The Ballad of Bill's Breeches
Once on a time, a party by the name of Mr. BULL
Discovered that with many schemes his hands were pretty full.
His cares of family were great. Four fine young sons he'd got;
They were, indeed, of goodly breed, a strong and hefty lot.
But Mr. BULL's domestic cares (as shortly will be seen)
Were not with them, but with his wife, whose name was JINGOPHINE.
A foolish fad this lady had that all the boys were ninnies;
And, though they grew,
As children do,
She dressed them all in pinnies.
Now, while her boys were young, JOHN BULL engaged in business strife
Took little heed of their affairs, and left them to his wife;
And JINGOPHINE, who loved her lord, impressed them, noon and night.
With tales of his magnificence, his wisdom, wealth and might.
But when they talked of growing up, and 'helping pa' some day,
She shook her finger at them in her stern, maternal way.
'Your pa's a great, big man,' she said. 'You never, never, NEVER
Can hope to be
As big as he,
Or half so wise and clever.
Now, JINGOPHINE, like other dames of fussy, frilly kind,
Delighted to have round her folk of weak and narrow mind.
Pet persons were her weakness. also aldermen and those
Who held the very strictest views, and wore the nicest clothes.
They cheered her when she praised her lord, and listened, with a frown.
To tales of BILL; and all agreed he'd have to be 'kept down.'
'He is a naughty child,' they said, 'a mostprecocious brat.
To think good Mr. BULL should have an offspring such as that!'
But BILL despite the stern rebukes of aldermen and Wowsers,
Defied the crowd.
And shouted loud:
'Shut up! I want my trousers!'
Now, in the course of time, JOHN BULL awakened to the fact
That, in the interests of his sons, 'twas time for him to act.
'My dear,' he said, 'these sons of ours are growing quite immense;
We ought to have a business talk - I'11 call a conference.
They're nearly men; and they must learn, each one, to stand alone.
Each with responsibilities, and a household of his own.
They can't always be at our skirts, like great, big, awkward gabies.'
'Why, Mr. BULL!'
She cried. 'You fool!
Those boys are only babies!'
But at the meeting Mr. BULL spoke plainly to his lads.
'My sons,' said he, 'I don't agree with all your mother's fads.
You can't be always little boys; like other lads, you've grown;
And now 'tis time to face the world, and learn to stand alone.
We still remain one family; and none will fail, I know,
To aid another in distress, against a common foe.
Dear lads, I know, you'll recollect - despite success and riches -
Your father still.'
'Hear. hear!' said BILL
'Hooray! I've got me breeches!'
From out that solemn conference BILL marched in highest glee,
With more mopeef for Mr. BULL, now that his limbs were free.
'The old man, he's an all-right sort, and talks sound, common sense,
It's time we learned to act like men, and chucked this fool-pretence.
We've done with apron-strings at last. But what will Ma say now?
Her Wowsers and her aldermen? LORD, won't there be a row!
They've pecked at me quite long enough; it's up to me to scare 'em.
They'll howl for weeks!
But here's me breeks;
An', spare me days, I'll wear 'em!'
The Wowsers and the aldermen and Mrs. JING0PHINE
Were seated in the drawing-room when BILL came on the scene.
'He's got 'em on!' a Wowser cried. 'He's disobeyed his ma!'
'Help! Murder!' shrieked the aldermen. 'He'll kill his pore, dear vp!'
Pell-mell they rushed to Mr. BULL - 'Oh, sir, that dreadful BILL!
He'll murder you! He stole yer pants! He's got 'em on 'im still! Mr. BULL said. 'Is he?
There, there, good folk,
You've had your joke.
Now, go away; I'm busy.'
But, up and down the land they went, the Wowsers and the rest;
And BILL, besides the trousers, sported now a coat and vest.
'He's dressin' like a man!' they shrieked. 'He's going to resist
His dear, kind pa! Oh, who'll restrain this rank disloyalist?
