-tail nag -- [Chorus] Doo-dah! doo-dah!
28 I keep my money in an old tow-bag -- [Chorus] Oh! doo-dah-day!
29 Gwine to run all night!
30 Gwine to run all day!
31 I'll bet my money on de bob-tail nag --
32 Somebody bet on de bay.
poem by Stephen C. Foster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Keep It Clean
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
So hard they've tried to reflect perfection.
A wholesome outlook,
With good deeds done they do!
They want to project a godlike self righteousness.
With wings adorned and hymns sung!
Angelic voices from everyone,
Harmonizing,
In collective united bliss.
But the truth about this...
There is BS that sits within their midst,
And not one of them can resist
An addicting sniff!
Since they are all full of it!
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Something kept stinking...
From fat greasy meat.
Suited and smoking cigars,
Chartering planes with high profiled stars.
And posing with those who piloted...
The sucking up of all resources.
As admirers rejoiced!
Thinking they heard 'voices' from beyond...
'You too could live like this!
We'll make sure of it! '
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Screwing fools!
'Keep it clean! '
That's what they do best!
'Keep the scene serene.
Deodorize the stench that leaks.
Protect that image.
And hide the blood left...
To leave as expected on urban streets! '
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
By the time it surfaces...
There will be nothing left to squander.
And the fools we duped with treason,
Will have nothing left to value...
And very little to say!
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Camptown Races
De Camptown ladies sing dis song -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
De Camptown racetrack five miles long -- Oh! doo-dah day!
I come down dah wid my hat caved in -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
I go back home wid a pocket full of tin -- Oh! doo-dah day!
Chorus
Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day!
I'll bet my money on de bob-tail nag -- Somebody bet on de bay!
De long tail filly and de big black hoss -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Dey fly de track and dey both cut across -- Oh! doo-dah day!
De blind hoss sticken in a big mud hole -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Can't touch bottom wid a ten foot pole -- Oh! doo-dah day!
Chorus
Old muley cow come on to de track -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
De bob-tail fling her ober his back -- Oh! doo-dah day!
Den fly along like a rail-road car -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Runnin' a race with a shootin' star -- Oh! doo-dah day!
Chorus
Seen dem flyin' on a ten mile heat -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Round de race track, den repeat -- Oh! doo-dah day!
I win my money on de bob-tail nag -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
I keep my money in an old tow-bag -- Oh! doo-dah day!
Chorus
poem by Stephen C. Foster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Off the Track
Oh where the deuce is the track, the track?
Round an' round, an' forrard, an' back!
“Keep the sun on yer right,” they said—
But, hang it, he's gone an' got over my head!
“Make for a belt of apple trees;”—
Jist so. But where's yer belt, if ye please?
By gum, it's hot! This child'll melt,
An' there ain't no apples, nor ain't no belt.
“Keep clear o' the timber-getters' tracks,”
But wich is wich, I'd beg to ax?
They forks and jines, the devil knows how—
I wish I'd a sight o' either now!
“Leave the track,” sez they, “when you sees
Some yards to the right two big grass trees.”
Two! It's dozens on dozens I pass—
Most on 'em big, an' all on 'em grass.
Oh where the deuce is the track, the track?
I'm fairly taken aback, aback.
“Keep tow'rd the river. You can't go wrong.”
Whew? Can't I, though! That was rayther strong.
“Follow the lay o' the land,” sez they;
But, Lord, this flat ain't got no lay!
Whew! Ain't it hot on the pint o' the nose?
An' the more I mops the hotter I grows.
“An' when you comes to the foot o' the range”—
WHEN! That's the pint. But ain't it strange,
That the further I goes, to left or right,
The more there ain't no range in sight.
Gum trees, gum trees, slim an' high,
Timber green an' timber dry.
Blackened stumps an' fallen logs—
Lively work as on we jogs!
Oh the devil an' all take the flat, the flat!
I'm one myself for the matter o' that.