He won't take sops from 'is fond ma; 'er pore 'art's nearly broke!
He's even gone at scoffed at us; an' treats us as a joke!' ....
And if you chance to come across those aldermen and Wowsers
You'll find them still
Abusing BILL
Who grins, and wears the trousers.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Bull For Me
I think, Sirs, and most inimitable Ladies
I think I prefer to look at a bull
The sketch of a bull, the head of a bull perhaps
even if but a study by an artist
rather than some fancy prophet in glorious paint
or in grand chapel or some miracle recounted
in paint and colors and with consummate skill
or even God descending
ah, all these do not take my fancy
they smack too much of the Elevated;
there’s too much
of the grandstanding in these
Grand Divine Themes
but the face of a bull, ah give me a sketch
of the face of a bull
just the bull, all marks of nature in it
and just itself
no symbolism, no conceit, no artifice
no High sounding theology, no Revelation
but just animal nature in its nudity
being a bull
just animal, its eyes and mouth and horns
just all coming together to form one creature
a portrait of a bull anytime for me
Sirs and most inimitable Ladies
none of the Holy Ones and the Great Prophets
and the Mighty and the Divine
and the Grand-Looking:
no bull for me, please;
just the plain head of a bull, as it is
poem by Raj Arumugam
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By the horn
Heightened excitement and a little fear
The matador faces a bull, with a crowd behind him it lessens his care
Frustrated, harnessed to entertain
Frantic charging with poor aim
Targeting this red rag, the bull has missed
While the matador plays to the crowd and blows a kiss
A stroke of luck, our bull has made contact
While the matador feels sheepish, the crowd witnessed the fact
Carried by his breeches he's tossed up high
Oohs, aahs, the crowd sees his breeches torn
He attempts to cover his modesty as they are exposed by a horn
Heartened, our bull charges again and delivers a better aim
Escape is on hand as the matador takes flight and is tossed into the stand.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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I think the world is filled with so much hype and PR bull. Frankly, it all comes out in the end. Good or bad, I'd rather just let our accomplishments really speak for themselves.
The greatest of all the Sioux in my time, or in any time for that matter, was that wonderful old fighting man, Sitting Bull, whose life will some day be written by a historian who can really give him his due.
quote by Buffalo Bill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bullfighter Was A Lady
(words & music by sid tepper - roy c. bennett)
Pedro the bull was a killer
King of the bullfighter ringer
Hed wipe up the floor with each brave matador
And have matador stew for his dinner
He heard the crowd shouting ol
But he met his master that day
The bullfighter was a lady
And it was true love at first sight
Her red cape was waving but pedro was shaking (or shaving? )
He wanted to date her that night
Ol
Pedro the bull he was smitten
First time the love bug had bitten
He once was a mad bull, a wild and a bad bull
But now he was mild as a kitten
The people were starting to hiss
But pedro just wanted to kiss
The bullfighter was a lady
And pedro he liked what he saw
He floated on air with a rose in his hair
As he waltzed with that sweet matador
His fate was a bad one, his tale is a sad one
Its hanging right over her door
Ol!
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anna Hazare’s Crusade against Corruption in India
Anna wants a Lokpal bill strong
Anna wants a Lokpal bill fast
Anna wants a Lokpal bill full
Anna wants a Lokpal bill now
Anna wants a Lokpal bill by fast
Anna wants a Lokpal bill first
Anna wants a Lokpal bill for all
Anna wants a Lokpal bill – his call
Anna wants a Lokpal bill now
Anna wants a Lokpal bill without delay
Anna wants a Lokpal bill, come what may
Anna wants a Lokpal bill even if it means death.
There is no turning back
There is no giving up the fast
There is no fear of arrest
There is no worry about death
For,
India needs an anti-corruption bill
India is monetarily seriously ill
India needs the honesty drill
India has its wealth outside but inside will
Bring the bill
Heed people’s will
Give them the fill
Heal those hearts ill.
Victory to India; victory to Lokpal Bill; victory to Anna!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 22-08-11
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rita Ballou
(Clarke)
She could dance and slow you 'bout, shuffle to some cowboy hustle.
How she made those trophy buckles shine, shine, shine.
Wild-eyed in Mexican silver, tricking dumb old cousin Willard
into thinking that he got her this time.
Hill country, honky-tonkin' Rita Ballou, every beer joint in town has played a fool for you.
Back sliding, barrel riding Rita Ballou, ain't a cowboy in Texas would not ride a bull for you.
She's a rawhide roping velvet mixture, walking, talking Texas texture,
high-timing, barroom fixture kind of a girl.
She's a queen of the cowboys, look at old Willard grinning now, boys,
you'd have thought there's less fools in this world.
Hill country, honky-tonkin' Rita Ballou, every beer joint in town has played a fool for you.
Back sliding, barrel riding Rita Ballou, ain't a cowboy in Texas would not ride a bull for you.
Good luck Willard, and here's to ya, and here's to Rita, I hope she'll do ya right all night.
But I wish I was a fool in your shoes.
Hill country, honky-tonkin' Rita Ballou, every beer joint in town has played a fool for you.
Back sliding, barrel riding Rita Ballou, ain't a cowboy in Texas would not ride a bull for you.
Lord, I wish I was in Texas, I would ride a bull for you.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Being a Tiger, Being a Bull
I was born in 1962, the year of the tiger
In the chinese astrological callendar
but in the Zodiac wheel of time
I'm a Taurus, a bull by design
A man with a purpose, by his own admission
hard, yet soft, but never a remission
I'm understanding, romantic, peaceful at heart
sometimes hard deaded, that's the Bull from the start
But I'm happy for who I am
a very possitive and gentle man
and trust me, it's not so cruel
when at times I'm a Tiger, and others a Bull.
(Charlie Vergara/06.11.2009/1395)
poem by White Tiger
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There was a Young Lady of Hull,
Who was chased by a virulent bull;
But she seized on a spade,
And called out, 'Who's afraid?'
Which distracted that virulent bull.
quote by by Edward Lear
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PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE...by Talile Ali
IVE SEEN ALL KINDS OF UGLINESS PRACTICED BY FOLKS THESE DAYS
BECAUSE THEY'RE PRETTY THEY SEEM TO THINK IT'S OK
TO RUN AROUND WRECKLESSLY AND DESTROY ALL THEY MAY
FOR SOME REASON NO ONE WILL PUT THEM IN PLACE
THEY LET THEM RUN AROUND AND RUIN A SPACE
AS IF BEING PRETTY WAS A LICENCE TO DEFACE
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
FOR PERPETUATING ABUSE
RAGING BULL ON THE LOOSE
PRETTY IS NO
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
WHEN AN ARGUEMENT COMES WALKIN THRU THAT FRONT DOOR
PRETTY WILL BE USED TO SHUT IT DOWN AND WHATS MORE
IT NEVER UNDERSTANDS WHAT THE HELL FOR
THE SAD TRUTH ABOUT HOW ALL OF US PLAY
AROUND WITH PRETTY HOPING TO BE RUBBED THE RIGHT WAY
PRETTY ALWAYS ONLY HAS IT ONE WAY-IT'S DAY!
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
FOR PERPETUATING ABUSE
RAGING BULL ON THE LOOSE
PRETTY IS NO
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
SO IF YOU FIND YOUR SELF BEING DRAWN UPON SOME DAY
GY SOMEONE PRETTY, THEN IT'S BEST RUN AWAY
CAUSE IF YOU DON'T YOU WILL BE THOROUGHLY PLAYED
AS YOU WATCH YOUR WORLD SPIN OUT OF CONTROL
YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH OF A FOOL YOU'VE BEEN SHOWED
YOUR IMAGE CORRUPTED AS IT APPEARS WHEN IT SO NEAR
PRETTY PEOPLE
FOR PERPETUATING ABUSE
RAGING BULL ON THE LOOSE
PRETTY IS NO
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
poem by Talile Ali
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Bill and Joe
COME, dear old comrade, you and I
Will steal an hour from days gone by,
The shining days when life was new,
And all was bright with morning dew,
The lusty days of long ago,
When you were Bill and I was Joe.