I'm mazed, an' so is the brute I rides,
An' the sun's getting over the left besides.
Dash it, I'll follow my nose, my nose!
Step out, straight forrard, here goes, here goes!
Let the sun be left, or the sun be right,
Summat or other must come in sight.
* * * * *
Well, well! If this ain't too bad by half!
Lor', how the beggars 'll laugh an' chaff!
Back to my startin' point? Yes; tis so.
I put up them slip-rails six hours ago.
poem by James Brunton Stephens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Big Butter And Egg Man
Now she wants...a butter an egg man
From way out in the west
She wants somebody...who's workin' all day
So she's got money...when she wants to play
Now pretty clothes...they'll never be mine
But what she told me the other day
I hope she don't change her mind
Now she wants...a butter an egg man
A great big butter and egg man
From way down south
song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tiger By The Tail
What a shock it was so surprising
You looked so small and frail
I didnt know what to do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
People said that you must be joking
You let emotions run away with you
I realized a little too late
I bit off more than I could chew
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
At times life can be so enlightening
But it can turn on you
Lately it gets so complicated i
I dont know what the tiger will do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She
She has gone away
I wanted that.
She has gone away
I am left to myself and my cooking gadgets
If she were there the house would seem to be crowded
I am scared of a crowd
I want to be left to myself
I enjoy to be alone
She has gone away
I miss the crowd in a sunny street
She was a crowd in the street in herself
I am feeling cold
But I am scared of warmth
I am scared of the din of the city
It is cold here
She has gone away
I enjoy the coldness
I am alright
Am I
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Big Butter & Egg Man
Now she wants...a butter an egg man
From way out in the west
She wants somebody...whos workin all day
So shes got money...when she wants to play
Now pretty clothes...theyll never be mine
But what she told me the other day
I hope she dont change her mind
Now she wants...a butter an egg man
A great big butter and egg man
From way down south
song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is How It Should Be Done
This is how it should be done
This is how it should be done comin out of the black shade
Fightin to lighten a path made back
Lets go way back to the beginnin
Thats when an idea took part from the start
Listen to another marley beat Im impatient
I gotta leave my seat for motivation
Pump the bass whats next
Kickin the steps me and the mirrors havin wreck
So hard that I cracked my neck
And Im poppin sweat now Im soakin wet
But I feeeel it
Grab the beat cause I must
Defeat its a funky groove
So I steeeel it
To improve what could
Soon be the left eye move
Pin it down and snatch a sample to loop it up
And start makin my own example cause
Chorus:
This is how it should be done
This is how it should be done (yeah, yeah)
This is how it should be done
This is how it should be done
This style is identical to none
This is how it should be done steppin into a shade a bit lighter
Now is the time to write a rhyme a rhythmic type of memo
Tick-tack it to the track it is now my demo-kay
Whats to do wheres to go yo I dont know
Whos to see see ya at the local show
Me and mo takin a chance and hes dancin
Round and round the deck as I flow
But what an awkward situation
Cause theres not much crowd participation
For checkin me out Im too new it
Gots to be somethin else another way to do it
So I sit back and think for a minute
Which city needs a little more talent in it
Maybe a.t.l. is the place packed up left philly gotta hit laface
Chorus
This is how it should be done (hey)
This style is identical to none
This is how it should be done and Im comin through
Grippin the mic spittin out whats after verse 2
And ready to rock the spot cause Im on it
They wanna see what I got
Givin it all and makin it seem so simple to be myself
Along wit doin what I do
Cool they want me not knowin Im soon to be the l of tlc
Word up t.b.o.z. thats t-boz
Saucin it up is chilli
We three alike all small in height but Im left eye
Cause the eye is right
So now they thinkin well is we ready enough
Yeah its time to get busy
The aftermath is the brightest path so far
Yo cause here we are
This is how it should be done
This is how, this is how
Chorus
song performed by by TLC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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