Your name may flaunt a titled trail
Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail,
And mine as brief appendix wear
As Tam O'Shanter's luckless mare;
To-day, old friend, remember still
That I am Joe and you are Bill.
You've won the great world's envied prize,
And grand you look in people's eyes,
With H O N. and L L. D.
In big brave letters, fair to see,--
Your fist, old fellow! off they go!--
How are you, Bill? How are you, Joe?
You've worn the judge's ermined robe;
You've taught your name to half the globe;
You've sung mankind a deathless strain;
You've made the dead past live again:
The world may call you what it will,
But you and I are Joe and Bill.
The chaffing young folks stare and say
"See those old buffers, bent and gray,--
They talk like fellows in their teens
Mad, poor old boys! That's what it means,"--
And shake their heads; they little know
The throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe!--
How Bill forgets his hour of pride,
While Joe sits smiling at his side;
How Joe, in spite of time's disguise,
Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes,--
Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fill
As Joe looks fondly up at Bill.
Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame?
A fitful tongue of leaping flame;
A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust,
That lifts a pinch of mortal dust;
A few swift years, and who can show
Which dust was Bill and which was Joe?
The weary idol takes his stand,
Holds out his bruised and aching hand,
While gaping thousands come and go,--
How vain it seems, this empty show!
Till all at once his pulses thrill;--
'T is poor old Joe's "God bless you, Bill!"
And shall we breathe in happier spheres
The names that pleased our mortal ears;
In some sweet lull of harp and song
For earth-born spirits none too long,
Just whispering of the world below
Where this was Bill and that was Joe?
No matter; while our home is here
No sounding name is half so dear;
When fades at length our lingering day,
Who cares what pompous tombstones say?
Read on the hearts that love us still,
Hic jacet Joe. Hic jacet Bill.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Railroad Bill
Railroad bill were gonna railroad bill
He never works and he never will
Im gonna ride on a railroad bill
Im gonna ride on a railroad bill
Railroad bill he was a mighty bad man
Kill anybody that he think he can
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Im singin railroad bill,
Im talkin railroad bill, uh-huh-huh
He never worked and he never will
Im gonna ride on railroad bill, yeah
(cmon) Im gonna ride on railroad bill
Well old railroad bill he done stole my wife
Im gonna check him down Im gonna take his life
Gonna ride on railroad bill
Gonna ride railroad bill
Im singin railroad bill
On a railroad bill
He never worked and he never will
Im gonna ride on railroad bill
Im gonna ride on railroad bill
Railroad bill he was a mighty bad man
Kill anybody that he think he can
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Gonna ride railroad bill
Im talkin railroad bill
I love him railroad bill
Uh-huh-huh
He never worked and he never will
Gonna ride on railroad bill
Yeah, gonna ride on railroad bill
Well Im goin up the mountain
Yes Im goin out west
I got a mighty big pistol
Stickin out of my vest
Gonna ride old railroad bill
Gonna ride (alright)
Railroad bill, I love that railroad bill
Uh-huh-huh
He never works and he never will
Im gonna ride on a railroad bill
Im gonna ride on railroad bill
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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PRETTY'S NO EXCUSE...by Talile Ali
SEEN ALL KINDS OF UGLINESS DONE BY FOLKS THESE DAYS
JUST CAUSE THEY'RE PRETTY THEY SEEM TO THINK IT'S OK
TO RUN AROUND WRECKLESSLY AND DESTROY WHAT THEY MAY
FOR SOME REASON NO ONE WILL PUT THEM IN THEIR PLACE
THEY LET THEM RUN AROUND AND RUIN THE SPACE
BEING PRETTY IS THEIR LICENCE TO DEFACE
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
FOR PERPETUATING SELF-SERVING ABUSE
RAGING BULL ON THE LOOSE
PRETTY IS NO
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
WHEN AN ARGUEMENT COMES WALKIN THRU THAT FRONT DOOR
PRETTY WILL BE USED TO SHUT IT DOWN AND WHATS MORE
IT NEVER GIVES A DAMN OR WHAT THE HELL FOR
SAD TRUTH ABOUT IT IS THAT WE ALL PLAY
AROUND WITH PRETTY HOPING TO BE RUBBED RIGHT THAT DAY
BUT PRETTY ALWAYS HAS IT DONE JUST ONE WAY-ITS WAY
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
FOR PERPETUATING SELF-SERVING ABUSE
RAGING BULL ON THE LOOSE
PRETTY IS NO
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
SO IF YOU FIND YOUR SELF BEING DRAWN UPON SOME DAY
BY SOMEONE PRETTY, THEN IT'S BEST YOU RUN AWAY
CAUSE IF YOU DON'T YOU WILL BE CHEWED UP AND THROWN AWAY
AS YOU WATCH YOUR WORLD SPIN OUT OF CONTROL
YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH A FOOL YOU'VE BEEN SHOWED
YOUR IMAGE CORRUPTED AS IT APPEARS WHEN IT SO WITH
PRETTY PEOPLE
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
FOR PERPETUATING SELF-SERVING ABUSE
RAGING BULL ON THE LOOSE
PRETTY IS NO
PRETTY IS NO EXCUSE
poem by Talile Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Marksman Sam
When Sam Small joined the regiment,
'E were no' but a raw recruit,
And they marched 'im away one wint'ry day,
'Is musket course to shoot.
They woke 'im up at the crack o' dawn,
Wi' many a nudge and shake,
'E were dreaming that t' Sergeant 'ad broke 'is neck,
And 'e didn't want to wake.
Lieutenant Bird came on parade,
And chided the lads for mooning,
'E talked in a voice like a pound o' plums,
'Is tonsils needed pruning.
"Move to the right by fours," he said,
Crisp like but most severe,
But Sam didn't know 'is right from 'is left,
So pretended 'e didn't 'ear.
Said Lieutenant, "Sergeant, take this man's name."
The Sergeant took out 'is pencil,
'E were getting ashamed o' taking Sam's name,
And were thinking o' cutting a stencil.
Sam carried a musket, a knapsack and coat,
Spare boots that 'e'd managed to wangle,
A 'atchet, a spade... in fact, as Sam said,
'E'd got everything bar t'kitchen mangle.
"March easy men," Lieutenant cried,
As the musket range grew near,
"March easy me blushing Aunt Fanny," said Sam,
"What a chance with all this 'ere."
When they told 'im to fire at five 'undred yards,
Sam nearly 'ad a fit,
For a six foot wall, or the Albert 'All,
Were all 'e were likely to 'it.
'E'd fitted a cork in 'is musket end,
To keep 'is powder dry,
And 'e didn't remember to take it out,
The first time 'e let fly.
'Is gun went off with a kind o' pop,
Where 'is bullet went no-one knew,
But next day they spoke of a tinker's moke,
Being killed by a cork... in Crewe.
At three 'undred yards, Sam shut 'is eyes,
And took a careful aim,
'E failed to score but the marker swore,
And walked away quite lame.
At two 'undred yards, Sam fired so wild,
That the Sergeant feared for 'is skin,
And the lads all cleared int' t' neighbouring field,
And started to dig 'emselves in.
"Ooh, Sergeant! I hear a scraping noise,"
Said Sam, "What can it be?"
The noise that 'e 'eard were lieutenant Bird,
'Oo were climbing the nearest tree.
"Ooh, Sergeant!" said Sam, "I've 'it the bull!
What price my shooting now?"
Said the Sergeant, "A bull? Yer gormless fool,
Yon isn't a bull... it's a cow!"
At fifty yards 'is musket kicked,
And went off with a noise like a blizzard,
And down came a crow looking fair surprised,
With a ram-rod through 'is gizzard.
As 'e loaded 'is musket to fire agen,
Said the Sergeant, "Don't waste shot!
Yer'd best fix bayonets and charge, my lad,
It's the only chance yer've got.
Sam kept loading 'is gun while the Sergeant spoke,
Till the bullets peeped out of the muzzle,
When all of a sudden it went off bang!
What made it go were a puzzle.
The bullets flew out in a kind of a spray,
And everything round got peppered,
When they counted 'is score... 'e'd got eight bulls eyes,
Four magpies, two lambs and a shepherd.
And the Sergeant for this got a D.C.M.
And the Colonel an O.B.E.
Lieutenant Bird got the D.S.O.
And Sam got... five days C.B.
poem by Marriott Edgar
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The Continuing Story Of Bungalow Bill
Hey, bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
He went out tiger hunting with his elephant and gun
In case of accidents he always took his mom
He's the all american bullet-headed saxon mother's son.
All the children sing
Hey bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
Deep in the jungle where the mighty tiger lies
Bill and his elephants were taken by surprise
So captain marvel zapped in right between the eyes
All the children sing
Hey, bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
The children asked him if to kill was not a sin
Not when he looked so fierce, his mother butted in
If looks could kill it would have been us instead of him
All the children sing
Hey, bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rita Ballou
How could she dance that slow bandera
Shuffle to some cowboy hustle
How she makes those trophy buckles shine, shine, shine
Wild-eyed and mexican silvered
Trickin dumb ol cousin willard
Into thinkin that hes got her this time
Hill country holky tonkin rita ballou
Every beer joint in town has played the fool for you
Backslidin barrel ridin rita ballou
Aint a cowboy in texas would not ride a bull for you
Shes a rawhide, rope, and velvet mixture
Walkin talkin texas texture
High timin barroom fixture kind of a girl
Shes the queen of the cowboys
Look at ol willard grinnin now boys youd a thought theres less fools in this world
Hill country holky tonkin rita ballou
Every beer joint in town has played the fool for you
Backslidin barrel ridin rita ballou
Aint a cowboy in texas would not ride a bull for you
So good luck willard and heres to ya
And heres to rita and I hope shell do ya
Right all night
Lord I wish I was the fool in your jeans
Hill country holky tonkin rita ballou
Every beer joint in town has played the fool for you
Backslidin barrel ridin rita ballou
Aint a cowboy in texas would not ride a bull for you
Hill country holky tonkin rita ballou
Every beer joint in town has played the fool for you
Backslidin barrel ridin rita ballou
Aint a cowboy in texas would not ride a bull for you
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bulldozer
Bull by day
And dozes by night.
Would that the bulldozer
Dozed all the time
Would that the bulldozer
Would rust in peace.
His watchword
Let not a witch live
His battle cry
Better dead than red.
Give me if you must
The bull himself
But not the bulldozer
No, not the bulldozer.
poem by Robert Francis
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Big Bad Bill (is Sweet William Now)
Well,way down yonder in louisville,
Lived a cat named big bad bill,
I wants to tell ya,
Ah the cat was rough and tough and would strutt his stuff
Had the whole town scared to death,
When he walked by they all held their breath,
Hes a fighting man, sure enough
And then bill got himself a wife,
Now he leads a different life...
Big bad bill is sweet william now,
Married life done changed him somehow,
Hes the man the town used to fear,
Now they all call him sweet pappa willie dear,
Stronger than samson I declare,
Til the brown skinned woman,
Bobbed his hair
Big bad bill dont fight any more,( no he dont )
Doing the dishes,mopping up that floor ( yes he is )
Well he used to go out drinking,
Looking for a fight,
Now he gotta see that woman,everynight,
Big bad bill is sweet william now
Ah play it boys.
I likes that jazz.
Big bad bill dont fight any more,( no he dont )
Doing the dishes,mopping up that floor ( yes he is )
Well he used to go out drinking,
Looking for a fight,
Now he gotta see that woman,everynight,
Big bad bill is sweet william now ( doing the dishes )
Big bad bill is sweet william now ( mop up dat floor )
Big bad bill is sweet william now
Cha........ yeah!
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Bad Bill
Well,way down yonder in louisville,
Lived a cat named big bad bill,
I wants to tell ya,
Ah the cat was rough and tough and would strutt his stuff
Had the whole town scared to death,
When he walked by they all held their breath,
He's a fighting man, sure enough
And then bill got himself a wife,
Now he leads a different life...
Big bad bill is sweet william now,
Married life done changed him somehow,
He's the man the town used to fear,
Now they all call him sweet pappa willie dear,
Stronger than samson i declare,
Til the brown skinned woman,
Bobbed his hair
Big bad bill dont fight any more,( no he dont )
Doing the dishes,mopping up that floor ( yes he is )
Well he used to go out drinking,
Looking for a fight,
Now he gotta see that woman,everynight,
Big bad bill is sweet william now
Ah play it boys.
I likes that jazz.
Big bad bill dont fight any more,( no he dont )
Doing the dishes,mopping up that floor ( yes he is )
Well he used to go out drinking,
Looking for a fight,
Now he gotta see that woman,everynight,
Big bad bill is sweet william now ( doing the dishes )
Big bad bill is sweet william now ( mop up dat floor )
Big bad bill is sweet william now
Cha........ yeah!
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bill of the Ages
He shall live to the end of this mad old world, he has lived since the world began,
He never has done any good for himself, but was good to every man.
He never has done any good for himself, and I’m sure that he never will,
He drinks and he swears and he fights at times, and his name is mostly Bill.
He carried a freezing mate to his cave, and nursed him, for all I know,
When Europe was mostly a sheet of ice, thousands of years ago.
He has stuck to many a mate since then, he is with us everywhere still
(He loves and gambles when he is young, and the girls stick up for Bill.)
He has rowed to a wreck, when the lifeboat failed, with Jim in a crazy boat;
He has given his lifebelt many a time, and sunk that another might float.
He has ‘stood ’em off’ while others escaped, when the niggers rushed from the hill,
And rescue parties who came too late have found what was left of Bill.
He has thirsted on deserts that others might drink, he has given lest others should lack,
He has staggered half-blinded through fire or drought with a sick man on his back.
He is first to the rescue in tunnel or shaft, from Newcastle to Broken Hill,
When the water breaks in or the fire breaks out, Oh! a leader of men is Bill.
No humane societies’ medals he wears for the fearful deaths he braved;
He seems ashamed of the good he did, and ashamed of the lives he saved.
If you chance to know of a noble deed he has done, you had best keep still;
If you chance to know of a kindly act, you mustn’t let on to Bill.
He is fierce at a wrong, he is firm in right, he is kind to the weak and mild;
He will slave all day and sit up all night by the side of a neighbour’s child.
For a woman in trouble he’d lay down his life, nor think as another man will;
He’s a man all through, but no other man’s wife has ever been worse for Bill.
He is good for the noblest sacrifice, he can do what few other men can;
He can break his heart that the girl he loves may marry a better man.
There’s many a mother and wife to-night whose heart and whose eyes will fill
When she thinks of the days of the long ago when she well might have stuck to Bill.
Maybe he’s in trouble or hard up now, and travelling far for work,
Or fighting a dead past down to-night in a lone camp west of Bourke.
When he’s happy and flush, take your sorrow to him and borrow as much as you will;
But when he’s in trouble or stony-broke, you never will hear from Bill.
And when, because of its million sins, this earth is cracked like a shell,
He will stand by a mate at the Judgment Seat!—and comfort him down in—Well,
I haven’t much sentiment left, but let the cynic sneer as he will;
Perhaps God will fix up the world again for the sake of the likes of Bill.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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